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Fantasy Guild of Heroes: Recall Protocol

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Guild of Heroes: Recall Protocol Guild of Heroes: Recall Protocol - Characters Guild of Heroes: Recall Protocol - OOC Guild of Heroes: Recall Protocol - Lore
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Kyro Script
LOCATION Royal Castle/ De Blanche Mansion
INTERACTIONS June Verles June Verles / Alteras Alteras


Refined stone into iron, forged into a weapon, and then used and broken. It had been molded down back into raw materials to be reforged again. Cold and lifeless it sat. Chunks of silver light shined, untouched by its master.

"I must warn you, however, that what I am about to potentially give you will probably cause you pain and suffering in return for nothing but power. Its abuse will result in your agonizing death."

Argon didn’t even hear Lenin’s next sentence. These words gave him passion, fire ignited his soul. From within his iron heart embers lit into molten components, flowing into a cast and forming a weapon. A weapon to be held for one purpose and one purpose alone…..

“Please Doctor, lend me your strength.”

Revenge


Inir sat a short ways away watching.
Around the room, Syi slept like a child, dazed away with dreams of bliss fed by Lenin. Not far from him Baron was in a similar state.

"Inir?" Ararigonterisa spoke softly, never letting that gentle smile leave her face, but it was not a smile of warmth toward him. More like a smile you would give toward a being less than you, a pet. Alternatively, perhaps it was stitched together, he couldn’t tell the difference, she could alter her body as she pleases, why couldn’t she force a smile?

'When did she move?' The idea swiftly passed his mind into his calmer response. “Yes?”

Ararigonterisa held out a clipboard holding a series of papers filled with information: maps, sources, profiles. Inir hesitantly accepted.

"This will be your next mission. See to it that Argon gets this after the team has recovered." Leaving him with these words she quietly disappeared through the stairs she entered from.

Inir flipped through the pages analyzing them, then setting them down to rest.

“Espania, huh?”

----​

Nothing like the night sky formal attire Kyro would wear to his meetings. It was light blue with colored lines of white. Clearly a noble attire. Indeed, this was a personal meeting, but a meeting from the Overlord all the same.

As light converged through a select personal teleporter, Kyro arrived at the entrance of the house of De Blanche. A few guards beside the gates bowed at his presence. "Welcome Your Majesty Script. Thank you for your letter in advance, we have been expecting you."

Proceeding through the now open gate, he was led into a small waiting room where a butler accompanied him. "May I get you anything? Perhaps a meal while you wait?" Waving his hand at the request. "It is nothing so formal, this is a personal matter. Just some tea shall do, thank you."

"As you wish." The butler said disappearing. Kyro pulled out a small set of papers to review while he waited.

 
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Sienna Fei
9fc27a6c853e2b6ac15841435e1123ec.jpg
She wasn't all that surprised by the strange collection of people they'd come across, it was almost expected for them to be so diverse from what she'd heard about famed heroes. A farm boy, a giant spider (Who she assumed was sentient), and three knights, then of course the two mages. Each of them presumably at the start of what she hoped was to be a long journey, herself included.

Sienna would let out a gleeful smile at the silver magus taking a drink of her proffered water, watching as her companion went to aid one of the fallen women of the party with some foreign technique, nodding to herself at the initiative, before listening to Cyrus' answer. Her cheeriness seemed to diminish at the idea of anti-hero specialists, her eyes gaining a calculating coldness to them as she pondered the idea of it, whipping the rest of the water back to the plants with a strange sharpness, though her small smile would remain.

The idea of such renowned heroes and their party being attacked with her nearby had brought well-concealed rage to her heart it would seem, to those with a keen eye.

Worryingly, it was apparent that their entire group was exhausted by the fight, and while she had full reserves, she wasn't entirely sure to go about helping, particularly the whole moving wounded. She wasn't exactly great at physical labor as a result of being from the avian family. So it was a problem for the others to solve.

Turning to look at the knight addressing her, Sienna would politely return the bow.

"Naturally." She'd chirp in response. "I am, and by extension, the elements, are at your disposal."
Silver Wolf Silver Wolf ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Birdsie Birdsie Alteras Alteras lil_kreen lil_kreen June Verles June Verles Hanarei Hanarei
 
Solomon of Abyrdshire
Location: Badlands Campsite
Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles

"W-well... I can carry her, at least."

Solomon nods at Averza, a little intimidated by the assertive spellblade, as he walks over. He kneels down, reaching underneath Sophia, and gently lifts her up while cradling her in his arms. His movements are slow, measured. He presses the knight against his body, keeping a gentle but firm hold on her as he makes very sure he doesn't accidentally crush her with his greater strength, making sure her head is tilted to the side so that her mouth hangs open. He's visibly jittery and nervous, but he manages to do it without completely melting into a flustered mess, which is about as much as you could hope.

He nods to the rest of the group, prepared to follow after them... Wherever they were going now. He wasn't super sure on that front.
 
Chapter 2 - Afterjourney
  • Index
    • lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles

    And so the heroes traveled - weary and battered by their constant day of battles, and tired by virtue of not having slept for well over twenty-four hours. They went north and west, past the pale muddy streams and hacked forests, all in the cover of darkness, slogging across fields of clart and mire reaching up almost to the knees that stuck to their footwear and legs, perhaps encountering hostile insects such as mosquitoes on the way. At least Jaunt and Sophia had the fortune to be unconscious as they were jostled through this journey. At the end of it, the trek, which took a quarter of the night away, left most of them feeling miserable, lousy, and even more tired than they had been before. It was noticeably worse for those who'd started out in Albion and were there to experience all of the vast treacherous difficulties involved.

    At the border, they were briefly accosted by the Albionian guard.

    "Halt." said the watch sergeant. "Identify yourselves."

    "Cyrus of Trostenvald," said the wizard. Although, given the effects of the journey, he looked more like a hobo - and this was noticed by the guards who observed his claim with some amusement, a few of them holding back laughter.

    "Nonsense," said the watch sergeant. "He is dead."

    "I am he."

    "Then prove it. Cast a spell."

    At that, the wizard growled, "I cannot."

    As if his patience had ran out, the watch sergeant lifted his brow, "And why not?"

    His growl turned into something like a sharp, rising invective against the sergeant, "Because good magic is wasted on the eyes of blithering morons." Before the man could reply with anything, Cyrus continued; "Can you not see we're carrying wounded people? We've been fighting sources of danger and unspeakable peril for the entire day. We have not slept. We have not rested, and you have, in this single conversation, exhausted every last remaining mote of patience and good will that I had. I apologize for calling you a blithering moron, but if we cannot pass through here, at least let us claim sanctuary and take care of our wounded, and we'll figure out the problem of identities in the meantime."

    "Very well," said the watch sergeant. "In accord with international legislation, I'll let you claim sanctuary. However, if our body determines this was done in order to abuse the good will of the people of Albion, you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Bring them in."

    And so, the heroes were permitted to stay in the outpost on the border, given a single boarding room - the sort used for refugees - to stay in, as well as some military rations to dine upon - or rather, fast upon, as on the distant eastern horizon, the first hues of amaranth and orange started showing near the edge of the world; heralds of the sun's rising.

    "Settle down," Cyrus told everyone, sitting down upon a large box filled with figs. "We're not safe here, not yet, not truly - but it'd take even someone like the Overlord some time and effort to arrange an assassination of an entire group of people under sanctuary at the border. If he did so improperly, it could be an international scandal. Anyway, there is no way they'll be able to confirm out identities without outing ourselves as heroes, and therefore enemies to Script's reign. I already foolishly presupposed that throwing my reputation at the man would allow us to pass."

    "Ha," Ellis uttered, hoarsely and emptily.

    "For this, I apologize, as it might've put us in severe jeopardy. Here is my plan for now, and I want your input for this - we'll stay here for a day, or two at the most. If Sophia and Jaunt do not recover in that time, we'll use magic or other means to speed up their recovery. In the meantime, our focus will be on resting and helping them recover. We don't need to feel good, we simply need to feel good enough that an escape from here will be possible, either by tomorrow or in two days. After that, we'll go to Laurellia and claim refuge and sanctuary from them, revealing our identities as Guild members. And from there, Guildmaster Mephisto should likely be able to locate us on his own, eventually, so all we'll need is to wait."

    "And now, another matter," Cyrus said, addressing, in turns; Claire, Solomon, and Sasha. "I don't know who you are. I would assume that our culmination in the spot of battle was not accidental - it was fate, but not luck. In any case, I would like you to introduce yourselves, good people, to me and our compatriots respectively."
     
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  • Index
    • Sasha Korneev

    1644061335284.png

    As she performed CPR on the passed out girl the mental ghosts would give their usual observations that were middling on the spectrum that ranged from funny to "why are they even opening their mouths and wasting the precious microseconds it took to process what they just said."

    "You know, I'm surprised she's okay with doing this considering just how much of a romantic virgin she is." Eik was as always first to talk wondering if Sasha was capable of administering first aid why didn't she save him when he stabbed himself in the face with the spear back in their own world, surely that was a recoverable injury for a man in his prime like himself. The fact that his spine was bent like an graph that kids need to turn into an equation was unrelated.

    Adventurer 1 like the good guy he was would immediately jump to her defence: "Why are you guys all so tough on her? She's obviously kissed a person before, we all have."

    "Your observation based on common sense doesn't apply to our host unfortunately." Ever the person to info dump Mr. No One with his dossier would enter the conversation. "She actually doesn't count this as a kiss and is therefore a vestal in that regard as well. Like seriously, not even on the cheeks or anything." He said flipping a page, looking mildly concerned.

    "She wouldn't even have to do this if this girl trained herself better, when my heart stops I just flex my pecs to jolt it back to life. Girl." Fuchsalot said, before looking up as if directly communicating to Sasha. "Buy the girl some whey protein and get yourself a gym protegee. As the scripture tells, Show someone the whey for eternal gains."

    "I agree with him, if you fools abandoned your designed to fail flesh bodies for the true Plantae form you wouldn't get lung failures, all you can hope to do is turn plant matter into temporary power."


    After promptly ignoring the tree lover Sasha would turn towards the knightly lady who approached them, there seemed to be at least 3 of them in this group. She would nod at her order, choosing to follow out of respect of the hierarchy present here, it also meant she had to do less work overall. Walking with Claire to the sleeping arachnid she would speak to her in a much relaxed tone than from before, rather soft spoken.

    "You don't have to carry it if your magic doesn't allow for long term use, I can make a trailer-sleigh thing that I can make Midnight drag." She nodded towards the very large red eyed matt black horse.

    With or without the help, she would reveal her prosthetic branch like arm and after doing a series of weird somatic motions with her hands that seemingly imitated animals, she would slam her palm on the ground;

    "Flora Magic: Ironwood Roots." She spoke with purpose which seemingly got carried through the ground as dark silver like roots emerged from below Jaunt, forming a solid sled.



    For most of the their travel time, Sasha spent the day steering Midnight and dragging Jaunt around as she kept watch of their surroundings, not saying a lot of words to anyone in the group. At night the group would probably be incapable of travelling, so she let Sienna take watch duties and went to sleep, or so she would have to fooled everyone into thinking.

    Not quite as mobile as the others she would still be an expertly trained stealth operative, so she would sneak out into the nearby settlements and make herself familiar with the underground networks that jotted this new world, doing quick jobs to gain a reputation as someone who would do a job quickly and efficiently with no traces. Simple jobs, like stealing items and assassinating other gang leaders, something you could do in a single night. She mostly worked for information, any money she would have gained she would have deposited back into Adventurer 1's account.

    As they arrived at the checkpoint and got herded into the tents to rest she scarfed her food quickly, giving most of the dry stuff to Midnight. When Cyrus, the de-facto leader of their group, requested for them to introduce themselves Sasha took a deep breath, she was ready for this. Standing up and straightening her posture she would clear her throat before introducing herself.

    "I am Sasha. I am 27, my blood type is A and my birth sign is Taurus. My favourite colour is pink and I'm really good at Lacrosse." She said in the most monotone way possible before bowing slightly. "Please take care of me."

    Birdsie Birdsie lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion
     
    Claire Motoye

    mCQaEXi.png

    Claire looked towards Averza as she offered to help, giving a nod in response. The young squire eagerly watching as the giant spider had his gear stripped away. She placed her hand on him a bit uncertain of the effect. The girl gasping as she cupped her hand quickly grabbing hold of Jaunt in the palm of her hand now tarantula sized. She had to admit he was oddly a bit cute in his small form, less hair raising then his larger form initially came off. It wasn't as if she was the type to be squeamish around spiders but she was still cautious given some particularly nasty ones not being very pleasant to be bitten by. She glanced about looking down at her small pouch being the best spot she had on her opening it and placing him inside the one empty pocket.

    ______________________________________________

    Finding refuse within the quant room with everyone else, a sense of relief filled Claire though talk by Cyrus seemed to hint otherwise. They hadn't had much chance for rest after all given the ambush and having to travel. She looked on being a new comer she was more so attempting to take in all the details. She had been half day dreaming gazing out a bit tired as she was not really seeming to focus all that well when she heard Solomon speak gasping in response looking rather awkwardly about though fortunately for her saved by the words of Sasha as she seemed to jump into action. A bit of an embarrassment being a knight she was suppose to be diligent after all.

    "Ah... um yes, my name is Claire Motoye... age..." She spoke blinking looking over at Sasha realizing she had kind of brought that up not expecting it. Still she shook her head holding her arm up as to not fumble too long attempting to follow in her shoes with what information she gave.

    "S... sorry, age 19. Um... red... blood? Not sure what my birth sign would be... oh I guess my favorite color is... well I never really thought of it... I guess.. blue?" She spoke as she seemed to struggle not quite use to giving such information... or even what half of the things she was suppose to deliver was.

    "I.. don't think I'm particularly good at anything... I mean.. I do my best to do what I can help for the greater good of those in need." She spoke trying to put up an air of strength as she raised her arm to her chest to try and show strength.

    lil_kreen lil_kreen Alteras Alteras Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel Birdsie Birdsie June Verles June Verles ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Noble Scion Noble Scion
     
    Dr. Lenin D. Arwin
    Location: Royal Castle Interactions: Swire Swire

    1644161049890.png


    At Argon's sincere desire for revenge the doctor couldn't help sport an elated smile that beamed to the point that the corners of his mouth almost reached his ears in some sort of sort of deranged enjoyment, Lenin having to calm down and cover his mouth to not appear rude. Taking a deep breath he would have composed himself just enough to response to the captain's request;

    "Of course, I shall gladly provide you the instrument of your vengeance. Who am I to interfere with such dedication."

    At that point he would turn around and face the exchange between Inir and Ararigonterisa. Unlike the demon the doctor wore his emotions on his sleeve though most people couldn't tell as he mostly felt apathy to a majority of people, the same feeling you would have staring at ants, they just didn't interest him. If you did grab his attention the doctor did show child like glee but when the honest Lenin stared at the demon all could be seen in his eyes would be revulsion and his frown displaying clear disgust, as if he was holding himself back vomiting. This continued until she made her way out.



    Sometime later in Lenin's personal laboratory Argon would wake up from the anaesthesia a sudden wave of warmth his head, as he looked to the side he would see an entire new arm slightly larger than his own covered in bandages up to his shoulders, pulsating with unnatural energy. He of course had no way to know what was the magical origin of this power, but he knew it was stronger than anything he had wielded previously.

    "Welcome back, the transplant worked. I currently have you under a sensory dampener, to allow your mind to acclimate over time to the magical energy stored. The beating might be weird and that's because I installed an artificial arcano-regulator in that circulates the mana so you don't get poisoned. In laments terms a fake magical heart, of course, this is just a proverbial pipe plug, if you absorb more mana this heart will fail and the mana will spread through your actual body and slowly kill you. But you knew the risks."

    As he gave him the briefing the Doctor handed him a clipboard with the more technical factors.

    "Captain I must request that you let me tag along and observe your condition with this new appendage. I am very curious to see how well it will do once field tested."

    Swire Swire
     
    Jaunt Nemesis
    Location: Pocket of warm pink tree? Dangling in the void?
    Nearby/Mentioned:
    Jaunt's body torqued to a new will as his metaphysical form slipped into Claire's hand as if always a thing of tiny firm surfaces terribly warm to the touch. Reality conformed to both the will that said it was just a spider and the nothing-hole reserved anchored to the reality with other opinions. The surface above his five main eyes covered with faint soft silver hairs, at least between pale burn marks, much like most of his legs where rubbery black tips clung as tiny sappy red twigs to whatever they touched. An inexhaustible glue that necessitated two hands to get him into the pocket as reflexes pressed a peachfuzz underside to her hand in clinging at touch. Talons curled around her fingers as some comfortable friendly pet with only the barest of restrained rasp from sharp points when pried from her hand to put into a pocket. Hanarei Hanarei

    The pocket was a warm place, a dark one, with a faint thumping from somewhere far away deep in his dream. Trapped between a beating sun an unconscious mind obeying its last will to hold a matriarch against the dark. Part of his psyche tethered somewhere else as they traveled and kept him from the waking world. A more physical anchor shifting as the small spider in her pocket started to move. Near the warm pink tree, holding the something not prey, not eating the from the place it wasn't.

    A small silver-fuzzed head poked out of the nest on its warm pink tree with two tiny blade arms to open the flap. An upside down mute stare from many eyes gaze up at Claire as dim familiarity washed over a divided mind. The small mind had unsure wants but the legs held tightly to the lip of the pocket and to safety. Those on the front shown form underneath a spider in comfort if absently cleaning mouthparts between two tiny sharp leg points gripping the pocket edges. ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe

    Though nearby the eye would say there was a spot where there was no-thing there instincts would shout alarm trying to move through no-thing space. An faint eight legged shadow cast by a no-thing from the dim lights of the area. Irrational arguments from the mind that one couldn't pass through it. That things had bounced off though clearly they did not. At least until senses of internal reality recomposed themselves to something lucid. Around the shadow from no-thing where legs and earth ought to meet were eight faint silver candleflames burning on the wrong side of reality. if one looked just close enough to the end of the faint flickers overlaid upside down. Though the shadow itself incomplete as if it stopped too soon from something bent through the floor. Birdsie Birdsie Noble Scion Noble Scion Alteras Alteras

    A large four-fingered mark in pure black on Sophia's shin. A shadowed touch like the watery dark somewhere where Sophia tried to sink away from the light of life. A knight shaped as the order must be in erupts from tear in luminous space two metal glowing eyes fixated like flashlights at the dangling mind. All of the plated surface painted in vivid color as a canvas for knights of the dragon. The grip of that gauntleted hand tight enough about the leg of the dangling form of Sophia that red blood dripped to mar its duty painting in long rivers down to the floating form. These red drops of life-essence not from grip of the leg but from between the plated joints as Jaunt's meta-psyche fought to be an anchor against the dark. A light back to life trying to cast away shadow where the void had torn away chunks of blood where power used to be. Silver Wolf Silver Wolf
     
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    Solomon of Abyrdshire
    Location: Albion
    Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie     Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles

    The farmboy gulps as he steps across the border, realizing that this would be the first time he's ever left his home country. It'd been a rough journey for him, he hadn't ever really... run from anything before. He kept looking over his shoulder, wondering if another ambush would happen again. It wasn't a particularly good feeling. Solomon had gotten more accustomed to it as time went on, however, slowly easing into the adventurer's life. But now they had made it somewhere safe. Or at least, safe-ish. He looks around at the faces of his various companions, as motley and strange as they were, as one of them asks for his identity. He gives a bit of a tired smile, because really, there wasn't all that much to tell.

    "My name is Solomon, I'm from Abyrdshire, a little village in the west. I'm twenty-two, since last summer... I'm fairly new to this adventuring business, so I hope you all can teach me a few things."
     
    Churl said:
    (Collaboration written with help from Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel )

    Tamah Babbit

    Location:     Baryon Manor Dungeons- ???

    Shaking Baryon’s hand, something else occurred. Though her body remained in the dungeons, standing with the vampire lord, Tamah’s mind, her soul, her very being was suddenly somewhere else.

    Somewhere dark.

    With every vampire she had met so far, Baryon, his servants, his guards, there was something that she had not realized or put into thought until this moment. There was something behind their eyes, something that wasn’t seen so much as felt. A presence. And now she was facing that presence head on, without the benefit of a blood-sucking walking corpse to act as a buffer between her and it.

    She before a void that devoured all light, matter, presence. The only color in the blackness was the swirling mass of dark-red ichor at its core. It was a color born to spite light and its absence, not out of its reflection. The voice she heard did not speak to her from the thing ahead, it crept upon her. So subtle she didn’t immediately realize the voice was coming from the tingling within herself. It was her blood. The voice was speaking to her from the vibrations of her own blood.

    TrAiToR.

    Tamah stared into the vortex, taken aback.

    TrAiToR. YoU SeEk To HaRm My ChIlDrEn?

    She didn’t stutter or even bother raising her voice as she answered.

    “How can I betray what I never stood for?”

    A TrAiToR AnD A LiAr, ToO.

    The blood inside her did not just vibrate this time. It seemed to boil, and bubble within her. It erupted from her eyes, her nails, her pores as she gave a gurgle of fear and pain. And without warning she was back to normal. As if it had not happened.

    DoN’t BaCk-TaLk. YoU ArE A MeRe FrAcTiOn Of A ReD BlOoD CeLl tO mE.

    Catching her breath, Tamah glared at the Progenitor of Baryon’s brood.

    “You… accuse me, and then won’t even let me defend myself? Who do you think you are?”

    Her blood vibrated again without words, and though she tended for another explosion she realized this whisper was a hum. A noise of… approval?

    SpEaK.

    Tamah clenched her fists. “I have not once lied about who I am or- or what I stand for. It’s others that deceive themselves about who I am, but I’m honest. I want the villains strong, the heroes stronger, and Good to ultimately prevail.”

    The whisper in her blood became a laugh. A surprisingly human sound, from something so horribly alien.

    GoOd DoEsN’t ExIsT. NeItHeR DoEs EvIl.

    “If Evil doesn’t exist, what am I speaking to?”

    Another laugh.

    No EvIl. No GoOd. ThE OnLy CoNsTaNt Is PoWeR. ThErE ArE ThE PoWeRfUl AnD ThE WeAk. If YoU ArE HeRe, ThAt MeAnS SoMeOnE ThInKs YoU ArE WoRtHy Of My GiFtS.

    Tamah hesitated. Those words were the first thing that had truly confounded her in a scenario that otherwise should have long driven a person to a maddened panic.

    “I’m…powerful? Me?”

    YeS, TaMaH.

    The vortex churns, and staring into it she sees her life.

    She sees herself being whipped to the point she cannot move without screaming her throat bloody. She will be bedridden for months, she remembers. Despite the pain, she remembers these times fondly. They were the only way she got a break from work, and learned to read the stories of heroes. She was 9, the first time.

    She sees herself standing before the landowner, her family and fellow peasants having appointed her the one to take responsibility for the bad harvest. It’s not her fault, of course. It’s no one’s, it was just a natural drought. But someone needs to pay the price, and the community chose her because she’s a young woman, so they’ll go easy on her and she won’t get her throat cut like if they sent one of the boys forward. Knowing the beating to come, the bones not yet even healed from last time, the special knife she knows is just for her, she wishes she was the one just getting her throat cut. She’s 15.

    Next she sees herself freed. Liberated by the Guild, but not able to emulate her heroes. The beast she tried to slay has raked its claws through her chest, and she can only watch with disappointment, not even grief as it leaves her helpless on the ground to tear the village apart. She can never be one of the Heroes, she’s not a champion like them.

    She sees herself over and over, making pacts to have new magic forced into her. The things in the dark speak to her. Some whisper, some yell, some babble or scream. She’s stopped listening to what it was they were trying to say, and just went through the motions. She’s a tool, passed from Patron to Patron to wreak havoc and hope a Hero comes to stop her. Some do, but not the Guild. They are gone, now. The Patrons are driven out, or sometimes they just leave. They try to take a piece of her with them, but she takes a sliver from them as well. Over and over and over. She doesn’t even remember a third of their names, that is how little these supposed gods or devils truly mean to her.

    Do YoU KnOw Of AnY OtHeR PeRsOn On MeLiCaU AbLe To SuRvIvE ThE ToUcH Of HuNdReDs Of ElDrItCh PaTrOnS? Or EvEn On AlL Of AlHeRiA?

    She shook her head. “I don’t know much of anything,” she answered honestly.

    ThAt WiLl ChAnGe, WiTh My HeLp.

    “Am I serving you… the Lord… or the King?”

    EvErYoNe SeRvEs Me, In TiMe. YoUr LoRd Is My VeSsEl. BuT FiRsT, ShOw Me YoU’rE WoRtHy, TaMaH. ShOw Me YoUr PoWeR.

    Tamah considered this. Was she… really as strong as all that? Obviously, she wasn’t as strong as the Heroes. But maybe… she wasn’t just a tool for the villains. Maybe she was strong enough to be a worthy challenge herself?

    “…I guess that… I could take center stage. If that’s where the script is leading me.”

    ThEn ShOw Me.

    The thing in the vortex… moved. And the fight began. It wasn’t like any fight she had ever experienced before, the Progenitor was not an opponent she could attack. Tamah was barely comprehending that it was attacking her. So she let go of her mind. She fought without reason or awareness. She didn’t know how long she held out for. Seconds? Centuries? It was playing with her, a cat batting with prey instead of striking it down. But she was growing stronger, more vicious. Numbly, she was aware It had given her its power as she fought. As she lashed out with her summoned tendrils, she had summoned wings as well. She was overcome with a hunger not of the stomach but the being, and she tore into her opponent with relish to sate it. She would disappear, leaving a copy of herself formed of the blood she had spilled over her life, and that copy would break apart into beasts made of that same carnage when struck.

    She was burning, but this time it was full of life. A rush she had never felt before, for once she knew with certainty that in this moment she was alive. She did not tire. She did not win. When Tamah finally stopped fighting, it was simply with the dim awareness her judgement had ended. And despite her intentions, her beliefs, her loyalties, the Progenitor had looked into her. It had not found her wanting.

    It was time to wake up from the dream, she knew. To do her duty, at her Lord’s side. As she drifted back into reality, she heard the Progenitor one last time.

    PoWeR Is WhAt MaTtErS. ReMeMbEr ThAt. AlWaYs.

    And then she was back. Tamah Babbit. Warlock. Emissary of the Vampire Progenitor’s will.
    Click to expand...
    Lord Baryon
    With    : Churl Churl
    Where: Baryon Mansion

    When Tamah's eyes opened, they were in a completely different room - back in the living room where they'd spoken for the first time in.

    "Your ascension was a success," he spoke plainly, granting her a single glance, before returning to regale the outside of his mansion. "An astounding amount of souls was required for it, more than any other ritual I've ever had to do, but it was a resounding success."

    He placed his hands behind his back, behind his coat. "And I know you spoke with the Progenitor."

    Before Tamah could say anything, excuse herself, or otherwise react, he added, "I know, because he is me as much as I am him. I will trust you, from now on, because the Progenitor deemed you worthy of such trust. If he had not been so kind to you, I would have changed my mind the moment I found out about your... ideologies."

    He sighed, turning to look at her. "Your first objective will be to find one of the Guild members, isolate them, and bring them here. If anything is to go wrong, at any point, you may call upon our blood link, and I shall either intervene or pull you here through our connection. Now, go."
     
    Captain Gabriel said:
    Lord Baryon
    With    : Churl Churl
    Where: Baryon Mansion

    When Tamah's eyes opened, they were in a completely different room - back in the living room where they'd spoken for the first time in.

    "Your ascension was a success," he spoke plainly, granting her a single glance, before returning to regale the outside of his mansion. "An astounding amount of souls was required for it, more than any other ritual I've ever had to do, but it was a resounding success."

    He placed his hands behind his back, behind his coat. "And I know you spoke with the Progenitor."

    Before Tamah could say anything, excuse herself, or otherwise react, he added, "I know, because he is me as much as I am him. I will trust you, from now on, because the Progenitor deemed you worthy of such trust. If he had not been so kind to you, I would have changed my mind the moment I found out about your... ideologies."

    He sighed, turning to look at her. "Your first objective will be to find one of the Guild members, isolate them, and bring them here. If anything is to go wrong, at any point, you may call upon our blood link, and I shall either intervene or pull you here through our connection. Now, go."
    Click to expand...
    Tamah Babbit
    Location:     Baryon Manor
    With: Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel

    Tamah nodded to her… patron-avatar? Employer? Vampire sire? She’d need to figure out how to define their relationship on her journey.

    “O-Okay. Your w-will be done.”

    She had been wanting to see the Guild anyway, so this was perfect. Kidnapping a Hero was a bit more… iffy, but she supposed that sounded like a minion thing to do. She’d just focus on the finding them part first.

    Tamah received her directions and a travel pack from Baryon, and the return of her personal items alongside a pair of the same shackles used against her.

    Waving goodbye with the awkwardness of a man realizing his drinking buddy was his own bastard, the wayward warlock set off.
     
    Ararigonterisa
    LOCATION Royal Castle ---> City of Recordar
    INTERACTIONS June Verles June Verles


    Beneath the lowest sections of the castle existed Aria's personal workspace. Before her played several light screens displayed by magic. They were data from the memories of the Black Ops members. It was her job to create the weapons they would use against the guild. That was what Kyro had instructed her to do, well that and to create one more important piece...

    "You're having quite the fun aren't you..."

    To create an explosion capable of leveling a small city.

    ------​

    A black veil of darkness let way and light pulled the curtains away from the intoxicated Agron. As consciousness was gifted to him again he was returned to the stage of life. An odd heat washed over him as two contradicting beats fought each other. Argon took a long breath and converging lines in his mind forced the beats to slowly synchronize. With enough thought, he finally let his mind abandon the ideas, but the comfort remained without his continued effort.

    For a brief intimate moment, he looked up.

    What price have I paid?

    But he couldn't help to smile. "It seems I owe you a debt doctor."

    Pushing himself out of the chair Argon realized what effort he had placed on Lenin and with that, he was surprised to hear Lenin's desire to accompany them. The doctor could even visibly see Argon's face of confusion.

    Before he could reply the others entered the room. Baron, Syi, and Inir, each had received help from the doctor. Although it was clear they desired to show their gratitude, it was Argon who spoke up to answer.

    "It would be tiresome to say this every time, so I won't say it very much. Thank you, doctor. Your one of us now, we would be glad for you to join us whenever you feel the need, no requirement to ask."

    Other than Agron, Baron was the only one that had received permanent damage, in the form of scars. They would remind Baron of the dangers of his opponent, he would certainly try to fight Elsimore again.

    Inir handed Agron the briefing Aria had given him beforehand, he swiftly read through it until he reached about halfway before stopping. "Do you have the teleporter ready?" Inir gave Argon a nod in response. "Very well, let's go." Each of them made their way back to the lower floors of the castle. Within a similar room they had returned from, another teleportation totem sat ready to take them away.

    "Doctor," Argon started his question to Lenin. "I have been meaning to ask about your abilities." As he spoke the teleporter lit up. "Are you able to change your form?" With that Argon would allow Lenin to answer and demonstrate, before letting the teleporter take them away.

    As light reforged into their bodies on the outer edge of the city Argon posed one last question to Lenin. "Doctor? Have you heard of the Golden Campaña?"

    City of Recordar

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    Located within the "dead zone" of the Order of the Golden Campaña's rule. This city is the central operating figure for the resistance. The front of the city sits against a hollowed-out mountain, inside the mountain is their primary operating force. This is how they have been able to avoid the order for now. This is the second city of the resistance, the first was found by the order and reduced to ruins.

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    Averza Reyes
    LOCATION Border Outpost
    INTERACTIONS @il_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Birdsie Birdsie Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles
    CS
    Averza lazily placed herself on top one of the boxes, using Jaunt's belongings as an impromptu headrest. Throughout march to the border, she was focused on circulating her mana, both to get rid of any side effects the mid battle magic buff had, and to see if she could recreate that level of control. The power she was able to exhibit during the battle wasn't too different to her pre-void strength, but the level of control she could exert was very different. The thought of having greater control and finesse over the wind motivated her further in her goal to reattain her blessing's strength. But for now, the more pressing concern is the newcomers.

    She is thankful for their presence, and was well convinced of their good will, but an adventurer party isn't built on happy thoughts. With Sophia still out, and Jaunt in deep sleep, the group's core strength is uncertain. After hearing the three introduce themselves, Averza sat up properly and joined the conversation.

    "Ha... Claire, you're a knight. You should speak with more confidence... Anyway, The name's Averza, feel free to rely on me if ya'll are in trouble. The big guy sleeping there is Jaunt, and the one who you carried is Sophia." She gestured to the ones who weren't able to respond.

    "Right... Sasha came with Lady Sienna, so I assume you'll be joining us for the long haul? As for Solomon... You're gonna be doing a lot more than adventuring... Either way, welcome to the party." Finishing the belated greetings to their benefactors, she turned to Cyrus.

    Pulling out a small folded letter hidden beneath the leather of her armor, she carefully handed it over to the old man. "Its a letter of introduction from the House of Blanche guaranteeing my identity. I got it a long time ago during the quest to quell a Greater Wind Spirit. It only mentions my deeds and not my affiliation. It might invite trouble related to Fairfax, but it'll probably be safer than trying to cross the border as Heroes of the Guild"


     
    Jaunt Nemesis
    Location: Floor, near other warm pink trees
    Nearby/Mentioned: Hanarei Hanarei | Birdsie Birdsie | Alteras Alteras | ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe | Noble Scion Noble Scion | June Verles June Verles

    There was a tiny whisper in that instinctual brain poking out of Claire's pocket that caused it to crawl a bit further and peer around for prey. Or threats? There could be other threats on the warm pink tree. Maybe wounded prey on the floor? It remembered something on the floor. A wriggle of the bumpy leather abdomen and a tangle of legs freed it from Claire's pocket as it clung to her side looking on the floor. There was a home. A web? No... it didn't web. They had to go there to not sleep. A flash of darting hops from place to place on her body with the tickling of fuzzy leg tips crawling to the floor.

    He started to remember as the fog began to lift crawling along the floor. A dream slowly receding from his psyche with the partly ruined mountain that was his mind emerged from the brain fog. Tiny slivers of silver hairs flush across his abdomen in a growing storm of lightning as the tiny creature crawled across the floor out part of instinct than anything else. Then it got to one of the wrong-flames burning upside down as if on the opposite side of the floor. A tiny pedipalp shifted and sprouted fingers as he reached out to touch the shadow. The large red spider erupted from the floor as he fell entirely out of Lady Motoye's irreality with an angry fire-crackle of sparks. The feeling was strange though he remembered the travel it felt like he'd sleepwalked into a room then lost his train of thought. Something that didn't seem real behind him that couldn't have been a dream. Memories of the recent present dumped all at once in the foyer of his mind it took him a second to recompose a response to Cyrus.

    Jaunt fished around behind Averza and his pile of things to extract his transceiver then started cranking as the waterproof object crackled to life with his voice and canted his head at Averza then to the others setting the tiny box at their feet, "Jaunt Nemesis, 33, though we live longer than humans. I am a Tiller of the prime Matriarch of War to protect the people and worthy Matriarchs wherever they may lie. Matrem Vult. Our blood type is... uniform? White. Though we are... somewhere else? The border? I feel I've embodied something alien. My will burns as much as my back. Silver flowers crawl around to grow in the soil of my mind."

    The previous exposure to the Silvered flame empowered blood rage did as much to his inside as his back itching in moving patches on the outside. Burns tingled his top skin layer from burns he could very much feel and contorted to look at his backside. Patches charred to a weeping pale grey he couldn't feel and shores of red and white scarring. A direct hit from the immolation beam soaked by his elemental armor kept his organs from cooking even if it meant his entire topside hurt by contact. With a shake of his head found his hearing muddied from hairs singed off his cephalothorax that hadn't fully regrown but would recover quickly enough.

    Then at the bottom of the pile of memories found the end of the battle. The fall of Sophia by the strain and one hand under him crackled with energy as a will to preserve at all costs entered his conscious mind. The search for Sophia didn't go far to find her still pale and sinking away on the floor. Instincts furiously rang the clappers of instinctual bells in his mind. That feeling of pressure like his head was below water said nothing well for her health. Jaunt removes some makeshift bedding from one of the cots by hand and spread them on outstretched blade arms.

    Carefully scooping Sophia onto the blanket with both hands there was the faint crackle again of energy as one hand instinctively moves to the now colorful arcane mark on her ankle where his will tried to hold on. Tillers were not subtle creatures as his magic set itself on fire to keep another warm. Weak by the effort, moved toward the group and set his body down on the floor. He hoped she would recover soon.

    The speaker on the floor crackled as he asked with an exhausted melodic drawl, "Something is wrong. Can the void contaminate her Will with such a link to blood?"
     
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    Cyrus of Trostenvald // Elsimore Bellathriel

    "Ah, so I see," Cyrus uttered. He accepted the letter from Averza to read over but handed it back after giving it a cursory glance. "I don't believe it shall get us out of our circumstances on its own, however. Your reputation might not be mine, but it precedes you, and we're far to the north - odds are present and strong that someone's heard of you, Averza."

    "Alas, the old man blasts every promising plan into cruel pieces," Elsimore chuckled, hand supporting his face as he leaned forward sleepily, "between a dream, and a dream..."

    "Between dreams and reality," Cyrus chastised with a harsh voice, gently cuffing the young man's wrist with his staff. "And I would rather have you focus on our present circumstances than crafting clever poetry about my pessimistic attitude. Although you lack common wisdom, you are an intelligent boy."

    "I wonder which of us lacks wisdom, given your earlier outburst at the guards."

    Cyrus smiled widely, teeth unrevealed, as he placed his pipe between his lips. "Merely a part of the wizard charm."

    They sat in silent contemplation for a moment, while Jaunt roused from his slumber. After Jaunt asked his question, Cyrus answered, "It depends. I know little on the metaphysical mechanics of Sophia's gifts, but I do not believe the void would be to blame."

    "We need to wake her up and get out of here," Elsimore replied. "Do you have any potion ingredients?"

    "A few. And what do you suppose we'd brew?" Cyrus reached for his pouch, unclipping it from his belt.

    "I'd brew," Elsimore said correctively, snatching the pouch from his master. "You don't have any magical energy left, and no essence to spare or unweave. If you were to do something even as simple as making a potion, you'd probably end up unmaking parts of your soul. I'll brew an Elixir of Second Life for Sophia. It won't heal her, but at least it'll let her operate for long enough to get out of this damn place. All the rest of you should probably get some rest, too. Especially you, old man - we're relying on you for pretty much everything."

    And like that, Ellis stalked off to collect the bowls and mugs left over from dinner to use for brewing.
     
    .jpg

    Sophia Gertrude

    Location: Border Guardhouse?

    Interactions/Nearby: Birdsie Birdsie Hanarei Hanarei lil_kreen lil_kreen ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Alteras Alteras June Verles June Verles Noble Scion Noble Scion

    ​

    For some time, a familiar senselessness surrounded her. The inky black void of nothing, yet something was off. She looked down and saw her feet, armor and clothing still with her. She looked at herself, confused as to why she had freedom now, but the thought was interrupted by a single drop. It sounded again, and again. Plip, plop, plip, plop, the sound of dripping echoed in her ears. A scene slowly unfolded as grey walls echoed the sound, and it picked up. The plips and plops became a torrential downpour unknown to her, until she looked outside. A window peaked into the world beyond her room and she leaned against it, looking out. Ah, she remembered this day. The grey skies crying their many tears as she sat there in her room, resolute yet holed away like an animal within the fortress. She knew her mother was at the alter, praying for a miracle, but she knew better. Only strength could determine the outcome, and even success could lead to a grissly end. Water leaked through the stones and the dripping sound continued from a bucket she had placed to catch the water.

    Suddenly, the doorknob turned. She swung her head in a split moment to see it open slowly, a calm voice requesting permission to enter.

    "Granted," she said with a deadpan voice. Her heart swelled when she saw the sight, in the messenger's arms a well wrapped sword and shield sat. Thunder sounded and she felt her knees collapse as she stared, wide-eyed at the familiar silhouettes hastily wrapped in linen cloth. The messenger merely set them on the table and closed the door. The bricks collapsed one by one around her, into an inky black void as she sat there. Only the table and weapons remained as the world crumbled once more into the void, the dripping sound continuing even though the bucket had vanished. The downpour also continued, and she turned around to see next the maw of a cave. Looking back in the previous direction, she saw the rest of her comrades. It was after their fort was desicrated by the usurper and they had run away. No one said a word as they stared into the flames, enraptured by the twisting and churning over their own reality. Water pooled in another corner of the cave from a stalactite, dripping slowly into a puddle in the corner.

    Just as with the previous memory, her world melted back to the void. Grey dripping down endlessly, leaving the lone dripping sound, but the stalactite didn't vanish. Instead of the brownish color of cave stone, it was now a pearly white, smooth blade dripping blood into a puddle that floated in the void. Sophia stared in wonder as she gazed upon her own blade dripping the crimson liquid onto a non-existent floor. Suddenly, the loss hit her and she felt tears form in her eyes.

    "Why...why did you give me this sword? I have nothing left to protect," her voice strained out, holding back sobs. No answer formed aside from the dripping of the blade into the puddle of blood. "Answer me!"

    Her voice echoed through nothingness and mirrored her own voice. Suddenly, a tear streamed down her cheek and dripped into the floor. A ripple formed as she looked her own reflection in a clear pool. Within and above was a massive dragon head, staring at her with an unreadable expression. She looked above her to look for the head, but her eyes were met with the inky black void. She looked back only to find she was kneeling in a puddle of blood. She stood up, only to find the blood had coagulated and became a sticky substance that prevented her from lifting her arms. She struggled to rip her arms, until she heard something. The blood under the sword began to bubble and churn, rising droplets hovered in the air as their brethren eagerly joined them. Each droplet slowly built upon each other, rising more and more to the surface. Legs were first to form as a humanoid figure slowly emerged from the bubbles. It wasn't until after the whole of the figure formed did blood rip out from around the figure and form armor. The armor itself, while red in nature due to it being made wholly out of blood, was gnarled and twisted in some way while somehow retaining a knightly presence as it hastily assembled. The physical wear and tear was easy to spot, but even after the armor formed the transformation was not over. Spikes and scales ripped through the right gauntlet as the arm grew to monstrous portions. The pauldrons transformed similarly, but after their formation it collapsed and mirrored Sophia's position.

    The sword dripped in front of the figure. The figure looked up, mirroring her gaze as it did so. Suddenly, the blood she was in de-coagulated and knelt straight up to see nothing in the void above her.

    The first to swear their fealty, I bestowed them a scale to protect and a fang to retaliate. Blood pointlessly spilled is unworthy, blood should be spilt when necessary. Blood shall be spilt to protect, that is my truth.

    The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, as though it were the void itself.

    O young one, thou dost not see the truth. Thou weeps for those whose duty was complete, as though their blood wast pointlessly spilled. Thou dost not see their vision. Thine vision is clouded, unformed beyond the desire for pointless bloodshed.

    "What do you mean pointless? I fight for the innocent, in the name of Aegir."

    The voice laughed, and the blood shook and rippled at its omnipotent laughter. Even the knightly figure made of blood shook and quivered at its laughter, as though laughing itself.

    Perhaps it is true, the machinations of mortal-kind shall always be influenced by others. Thou believes thine fights in mine name, mine ideals, and mine blessing, yet thou canst see that the sanguine truth I upheld through the knights of mine oath. The void preserved thee, but it does not preserve our connection. There are others more worthy than thee, those who still protect with mine ideals through their own machinations. Those thou would call traitors and cowards are more worthy to mine cause, and mine power is divided because of a fickle and foolish grandmaster chose to defend a cause of chivalry and political machinations rather than those who needed him. After all, what dost a tyrant do to the history and practices of his opposers?

    Sophia felt a knot tighten in her throat. That's when the knight figure reached into the blood. It pulled a copy of the sword and shield she currently owned. The actual sword and shield were suddenly before her, the only sign of their movement being a ripple in the sanguine liquid that she knelt in.

    Yet...I am curious. When those truest to mine cause met their fate, they believed thou would be the one to carry on mine legacy. To what end is a foolish child unworthy of mine scales and fang worth protecting?


    The knightly figure walked forward, its steps rippling through the blood and causing the waves to briefly ripple over her own shield and sword.

    O young one, so valiant yet vain, if thou art truly worthy of mine mantle, mine blood...

    The figure was before her and she stared up at it. In one swift motion shot the sword forward. A loud squelch echoed through the void and she looked down to see the blood sword piercing her heart.

    Defeat the specter, the reflection of all thou is unworthy of. Only then will mine power, mine blood forever be yours. Prove to mineself thou art worthy protecting.

    The piercing pain hit suddenly, and the blade was ripped from her heart. She gripped the cavity and screamed, only for a single blink to return her to reality. The pain lingered as a phantom, but it was enough to continue her dreadful screams as she sat up and gripped her heart tight. Only when she didn't feel the hole or the searing pain did she stop and examine herself.

    Just this once will thine blood be replaced with mine. Until thou art worthy, thou will not receive such generosity again.

    The voice of her god spoke to her in her head, and then the telepathic link severed, suddenly. She felt a slight mental pain from that, and she looked down onto the covers she woke up upon, gripping them tightly. She felt her body no longer anemic and she even felt better than when she first left the void, but that no longer mattered as she shot up and violently kicked the blanket to the corner. Frustration sounded from her voice, and only then did she notice the others in the room.

    "Apologies, I just received damning news. Aegir has forced a trial upon me, and he is weakened due to the order being suppressed and annihilated. He claims there are others more worthy of what power does remain than me."

    She looked to the floor to see Aegisblood on the ground, both shield and sword silently sitting there. She leaned to pick them up, but when she touched them she felt as though her blood just popped. Touching it, she felt her entire body heat up and she groaned at the feeling. For some reason, it seemed to be reacting to the weapons' presence. She set them down shortly after and sighed in frustration.
     
    Dr. Lenin D. Arwin
    Location: Royal Castle Interactions: Swire Swire

    1645216166495.png


    The doctor turned around to greet the rest of the special ops with his usual smile, letting Agron come to terms with his own surprise at his request. Lenin had to wonder why wasn’t this such an odd request. He had put his great mind and mastery of science and magic to fix them to the best of his abilities. He could have easily fixed something as superficial as scars on Baron but he liked the fact that he was so hard boiled and dramatic and in the end it didn’t really affect his performance.

    As he turned around back to Agron as he got addressed about him being part of the team already he responded in a matter-a-fact tone. “I felt that you might say that, but it’s good to get it out verbally isn’t it?”

    In the lower floors as the squad prepared he just basically did what amounted to fuck all as he waited for them to get ready, sitting on a bench and kicking his feet like a kid off a pier with nothing to do, though just like a child he kept the same enthusiasm radiating around him.

    As they got ready to leave he would tilt his head at the question of his abilities: “Just changing appearance you ask? Should be elementary.”

    The squad could see as he first rubbed his face as if washing it, only to take it away to reveal that the relatively masculine Dr had gotten the face of a freckled green eyed maiden. Running his hands over his hair where once was head length black locks it got replaced by shoulder length perfectly straight ginger hair. As far as they could tell this wasn’t even an illusion, this was the Doctor morphing at astronomic speeds.

    He would end it off as he shaked his body, literally becoming shorter and thinner. Coughing they could hear how his tone changed to a much more feminine one and to top it off, he got his glasses off and put them in his pockets.

    Now having to look up at Agron; “Is this good enough?” The doctor asked in her oversized lab uniform.

    “The Golden Order? Of course I am aware of them, just another totalitarian controlled state. Though I admit I find it fun to visit their city, pretend to be mind controlled by them where then they would take me to be interrogated but then I would reveal myself to be in control each time and threaten an international incident that may lead to all out war.” she chuckled a bit as she wiped away a tear thinking of that memory.

    “But why? Are the heroes gonna work with the resistance? I doubt the order wants to come at odds with our regime.” She inquired about their purpose.
     
    Silver Wolf said:
    "Apologies, I just received damning news. Aegir has forced a trial upon me, and he is weakened due to the order being suppressed and annihilated. He claims there are others more worthy of what power does remain than me."

    She looked to the floor to see Aegisblood on the ground, both shield and sword silently sitting there. She leaned to pick them up, but when she touched them she felt as though her blood just popped. Touching it, she felt her entire body heat up and she groaned at the feeling. For some reason, it seemed to be reacting to the weapons' presence. She set them down shortly after and sighed in frustration.
    Click to expand...
    Solomon of Abyrdshire
    Location: Albion
    Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie     Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles

    "Um, I'm not exactly... Familiar with this sort of thing."

    Solomon scratches his head, the look on his face one of pure and utter confusion. Who was 'Aegir'? What was this whole 'Void' thing they were talking about? The stuff about souls unraveling from lack of essence... sort of made sense. It was like trying to push a bull to pull a plow beyond its limits, it'd just collapse and get hurt. But some of this arcane nonsense was completely foreign to him. Whoever this 'Aegir' was, they sure seemed like a bit of an ass. What with the whole, being hunted business, it wasn't as if Sophia was someone not in need of power.

    "What does that... mean, exactly?"
     
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    Black Ops Captains
    LOCATION City of Recordar
    INTERACTIONS Birdsie Birdsie June Verles June Verles


    "Actually it's quite the opposite," Agron spoke as the group moved from the outskirts unto the city. The decaying of the city structures made it difficult to tell this was the central hub of all resistance. Either they were very good at hiding their coordination, or they were on the brink of extinction.

    "We will be helping them." It was clear as they walked through the city that their presence was unwanted. Like a sole set of saturated colors, they stood out against the gray background of the crumbling architecture. "We can kill several birds with this. Mainly that if we succeed, Espania will owe us."

    The final destination of the four following Argon led them to a small restaurant at the edge of the city. Moving away the cloth that represented the door, each followed and sat down at the center bar. The makeshift building, which didn't really pass for much beyond stacked bricks and clay, had many people walking back and forth between the food area and whatever was behind the server.

    "Haven't seen you around here. What can I get you?"

    All other remained silent, as Argon replied. "The cracked golden flower. One for each of my friends here."

    To this, the man's face changed dramatically. He gave his opposer a stare that could tear through his very flesh and a gruelingly long pause followed it.

    "To whom do we serve?"

    "Those who have been taken from." But Argon kept a childish smirk on his face and replied instantly.

    "From whom do we take?"

    "Those who would take from others." Argon never let that smirk leave.

    In response, however, the man only changed to a sympathetic face. "You sure about this? Can't promise you will leave alive, knowing what you know." To this Argon gave no response.

    "Very well! The name is Issac, follow me."

    As they passed through the door to the back entrance Issac handed them several wristbands. Antimagic that would seal away their ability to use magic. "Sorry, it's protocol for guests." He replied to the team's questioning gazes, but Argon nodded and put on the chains to his powers. Others followed suit.

    Moving through an underground tunnel that led to the hollowed-out mountain, they made their way into the open area within the vast space no one would have guessed existed. Crowds of people ran back and forth performing various tasks, supplies of food and water were evident. Weapons could be seen around, and mages who had pledged their loyalty to the cause scattered within the mess of shifting bodies. It was enough to be surprised, but in truth, not nearly enough to take on the Order.

    "If you're wondering why we are showing our faces directly to the resistance, it's simple Doctor. They likely don't want us to be their enemies. The only reason we know this location is because of a mutual acquaintance who was willing to.....sell us this information." Argon kept the name a secret, but it was likely the Doctor at least knew of the Silver Clock Smith.

    "It would be a problem if we told others of this location, like the Order, but I imagine they know that if we intended to do that, we would have already done it."

    Issac stopped before a small table and a map. In front of him stood the primary leader of the resistance. "Sir, Black Ops members from the Script regiment."

    Before Issac could start his next sentence Argon began his own diplomacy. "We are interested in helping you remove the Order from power, and place the resistance as leadership. Of course, it's unlikely you will trust my words, so feel free to use any magic at your disposal to tell if I'm lying." Argon spoke true. These were his orders, help the resistance to return peace to Espania, there were no lies or deception, and he believe in his leaders plan completely.

    "You are welcome to decline, and try to wipe whatever memories we have of this place, but we will be going through with our plan with or without your help." Argon stayed firm. It was probable they wouldn’t choose to kill them, as it would only create conflict with Albion, and honestly, he wasn't sure they could kill the Doctor even with his antimagic seal on.

    "I would prefer if you rose up to take the position of leader when this countries puppet strings inevitably fall."

     
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    Faust Windfallow
    The Raven's Arcana | A Paralogue of Sorts​

    And thus, there was silence. Again, the lich was alone in a vast library of ancient artefacts, accompanied by none but himself, left to ponder the rest of his eternity. He remained quiet, as if in respect for the silence. Then, he threw his head back, beaked mask rising high into the air.

    And he laughed.

    Howling, maniacal laughter echoed through the vast, enchanted hallways of his bespelled caravan. "Mwahahahahahahaha... MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" His villainous cackling threatened to split the ears of all bystanders, and each with huff of manic laughter, his chest heaved up and down despite the complete lack of lungs in his undying corpse of a body. This persisted for minutes, maybe even an hour, far surpassing the limit after which any mortal would surely have collapsed due to lack of breath. And yet, just what exactly the lich found so amusing was beyond the grasp of even the eldritch ones that surely peered from beyond the veil. However, after a while, even this mysterious subject of endless amusement lost its novelty, and Faust slowed to a soft chuckle. He pretended to clear his throat.

    "Xylzrilyn."

    The lich called out into the nothingness. There, from the shadows of a lightless corner stepped out tall and unnaturally beautiful... person... It was rather hard to discern their biological gender; their shimmering gold hair gave little away to their sex. Their build was far too slim to be a man, unless they were simultaneously suffering from severe malnutrition, and yet they did not exactly possess any striking female... features, let's say. "The hell you want?" the butler (?) spat, lacking any sort of refinement befitting their 'occupation'. "I don't have time for your bullshit, I'm rather busy."

    "What, busy playing Persona on my PS4?"

    "Wh- I mean no, busy tending to my uh... butlerly duties?"

    "There's a check history function. Also, if you don't shut up and listen, I'm going to start using parental controls."

    That last threat seemed to completely shut down any sort of comments and/or complaints Xylzrilyn may have had. The butler's face coiled up in disgust at such an underhanded tactic, but could do little in face of this vile act of power abuse besides comply. "Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine," they groaned, "what do you want?"

    "Is Kodbromaal inside?" Faust replied with an inquiry.

    "Yes, he's ready to drive the steeds."

    "And Alexiel?"

    "The fuck do you think? The first thing she did after getting off shift was to go to your room and boot up Hunie Pop."

    That seemed to stop Faust dead in his tracks. "SHE WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?" He screamed in sudden outrage.

    "Your girlfriend's birthday is not a secure password," Xylzrilyn attempted to shout over the lich's deafening screeches. "And it's been like eons since you got NTR'd by Alexiel, can you just get over it? Even the deranged God who made her is dead of old age."

    Xylzrilyn's response that would've probably invoked the ire of any other emotionally unstable lich seemed to incite nothing from Faust. Until they looked down to see several icicles impaled through their torso. And, as per cartoon logic, only then was Xylzrilyn alerted to the burning agony of icy stakes being driven through their body. "Real mature," groaned the butler. This stupid lich really needed a therapist. Unfortunately, the last time Faust had seen a therapist, the therapist went insane and turned into genocidal maniac that thought all sentient life should be purged and reduced to mindless chaos-spawn. "Can you stop baby-raging and get back on topic?"

    Suddenly, as if Faust suffered from a severe case of split-personality, the lich dropped his murderous aura. "Ah!" He exclaimed, like he was remembering something important. "Albion!"

    "Albion Online?"

    "We're departing for Albion, retrieve Emily. We leave in thirty minutes!"

    "Seriously? That's all you needed? You really called me down for that?"

    "Oh then in that case, since you're so enthusiastic, I also need you to stalk a guy. They've got a membership card, it shouldn't be that hard."

    "... Oh fuck you."
     
    Claire Motoye

    mCQaEXi.png

    Claire stood as she was feeling a bit of awkwardness from what had unfolded. The girl's attention shifting only as she could faintly feel her belt shuffling glancing back to notice as Jaunt seemed to have awaken from his exhausted state finding himself in a rather diminutive form. She shook her head quickly pulling back the flap as to make sure it wasn't in the way tucking it against her waist. Her lips parting to say sorry though the words themselves seemed almost lost at the moment more so out of a need as to not be too disruptive. It was Averza's voice that seemed to further enforce her belief it was the right thing to do.

    "S...sorry." She spoke before seeming to cringe a little bit realizing her response wasn't exactly oozing confidence either as she nodded her head trying her best to put up a more confident front. It didn't help perhaps given the company she was in making her feel rather that much more insignificant. She was around what were heroes being a nobody herself. She wasn't exactly feeling as if she really should be putting up a strong vocal front when she was about as green as they come. Not that everyone in her current company were guild members, but she felt as if they likely had a bit more experience behind them then she really possessed.

    Her attention had been shifted as Sophia awakened. The girl watching and listening seem a bit uncertain how to respond. She wasn't exactly all that aware of who Aegir was just as much as Solomon was though being a bit more hesitant to raise her own voice to question it. She didn't want to come off rude after all. She watched as she attempted to pick up her sword and shield a bit more worry filling her as her lips parted to speak holding herself back realizing how out of place it would be for her to question her wellbeing. She didn't want to make the woman feel as if she was weak and create any more sense of doubt. She glanced down in thought before looking up.

    "Do you want me... to temporarily carry and move your shield and blade for you?" She spoke trying her best to not to come off rude and wording it in the best way she could to Sophia. She wasn't sure exactly what they did but she could tell at least to the touch it seemed to be unpleasant for her to hold as of now.

    lil_kreen lil_kreen Alteras Alteras Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel Birdsie Birdsie June Verles June Verles ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Noble Scion Noble Scion
     
    Tamah Babbit
    Location:     The Open Road, somewhere in Albion...​

    Some of Baryon's servants had met her at the border of his lands and directed her towards the last known location of a group of Guild members. That location turned out to be past the opposite end of the Lord's estate, and so after multiple confused turn arounds eventually Tamah said goodbye to her last group of irritated vampires and sauntered in the direction of the Albion Eastern-River-Borders. Her intel suggested the Guild members might head into Laurellia, but just in case they changed directions into one of the other two nations to Albion's East it was better to head in the direction that will let her adjust course to whichever nation she needed.

    It had been two days of travel when she found her first roadblock. Not literal, of course. It was only a crossbow bolt through her collar. She looked down at it.

    "...Ow..."

    It had been so hot she had taken off her coat and hung it over an arm, but that had only served to leave her exposed. Live and learn, she supposed. Now, what was the appropriate response for someone shot like this? She thought it over for a moment, before shrugging and deciding to collapse. Several minutes later, she heard footsteps and voices.

    "Didja fookin' see that? Stayed up fir almost 'af a minute! Da fock wuz dat abou?"

    "It was just shock, idiot. I've seen people stil moving around for twenty minutes with a cleaver in their skull. Is she fully dead, yet? I don't want surprises, she looks like a mage."

    "She's not breathing, Reck. Hasn't made a twitch."

    It was nice of that woman to notice, Tamah was worried she wasn't selling the idea of being a corpse as well as she could have been.

    "Good," Reck said. "See if she has anything valuable, and we'll dump her over that hill. Don't leave her out. Guards see a corpse by the road they can do the math."

    "We ain' see anone el on tha bleedin' road, les rest fir a bit bafor gettin' to work, yeah?"

    "Fine. We're far enough away from the estates we should be fine for now. But stay alert. Shan, keep lookout. Lurs, guard the prisoner. Deegs, learn to fucking speak. They'd hang you more for your crimes against language than anything else at this point."

    There was a shuffling sound as the bandits drew in and layed their things around her. A muffled feminine voice got louder, sounding distressed but unintelligble. Likely the prisoner.

    "Ay, Reck? Whoot err you gun beh dune?"

    "I'll take care of the body myself. I'd have you do it but I don't need another carcass fondled. We may be outlaws, but I'm going to hold us to some gods damned standards. I didn't choose this life to behave like a toothless inbred."

    "It's still too close to the estates, Reck," the last bandit said. "I don't like it. You know what Script does to criminals that don't answer to him."

    "Relax. With the Guild back, there's bigger fish. This is the time to make it big while everything's up in the air. Nab a few more like her-"

    More of that muffled distress.

    "And we'll get to make some friends in Espania when the Guild business is finally over and we need to leave Albion. Now, let's see what Jane Doe was carrying."

    Tamah felt Reck pull the bolt out of her neck and begin patting her down. She waited until he began to pull her coat out from under her and then opened her eyes. His own widened as their gazes met.

    "Hi."

    Ink-black tendrils erupted upwards and wrapped around his throat, pulling his face into her hand as a burst of dark magic hit him head on. Tamah tossed the ruined head to the side as she stood up and wiped some of the gore from her face. The bandits were gaping at her, alongside a bound elven woman. Tamah bit her lip as she considered the situation. It was a bit hard to tell what role she was supposed to play. She supposed if she were a villain masquerading as a hero, she should start to build back her reputation, right? And saving damsels would count for that. She nodded at the Elf.

    "H-Hello. I'm sorry that a fake like me is the only one around to save you, but I guess I can be your... H-H-Her-"

    She vomited.

    "Da fock iz wit' dis crazeh bit-"

    A blast of magic sent Deegs sprawling as Shan rushed forward, sword drawn. The tendrils wrapped themselves around her arms and raised them, allowing Tamah to plunge a knife through her throat. Something in her called the draining life-blood, and it oozed across her blade to envelop her hands, forming talons along her fingers. She felt more aware, more alert, more-

    She seized the fired bolt just before it pierced her eye, and turned to look at the shaking Deegs.

    "Oh fock. Oh fock. Mercy, merc- GAH"

    Her talons ripped into him. And then again. And then again until he stopped moving. As she raised herself from the mess, she looked towards the elf to see her in the grip of Lurs, his staff pointed at the hostage's head.

    "That's enough."

    She cocked her head. "Is it? I'm not sure."

    "D-Don't play games with me! One move and she gets it!"

    "But then what's keeping me from you?" she asked in genuine curiosity.

    Sadly, he didn't get to answer. Two red shapes had been darting through the grass and leapt on him in a vicious attack. He had no choice but to let go of the hostage as he clawed at the small blood-beasts, and paused as he saw Tamah's own staff leveled at him.

    "Oh no."

    "Sorry, I don't have a cool finishing line. I hope you aren't too disappointed with me."

    A barrage of magic blasts fired into him, and didn't stop until his smoking body collapsed to the ground. Tamah walked over and tapped him with a foot, and then nodded. She looked over at the terrified, blood-splattered hostage, and frowned.

    "Oops. I don't think it's supposed to look like this, let me..."

    Placing a hand on the shivering elf, she watched the flecks of gore travel across her to Tamah's hand in a single glob, which she flicked into the dirt. Cutting the restraints of the now clean elf, she tried to think of what to say.

    "S-So... um... hm."

    She stared at the elf and scratched her head before brightening.

    "Oh yeah! R-Right. Uh, you're saved, citizen. Go back to your home and tell everyone the Guild of Heroes has returned, and with them come people like me. ... D'aw, that sounded cooler in my head, I'm sorry. I think I'm going to loot these guys and head on my way, but uh, would you mind telling people about this?"

    "O-Of course. These men... kidnapped me. I'm reporting this to the first guards I see- um, thank you?! You... you saved my life, thank you! What's your name?"

    Tamah slapped her head. "Aw, geez, forgot that part, too. Um, I-I'm Tamah Babbit. I'm a h-h-Hero too. Kinda. So... uh... yeah."

    The elf watched the strange woman go through the belongings of the bandits, and after several minutes continue on her way without looking back. It wasn't until the woman was out of eyesight that she finally blurted out what had been struggling to escape her lips.

    "WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FU-"
     
    Last edited:
    Averza Reyes
    LOCATION Border outpost
    INTERACTIONS lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Birdsie Birdsie Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles
    CS
    Averza sighed as she tuck the letter back into her armor. It might be for the best, she thought to herself. Knowing that Lady, Fairfax might already be free as a sovereign nation, or plotting a counter-rebellion. And if Cyrus says I'm still well known in the north, then it won't matter who represents us.

    Before she could further ponder on their situation, Sophia woke up and told them of some alarming news. Feelings of pity and sympathy passed through Averza's face as she watched the knight try to pick up her armaments. It's one thing to have one's power stripped away, but not even being able to hold one's trusted weapons, Averza can only think it a fate akin to death for a knight.

    Attempting to console her, Averza hesitantly patted Sophia's shoulder. "At least there's a chance of regaining it. You'll just have to prove you're worthy." She strained a smile on her face, clearly not used to having to comfort another. As a child, her older sisters did the comforting, and even when she tried, it usually ended with her throwing hands against someone in petty vigilantism. Here, the "bad guys" were too far away, and she couldn't exactly throw hands against Sophia's patron god.

    "Errr... I guess you won't be able to start on that until we get out of here..." She trailed off while averting her eyes. "Erm... So now that everyone is awake and breathing, what do we do?"


     
    ThatWhichShouldBe said:
    "What does that... mean, exactly?"
    Click to expand...
    Elsimore Bellathriel + Cyrus of Trostenvald

    As Cyrus looked in the direction of Solomon, amused by his lack of knowledge on the subject, he drew in a deep breath of his pipe.

    "Aegir is her spiritual liege and sovereign," the wizard answered. "He is an Ascendant Dragon, a God among his own kind."

    "An asshole, too," Elsimore spat with vitriol; a bad thing to say about anyone, let alone a god, but his tone had a kind of vehemence that amplified that effect. "He's depriving Sophia of her power right when she needs it most. When we - this entire damn country - need it most."

    "Cursing astral entities is an excellent way to wake up one day and find that you're about to have your throat slit by a shadow demon," Cyrus said. "Gods have their reasons."

    "Whatever," Elsimore shrugged, returning to his work.

    He passed Sophia a small pewter bowl containing a sizzling, steaming liquid, dark emerald in coloration. "Until your crisis of faith is over, this elixir will do the job. It won't fight for you, and certainly won't heal you, but you won't be in such a miserable state anymore."

    "Elsimore," the old wizard snapped chastisingly.

    "Sorry, sorry," Ellis raised both hands in surrender.

    Alteras said:
    "Erm... So now that everyone is awake and breathing, what do we do?"
    Click to expand...
    "As for your question," Cyrus continued, "we leave. As soon as I'm done resting, I will stand up and leave to the toilet. However, this will merely be an excuse for the guards, allowing me to inscribe a rune array on the northwestern wall of this facility. And then Elsimore will enchant it, as to render it mostly invisible to the guards. At half-past midnight's bell-"

    "We don't live in the medieval era anymore," Elsimore interrupted, "You can just say three in the morning."

    "At three in the morning-" Cyrus continued with an annoyed grunt, "-we shall detonate said runic array to blow open a hole in the wall. And then, we shall climb down from the second story and run as fast as we can for the closest Laurellian outpost, to beg sanctuary."

    "And how do we climb down? And flee our pursuers who, I have no doubt, will probably have horses and bloodhounds?" Elsimore asked the old man.

    "I have not yet considered that."
     
    Solomon of Abyrdshire
    Location: Albion
    Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles
    Birdsie said:
    "Cursing astral entities is an excellent way to wake up one day and find that you're about to have your throat slit by a shadow demon," Cyrus said. "Gods have their reasons."
    Click to expand...
    The young farmboy takes on a sour expression as he listens to Cyrus's explanation. As far as Solomon was concerned, that kind of response seemed like a very rude thing to do. He was glad he didn't worship any of the Gods in particular then, they seemed like very unreliable people. With very, very touchy egos. Yes, his father had been right about that; best to avoid anything to do with them if he could help it.
    Birdsie said:
    "And how do we climb down? And flee our pursuers who, I have no doubt, will probably have horses and bloodhounds?" Elsimore asked the old man.

    "I have not yet considered that."
    Click to expand...
    "Well, I mean, we could always hide our scent with a much stronger smell. But er, I don't know if you'd be all willing to... cover yourselves in a bit of... uh... Manure. We'd wash it off once we get a good ways away of course, and then it'd seem like the trail just ended there."

    Solomon thinks about it, considering their options.

    "Of course, when we knock down the wall, we could always knock it down in 'one piece' so that it forms a ramp for us to slide down. That'd make things much easier. It depends on however your rune-whatchamacallits work, I'm not a wizard."
     
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