Fantasy Cradle of Desire: In Character

[Worthlessplebian]

Akseli Arbeit — Rattler

The crystalline shard came at him, whistling as it tore through the very air. Rattler's eyes widened, gray gaze flickering in the slits of his ash-painted helm. Jaw clenched, the grip on his sword tightened. His reflexes — honed by the ceaseless drills, the exhausting maneuvers, the long hours — took over his muscles completely. His arms raised the great sword, turning the flat of the blade towards the shrieking sliver. Its shifting silhouette reflecting in the polished sheen. Strangely, even as the shard hurtled at him, his mind became peculiarly calm. Soothed by plying his knowledge. The Engine'er was almost unaware of its effects on his mind. He steeled his arms for the blow. Until Magpie acted in the corner of his eyes. Akseli peered behind his shoulder at him as the shard was redirected from its course, imbedding itself into a woman. He swore there was a crunching sound that died into a stilted silence as brief as the beat of a heart's shy second. His eyes wheeled through the room as though their bodies were froze by an unseen force. The moment lasted for an agonising eternity, too heavy even to risk a breath.

His eyes snapped suddenly to the tumbling motion of a lantern, soundlessly twisting to the partially-carpeted floor. It clattered to the ground, noise muffled slightly, shattering the stifling silence that seized them.

Akseli scowled as Magpie activated the relic. The emerald vines spewed forth, burrowing into the table, then launching it with a mimicked flick. The sudden crash rang 'round the room twice. Unburdened by hesitance, Akseli surged forward, towering sword in hand. He turned the cold, gray blade in his hands, its wicked edge flickering in the room's illumination. The great sword sliced from lower left to upper right, the Engine'er went one pace forward, twisting his wrists, curving the weapon's movement downwards. The confines were awkward, narrow, littered by the room's furnishings, however, the blade still lashed out quicker than an untrained foe believed possible. He forced down a roar of embittered exertion, wordlessly cursing the necessity of it all.

At best, he would wound their foes, dissuading them from further action. At worst, his swings forced them back, biding time for his allies to act further or retreat if necessary.

Interactions: Group 1;
Mentions: Magpie (Leif Sterna);

 

[OldTurtle]

Dorian Alfieri | Ematille

Immediately, chaos broke out.

Not interfering, Dorian slipped his watch back into his pocket. The ticking of its hands, audible only to himself, muffled further by the layers of cloth so that even the nobleman could hardly make it out. Thick, rough cloth that chafed against his smooth palms. Linen, dyed with woad. The color hadn't kept well, fading into more of a dreary, muddy blue than the original indigo, but the integrity of the fabric endured despite the aging. The fabric was, admittedly, just a tad better woven than most of the commoners had access to; one of the few luxuries Dorian allowed himself in his work with Arcana -- if one could even classify such a paltry allowance to be a luxury at all, really.

The lanky nobleman stooped down and retrieved the fallen lamp. He grasped it firmly by the iron ring jutting from the top, lifting it aloft. For a moment, Dorian gazed into its depths... and then shrugged, roughly stuffing it under his arm. Frankly, the magical mechanisms that powered relics eluded Dorian, who had far too little time and far too much on his plate to devote any meaningful efforts to understand them. Managing the operation of his own relics was as much experience as he could accrue.

Beyond his own musings, the situation was rapidly devolving. Peering into the room, now filled by equal parts thorny vines, broken furniture, and swinging blades, he could hardly make out the figures of everyone within. Rather an unappealing stage to enter, he thought. Dorian glanced down at the slender blade in his other hand. Certainly not. He never was one for such immediate, violent measures.

With Rattler having forced his way in and momentarily cleared the entryway with his greatsword, an opportunity to interfere opened. Stepping forward, the cloaked man quickly slipped into the tight chamber and skirted around its perimeter. Using the chaos to further hide the signs of his approach, Dorian slunk around to the rear and stopped only a few feet from one of the women who they'd stumbled into. He did not recognize her, of course. The sole opponent he could identify was the one who'd called himself "Cyril," and even then only by the description Arcana had been given; the man's actual features were entirely unfamiliar. Still, Arum's earlier attempts, while not as piercingly effective as his stigma's previous uses, provided a gaping opening to leverage.

Still invisible and all-but-undetectable by common senses, Dorian leaned in close behind the woman. Hovering just at the edge of the veil, he wet his lips and opened his mouth.

"It's too late." The whisper was faint. Too faint. By any measure, it should have been drowned out by the commotion of the conflict, yet it still carried just enough to reach her ear. "He will die, and it will be your fault." It was as if a dozen voices spoke at once, the conglomerate familiar but individuals unidentifiable. The hypnotic ringing wormed its way deeper and deeper.

"He's only here because of you. You can't let him die. You have to save him." Dorian leaned in just a hair closer. Each word was like a dagger, a weight, a burning flame licking at her heels. "You must help him."

---

Interactions:

Mentions: Group 1

Location: Balfour Manor

 

[Dawnsx]

Bippity boppity booo

Cyrus︱Arum

If not for Auri’s ruthless training, Cyrus would have never seen the crystalline shard whizzing toward Rattler. Being able to see it coming didn’t mean he was quick enough to react to it though, and he flinched at the rather unsettling sound of the projectile imbedding into the poor lady's flesh.

Somehow, Cyrus wasn’t even surprised that the blonde man chose to attack first, ask later. At least he didn’t aim the shard at Cyrus?

Things devolved into chaos at that point, with Magpie flinging the table forward and Rattler retaliating with his greatsword.

Combat had never been Cyrus's strong suit, but his stigma meant that he was a master at befuddling his foe. Without even knowing that Dorian was whispering words of poison in the black-haired woman’s ears, Cyrus rushed forward, and, in a moment of deja vu, threw himself at her feet.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Cyrus wailed over the din of battle. He looked over at Cyril. Recalling how readily the man attacked his allies, Cyrus didn’t even have to fake the trepidation on his face. “I- I didn’t think he would get so angry… Please, help me! My grandfather’s heart wouldn’t be able to take it if anything happened to me!”

Code by Nano

 

[fluticasone]

fluticasone fluticasone

dusk

name

titania iseult

location

balfour manor courtyard w/ group 2

interactions

Nemesis ( Zariel ) Pawn (@nios) Foxglove ( Aukanai ) Dahlia ( Idiot Doom Spiral ) NPC's ( Nano )

It wasn't the first time she'd witnessed a comrade's death, but it never made it any easier. Certainly, she'd never liked him. Yet it did little to alleviate the ball that had settled itself into her stomach.

Dusk took a moment to settle her gut, drew her breath, and studied the scene before her. Their priority was to separate the duke from his knight. It didn't matter how good a knight she was; if her liege couldn't keep up, that would leave them both open to attack.

Her right arm reached behind her, pulling her bow taut while she notched her arrow. The rock was a warning shot; now she would be aiming to meet flesh.

She docked another, quickly firing two more shots before standing and trying to find another point from which she could shoot. It didn't matter if they didn't hit the mark the way most hoped it would. That would be all too easy.

Her goal? To drive a wedge between the duke and his knight.

 

[Aukanai]

SONG GRACIE

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ten of Swords FOXGLOVE

Dead…

It happened too fast.

Dead? Dead!!

The fact came crashing down into her like a heavy weight. Her eyes widening in shock at the scene before her, then her knees buckled. After that, it was the overwhelming feeling of the cold, a claw grabbing the back of her neck that left her in shakes. The fear.

If…Samadhi hadn’t been able to survive that, could..she? She was going to die here.

Die…die….die…

Why’d she come here? What made her think this was a good idea? It was making her mind drift. Away…away..far away. Song Gracie might just become an empty husk, a mind so wrangled with the sight..and smell of death.

The smell. Smell of blood, it was so distinct and strong enough that the feeling of something coming up her throat made her knees buckle again and she stumbled forward. Keep…it down. The effort it took made her forehead sweat, her knuckles pressed tightly against her lips.

There was more movement and it dragged Song enough out of her dread for her sight to refocus. First on Andrius. She couldn’t see his face from where she was standing, but yet he carried such strength. Next her vision fell upon Titania.

..They were still fighting.

Song finally looked down at the rapier in her hand. Even if her hands were trembling, she was still holding onto it tightly.

..That’s right. Fight, your life depends on it. Fight like a feral animal, to survive.

Yet..what could she do?

For now, she would just ready herself. Wait for an opening.

---

Location: Courtyard ll Mentions: - ll Interactions:

Zariel @nios​

Spoiler: mobile

[ SONG GRACIE ] ​

---

IDead…

It happened too fast.

Dead? Dead!!

The fact came crashing down into her like a heavy weight. Her eyes widening in shock at the scene before her, then her knees buckled. After that, it was the overwhelming feeling of the cold, a claw grabbing the back of her neck that left her in shakes. The fear.

If…Samadhi hadn’t been able to survive that, could..she? She was going to die here.

Die…die….die…

Why’d she come here? What made her think this was a good idea? It was making her mind drift. Away…away..far away. Song Gracie might just become an empty husk, a mind so wrangled with the sight..and smell of death.

The smell. Smell of blood, it was so distinct and strong enough that the feeling of something coming up her throat made her knees buckle again and she stumbled forward. Keep…it down. The effort it took made her forehead sweat, her knuckles pressed tightly against her lips.

There was more movement and it dragged Song enough out of her dread for her sight to refocus. First on Andrius. She couldn’t see his face from where she was standing, but yet he carried such strength. Next her vision fell upon Titania.

..They were still fighting.

Song finally looked down at the rapier in her hand. Even if her hands were trembling, she was still holding onto it tightly.

..That’s right. Fight, your life depends on it. Fight like a feral animal, to survive.

Yet..what could she do?

For now, she would just ready herself. Wait for an opening.

---

Location: Courtyard ll Mentions: - l Interactions:​

 

[Nano]

Cradle of Desire

Scene 002

Group One: Dawnsx @A Murder Of Corviknight Worthlessplebian OldTurtle @Dovinique Bloody_Death

First, a table. Then, a series of wild swings of a sword.

Chaos quickly erupted within the room as the enemy scrambled to choose sides. As Ematille’s whispers seemingly split and then converged within the blonde woman’s mind, sweat trickled down her chin and her brow grew increasingly furrowed.

“No…I-”

she muttered to herself, remaining crouched and oblivious to the mayhem erupting around her. Slowly, she turned her gaze toward Arum, eyes glazed over and unfocused. She shakily lifted herself back on her feet, before a creak caused her to flinch. Within the span of a single blink, the blonde rushed in front of Arum, cradling him within her embrace if he chose not to move away as a chair crashed into her back.

“Emily!”

the blonde shouted, though the pain made her unable to turn to face the brunette she was addressing. The latter, in turn, drew in a sharp breath before she stammered.

“You…run. I can’t help you. You know I have too much on the line.”

With her piece finally said, the brunette drew her sword, aiming a clumsy stab at Magpie, though she notably gave Arum and the blonde guarding him a wide berth—as wide as one could in a relatively cramped room ill suited for combat.

Though knocked back by the table unexpectedly launched at him, Cyril managed to barely avoid being pinned to the wall by the flying piece of furniture. Still, he wasn’t yet out of harm’s way, as Rattler’s blade threatened to make quick work of any who dared stand in its way. In his usual composed manner, the blonde deftly dodged out of the way of the engineer’s swings, though not without an unlucky nick upon his right forearm and the loss of a knife that had been throw aside by the force of the sword. In retaliation, the blonde chose to lean in closer rather than continue to retreat, though being driven toward the corner of the room meant he didn’t have any space to do so in the first place.

As if in a paltry attempt to parry Rattler’s blade with the thin knife in his hands, Cyril braced himself with his weapon. Yet the sounds of clashing metal never came, as the blonde instead stepped mere centimeters away from the man and moved to stab one of the hands holding his sword.

Group Two: Zariel Aukanai Idiot Doom Spiral fluticasone

Crimson eyes witnessed Samadhi’s corpse fall upon the cold earth with disinterest, flicking back toward Dahlia before the wayward scientist’s blood began to wet the thin blades of grass decorating the courtyard. A wide grin stretched across her face at Nemesis and Dahlia’s offers, though from the glimmer of sly amusement in her gaze, it was clear that she didn’t plan on lending her aid as easily as she’d initially let on.

“I’m starting to have second thoughts after seeing your friend’s performance just now,”

Eloise spoke at a leisurely pace while gesturing toward Samadhi’s cleanly beheaded corpse. With a faux show of sympathy drawn upon her visage, she gave the group a nonchalant shrug.

“Sorry for your loss, by the way. Anyway, protecting you? I don’t think so. There’s no point in earning money if you die before you spend it, after all. But- since I’m so generous, I’ll give you a special discount to honor your friend’s sacrifice…”

The white-haired woman pointed her knife in the direction of the knight fiercely guarding the Duke.

“Unlike the other guards, she’s smart. She knows her priority is getting the Duke to safety, not slaying some ruffians. The good thing is she’ll likely stay on the defensive.”

True to Eloise’s words, the knight attempted to block Nemesis’s sword with her own blade, though rather than press on, she withdrew before his upward thrust could contest hers. Almost as if having anticipated the two arrows whistling her way, the moonlight flickered upon the flat of her blade once again, repelling Dusk’s attack in a fashion akin to putting forth an invisible wall roughly a foot in front of the blade. However, rather than move in to attack, she continued to keep the Duke close by her side, her body language and positioning making her intent to escape the courtyard clear.

Unlike Samadhi’s careless assault, Nemesis was a warrior far more wary, defenses water tight. With the added threat of Dusk’s arrows, pursuing any openings in his guard would only result in her liege sustaining injuries, leading to further complications in her mission, or worse—death.

The Duke, carefully hidden behind the knight’s back, finally finished fumbling around for something hidden within his vest’s pocket. With trembling hands, he fiddled with what appeared to be a golden pocketwatch, and Nemesis would feel a sudden weight press down upon him. Not enough to render him immobile, but enough for his movements to grow slightly sluggish.

In the meantime, Eloise finally delivered her counter to Dahlia’s offer:

“My specialty happens to be cutting into people’s necks, so you’re in luck. Keep pressuring the knight. Don’t worry. You don’t have to defeat her. Just grant me an opening, and I’ll deliver the Duke’s head to you in exchange for the goods you promised.”

Code by Nano

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Akseli Arbeit — Rattler

The connection lasted for less than a heart's frightened beat. His moon-dim eyes caught an instance of the ashen blade hurtling through the blond man's forearm. Shallow, swift. The thinnest arc of crimson slashed in the wake of the Engine'er's weapon, the leading drop of red winking slightly in the wan light. It felt impossibly brief. Rattler wasn't certain if he imagined the sight. The thought reverberated in his skull as if it rebounded from the hard contours of his dark gray helm. His hands clenched too tight about the greatsword's grip, beads of crystal sweat teetering at the front of his forehead. The yawning pit of dread in his stomach, that he always felt during these frenetic moments, was there. And like always, blunted, dulled, suppressed by the coursing adrenaline through his body. But he still felt it. For all of the training spent in Aurelius' ceaseless, muscle-searing combat simulation, Rattler never felt prepared for when blood was spilt.

Then, distracted by the stray thought's insidious ploy, he saw the blond opponent slip into his guard. Deception. He feigned a meagre parry. If Akseli's focus hadn't waned for less than a second, he would've seen the ruse for its trickery, pressing his advantage. Panic stalked, dogged, rounded his consciousness like a dark hound, maw of wicked teeth wetted with a devouring hunger, crimson eyes ablaze of a hungering flame. But he didn't falter.

He stepped back, too short to evade the blond's attack, but enough. Enough to swing his greatsword back, still constrained by the small space. His throat released a roar of exertion as his arms burned with the motion. The raw, harsh sound dominated the chaos then died. He had swung the greatsword 'round. The motion awkward, stiff. It would barely cut, he knew. However, slicing had not been his aim. He tilted his hands, twisting the flat of the blade towards the blond. He hoped the blunt force would suffice to disabuse him of the attack, if not stun him for a moment's respite. He hoped it wouldn't be too slow.

Interactions: Nano (Cyril);
Mentions: Aurelius;

 

[Zariel]

​

Clang!

The sound of steel striking steel rang through the courtyard as Andrius’ blade clashed against the knight’s. Sparks flickered between them, but just as quickly as she had blocked his initial swing, she evaded his following slash, shifting swiftly out of harm’s way rather than contesting his strength.

She was fast.

Even as Andrius adjusted his stance, she had already repositioned herself beside the Duke, her blade flashing in the moonlight as she intercepted a pair of arrows streaking toward her master.

Andrius exhaled sharply. This was no common bodyguard. No mere foot soldier. The way she moved, the way she handled her blade—it was masterful. Enough so that, in spite of his detached disposition, he felt his curiosity pique. Who was she? What face lay hidden beneath the helm?

Still, no matter how impressive she was, the truth remained.

Arcana’s true target was the Duke. Yet, Andrius's focus remained fixated on the knight. Even at this distance, they both knew the truth: if either of them willed it, this gap would be closed in an instant, and one of them would fall.

All it would take was a single mistake.

Suddenly, a crushing force settled over Andrius, pressing against his shoulders, coiling around his limbs like unseen chains. It wasn’t physical, yet it pulled him into the earth.

His eyes flickered to the knight. No. She hadn’t moved. The pressure wasn’t her doing. Which meant...Of course. It was the coward hiding behind her, using some relic to slow him down, to bind him in place while his blade was still preoccupied.

Hmm... So they intend to slow me down... I see.

This would be a problem. If he couldn’t move freely, the fight would turn against him quickly. He needed to deal with the Duke. But he couldn’t reach him without first going through the knight, and judging by her stance, she wasn’t about to step aside.

Andrius's grip tightened. Fine. If this was how they wanted to play it, then he would respond in kind.

And they will know fear.

His eyes began to glow as he drove his blade into the ground with a metallic ding, resting both hands atop the pommel. His cold, piercing gaze drilled into knight.

When he spoke, his voice was like a judge pronouncing sentence, unwavering and absolute.

"Tell me, unnamed knight—do you acknowledge your sins? You stand before me, stained with the blood of another. Do you plead guilty to murder? Or do you deny the blade you so easily turned upon my ally?"

Slowly, he shifted his stance. His feet glided across the grass, his torso twisting as he levelled his sword, aligning its tip with her centre, preparing a piercing lunge. The weight upon him was a hindrance, but it was not an end.

It was only a matter of time. Soon, a wave of fear would come crashing down upon her.

And when it did—he would strike.

"Answer! ... Or your silence shall speak for you."

NEMESIS​

 

[Idiot Doom Spiral]

Scene 002

Sierra Daiji

Dahlia

Did Dahlia appear to be the type of person to dirty her hands with combat?

Perish the thought.

White dahlias symbolized purity, focus, and dignity incarnate. Hah! She barely had a weapon save for the dagger on her chatelaine and the sword hanging loosely from the armor's belt. Foxgloves, on the other hand, were both harm and healing. With a rapier in her hand, she ought to be fighting beside Nemesis and Dusk, yet the redhead's rapier quivered under the weight of the wielder's grief.

Dahlia resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the sight of Foxglove's actions. The work of the Arcana was grim, dirty, and deadly. People did not enter this guild for exercise, but for change--they should have known that revolution would not be without bloodshed. Had it been Kuro, Sierra might have shed a few tears at the funeral but hosting a funeral would require that she fulfill her mission.

"You won't get your revenge by standing on the sidelines." The blonde said bluntly to Foxglove before retrieving her dagger hidden beneath her armor. "It's been a few months since I've wielded a blade, but I'm sure we can sneak a hit now that she's focused on Nemesis."

Dahlia threw her dagger towards the guard's helmet before running forward. Whether or not she chose to deflect the weapon, the sound of metal against pavement would unmistakable--a bluff that she had little intention of following up on. Assuming she ignited Foxglove's fighting spirit, the redhead would throw herself into the fray and allow Dahlia to stop short of the knight's range. Strong as the other woman might have been, even she would be forced to decide between two blades.

And if she cut through Foxglove, Dahlia supposed this would only sweeten the pot for their new ally.

Zariel

Nano

Aukanai

Code by Nano

 

[Bloody_Death]

AURELIUS STALLARD || VERMILLION

As the chaos among the room started, Aruelius's eyes narrowed as he tried to determine which people were 'friend' and foe. While useful, he sometimes finds the charming and gaslighting of enemies to be a bit of a hindrance, yet it more often than not results in the less death overall. After a quick scan, it seems that the blonde woman managed to fall for Cyrus's skill and that snake's trickery, as she heroically threw herself in front of Cyrus to protect him. Leaving the other woman pointing the sword at Magpie to be another threat. But with this messy set of boundaries in mind, he could zero his focus on the vile man from the dungeon.

Eyes followed the dance of blades between Cyril and Rattler. Slightly impressed by the third faction member's show of swordsmanship. If not the only one with decent swordsmanship... Though he does catch the blunt end of his hesitation...? Or perhaps a distraction that leads to a rather unfavorable situation for Rattler. Brows furrowing a bit, but relaxed just a bit when he was able to still somewhat react in time to block the trap he failed to see. But that was enough of that.

As the blades clashed once again, before Cyril could push further against or recover from Rattler's parry, a familiar buzzing zipped through the air. An electric charged dagger aimed straight for his current opponent. And not far behind the dagger was Auri himself. Eyes locked onto the other blonde man and following his every movement. Whether that was dodging, blocking, or getting hit by the dagger, it didn't matter. Unsheathing his spear mid-dash, he spun it around to hold it properly before swinging the bladed tip with full force with the full intention of splitting this guy in half if possible. Completely obliterating any pieces of furniture around him. Blade halfway through the plush fabric of the carpet and chipping the stone underneath it. "Despite how much your face irritates me, I'm quite delighted to see it right now like this."

---

Interactions: Nano (Cereal) || Worthlessplebian (Rattler)
Mentions: Cyrus | Dorian | Other group 1 members