Fantasy ┌ spellsword ┘ Ardynport

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Dungeon Guild HQ entrance, Ardynport
DATE—07/03 | Early Summer
TIME—1401

Quick Response: Drunken Assault​

That heroic, self-sacrificing nature of Leonel was not always a boon for the man. He would find himself unable to finish his sentence. Not for any profound reason, just that it was difficult to continue speaking when a fist was rammed so directly into your jaw.

That is to say Albrack ignored the girls entirely. Some type of sexism, perhaps. More so, his masculine ego was challenge and hitting a woman simply wouldn't make him feel better. Decking one of the guys present most definitely would. Leonel was simply the first to do so between himself and Markus. Not that the others weren't due their own reactions, merely that this man had just empowered himself far beyond their means and had a hair trigger.

His speed could easily match Ayn on her best day, though that wasn't surprising. He several levels above her. What would burn her out was tolerable to him. Over time, too, her body would grow accustomed to the use of that power and it would no longer be such a calamity to harness it. However, this man in particular had another key advantage. His Unleash was not so brief that it could only last for one action. This would be his new power level for the next two minutes. As fast as Ayn on Calamity on Burnout and even a little stronger.

Leonel had no real hope of reacting to that type of speed in the same way he would have no real hope of parrying Ayn had she attacked him with her full ferocity. First a strike to the jaw to shut him up, then another to the gut that felt more like a cannonball to the intestines than a bar fight. His Bulwark Stars had no effective use here. He was the one taking the brunt of the damage and even if not the ceiling for force for that punch was well beyond his Spell to completely mitigate. At best, it was preventing some internal bleeding, but that didn't make hurt less or prevent it from knocking the wind out of him.

In just a second and a blindingly quick attack, the group learned immediately that this drunkard was an actual liability. Not a dog with no bite.

November Witch Haze- Carolyn ERode

​

 

[ERode]

Apparently, there was a lot going on with the guy who approached them.

That, of course, all went over Ayn’s head.

She didn’t pick up that he was three years their senior when it came to delving, nor that there were so many complicated rules and policies around the distribution of Spellswords by the Guild. She may have been sympathetic to the plight he was in if she knew, but his first impression was a horrible one: drunk during the day, ranting and raving, and ignoring his actual party member. Sure, Symphony did the same thing as him, but she wasn’t human to begin with.

Annoying that she didn’t apologize for bumping into Ayn either, but manners apparently weren’t something that she was taught. And that spot of annoyance was heightened by Leonel stepping in, his hangover making him even more stupid than he already was. What caused things to boil over, of course, was what this ‘Albrack’ did in response.

It was a blow with enough force to shatter a jaw and empty a mouth of all its teeth. The follow-up strike could have broken the ribs and pushed them into the organs beneath. Though she certainly couldn’t replicate that level of calamitous strength, Ayn had seen masters of the Surpassing Strike School do more with less. She knew what she could do. She knew too how fragile a human body was when not armored with ki, magic, or prayer. You could die if you tripped and fell. You could die from a shallow cut in the wrong location. And an Unleashed strike that you were too hungover, too stupid, to brace for? That stupid paladin’s jaw was practically jutting out for that!

“Leo!”

Ayn rushed by his side, lifting up his head to inspect his wounds. It wasn’t nearly as catastrophic as she had imagined, but with the force that the drunkard struck with, bits of skin and flesh had nevertheless been shorn off by Albrack’s knuckles, and she’d be surprised if Leonel hadn’t bit off a piece of his tongue when he was interrupted mid-rant by the sucker punch. Still, if his jaw wasn’t pulverized, then maybe his liver hadn’t been ruptured either? She couldn’t tell through his clothes, but she could tell that whatever damage he had taken had been far more severe in those two punches than whatever he had dealt with in that room with the mossmen.

She hoped Markus would do something to fix Leonel up. Because Ayn? Ayn had no God. She only had herself.

A sickly anger roiled within her stomach. Too inexperienced to truly be competitive, too young to give a shit. “You stupid! Fat! Balding! Drunk! Idiot!” Each word punctuated by a finger point before she sprung to her feet, righteous fury and adolescent indignation combining together in a molten rage that burst out of her mouth. “Actual children do better controlling themselves than your dumb head! Like, wow, how about you reflect on yourself! Big strong man like you, getting mad over a bounty from the fifth floor? What’s next, you’re gonna push babies into puddles and steal the milk from their mothers’ teat?”

Ayn pretend-puked, gagging in sheer vitriolic disgust. He was a grown-ass adult, with actual dungeoneering experience, and this was how he acted?

“Bet you’re the type to lord all your power over your partymates and treat them like shit, when they’re the ones that got you as far as you currently are. What a waste!”

Internally, she braced for the incoming blow, but externally?

Ayn snarled.

“Apologize now. To the lady behind you, and then to this dumb pervert.”

 

[Carolyn]

HELENI​

<I know who paves where I stand,> Heleni said. The language she employed was liturgical in character. Outside of the dyed-in-the-wool worshipers, it sounded like nonsense. <My youth makes my tongue wag too often. My master often told me this. It’s why I appreciate your discretion, Markus, and why I picked you to teach me over the other lad. But my conscience is my own. What’s right, what’s wrong, I decide for myself under the light of our lord.>

She next positioned herself opposite the drunken Albrack as he ranted on. The table was in between them. With her guide staring the man head on, Leonel stepping up to get decked, and Ayn rushing to help Leonel, there were precious few seconds for Heleni to hook her fingers on the outside table. The aim of her trajectory was Albrack without hitting other people in the way. She had no intent to get billed more by the guild.

Although the drunk was looking elsewhere, Heleni knew her own Unleash spell would sober him up. It was far weaker, less faster than his. Hence the table that she flipped over with precisely the right amount to distract him. Using her own petite size, she bent low and followed the arc of the table.

She knew her chances of walking out on her two feet was low. This was a terrible match to take. All the signs of danger were there. The man could punch the table aside, or kick it, or dodge; even inebriated, he needed only a single solid hit to get past her Unleash. Still she felt the table limited his choices—crossed out factors, funneled him, opened an opportunity to at least get a hit in. And if that was possible, Heleni would take it furiously.

Below the table in the air, she slid low to the ground with all power located in her right foot. Regardless of where Albrack went or how he struck, she aimed to discharge on his legs, getting rid of his speed and stopping his rampage from hurting anymore of her teammates.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Dungeon Guild HQ entrance, Ardynport
DATE—07/03 | Early Summer
TIME—1403

Markus ⚜ Stonehart​

Lvl. 5 | Supporter-Paladin
Status Focused
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 6/6
Lvl. 2 3/3
Lvl. 3 1/1

TAGS November Witch Haze- Carolyn ERode

Time seemed to slow.

All of this was occurring quickly. Of course it was, the pace of their fighting was often fast, but this moment stood out in particular. Not only did the Paladin have to wait for a precise moment, the events unfolding around him reminded him of his own youth. How quickly his team reacted in heated moments like this took him back to his days of glory. In that chapter of his life, allowing the words from Albrack to slide off his back would nearly broke a tenent of his oath. Words demanded action. Not only that, it was tied to hot-blooded nature of youth. It was unfortunately common across the board to get stirred up by the slurred words of a sloppy drunk.

He had hoped, obviously in vain, that this group wouldn't be the same. Some from the church were tempered, though rarely. Heleni seemed the type, but alas, she also thrust herself into battle. A similar type of hollow hope existed in Ayn; he had hoped her time in taverns would have bettered her behavior around a liquored up idiot, but again, alas, here she was mouthing off. He had no such hopes for Leonel. He had proven to victimize himself at every point possible, even if he should have been in a position not to care.

The sole exception was Symphony. The doll, in her handheld fixation, seemed to will her own safety into existence itself. Perhaps Albrack was just so drunk he didn't notice, but her act of ignoring him worked flawlessly. She was able to simply go around quietly, passing by the Quarterling partner that had tried to talk some sense into him. She treated Albrack, in that way, no different than she did the vines in the Dungeon.

Markus wasn't sure if he should be disturbed or relieved. In either case, his mind was still running through the dozens of fights he got himself into. Times when he couldn't let something slide, times when people made a snide remark about the Church or some off-color joke regarding Espel. As man of glory and pride, Markus simply couldn't let that slide. He fought a lot until his reputation grew such that anyone with common sense wouldn't challenge him and those that would often had better sense than to offend the church regardless. The man had spent a lot of time in this specific situation.

Ayn was about to get backhanded. Bitchslapped like she was a paid whore in the Ballard District. Heleni saved her by turning the table into a projectile. However, she was about to put herself into an even more dangerous position.

By the way mana flowed through him, Markus could tell that his Unleash was doubling his power. This was something most of them would eventually pick up in seeing other Spellswords use it, but it meant that for the moment, he could factor in the relative capabilities of each. Even Heleni would sweep or strike him, there was nothing to stop Albrack from simply stomping her into the ground. His toughness and might would be that he could take the hit and just break Heleni in return.

This was the moment that something truly needed to be done.

Compared to Albrack, the Unleash that Markus used was like an eruption. Of course, the Unleash the drunkard used was akin to an explosion when compared to the others, save Ayn with Calamity Burnout. Unleash scaled tremendously with power and levels, it seemed. An unfortunate fate for the living Doll who was without it.

Albrack did not get to dodge the table. He did not get to punch or parry it. Albrack was held in place by Markus who with the help of his Unleash was able to bridge the gap faster than most of their eyes could literally track. Markus had grabbed the hand Albrack had at his side, lowered once he gestured with the opposite hand to slap Ayn, and twisted it behind his back. His other hand simply pushed and supported the skull of the man, keeping it slightly forward.

This meant the table busted that very skull, a fact that would soon be evident by how there was a tiny trickle of blood from the impact that coated the left half of his face in the crimson nectar.

"It is a common misconception that I cannot fight," Markus said aloud. Plain and bold, though neutral enough to not be a direct threat.

By this time, a handful of people were trickling out of the front of the Headquarters and dozens of eyes peeped to watch the exchange through the various windows of the building.

"If we're all using Unleash, nothing is preventing me from restraining you until yours run out." A simple, but powerful truth. Half-truth, at least.

A sudden wave of cold sobriety hit Albrack. The pain from his forehead, the fact he was so easily overpowered, and the reality he couldn't use his Unleash again. Even if he had the spells and skills to fight, fighting three other Spellswords wasn't exactly a wise decision despite the difference in their levels. Actually, it was downright stupid. Albrack was no mage and didn't possess any abilities meant for taking on multiple targets nearly as strong as he was in base. Without some powerful magic, the power of numbers outweighed the power of levels here.

"I get it... I'm sorry. I'll go..." Albrack responded, his tone dulled, his energy lost, his will broken. He was still drunk and stumbling, worse after Markus had initially let him go, but he managed to never hit the ground despite his obvious head injury. It seemed the old stories about bullies backing down once challenged was true. The man shifted from haughty braggard to pathetic coward real quick. Not that his apology sounded sincere anyway. It was the type of sorry that came from a man that had made the same mistake a million times over and would a million times again. Without weight and entirely pointless.

"No..."

Albrack was confused. He turned back to look at Markus. What more would he ask of him?

"You will redeem yourself. Once your Unleash ends, you will take one strike from each woman without Unleash and two from Leonel with his," Markus demanded. Then he grinned. "Or, just one from me now with my Unleash."

Getting hit wasn't the problem. Albrack turned back to see all the prying eyes. There was the slight realization that he would likely be penalized by the Guild for his actions. This wasn't the first time. However, the Guild handled things privately. Markus was making this a public display. That was the point. Albrack knew full well that letting this party beat-up on him before scurrying away like a puppy with its tail-tucked would be worse for his reputation than his rampant alcoholism. Yet, he didn't have much of a choice. He knew he had no hope of running away or overpowering Markus as he was. During the brief period he was restrained, his hands were essentially steel stockades.

"Fine," Albrack said, defeated and ashamed. At least he was drunk enough to dull the pain.

"Good," Markus replied, "Symphony will go last." The devil was in the details.

Another minute and a half would pass and the party would get their turn to help the man with righteous redemption.

 

[November Witch]

Symphony

~{Reasoning}~​

Status: Confused
Location: Ardynport - Guild HQ
Interaction(s): Sir Les Paul ERode Haze- Carolyn

Symphony was caught off guard by Leonel’s words to her. Due to her mannerisms, her state and her appearance, she wasn’t exactly used to others wishing her good luck. So, she was thankful for what he said, but she didn’t say anything, just gave a look that seemed to have a hint of appreciation behind it. Plus, it was definitely a nice change of pace compared to the night she’d had.

She’d decided to walk around the man because he was in her way, and simply being annoying, hoping the group would follow as she focused on the task at hand. But it was clear that wouldn’t be happening when she heard a fist collide with something, and Leonel abruptly stopped speaking. She turned to see him on the floor, Ayn by his side, and Heleni flipping a table towards him. She immediately dropped her partially made dress to the floor and took a few steps towards the man from behind, ready to wrap her arms around him and hold him in place. Before she got the opportunity to take more than a handful of steps, Markus beat her to it, completely shutting the whole situation down. With that over, she turned to pick up her work from the floor. Now slightly dusty. She started to pick off some debris that stuck to it, like part of a leaf and a clump of dirt. But it wasn’t terribly dirty. She could still work with this. It would just need cleaning before it would be wearable.

She walked back up to the group as Markus spoke, and it just confused her more. They all were going to hit him? But he’d only hurt Leo. Why did Symphony need to get involved? Last time she moved a human five feet, she was almost executed. So assaulting one made her a little more than weary. She didn’t get hurt herself, and wasn’t pointless violence frowned upon by not just humans, but everyone?

“Why?” She started, but realized she didn’t specify her question, and Markus would likely take it towards his comment about her going last. As she spoke, her hands continued their task dutifully. “Why should I hit him? Isn’t pointless violence bad?”

 

[Haze-]

LOCATION— Dungeon Guild HQ entrance
DATE— 07/03 | Early Summer
TIME— 1403

⚜ Leonel Blackmane ⚜​

Level 2 | Guardian-Paladin
Status: Hungover, satisfied?
Spell Slots
Lv. 1 1/3
Frenzy
1/7

TAGS ERode Sir Les Paul November Witch Carolyn

It was instant, too quick for him to feel it at first, or even realize that he’d been knocked flat on his ass in front of everyone. He didn’t manage to spit out the last vowel of his sentence, a mouthful of knuckle made sure that never happened, then the back of his head banged on the floor.

He was seeing stars.

A plain, bright white panel of nothingness stood before his eyes, dotted with miniscule, multi-colored floating fractals, bobbing and twisting in place. He heard a distant and faint voice ringing in his ears. Had he finally earned his place in the light alongside his Lord? Was that an angel calling out his name? — “Leo!”

“Mmrn…” — He grumbled, cut his eyes at the swordswoman as she cupped his bloody, sorry face. Of course it wasn’t an angel. It was a demon straight from the hells, more like.

He’d blinked out of conscious for a moment, now Ayn was there checking on him with a frown, as if he were a child getting scolded by his mother after falling and scraping his knee. It was a mixed bag of emotions handed to him, didn’t know what to do with them. He wanted to thank her, but he also wanted to die inside.

A dilemma, to be sure.

Leonel hissed like a vampire flashed with sunlight, tensing up and clenching his forehead, when she let go of him and the back of his head touched the floor again. He did a quick assessment while Ayn busied herself with cussing the drunkard out, sliding a clawed hand beneath his shirt to feel out his upper section, checking for the feeling of a rib snapped out of place. All he got to feel was the sharp, jabbing throb of pain at his sides. Signs of a big black-and-blue bruise already forming. He ran his other hand across his jaw, on the numb side of his face where he’d taken the hit, already feeling like it was swelling up.

His ego had taken the most damage. They were punches thrown with no technique, just drunken rage and the boost from unleash. A skilled hand would’ve knocked Leonel’s lights out in one clean hit, Albrack on the other hand, was likely no martial artist.

The situation escalated, tables where thrown, and just as he thought, as he had hoped, the old man had to step up to snap the tension in half. The curse of the leviathan never mentioned anything about beating the daylights out of drunk spellswords.

Leonel pushed himself up with an elbow, groaning, a line of blood running from the corners of his mouth, either from tearing into his cheeks with his own teeth from the force of the punch, or from busted gums shedding those same teeth. He sighed, a stalled silence coming from him as he only gawked at the other radiant paladin with weary eyes.

He felt pathetic. A common occurrence.

One and a half minutes before he could get his hits in. The more the clock ticked forward, the more he didn’t want to hit the man at all, the more the realized that none of those punches would’ve been earned in fair battle.

Nonetheless, the first of the group to step up to help poor Albrack ‘redeem’ himself, was the lion.

There were no words exchanged, there was only a clear, non-verbal notion thrown around in the air for all onlookers to catch, a simple gesture from the paladin that brought an understanding. Leonel stopped in front of Albrack, unceremoniously bringing two clawed fingers into his mouth, having the steel tips click-clack against his teeth until he finally pulled out a loose, bloody molar, tossed it out unto the floor.

Leonel was either killing the man or putting him in a nice, comfortable wooden chair for the rest of his life.

A burst of mana coursed through him as he Unleashed, then the first hit flew. A straight, perfect shot at the man’s liver, Leo’s whole body twisted into proper form. The second hit came, a sharp hook to the nose, followed through as he swept at the man’s ankles with one leg, using the momentum of the blow, Albrack’s weight leaning back, to turn it into a throw.

He would have kept going, but he was only allowed two hits, sadly.

Leonel squatted beside the drunk man on the floor, lightly knocked twice on his forehead to make sure he was awake. The punches weren’t earned, but they sure felt good — “We’re even.” — Him, beat up and hungover, he, bitched in front of everyone and drunk out of his mind. It was an equal exchange, in Leo’s mind — “Get up. You have two more coming your way.”

After giving the drunkard the Lion Knight’s special treatment, Leonel got up and walked to stand beside Symphony — “Pointless violence is bad. That is why citizens who, say, throw a punch over nothing, are punished in this city, in hopes that they won’t repeat the same mistake again.”

“Our friend here’s likely too drunk to remember the lesson, however…”

 

[ERode]

Well now, how exactly was she supposed to feel about that?

By the time Albrack’s Unleash faded away, Ayn’s own temper had faded with it. Leonel didn’t actually look like he lost all his teeth after all, and his brain hadn’t been scrambled by the punch either, which definitely meant that even if Albrack had become as strong as Ayn was, the guy clearly was a third-rate in terms of fisticuffs. Markus had laid down the law, but the swordswoman herself (and Heleni too, apparently) had been raring for a proper scrap instead. This, on the other hand?

She cast a glance over at the Halfling woman, raising a questioning brow. The woman responded with what could only be considered a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. There was probably a time when Albrack was actually a good party member, huh? Probably raised up as the rising star of his party, getting praise from even their guide and all that.

Hm.

After Leonel got in his punches (kinda embarrassing, really), Ayn stepped up next, giving a backwards glance towards Markus. “Hey,” she called out to their guide, “were you the only Spellsword in your party?”

"Most of the time,” came his response. “Even before becoming a Guide, I had been in a handful."

“Well.” She turned back to Albrack, as if that answered everything. “There you have it. Stop drinking and start training.” That was how it all ended up, really. With time and effort, even a dying star could be rekindled. If one’s heart still beat, then one’s journey to self-mastery was only paused by one’s own inaction.

Not that Ayn really cared if that sad drunk got his act together. She just felt bad for those stuck with his sorry ass, same as how she felt bad about all the sad drunks she had to drag out of the Virgin Merrow every morning. It was a fleeting emotion, the hollowness that remained after the initial burst of annoyance and irritation.

If they were fighting, she’d have aimed for the knee or the throat. If she had been personally hurt, she’d have aimed to enact exact vengeance, striking the same spot she had be struck upon. In the absence of both though, the swordswoman stepped behind Albrack instead, flexed her toes inside her boot, and landed a solid kick to his rump.

Nothing so full of effort and satisfaction as Leonel. Just one at half-force, delivered with a promise.

“If you’re still like this in six months, I’ll kick your ass for real.”

 

[Carolyn]

HELENI​

Heleni felt her Unleash slacken. It was the end of the line for her injection of godly strength. Since the exertion was minor compared to the dungeon, she wasn’t as tired. But there wasn’t the same pep to her step. The violence in her eyes faded as well.

Her punishments came with the intent to cripple physically. What Markus had in mind was more cerebral. Here was another lesson to learn. So she took notes.

She folded her arms in the appearance of faux-innocence. The same girl that had lifted the table and was ready to go pound for pound was in a mercantile mood. After all, Leo claimed his body, Ayn his pride, and now Heleni his purse.

“Since everyone else said their piece, how about I exchange my hit for payment of the damages here by Albrack?” She looked between him and Markus. The table was in the background. "Fair's fair, no?"​