Fantasy TOTTDLMTH Episode 1 (Iris)

[Pilgrim59]

TOTTDLMTH
IRIS ARTICLE​

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GUIDELINES
+ Basic grammar - comprehensible level
+ No god-modding - if unsure, run your ideas by me.
+ At least one paragraph for reply - no one-liners!
+ Iris Companions will post under IRIS Sub-Thread.
+ Harbingers will post under HARB Sub-Thread.
+ At the top of your replies, please include character name and location.
​

 

[Pilgrim59]

IRIS
EPISODE I: Homemaker​

Episode I Premise​

The westerly breeze beckoned the morning rays into the streets of Dragonsreach. The residents of Aurelian district tended to their morning routine, untouched by the discrepancies of their neighboring peers, as they slept soundly at the expense of the Central and Epirean districts. Meanwhile, the piers flickered with broad, immaculate sails, teeming with life on both the seas and the metalled shores. It has been more than a year since the defeat of the Daemon Lord. The end of the Fourth, and possibly the last, Daemonic War. The inhabitants of Dragonsreach were quick to forget, for the price of their placid nights and freedom were paid for in blood for the last nine years. Unbeknownst to them, the greatest threat to Grozny resided among them, and in plain sight. Yet here the noble Havenites stood ignorantly, indulging and fornicating away at the expense of those they owed their current livelihood to.

Those that came home carried with them their unspoken burden behind every mug of ale. By merits of rites of passages, trials of character, patriotism, or obligations, what they earned out of the hellish war was a gentle tap on the shoulder. Tensions are at an all time high, as ardent members of the Evocati Society took to the street - demanding proper responses and aid from Barley's Keep. Where diplomacy fails, violence ensued, albeit brief in their quake, as the Black Watch Order had no room for sentiments - only peace and order.

The heralded heroes of the conflict are on the brink of displacement. Their purpose faded into oblivion, now that there were no present foes to combat but their own evils. Long wakes took them, making up for their sleepless nights on Saarema. While others continued to curl up in a foxhole they made in their own backyard - for the coarse patches of dirt were safer to them than that of a warm blanket that they deemed as hostile and suffocating.

Among these broken squarebacks, were the Iris Companions - who fared better than mere soldiers. But even so, their post-war symptoms were often dormant, awaiting to capture their consciousness when they are most vulnarable. Despite their destitute situation, the Companions made peace with their evils by mending bridges and taking on part-time jobs, rather than be victimized by the luscious whiskey and carbenet. Following the conclusion of the war many moons ago, their less-than-friendly associates in the Imperial court were keen on disbanding the Iris Company altogether. The only thing that kept it together was a young commander by the name of Sylvia. The prophesied Sygis of this era. While most companions could have retired to some island in the Parallels to start a small plantation of sorts with what pensions they had, some decided to remain in the Havenite capital. For whatever reasons they conjured for themselves, they all shared a common bond and fondness for their commander. One mere anprac call away to be given a purpose.

In the shadows, lingered remnants of the Daemon Lord's thunderous chosens. Some have made their way to Dragonsreach, by either mere chance or with purpose. Following their overlord's disappearance from Mount Hornet without ever recovering his body, they were hopeful in their quest to be led into battle once again. At least, the more determined ones. There were others that chose to embark on their own destined paths, breaking the habits of their strifes. Altogether, no matter their aspirations, what was left of the Harbingers kept it to themselves, mindful of the Iris's presence. There was nothing more dangerous than to face their well-coordinated counterparts without proper reconnaissance.

Worthlessplebian
Zariel
Doctor Nope
Midrick
Remembrance
Nessi

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sylvia of Verdan
59th Street, Dragonsreach, Haven
Nessi ​

"Commander! We are cut off!"
"Hold the line, lieutenant!"
"The golems just broke our left flank! We can't hold without those PIAGs!"
"Hastings! Call those Drakensreiters off! They're too close!"
"Ground to Falcon Squadron, break off the attack! Pull Up DAMN YER EYES!!!!"
"Breaking off, breaking off!"

An eerie silence crept over the girl, as she witnessed a fiery orchestra of hellish inferno that consumed her men right before her. Their screams only got louder as the smoke cleared. By her own orders, her men paid the price. Her crimson eyes widened in horror, as their flesh became undone by the blazing wave. She could neither wept, nor move. The wyvern riders made their flyby, as the inferno trails followed them.

"Commander... help... me...!"

"Hastings! No! No... Cease... no more... no more!!!" she yelled across the room.

Before she knew it, Sylvia was back in a renovated room. Her ash-tainted and bloody armor was replaced with a gray sweater. The rough and frigid sensation of lamellar and steel were now but a soft touch of warm wool and linen. The vivid image of her men dying before her were replaced with drawers and a mirror. Drenched in sweat, and her hand gripped tightly onto her lance beside her, Sylvia caught up with her beating heart.

Another nightmare, she thought, turning to a familiar figure beside her. His face brought a comforting yet distant sentiment. While she was glad she was not alone, his visage and her tight grip upon her weapon only served to remind her of what she could have done to him inadvertently. She could not live with herself, knowing that she had harmed her beloved significant other in a fit of a nightmare. One second she was in Onyx Valley, then another in the comforts of an apartment in Dragonsreach. Sylvia's fingers relinquished her grip upon her lance, causing it to dissipates, just as her husband's deep blue eyes greeted her. Before she could deal with her already death-marching heartbeat and shaky breath, the hero blushed uncontrollably.

"Ra...el..." she muttered softly beneath her breath.

 

[Nessi]

Ra'el
59th Street, Dragonsreach, Haven
Pilgrim59 ​

"They are coming. The Iris company is coming with their army, and I'm afraid that we are outnumbered badly. This is what I expected, and is my punishment for killing so many. My loyal companions, I order you to leave this place, and go as far as possible. Live your own lives, live peacefully, and never speak of your past with me....that is my final request..."

Ra'el opened his eyes. He had a strange dream, he was talking to a group of people, but couldn't remember who they were. To them, they were merely shadows, the outline was there, but Ra'el just couldn't remember what they looked like. They were just important to him, whoever they were. He decided that he would worry about that later, because someone very important was in front of him, Ra'el's wife. Judging from the way she was breathing and shaking, Ra'el assumed that she had another nightmare. She had them frequently, and it didn't bother Ra'el much, due to the fact that he had weird dreams.

"Another nightmare?" Ra'el asked Sylvia as he got out of bed. He embraced his wife, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. The pair didn't say anything to each other, and after a few moments, Ra'el released Sylvia. "If you want, we can talk about your nightmare over some breakfast?" He offered as he opened the bedroom door and walked into the kitchen. "Let's see here, eggs, bread, butter...We don't really have much, huh?" Ra'el muttered to himself. He sighed, and heated up a pan before cracking a few eggs into the pan. "We should probably go grocery shopping soon, we're running low on...well everything really." He said to Sylvia.

It didn't take long until Ra'el was done. It was a simple meal of eggs and toast, but it would have to do until they got some more groceries. He also made tea for his wife, in hopes that it would help her settle down after her vivid nightmare. He wanted Sylvia to be happy, but it seemed like the war had truly left scars that can never really be repaired. Ra'el grabbed the hand of his wife, who was sitting at the table with him. "why don't we go out today? Just the two of us, it'll be good for us to get outside, socialize a little bit." Ra'el suggested.

 

[Doctor Nope]

Eryn Leasath Cissnei
Streets of Haven
​

"~And, all done."

Stepping backwards from the seated child, he took one last look at his handiwork to make sure all was in order. They'd fallen cut their eyebrow, warranting a house call and some stitches. The sight of the blood had given the boy's parents a scare, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it looked. Treating it felt like child's play to him. Lifting his beret slightly, he procured three wrapped lollipops from underneath, brightly coloured to indicate their flavours. These were of course regular lollipops. He didn't bring the special ones out with him for house calls.

"Now, I don't suppose you have a flavour preference?"

...

After finishing his business in that house, he took to strolling the streets rather aimlessly...and realised, after wiping his brow, that he'd been sweating. He hadn't exerted any particular effort just then nor was it all that warm out on this morning. In fact there was a bit of a chilly breeze blowing around at that moment, especially noticeable by Eryn since it was blowing his longer hair around his face. What'd caused his currently high alertness, was how peaceful the street was. There was distant ambient noise from busier parts of the city. It distressed him to think that it could have been drowning out cries for help, or reinforcements, or anything that he needed to be aware of. There were always cries for help on the battlefield. The absence of it was unnatural. Even as he walked through a relatively unpopulated street, his survival instincts were begging him to find a less exposed route, to keep an eye out for the glints of scopes, or even just to find an allied troop to accompany. More than a year of peace, in one of the safest places he could be in, and he still couldn't shake the thought that he was in danger like this.

Closing his cloak more tightly at the front, he continued on. The current job was completed, so he began heading to a pharmacy nearby his residence to restock on certain supplies. He'd gotten pretty good at manufacturing his own pharmaceuticals, but doing so wasn't as fast as simple buying the stuff.

Not that he was in a rush or anything, considering the slow pace he now walked at.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sylvia of Verdan
59th Street, Dragonsreach, Haven
Nessi ​

(Since Mount Hornet, I can hardly discern dreams from reality. What if my hands strayed far from mere recoil-...) she contemplated, before Rael's embrace quickly dispelled her troubled thoughts.

Sylvia's eyes widened, as she followed Rael out of bed with a smile - something she could never bring herself to do until she met him. For all the years that the war took away her smiles, this seemed like a rightful reparation for her sacrifices. It would not hurt to be indulged now that the conflict was over.

She eyed Rael, as he conjured breakfast. Everything else faded, for she could not help but be entranced by the magical aspect of their married life thus far. Perhaps she was the luckiest out of the entire Company. But even so, she owed it to herself to set things right.

Sylvia sat down across from Rael, as she took a sip out of her mug that Rael made for her. Chamomile with Marethian honey, just like the first time he did. Neither the taste nor the choice of ingredients, but rather the knowledge of her husband's efforts that endeared her senses to anything he made. She eyed Ra'el briefly when he proposed an outing. Perhaps that would placate her troubled minds slightly, and a chance for her to catch up wtih Ra'el. For the past few weeks, she had been frequenting Barley's Keep in hopes of lending her services to the Imperial Court. Thankfully, the Chancellor was willing to discuss the Company's purposes. But that was planned for today.

"I would give the world for it. Alas, Laure and I are expected at Barley's Keep within the hour to be granted audience with the Chancellor. The Companions could use a mission right about now. After all, that's what we are best suited for. Perhaps we could go for dinner instead? I'll permit you the honor of choosing the locale, long as we could afford it." she circled Ra'el's seat, setting aside her mug of tea to embrace him from behind.

 

[Zariel]

Breathe.

Amid a verdant prairie, far from the clamour of the city, she stood placid. The icy breeze buffeted shocks of Irelia's platinum-blond hair. Her regal, silken qipao flailed at her side.

Poised and ready, her eyelids unsealed, revealing two carnelian orbs. Her mind distilled, and purer than the Wangshu lake.

Irelia grabbed the hilt of her blade and unsheathed it, the now-familiar singeing warmth of Solar Magic surging through her body. The heat was still painful, even after all her time with the weapon—but now she welcomed it, using it to perfect her focus.

Blocking out all other sounds, she could hear the gentle heartbeat of her katana—Amaterasu, a legendary sword formerly owned by Irelia's late mother, Kaguya. After Kaguya's death, the weapon was bequeathed to her beloved daughter. Even now, Irelia claims to hear her mother's voice guiding her through Amaterasu.

She lifted her gaze from the delicate grass to the horizon, and took a deep breath as she altered her stance. At last, she was prepared.

To begin with, she started slow. She thrust her sword forward. The air bellowed. Then tilting her blade, she slashed in an arc, evoking a hiss as metal severed air. In an unbroken motion, she redirected the sword, striking obliquely before she defensively reinstated Amaterasu.

Another deep breath.

Impetuously, the blade rends the air, each precise strike foisting the wind to whistle in pain.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Irelia lunged a dozen feet, attacking downwards in an X-shape. The tempo of her movements increased. Each of her swings was with vehemence, sending forth a gust which brushed against the grass stalks encompassing her. She twirled, her sword spinning with her like a sycamore seed. Completely absorbed in her routine training, Irelia continued her fluid movements. The war may be over, yet she refused to let her skills wane with the passing of time. As one of the last few members of the Oeki Order, it was her duty to preserve their secrets and martial traditions.

Many heartbeats later, Irelia leapt back into the air and ran two fingers along the length of her blade, igniting it with a brilliant flame. In a single conclusive virgule, a plume of heliacal fire projected from her katana. Black and orange wings, with gouts of white, beat softly as Irelia glided back down to the ground. A soundless landing.

"Sou Shae Gaen Na Kyri," Irelia whispered in the ancient dialect of Jianki, upon completing her kata.

Sighing, Irelia concealed her weapon. The sheen on the golden blade reflected the rays of dawn as it slipped into its scabbard.

​

Brushing the strands of hair from her face, Irelia let her eyes roam to the city just visible in the distance—Dragonsreach. It'd been almost a year now since she started living there, where she tolerated a relatively unrelieved life. Still, she was grateful that she had a place to call home. Besides, it wasn't so bad when she had multiple allies and close friends that reside there too.

Through rounded lips, she let out a slow and controlled exhale and started walking, a leisurely gait, back to the great city. On the way, her mind anticipated what today would bring.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida

On the 28th street in the Central District of Dragonsreach, there lies a modest little clinic, neatly nestled between the other buildings. From the outside, this "Web Clinic" appeared innocuous however appearances can be deceiving as the only medically knowledgeable resident will show you. But where is the doctor? He isn't in his office which doubles as the reception area on the first floor, nor is he in the examination room next door filled with cabinets, drawers, and an examination table. So if the doctor isn't on the first floor then is he on the second? He isn't on the second floor although we are getting close, first we need to navigate through the various file cabinets which take up the bulk of the floor's space, the administrative section. The second floor is however connected to the attic through a trapdoor.

Darkness encapsulates everything in the attic, almost impossible to see anything. The doctor is "sleeping" in a construct of his own webbing, suspended from the ground, his four, multi-jointed, spear-like limbs mechanically locked in place as they hold their user among the web. His hand lazily reaches for the air, he grasps a cord of his silken wire then gently pulls. The cord was connected to the drapes of the circular window of the attic, a sliver of the morning rays invited themselves into his room. He releases a deep sigh as the beams touch his darkened carapace, warming it. Arachnids don't dream, they only have their memories to keep them company in the long nights. Company, the word alone would've made him smile if he had lips. His additional limbs released him from the web and he gracefully, as he had always done, landed on his feet. A violent series of twitching descends upon the external appendages as their muscles relax and contract for several intervals.

Preston begins walking towards the drapes, the light travels up his body then into his many eyes. It stings yet is also a remedy for the soul. He parts them fully and the entire attic is illuminated. On the porch of his clinic is the morning newspaper and he is delighted to see it. With a click, the window is pushed open and he leans forward. A balled hand is raised above his head, the many microscopic spinnerets in his palm begin to twist and turn in preparation for the thwip as the other soldiers called it. He sends his hand down then opens his fist, the web shoots from the palm then thwips the paper. With a quick yank, the paper flies up and into Preston's hand. His claws cut the web from the newspaper and the spinnerets cut the web from his palms. He turns back inside then tosses the funny pages onto a single table in the attic.

Over the sink, Preston pulls back his faceplate to reveal the flaky mucus that covers those jagged teeth. He scrapes it off then rinses his teeth with water. The mucus will replace itself once the face plate returns to its' position. One of the spear limbs retrieves a phonograph disc from a pile while Preston retrieves a meat smoothie from his incredibly tiny fridge. Out of the 52 phonograph discs that Preston has in his possession, only 8 of them are songs! The rest are lectures, seminars, symposiums, and research recordings et cetera. This time, it was a song.

With morning rituals and breakfast done, Preston slips a spelimb into the ring of the trapdoor then flings it wide open. He jumps down, his spelimbs straightening up so they don't get caught on the edge. He slings a web line to the trapdoor then closes it. He takes up his lab coat then slips the four spelimbs into their assigned holes. They straightened up and the coat falls onto his body and he slips his more human hands into the sleeves.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sylvia
Barley's Keep, Dragonsreach, Haven
Nessi

Laure
Barley's Keep, Dragonsreach, Haven
Doctor Nope Zariel Worthlessplebian Remembrance Midrick
​

Sylvia expedited her breakfast, as she donned her armor and did her hair. She slipped into her gaiter boots, as she placed the dishes into the sink and rinsed it briefly. She eyed the pantry briefly then back at her husband.

"I will pick up more bread and some cheesecake on the way home. I promise, less time at the Keep, and more time at home. How's that sound?" she whispered into Rael's ear, pressing her face against his cheeks affectionately before taking off.

Sylvia made her way out of their small apartment, taking one brief look behind her, before launching herself across the street. If there was anything she got out of those six years of war, it was the ability to run miles without tire. In the very least, it put her mind off the things she had to do. Things that she was not proud of when she was over there. It was common for those like her to carry such weights around. Countless evening at the local meetings, where those that she knew and those that she did not were frank about their nightmares. A place where ranks mattered little, only the presence of their compatriots and their chains brought to light. The Angel of Verdan felt neither the need to be charismatic nor the obligation of ignorant orders.

Before long, Sylvia was greeted by a certain green-haired warrior, of whom was idling by the checkpoint.

"Commander!" the woman waved Sylvia over.

"Laure. Have you been long for my arrival?"

"Not at all! Merely a few breaths. Besides, it does you good soak in some sunlight every day." Laure replied, with a bright giggle.

"How fared our Companions?" Sylvia smiled.

"Last I heard, Master Cissnei was tending to his medical practice, and Master Sonan casted off for personal solitude. While Master Preston is looking into portable music, the last time we spoke. The others tend to avoid couriers like a plague, it seems. Physically, we're scattered worse than Wyvern Beach. But should the time comes, we should be ready, Commander!"

Sylvia smiled, as the two approached the checkpoint. They were quickly given passage to the Keep upon the presentation of their Iris badges. As the Black Watch officer escorted them towards the main hall, the two caught up with their recent endeavors. Laure tends to tease Sylvia about her husband, bringing out their womenly affairs with blunt statements rather than deferring to bureaucratic rhetorics. The latter was some tedious and tiresome effort in the Aurelian District. Not everything or anyone meant what they said. The atmosphere was as tense as a perimeter wire on a trip-flare. Before they even entered the main hallway, the two had their weapons taken away, while a temporary magical seal was placed on them - nullifying any astartes method. The newly designed magitech detectors complemented the Keep faster than the time the Companions did a two-nights convoy escort through the Black Forest back in the day. Nothing was more secure than the Keep.

The two was eventually given audience with the Chancellor, a mildly unorthodox man with a well-respected reputation among the lower class of Grozny. His recent reforms have created many jobs and opportunities for veterans and those that were reatly affected by the war. The most important thing of all - he was the only reasonable person to support the Iris Company since their formation.

"Your excellency." Sylvia and Laure bowed.

"No need for formalities among friends, Lady Sylvia and Yrix. Please, have a seat. Now, let us dive right into business..."

The day would progress as the two left the Keep with the Chancellor's reassuring words. It seemed that the Company may have some hope after all, despite their recent budget cut. Perhaps the best course of action was to let her companions as they were.

"Aside from fighting the Legion and knocking on death's door on occasions, what good are we, Laure?"

"Truthfully, Commander. Perhaps our services are long past due. The only reason we stood out this long was your near-impossible plans to invade Saarema. But Midvale proved us all wrong. Who knows what our future entails? The age of heroes is over. I believe it's time for us to retire, and you deserve a happy ending with Ra'el. Speaking of which, you're just leaving him at home like that?"

"I'd rather he steers clear of politics in the Keep. He is... too precious to be tainted by the illusive bureaucracy. Besides, we were... supposed go out later tonight..." Sylvia said as her cheeks turned red.

"Oh? That's great! I sure hope you will acquaint us to your Ra'el anytime now! An entire year, and we barely saw him at your wedding. It's almost like you're locking him up like a pet or something."

"Well, he seemed to enjoy his own time at home. But I promised that as soon as I solve our problem, I will tend to us. Perhaps you are right, maybe we can all get together tonight."

"Just don't wait to long, dear. Men's hearts are easily swayed. Anyways, I concur. Tonight would be swell to conjure a soiree. Judging on how you're treating him, and his personality, Ra'el probably will oblige if you made him a horse."

"I read that somewhere before. Do men actually like to wear bridles while crawling on all fours? Interesting, I will make a note of tha-..." Sylvia remarked, brushing her chin slightly with an inquisitive expression.

"Hold it right there, missy. Don't turn my jest into some sort of twisted practice, alright? Saint Keed, preserve us, you have much to learn, Sylvia. First things first, let's borrow someone or two in the company with a knack for fashionable attires, for your night with us and Ra'el."

"Very well, Laure. You are my mentor after all, I entrust you with the plans."

Sylvia and Laure made their way out of the Aurelian district, in search of a windbooth. There, Laure would reach out to the other companions for a small soiree at the Galleria. The fireflies quickly made their departure, as the grozium crystal burnt out its energy. Flying in different directions, the fireflies made their dispatch with the following message:

[Laure to all Companions. Soiree on Fifty-Nine, Sylvia's place. Break. Dress up appropriately, please, thank you. Break. Master Uziel, Irelia, we require your fashion advices, meet at Revante Galleria fourteenth-hundred hours early, break. Master Eryn, Preston, and Markas, please bring the booze from Olys. Break. See you all at twenty-hundred hours sharp. Laure and Sylvia out.]

 

[Zariel]

Irelia's neck bobbed when she swallowed, unsettled by the commotion surrounding her.

The streets of Dragonsreach had awoken with the usual cacophony. The atmosphere was far from ideal; Irelia had a natural preference for more quiet and peaceful locations, akin to the Hirana province in Jianki where she lived more than half her life.

Turning a corner, the resonant sound of an instrument struck Irelia's eardrums. A destitute bard was playing a tune on his decrepit lyre to suit his saddening elegy. A tattered, dirt-stained fedora lay on the floor close to his foot, which contained the meagre coin he'd earned from pitying bypassers.

Having failed to plan a better way to spend her morning, Irelia approached the vagrant bard, joining his small audience. Drawn to the tune, the faean heeded the bard's verses.

"... There, by the fence the little boy stands, the spool of his kite sitting firmly in his hands. He's sad and confused, as he does not understand. He watches his farther turn and head up on the train. He watches him go and doesn't even complain.

"... Now, where once played the joyous child, barbarous flames reign free and wild."

Upon hearing the disheartening words, Irelia ruminated her past. A single tear shed from Irelia's eye, though she soon realized and wiped away the traces with the dorsal aspect of her thumb.

Sighing, she stepped away from the crowd and towards the impoverished man.

"Ah, thank you, my dear." the bard held out his hand presumptuously, happy to accept whatever amount of ryn Irelia would give. But not a single coin fell into his coarse palms. His smile drooped in consternation and he quickly retracted his hand. "My apologies! I shouldn't have assumed! How fooli-"

"Tell me your name, bard," Irelia requested.

"It's Ednar, dear." the bard feebly answered.

"Wonderful. Come, Ednar, I'd very much appreciate it if you would accompany me for some breakfast."

It took a moment for the bard to process in his mind what Irelia was implying. Or rather, he was concerned that his ears had deceived him. But when Irelia gestured with her hand, it revealed that it wasn't the case.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can ill afford to pay for more that one meal a day," Ednar said in a dejected tone.

"Fear not." Irelia merely smiled before walking on.

Unwilling to be a prune, and to miss the chance at a free repast, the bard picked up his fedora from the cobbled ground and tripped after the foreign woman.


Meanwhile, not so far away, a messenger firefly entered a quotidian apartment. It bore a message from Irelia's close companions. Albeit, the Oeki disciple was not currently in her dwelling to receive it.

 

[Doctor Nope]

Eryn Leasath Cissnei
Primary Objective: "Retrieve beverages from Olys Brewery."
Secondary Objective: "Rendevouz with Preston and Markas."
Worthlessplebian Midrick
​

Nothing of note happened for the rest of the journey, nor during the journey back home, nor while he restocked his shelves. Eventually though, a short while after he sat down at his desk for some solo Chess practise, a firefly-couriered message was delivered to him.

"...Dress appropriately...."

He looked down at his current attire. It wasn't unlike what he'd wear whilst on duty. In fact it was hard to tell the difference unless he removed his cloak to let the details of his clothing be seen and differentiated from his uniform. He considered it appropriate for most occasions that required oneself to look respectable and/or professional. But a soiree at Revant Galleria? He'd been teased in the past by some Iris Company members for being too formal whilst off duty.

...Best to take the 'casual' cloak. It was almost the same, but with no red cross patch and no internal webbing. The inside was also subtly lined with fur, but he'd forgotten that part after a long time of never using it, giving him a bit of a pleasant surprise.

Well, now there was a job to do, ordered directly from the Vice-Commander. Off he went.

...

According to the message, Markas and the dear Doctor Webb were also given the same task as him, to "bring the booze." It'd be nice to meet up with them at the location and get their help, since Eryn wasn't all that big on drinking and would probably need help choosing the right beverages to bring.

He slowed down once he got visial on the Brewery, looking around as he approached to see if the other two had arrived yet. He didn't enter yet, and instead waited outside, leaning against an exterior wall while he waited for his companions.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Interactions: Doctor Nope

The day went about as you can expect for Preston, some patients stayed though most fled, he doesn't let that bother him. Honestly, he only wished that they stayed for their sake and not for his own. Alas, it is what it is, no use in trying to change their minds. Preston had begun writing down the details about the patients who were amicable enough to remain. In the midst of his writing, a firefly courier arrived with a message for him. "Oh?" He thought, what could this possibly be?

Dress appropriately and bring the booze? "Well, well! Just when my mind wandered to their activities this morning."

He finished up his task then beelined to the attic. Once there, he undressed from the white lab coat and threw it onto his webbed bedding. It was obvious that this would be an informal celebration so best to dress informally. An old, gray turtleneck and a new, black overcoat would be a dashing combo for this affair. He thwipped his wallet and was ready to depart. Of course, he had to lock his clinic down, wouldn't want some delinquents to vandalize delicate surgical instruments et cetera.

-----

At the start of his journey to the brewery, his spear-limbs did most of his walking. Their rhythmic clicks on the pavement had a certain melody to it but the looks of frightened onlookers made Preston reconsider his unusual walking style. A part of him reminded himself that he shouldn't walk like he was in Met Di Plurida.

He arrived to find that he was not the first one there. It was his good colleague, Doctor Cissnei. "Ah, Doctor Cissnei! How long has it been since we last saw each other?" He extended a claw hand to shake.

 

[Remembrance]

Uziel Isa Gamugama - Iris Company​

Uziel stood with patience in a center stage block; surrounded by an audience of politicians, soldiers, and people with a bit of free time on their hands. His head laid bowed with his arms put together. The pink kimono he wore flowed as if a slight breeze had hit it, though for as far as the audience knew, there wasn't any wind going through the auditorium.​

A band off in the distance began to play, various string instruments rang throughout the building and a flute tore the air as it was passionately played. Uziel raised his head slightly to look upon his audience, though he held his judgment of them for later; a distaste for his onlookers had already begun to emerge.

Despite this, Uziel sucked it up and began his show.

Step 1 to arms into step 2. Taking one step to his right, he landed his right foot tiptoed, and bowed his leg. He turned his body in coordination and unfurled his arms, showing them palm-up and open-handed. Step 3 to kimono. Uziel then curled back his right arm, moving it down to his waist, taking hold of a loose piece of his kimono hanging off. His left hand moved to his chest, lightly tapping it.

Step 4 into 5, Uziel pulled on his kimono; it began to unravel as if the stitching was made poorly. It came apart as a long ribbon as he unraveled it further and began to spin it over his head. As the kimono unwrapped, his black skintight clothing began to be revealed. Move into step 6, attention drawn.

Slowly twirling the ribbon of silk above his head, he spun his body with each successful twirl. After twirling for a few moments or so, he took a small step forward with his toe, bowing his leg and moving his right arm towards his side where he began to twirl the rest of the ribbon.

Twirl, disperse. Uziel then whipped the ribbon out in front of him, it cracked the air and rained glitter over the applauding audience as it settled in the air. He held the pose for a quarter of a minute, his eyes focused on the flowing ribbon. The glitter ceased its raining and began to infest the clothing and hair of his seated watchers.

Uziel placed his right foot onto his left leg's thigh, assuming a tree-like pose.

Shifting his body 90 degrees, Uziel stretched his right leg out and landed it gracefully on his toes, bowing it once again and moving the silk in such a way as to make it whip perfectly in his direction. Again, it dispersed glitter over the audience. He repeated this until he eventually had done a full 360 and reached his original position.

At his original position, Uziel drifted the long ribbon slowly down into the recess walkway between the seats of the audience. With various cheers and declarations of amazement, Uziel stepped off his platform. He was greeted by a few set workers dressed appropriately as maidens, they suited him with another kimono similar to his original and presented him with a bamboo umbrella, and set him off to enter backstage.

Though he had kept his head down, he couldn't help but grimace at the various riceballs ogling at him.

Speaking to the various stage handlers, Uziel was permitted to leave the building as there was no need for any more performances from him. Uziel walked out from the building, his eyes adjusting to the still harsh sunlight of the day. After all his years of not performing, he had forgotten how jarring the transition from the dark auditorium to the bright day was.

Walking through Jianki gave Uziel a rush of nostalgia; the various silk shops bartering inventory and wardrobe with each other; the bakeries and bakers creating such delicious meals as to attract hordes of animals with wonderful aromas. Jianki was a place of beauty and class, though it not as spectacular as other places, Uziel was content with the life he would make there.

Arriving at his abode, the dancer laid to rest and enjoyed the view from his porch. The sun gleamed with brilliance, it shined almost enough as to allow him slumber. Though, his almost successful slumber was interrupted by the buzzing and fluttering of fireflies. They arrived up at his porch seating, conveying the message from his two wonderful superiors requesting his advice and assistance with wardrobe selection. Despite his rather exhausted finale from his performance, this request sparked a new fire in him; a passion to give his superiors the wonderful advice from a native Jianki.

Uziel rose with haste and acquired various stretches of silk and other utilities to facilitate apparel making.

He hailed the nearest carriage and requested them to bring him to an airship port. Or the more commonly accepted phrase; airport. Uziel rested his silks on the seat beside him as he waited with patience for his arrival at the port.
Pilgrim59 (?)

 

[Midrick]

The pounding in his head was the first thing Markas felt when he finally awoke. After it got to unbearable levels of pain he reluctantly opened his eyes with a groan. It appeared he had fallen asleep on his desk, again. The sun filtered in through the shutters of his apartments windows. On further inspection he found the culprit of his splitting headache, a now empty bottle of Hibernian whiskey and a thick bound book from the Dragonsreach library on the nature and their genealogy. Markas shakily pressed himself up and ambled over to the cupboard, extracting a combination of lemon extract, tomato juice, hot sauce, and black pepper. Markas was dreading imbibing his tried and true hangover killer as he set to work preparing the dreadful concoction. He steadied himself as he gulped down the wretched combination of sauce, tomato, and pepper, and sniffed the concentrated lemon juice up each nostril. He spent a solid minute coughing and retching after taking in the substance, but he felt mildly better afterwards as he took in the dilapidated state of his apartment. Movement to the left of his peripheral vision caught his attention as a lupine form emerged from the shadows. "You really should take better care of yourself..." his beast said as it motioned to the various collection of empty bottles with its snout.

Markas was readying a snide remark when fireflies abruptly entered his room. Markas sighed as he heard Laure's news of a get together, for all the good Sylvia did, he strongly disagreed with allowing Sertek to live. It was a massacre waiting to happen, Sertek was infamous for his charisma and manipulative techniques, who was to say he already hadn't recovered from his amnesia if he had any at all. Markas chose a simple dark dress shirt and vest with an overcoat. he put his hair up in a messy ponytail and grabbed a slouchy to conceal his rather distinctly colored hair. Attention from jealous riceballs and their young wives was something he didn't need. The beast followed him for five paces before disappearing in a puff of inky smoke.

Markas squinted when the morning sun hit his eyes and pale skin. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and started his walk to the brewery. The former dark lord being right under their nose's nagged him the entire walk to the brewery, and before he knew it he was at the aforementioned spot. Markas saw that two others had arrived, Eryn and their resident spider freakshow. "Wait out here, I'll get the booze." He said as he walked inside the famous Olys brewery. Markas was a regular as well as an intimidation factor for young nobles, and Christoph Slater, the owner would hook him up with his premium product. "Well well, looks like the deadman rises again." Slater said as he cleaned a glass. "Mornin' to you as well." Markas replied dryly. "Get me the usual, and add some Old No.14." Slater grabbed the Hibernian whiskey as well as the high quality Blackford Scotch. Markas leaned against the bar and waited for Slater to return with his chosen poison. When he returned Markas filled a bag with 3 of the 4 bottles, Slater held onto the last one as Markas grabbed it, causing Markas to meet his eyes. "Listen kid, I appreciate your business, but the amount you've been buying these past weeks is concerning me." Slater said quietly. Markas' mouth turned downwards into a frown as his eyes got hard. "I'm fine." he said, an edge coming into his voice as he took the last bottle. Markas settled up and exited the brewery.

The cool morning air hit him again as he walked out to the sidewalk where Eryn and Preston waited. "I got the liquor, what now?" he asked he surveyed their surroundings.

Doctor Nope Worthlessplebian Pilgrim59

 

[Zariel]

Irelia returned to her abode, after having treated the old bard to a fry-up. He was quite the talkative bloke and told several tales. Though Irelia was more interested in his inspiration for the elegy she heard from him earlier—the boy in the story, now a teenager, was from Albion, and he lost his father during the fourth war against Sertek. A grim fate, one that countless suffered, and made Irelia shudder with spine-chilling familiarity. She knew too well and was well acquainted with the tyranny of the Demon Lord.

Thankfully, due to the diligence of the heroic, that was all over.

The white door, serving as the entrance to her apartment, clicked open. Upon stepping inside, Irelia was welcomed by two magnolia walls adorned with floral paintings. Each frame contained illustrations of prominent, breathtaking Jianki landscapes, several of which are inspired by Hirana's flower gardens. All the artwork was purchased from an artisan of the brush, Sato Hiromi, whose shop is hidden deep within the Central District.

Irelia slid her feet out of her shoes and then proceeded into her bedroom, where, to her surprise, she noticed a glowing speck sitting atop the cupboard. After closer inspection, Irelia realised it to be a courier firefly, and so she transpired its message.

A soirée? What's the occasion? Irelia wondered, subconsciously shifting towards her wardrobe.

She looked through her many ostentatious, traditional outfits, but none seemed suitable. After all, Irelia didn't interpret Laure's message as suggesting it was a formal meeting. The tedium of finding something to wear without sticking out like a sore thumb in Dragonsreach was one of the less enjoyable aspects about living here. By and by, Irelia opted for simplicity, a black, long-sleeve top, and equally dark jeans. And to go with the rest of her outfit, a leather trench coat with a brown fur collar. Overall, her choice gave her a classy look, which suited her aptly.

Finally satisfied with her appearance, Irelia was back out of her house once again and sitting inside a taxi. Her destination, Revante Galleria.

 

[Doctor Nope]

Eryn Leasath Cissnei
The Brewery
Midrick Worthlessplebian ​

"Much too long, Doctor Preston..." he replied with a sigh, becoming visibly relieved as he shook the claw hand. Something about this many-legged being always seemed to put him at ease. He had been about to ask about their current task at hand, when Markus showed up.

...And then Markus went inside, after saying that he'd get the booze.

"Huh. I guess he's got this. Why were three of us assigned to this job, again?"

Knowing the commander and vice-commander, this was potentially some scheme to get them to socialise before the actual socialising event began. Markus being the way that he was, however, would probably throw a wrench in those plans if he was accompanied by a the medics of all people.

Well, it wasn't a big deal to Eryn anyway. Markus had eventually come back outside with what they needed. Not that Eryn actually knew what exactly they'd need, so Markus was actually a huge help in this scenario.

"Nice work. We are to deliver this to the Commander's residence at twenty-hundred hours. We can either head there immediately to get it there early, or just agree to meet back up there when the time actually arrives."

He didn't particularly mind either course of action, as they'd be met with the same results regardless. It was more a matter of preference, so he wanted the opinions of his two companions.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Interactions: Doctor Nope

"Well, we'll reminisce and catch up at the party, I'm sure." Doctor Cissnei was a professional colleague and good comrade during the war, it was obvious that he'd get along with the other doctor. Before Preston could give his opinions on what type of booze they should get, Markus showed up and promptly dashed any chance of discussion by simply going into the liquor store.

"Either our Commander wanted us to socialize or... She wanted three different kinds of alcohols" He gave Cissnei, his hypotheses. The arachnid adjusted his coat. The commander and vice commander's antics were something Preston never got used to during his time in Iris company and yet now that he has his own place and lives on his own, there is a certain emptiness within the veteran. The top right spear limb lowered itself to the ground and began to gently scrape across the pavement in front of the store as Preston continued in his idleness.

He snapped out of it when Markus stepped out of the building with the Happy Hour beverages. He listened to Eryn's proposal. "The early spider gets the fly, as they say, might as well head in early. It would be also silly to scatter right now then meet up later again." Preston gave his opinion on the matter, folding his arms in anticipation for Markus' thoughts now. "What do you think Dragonslayer?"

 

[Pilgrim59]

IRIS
EPISODE IA: Homemaker​

Iris IA Summary​

Sylvia and Laure were able to reschedule the official hearing of the disbandment of Iris Company, with the Chancellor's help. Laure persuaded Sylvia to gather the Companions for a party, in hopes of addressing their inevitable disbandment at the gathering. Sylvia, Laure, Irelia and Uziel went shopping at the Revante Galleria, at the behest of Laure's plans to fashion Sylvia up for the soiree. Meanwhile, Preston, Eryn and Markas procured alcohol from Olys Brewery. The Companions are set to gather at Sylvia's place on 59th Street in the evening.

Location: 59th Street, Central District, Dragonsreach
Objective: Attend the Iris soiree.

"By day we are home. By night, we were back on Saarema again.
The only things in between were the Brewery and odd talks."
- A Squareback's Memoir, 1210 AC​

Worthlessplebian
Zariel
Doctor Nope
Midrick
Remembrance
Nessi

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sylvia
59th Street, Dragonsreach, Haven
Nessi
​

The day progressed with Sylvia learning much from her fellow companions. Having braved a war since the tender age of fourteen, the Angel of Verdan despised her moniker, for she was far from one. Painted by blood and ashened steel of her comrades, the amnesiac girl came out indifferent. Even now, she has difficulties conversing with her companions. With the exception of Laure, of whom had mentored her since Verdan. But even then, her troubles tend to bury themselves by dutiful obligations. Never once had she spared a moment for herself. That was until she met Ra'el. The common thing they shared, among others, was that of their amnesiac episodes. Two fractured vessels, mended by a delicate string of sentimental value. It was only recently that Sylvia learnt to partake in the little things, at Laure's behest. Admittedly, Sylvia was not quite persuaded to let the companions in, for she could not bear to see Ra'el unnerved by her deeds during the war. All her buried wrath, spilled over a couple of drinks. But even then, it was long past the time since their wedding and the Company needed a bonding time to catch up, lest they grow distant of one another, thought Sylvia.

At the very least, Sylvia was able to procure for herself an immaculate gown for the occasion. The girls had their moments while the boys theirs, just as Laure planned. Hopefully, the evening would go without a hitch. Sylvia, despite her faith in her allies, were wary of her weighted role as the Fourth Sygis. Often times, she find herself running about, looking for a fight if there was not any to be had. Built into her was a coping mechanism to do what is right, to bring the truth to light. But she herself have yet to let go of her burdens, by her failures to share her troubles. Even with Ra'el, she is meek with words, for she could not steer nouns nor verbs correctly. Perhaps it was guilt that bound her words, or simply Ra'el's unexplained charms that made her speechless. Either way, she was glad to have found him as he did her. With Laure's advice, it was time for her to piggyback on what little time they had on Grozny and slip into a civilian life that she deserved.

"How was your day, love?" Sylvia finally asked, bearing upon Ra'el with her delicate touch, as she closed the door behind her.

The kitchen table by then was laden with supplies for the soiree, as well as a stack of plates.

"Master Laure spoke some sense into me. I contemplated and thought it best to bring our night home. Seeing you in our abode calms my heart. We still have a about half an hour before the Company arrives. What say you to setting up the table with me?" she continued, softer this time.

"As disheartening as it is, I am far from a perfect housewife. Aside from arms of war, I know very little of reception etiquettes unless attending one. Perhaps, this would be a good opportunity for you to teach me?" Sylvia leaned into Ra'el's bosom, closing her eyes as she interlocked her fingers with his.

 

[Nessi]

Ra'el
59th Street, Dragonsreach, Haven
Pilgrim59

​

Ra'el had spent the day cleaning the house while his wife was out on errands with Laure. At first, he thought that it wouldn't take too long to get the whole house clean, but it turned out that the apartment was long overdue for a deep cleaning. Ra'el made sure that the apartment was practically sparkling when he was done cleaning the apartment. He felt proud that his apartment was spotless, and when his wife came in, he greeted her with a warm smile.

"How was your day, love?"

Ra'el gave her a kiss on the cheek as he embraced her. "My day has been good, I spent the day cleaning out the house, which took a bit longer than anticipated. Seriously! This place was filthy! I can't get the smell of cleaning products out of my hands." He said to her. He listened as his wife said that the company would be coming over for a bit of a party. If he were to be honest, he was hoping for another relaxing night with just the two of them, however, he knew that it would be good to see the people that his wife had fought with. "I'd be more than happy to help you set the table...I'm excited to meet the people who fought by your side." He responded in a cheerful tone.

"As disheartening as it is, I am far from a perfect housewife. Aside from arms of war, I know very little of reception etiquettes unless attending one. Perhaps, this would be a good opportunity for you to teach me?"

Ra'el chuckled a little as he embraced his wife. He gave her a proper kiss, "ehhh, we have an hour until your comrades arrive, we can "relax" with each other." He said. "Speaking of which, while I was cleaning, I found something that I thought you'd like!" He said. Ra'el rushed into their bedroom, and fished out a brown paper bag. In truth, it was a gift for Sylvia that he forgot to give her, however, she didn't have to know about that.

Ra'el returned to his wife, and revealed a bunny plushie. "Isn't it so cute!" he said excitedly, handing it to Sylvia so that she could inspect it herself. Ra'el had a feeling that she was going to enjoy the gift.

 

[Zariel]

A while had passed since Irelia transiently parted from the company of her comrades. It was nice getting to see some of the others every once in a while; she found their little "hang out" most pleasant.

Though, she now paced quickly down the street, perturbed by an unexpected revelation.

After all this time, why is she here? Irelia mused.

The Dawnbringer's thoughts trailed back, a little more than an hour prior when she was crossing a bridge, arching over a strait. She was stopped by a midget gaffer, who imparted some intriguing news. The message he conveyed compelled Irelia to bat an eyelid. Someone was looking for her, in Dragonsreach, an old ally, one with whom she once shared a sisterly bond.

The old, craggy featured courier also revealed a time and place where his client intended to meet Irelia—the rooftop of the Aurelion District's East Dragon restaurant, renowned for their traditional Jianki cuisine.

It is most unfortunate that I will be unable to revel in the entirety of tonight's soirée, Irelia thought to herself as she approached Sylvia's dwelling. It'd been quite a while since she last visited, even so, Irelia let out a despondent sigh, knocked on the door, and waited patiently. Perhaps it would be best if I forewarned Sylvia of my prior engagement. It is unideal, but I must meet with that person.

 

[Midrick]

​

"I don't see why not, wouldn't be hurtin' anything." he said with a shrug, he couldn't remember the last time he had done something like this, his etiquette was lackluster, but he couldn't give less of a damn. "It's a bit of a walk, but I could use the air and know the way, you can follow if you so desire." Markas said as he turned away from the two doctors. They had both probably stitched him up more times than he would've liked to admit during the war. Markas did prefer Eryn's no-nonsense attitude, Preston would talk your ear off if given the chance, but the spider/man still did good work no matter how odd did seem at times. Markas began walking through the ever growing crowds of pedestrians that appeared around mid day, never a slow day in the central district it seemed.

Markas and the other two men made it to 59th street quicker than Markas imagined they would've, but that just meant they would have more time to get the alcohol and food set up before other people arrived. Of course there would be the matter of catching up, he himself had kept busy after the war, there was no shortage of work in the adventurer's guild. It had allowed him to live rather comfortably, and more importantly, independently from the pensions of the imperial government. He found Sylvia's apartment and motioned for the others to join him, someone had beaten them there though, Irelia was waiting for Sylvia to open the front. To her credit Irelia was known for her patience, Markas didn't share that virtue however and didn't feel like waiting. He took a step forward and hammered on the door. "Oi, it's bad manners to keep yer guests waitin'!" Markas called out after his assault on the front door.

Zariel Pilgrim59 Worthlessplebian Doctor Nope

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Interactions: Midrick Zariel Doctor Nope

"Lead the way." Preston spoke as he began to follow his comrade. Markas was a good fellow albeit his recklessness (reckless by Preston's standards anyway) always earned him a spot in the infirmary tent during the war. However, you must admit that he got results when the chips were down. During their path to their commander's current residence, they'd manage to snag themselves in a sea of pedestrians, no doubt preoccupied with their daily affairs. Preston in response to the tightening space available to his body began to fold his own elongated appendages as much as he could. From the back, it seemed as though the weaver was carrying four hexagonal plates on his back.

Finally, the three individuals arrived at their commander's residence. Except Irelia had already beaten them to the punch, well, it wasn't a race so it didn't matter. She had always been a punctual person so her appearance there didn't surprise Preston in the slightest. While she had patience, Markas did not as he immediately began to pound the door as if it were a disguised Dragonoid. Safe to say, all eight of Preston's eyes began to roll inside his skull. The arachnid began to casually approach the house's wall. When he got close enough, the arachnid bent his knees then leaped towards the wall. He crawled over to and above the door frame then turned around with his back against the wall, appendages unfurled themselves, giving him greater leverage as they also attached themselves to the wall. "You know I highly doubt they're deaf." Preston suggested. He then turned his head to Irelia. "Also hello, Irelia, how have you been?"

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sylvia
59th Street, Dragonsreach, Haven
Nessi Midrick

Laure
59th Street, Dragonsreach, Haven
Worthlessplebian ​

In truth, Sylvia was reluctant to introduce her companions to her husband. The illusions that she wove for her new life with Ra'el would quickly shatter as he would come to realize how odd her companions were, let alone their bloody exploits during the war. It was not exactly righteous to usher words along the lines of 'we taint ourselves with the blood of others, that Grozny may remain immaculate'. Even now, she questioned her own convictions. Was it right to rationalize the choice of letting some perish so that many others could live? War, it seemed to her at the time, was a game of numbers. It forced her to compartmentalize in ways she had initially despised. In the end, even as a Sygis, she had come to the realization that not all could be saved. These thoughts, however, were quick to dissipate by the mere presence of Ra'el. Unbeknownst to him, and perhaps herself at times, Ra'el helped Sylvia to take for what is in the present, and even their future.

She blushed uncontrollably when Ra'el's lips met her forehead.

"I don't recall such a thing in our household." she said to Ra'el, eyeing the plushie quizzically as she cast aside the brown paper bag. There was even a price tag to boot.

"You are quite a Daemon Lord with that cunning ploy of yours, love. Alas, you are but a homemaker. A charming and pleasing one at that." she smiled, hugging the plushie tightly.

"At this rate, we might truly descend into poverty should you continue to indulge me with such... fluffy gifts." she remarked jokingly, despite her expressionless visage and firm grips upon Ra'el's arms.

For the next hour or so, Sylvia and Ra'el set the table for their guests. Eventually, she stopped thinking about how to induct her companions and just let things as they were to be determined. After all, honesty wqs somehing that she valued about her marriage.

Sylvia made her way towards the door upon the first sound of a certain knock. Then the next set was followed by a louder pattern, accompanied by a rough voice of none other than the Albish Dragonslayer. As she opened the door and greeted the others in her evening dress, she gave Markas a glare.

"What has the poor door done you wrong this evening, Dragonslayer? Alas, I am glad you have not changed one bit since we last spoke. Come. All of you." she said softly, smiling slightly.

"Evening Commander and my fellow Companions! Apologies for my belated arrival, but I believe some pecan pies and key lime are obligated. Made 'em myself." Laure spoke up from behind the others, with some some extra desserts in tow.

"Evening to you as well, Laure. Extra helpings by your own hands are much appreciated. Please, my companions, the tables are set. Help yourselves to some drinks, Ra'el is just about done with the turkey." Sylvia said to the Companions.

It has been a while since Ra'el met Sylvia's companions, particularly when they only showed for the wedding ceremony and were quick to disperse following the defunding process of the Company. While it was not hard to get a conversation going with a few drinks passed around, instances can be awkward when the most of the Companions shared the common expertise with war - something Ra'el has little knowledge of aside from what Sylvia told him. But even then, those stories were often abridged to quell questions of morality and ethics.

Sylvia then brought her husband from the kitchen isles to mingle with the others. Certainly, something had to be said, lest the gathering turns sour.

Laure turned towards the arachnoid companion, eager to know about the trio's journey to procure the alcohol. She then cast a briefly unamused stare at the alcoholic options on the table.

"Something tells me Master Markas led the booze pickup operation. Anyhow, whiskey or scotch, Master Preston?" Laure said to Preston, presenting him with two different glasses in her hands.

The Dovean was quite content to see the gang back together again. Even if it was awkward for most of them, Laure knew it had to be done, lest they distance themselves. When the times are hard on them, it was always the Iris way to come together. From the muddy fields of Onyx Valley, to the wintry stings of Mount Hornet, there was nothing the Company could not brave through without a little talk over some hot chow. At least this time, they were under a non-leaking roof, without worries of artillery shells landing in their foxholes.

Irelia's Details ( Zariel ): Let Sylvia know of her dispositions, or remain silent. (choose one)
I. Consequence is determined by Irelia's decision to let Sylvia know or remain silent.

Preston's Details ( Worthlessplebian ): Hibernian whiskey or Blackford scotch (choose one)
I. Preston was offered a drink by Laure, as the latter asked about his recent endeavors.
II. Consequential effects are dependent on Preston's alcohol choice - Hibernian whiskey or Blackford scotch.
​

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Interactions: Pilgrim59

Once the door opened, Preston propelled himself from the wall and spun forward in the air. His knees bent on the landing as his extra arms folded themselves against his back like before. He turned around then proceeded to enter Sylvia's home. When Preston entered, a gasp escaped his body. He had forgotten the monetary gap between him and his former commander but that's fine, he wasn't a vain or envious arachnid so it didn't bother him. Still, living in the attic of your clinic cannot compare to actually having a home like this.

The Arachnid was surprised to see Laure arriving behind him, safe to say that he was pleased that another comrade-in-arms could make it to the festivities. He didn't seat himself immediately at first, he removed the black overcoat and draped it over the chair then returned to mingling with the others.

Laure offered him a choice between two drinks, one of them was obviously a glass of Hibernian whiskey while the other was a scotch of some sorts. The arachnid was unsure at first but decided to go with the road well travelled and selected the whiskey. "It would not be our dragonslayer if he didn't select the alcohol and yet I must confess that my selfishness and greed prevented me from bringing a beverage of my own. You see, about two fortnights ago, I had received a package that contained an impeccably aged Pluridian Wine with just a hint of Scorpid venom. The wine contains around..." Preston temporarily turns his head sideways to remember a certain fact. "0.002 micrograms of said venom. In large doses, the venom acts as a potent hallucinogen however in smaller doses, it gives the drinker a nice "buzz" as the soldiers use to say." The arachnid shrug with glass in hand. "Another time then."

"I've collected another music record for my phonograph and that is largely what happened over the past few days. Patients leave screaming or stay and get cured. How about you? Any new thing, that's popped up Miss Laure?"