Vault Hunters (Finished~)

[Sisyphus Happy]

Health: Healthy
| Toughness: Background Ability (10) + Armor (1) [11] | Spell Power: Background Ability (14) + Knowledge (4) + Equipment (1) [19] |Manna: Background Ability (4) + Knowledge (6) + Spellslinger (4) [6/14]
Condition: 1 | Roleplay Points: 1

Χάρων ​

Sound filling the room prompted him to wince. Clearly averse to the noise, he craned his neck to peer toward the machine, hoping clearly that the great roaring was some product of having been jostled. Light began coming from it, some dust streamed from the ceiling into the shafts of light peeking in, his tail twitched nervously. Movement from Isa drew his gaze suddenly, his pupils dilated to nothing but slits. They followed the motion of Isa's hands when he invited more racket with a few gentle touches. A keening screech and groan emanated from the walls. Charon winced visibly when the pipes groaned and sighed to life, shuddering violently back and forth against the walls, knocking against stone and each other while the initial kick of the machine's blood circulating once again evened itself out. Once the pipes joined in on the cacophonous jungle of noise, Charon placed his hands to his ears, a grumpy expression on his face. Many days of still water and gentle wind on the many rivers slithering through the land atrophied his tolerance for loud noise. Though muffled, he could hear Isa's voice filtering through his hands in a distorted way.


"Might I try to sift through the information once you are quite finished?" he shouted over the roaring of the machine and shuddering and groaning of pipes, his voice cracking feebly. His green eyes shone in the weak streaming light at the tome, the reptilian pupils dilating. He wouldn't look Isa in the eyes with that grumpy look on his face and, if Isa looked closely, he would see just a tiny drip of saliva quivering its way out of the corner of his mouth, to accompany the heavy breathing. Breaking his gaze from the reference book, though with some difficulty, he began casting his gaze around the room, looking with concern toward the pipes. With the destruction that occurred just hours before, he would have been floored if the pipes did not suffer some kind of catastrophic damage. Good design would, in his mind, dictate that the machine could run with some fraction of its cooling system rendered defunct. However, turning bodily around to face the warm glow of the engine behind him, he watched carefully, nervously even, his tail draped over the ground and laying now to his front.

 

[Zer0]

- South Bhrumstone Engine -​

The moment Isa turned on the cooling pipes, there was a squeaky rattling from the larger pipes along the ground floor walls, followed by the distant rush of water from somewhere above. What used to be drips from some of the leaks became spurts, and somewhere beyond where they couldn't see, something burst, followed by hissing.

"Pressure is good!" yelled Lysanthir, hope and relief in his voice. "I'm surprised. I thought the damage wouldn't be able to pump enough water in. This engine looks like it won't overheat soon!" he smiled.

The heatwave pulsing from the gargantuan machine cooled a little, and slowly a small fog of steam began to rise from beneath it.

Katsuya Sisyphus Happy

Spoiler: Rp Points

Everyone +1 Rp point

 

[Katsuya]

- Isa Bianchi -​

Isa sighed in relief. The well should be stable now. He tilted his head up a bit from the book he was looking in, grinning. ”That’s good!” Now someone should find another Bhrumestone engine to power up the portal and fix said portal as well.

Looking back at Charon, his grin softened to a worried flat line. Did he just wince? He wondered if it was from the noise or perhaps the fog. He could barely hear the boat man’s words, nodding once as he passed Charon the grimore though hesitant. Closing the book and holding it by the top edges of the hardcover. “Sure. Here, just please don’t give it anyone else, okay?” He can trust Charon, right?

Wiping his distrust away as he let’s go of the book, the redhead stood straighter and walked over to Moss. Opening his mouth to shout over the roaring engines. The fog swirled around his legs, parting gracefully with each step he took. “I’m gonna search for the closest engine and the portal that links Ancient Loki. Perhaps we can see what’s missing or need replacing. Does anyone want to come with me?”

After reading his uncle’s grimore and seeing the map inside it, Isa believes he can remember where to go to find the closest engine and Loki’s portal.

Zer0 Sisyphus Happy

 

[Zer0]

- South Bhrumstone Engine -​

"I'll go with you!" said Moss, vaulting over the debris and landing in front of Isa. "Can we leave this engine on without anybody watching over it?" he added to Lysanthir.

"I am not certain . . . I don't see any major fluctuations to the water pressure, but I believe it will hold . . . but I will return and have my people make sure all continues to go well later on." said Lysanthir. "And to retrieve the bodies of our fallen as well." he muttered something, waving his hand and a glowing arcane rune appeared on the pipes he had been examining. He did the same thing to the dais, though this one was a longer sentence, probably instructions in his native language.

Katsuya Sisyphus Happy

 

[Sisyphus Happy]

Health: Healthy
| Toughness: Background Ability (10) + Armor (1) [11] | Spell Power: Background Ability (14) + Knowledge (4) + Equipment (1) [19] |Manna: Background Ability (4) + Knowledge (6) + Spellslinger (4) [6/14]
Condition: 1 | Roleplay Points: 2

Χάρων ​

Charon blinked down at the volume, gingerly reaching forward and then frantically leaning in to catch it when it fell briefly from Isa's gasp. As its dry and cracked edges came to rest in his fingers, his arms were pulled toward the ground, he did not expect the weight. Sheets of mist slid between his face and the pages. He looked up toward Isa and Moss, their conversation reaching him, made vague by the tumult of metal and energy gasping and sighing with flagging life. Glancing up toward the machine and its warmth, he sighed heavily, reflecting on the technology surrounding and about how nothing good has come of it. A light tapping sound was swallowed by the chugging of the machine, his foot tapping uncontrollably on the stone floor. Movement from his periphery caught his attention and he did not delay in making his way over to Lysanthir while hugging the book close to his chest. His tail whipped through the air and switched sides from right to left while he turned his head downward in a subservient manner, widening his eyes and looking upward or forward toward Lysanthir's face.

"Have you reconsidered your request?" he asked lightly, doing his best to make himself heard over the machine. Looking back over toward the dynamic duo nearby, "I... do not wish to wrong them while trying to... atone," he said morosely, his low voice cracking under the sound of the engine. His eyes broke from Moss and Isa and trailed along the ground behind himself until it came to rest at his own feet. He stood there and looked down at his feet, crestfallen, his long, waxy ears wafting gently in the air moved by the presence of the machine. Guilt, this time invited, weighed in his chest again. The horror of it all danced behind his ears and taunted him again. Doubts, too, arose; how many acts would absolve him? Make it go away? That much was uncertain, exceedingly so.

 

[Zer0]

- South Bhrumstone Engine -​

Lysanthir looked up, clapping his hands free of dust. He had an expression as though he thought Charon was insincere in his earlier convictions, but it was calm. "Choosing your own punishment instead of accepting the request of the kin of your victims? . . . " He said in a voice only Charon could hear. He looked away, quiet for a moment. "Do as you wish. In any case, if another engine will run as good as this one, we can do both the portal home and the well."

And without looking at Charon again, he strode off after Isa and Moss.

Sisyphus Happy

 

[Zer0]

- Next Day -
"Barad Eithel, December 30, 600"​

Delving through the dripping ruins eastwards to the next closest bhrumstone engine went quite well, and what was more, they found the east engine in better condition than the southern one. Grinning, Moss clapped the dusty back of a relieved Lysanthir, who was happy they had enough power for all their needs.

Tired but pleased with their discoveries, the four with Nava re-emerged in the lantern lit darkness of the white grove in the engine blade chamber past dinner time, to the waiting hands of a relieved Vidya, stoic Magni, sleepy L, and a couple of drows who offered to pull them up out of the hole; and this time Nava let the little gnome touch her.

The starry sky was clear. And between the two halves of the fallen great white tree's trunk sat the engine blade in its well form in the middle of the grove, quiet, the pool of ethereal magic upon its surface still and reflecting the full moon.

Yet the place wasn't that quiet. All around the drows were at full work in the dark, clearing more debris, repairing sparking rune lines, no longer with empty gazing eyes gaunt from slavery, but bright expressions full of purpose, and each one had a weapon strapped to their side, while some sported make-shift armor over their tattered clothes. A couple of older drows spoke to Lysanthir in their native tongue, and Lysanthir told Isa, Charon, and the rest of the party that now that it is safe, they will begin repairing things to help with the group's plan with the well, though their main efforts will still focus on the portal home to Windshear. And the party saw groups of drows start roping down the same hole with tools and supplies.

"It is late for you day time folk. Please have a good rest, and tomorrow or, perhaps even now, I could borrow some of those books to help with repairs?" Lysanthir asked Isa.

Meanwhile, Nava looked at Charon, barked, then padded out the chamber quickly where she was found whining and sniffing by the golden dome entrance where she had left the corpses of the two Purssians, but they were not there anymore.

After all was said and done, their business with everyone complete for the night, each went their way to sleep. Charon was told that his boat was with Leonid, and a quick ley message to the tiefling led to Leonid and two of his friends at the oars rowing into view, sending ripples across the still lake around the golden dome and giving back Charon his boat, which looked like a white branched overgrown garden, and apologizing for taking it. "We were desperate to escape the rising waters. Though I'd be happy to help you chop off these foliage to make up." Leonid offered.

Moss meanwhile offered to give Isa a piggy back ride back to Tova's Camp, which was changed to the sleepy Liliana offering to fly everyone back there.

"Do you want to stay with us, dude?" Vidya asked Charon, as she sat on a colorful L-salamander claw, ready for take off. "We've got dinner and extra sleeping bags."

After that, those who chose to stay at Camp Tova followed L, circling to the north, while Leonid and his friends went back inside the main ruins of Barad Eithel.

And the next day, the sun rose to the shiny reflection of the ruins on a vast shallow lake.

Katsuya Sisyphus Happy

 

[Sisyphus Happy]

Health: Healthy
| Toughness: Background Ability (10) + Armor (1) [11] | Spell Power: Background Ability (14) + Knowledge (4) + Equipment (1) [19] |Manna: Background Ability (4) + Knowledge (6) + Spellslinger (4) [5/14]
Condition: 1 | Roleplay Points: 2

Χάρων ​

To Nava's confusion, he replied with an equally confused shrug but did his best to pat her and comfort her. He could not account for the location of her handlers, and well... he had some sort of

Charon's eyes lit up when the boat came into view -- though the expression of wonder was limited to his eyes and the rest of face did not move. There was a vague excitement in his form, thin and wan, plastered with scales left revealed by his clothing, which was designed for warm weather save for the dark colors. Drawing the sympathy of a few passers-by who laughed in spite of themselves at his expense, the angry red skin of his shoulders, face and neck stood out even in the evening. Once Leonid disembarked, Charon gently walked forward with all of his fingertips pressed against his lips with his eyebrows furrowed and reached forward gingerly to brush against some of the foliage. To Leonid's apology, he merely offered a side-eyed and very slow nod. When Leonid mentioned helping to get rid of the branches, his mouth fell open a little and he responded with a cross expression, "do not dare," he pouted aloud, turning to face Leonid, "I love this... I shall find a way to sustain them, perhaps. Thank you for taking care of my boat, um."

He paused and placed a freshly shed hand onto his chin and rubbed it gently, peering toward the sand blankly while Vidya addressed him. He looked between them to respond hesitantly, "I... must remain here for a little while longer. I shall leave my boat here for that duration -- I should return for it soon enough, " he said uncertainly. He sent a leyline message to Lysanthir, "I shall find you shortly in the ruins, if there is a task for which you might prefer two pairs of hands, I should not delay your departure."

With that, Charon (and probably Nava) was among the number which delved the ruins thereafter.

 

[Katsuya]

- Isa Bianchi -​

The redhead smiled at Moss and nodded. He paused for a moment so the others can catch up. His gloved hand automatically reached out to hold the merman’s and squeezed tenderly as he merely listened to the conversations. Taking a deep breathe, Isa wondered for a moment if the engine would be too damaged and needed to come up with another plan—-

Luckily enough, it seemed it wasn’t necessary.

The small group of men and Nava found the other engine room, it didn’t have as much damage as they thought it would have. Considering the dome crashed into the ground and all, the redhead was surprised to see how durable the engines were, and relieved to see it didn’t have issues as he checked and turned it. Better yet, it seems this engine might last longer than the other. Isa stood up after he turned the engine on and gave the others a thumbs up. Grinning happily. They are a little closer to their goal . . . And a little closer for L. He remembered that L wanted to see the engine blade For her goal; her wish with Uroburos’ help.

Now that he remembered the name, Isa huffed quietly. Connecting the two coincidences of the names together and how Theosebia might have been the key to using the engine blade—- Uroburos in the key is Zosimos, Theosebia’s love. The redhead kept quiet about it, squeezing Moss’ hand while they discussed of what to do Before leaving.

As they emerged from the engine rooms to the white grove of Titan’s well, Isa’s grin grew warm as they were spotted by Vidya, L, and Magni. Walking over to them to greet, telling them of the good news and plans they have; to fix the engines and to help the drows leave through Windshear’s portal and using another portal to see Loki. Isa noticed outside, how quiet it was. He took a deep breathe and sighed in relief. Finally, peace and quiet soothed his ears.

Isa had looked up, seeing the stars for a moment before focusing on what’s going on. A shooting star ran across the dark blanket of the night. Isa was starting to feel the aches that came with being sleepy and moving around a lot. A bit drained as well, since they haven’t ate after breakfast, but hey. That’s okay, they have progress to make up for it. Plus, Mrs. Tova might have food- Oh!

”L, did the little purrsian girl see her mom?” Isa asked, wanting to fulfill his promise somehow. He was willing to help Mrs. Kettlewhistle to see her baby girl.

As the drows started to work on the engines, Isa was ready to sleep on his feet, leaning on Moss a bit to stand straight. Carrying books loosely, with the top of the stack slowly tipping down and ready to slide off. When Lysanthir came up to them, mentioning how the hour was late for them ‘day-dwellers’ (gosh, that reminded him of his teacher), the redhead slowly lifted his head from the merman’s shoulder and blearily stared at the Drow. Well, the older drows did give their approval and the engines being safe to use . . . Lysanthir promised to wait until then . . .

” . . . I trust ya.” Isa said quietly, suddenly animated as he plopped the stack of books into Lysanthir’s hands with a mischievous grin. “Thank ya for helping us too and . . .I’m sorry for making assumptions before. I don’t take betrayals lightly, so . . . I’m sorry.” Indigo eyes took in the sight of drows being energetic and full of vigor and smiled.

”I’m happy for ya and your people.” He muttered. Then he remembered something and looked a bit alarmed. “Oh! Um! Lysanthir, before ya go, I need to warn ya something about Windshear.” He gave Lysanthir a warning. The possibility that there’s a war going on between the Templars and The Godfather’s men close to Bird Village. “Hopefully ya can avoid the clashing as ya go back home safely And if it’s okay, do ya mind if a friend of mine goes with ya through Windshear Portal? He lives in Bird village.”

When he noticed that Charon opted to stay in his boat, Isa nodded. “Okay, we’ll see ya tomorrow then~” He grinned. “Make sure ya sleep too, okay?”

Isa listened to Moss and turned red. Stuttering a ‘s-sure’ as he was about to get on the merman’s back, but then L offered to fly them over to Tova’s camp. Agreeing for some sleep —- oh gosh, he can cuddle Moss in peace again~ —- Isa waited patiently next to Moss before getting on L’s hand. Helping Moss get on as well before hugging his arm as they went back to the camp. The redhead tiredly told the girls of what happened down in the engine rooms and sighed happily. Once they reached the camp and after he helped Moss make their space to sleep, Isa went up to see James. In case he was still sleeping, he left another note to Sasha, saying ‘Fixing Windshear portal. Wanna go through?’ And went back to the merman to sleep and cuddle.

He slept peacefully that night, nuzzling his head under Moss’ chin as he listen to his breathing and heart beating. Holding him close as dreams of certain rings appeared in his head . . . One of seafoam and one of ashes.

Next morning, Moss would find Isa smooshing his face into his side. Mumbling about chasing grilling meat kabobs with a smile on his face—- he can feel it— with a. . . . A bit of drool.

Zer0 Sisyphus Happy

 

[Zer0]

- Next Day -
"Barad Eithel, December 30, 600"​

The sleepy gnome had told Isa that her mom came in right after the surgery. The little Purrsian girl's legs had to be amputated, but she was stable now and Mrs. Kettlewhistle had been relieved and then determined not to let her daughter be stuck because of the loss of her legs. The mother had told Liliana how she saw those mechanical spiders in battle, and thought of forging a kind of four-legged spider chair with solar surfer engines that'll help her daughter move and hover around in the future. It surprised Liliana to find out that the short chubby mom was actually a sand boat engineer, and the mom was herself surprised to learn that L was a prosthetist.

When Lysanthir gratefully received the books from Isa, he inclined his head at him. "Betrayals? I have nothing against you, only the monsters who enslaved us and threw my people into battle like sacks under a rain of bullets and fire." Then his expression became solemn when Isa added about the war. He told him that he expected Templars and the squid monsters waiting at Windshear. Manuel had not brought all the katulus here in Barad Eithel with him. He had left some to control the Templars in Windshear and secure the camp there for the transport of logs and mined ore. Lysanthir expected a battle, though Isa's friend was welcome to come with them if he was alright with the danger. And with that he bowed and said good-bye.

Later, at Charon's boat Leonid was surprised Charon liked all the wild overgrown plants. He chuckled. "You're welcome, and if you need anything, my shop's still open." he smiled. "You also look better now, healthier." he added, observing his hands.

After Charon sent the leyline message, Lysanthir's voice answered with, 'Very well. Come to the western wing, my people have set up a small camp around the portal.' to which there stood the wrecked remains of broken rings shaped like the sun under a tarp, surrounded by stone statues of fleeing drows covered in plants, colorful tents on stilts or stone, whatever could raise them above the ground, and a couple of forges.

Most of the drows were carefully sweeping water away while some were bringing in materials and working. Lysanthir came out of a larger tent north of camp where there were stacks upon stacks of foliage covered bodies on raised platforms. Some out of stone. And in the far tent wall in the center, was one body raised higher than the others on a table covered in black linen.

Charon could set up camp wherever he chose, except near the portal and the large tent where they kept their dead. Nava followed him, sniffing the air, looking around, searching. And seem to settle on being with Charon now and forever, as she curled up with him to sleep.

The next day revealed a still bustling camp, though with fewer drows working around. There was the sound of argument towards the direction of the well chamber, and there was the smell of food in a tent to the south next to the camp entrance. The camp looked more guarded than yesterday, with more drows sporting make-shift armor.

* * * *​

At Camp Tova Kay, the night before, Isa found James still sleeping, though he must have moved, because the picture Isa drew on his hand was smeared and there was some ink on his dozing face.

The ladies were relieved everything was going well. Though Liliana had a concern about the engine blade that she wanted to talk about with Isa tomorrow. "It's about the Vault." she whispered, but it could wait. And she just plopped down in a corner, pulled out her sleeping bag, tied it close and just cured into a sleeping cocoon.

Meanwhile, Moss happily nuzzled Isa in their little cozy place surrounded by curtains of colorful linen. It was like finally being able to relax in a comfortable place after all that happened today.

And the next morning, he woke up, chuckling quietly. After gently caressing Isa's hair and pressing a kiss on his forehead, Moss gently extricated himself from his arms. And then about an hour later, returned, sloooowly wiggling back into Isa's embrace, and then placed a small wrapped package next his beau.

Katsuya Sisyphus Happy

 

[Sisyphus Happy]

Health: Healthy
| Toughness: Background Ability (10) + Armor (1) [11] | Spell Power: Background Ability (14) + Knowledge (4) + Equipment (1) [19] |Manna: Background Ability (4) + Knowledge (6) + Spellslinger (4) [13/14]
Condition: 1 | Roleplay Points: 2

Χάρων ​

"Thwok... boooom," cries ring out or are cut short, screaming and roaring into the netherworld, never to accept their fate.

Charon started awake suddenly that morning, the sound of Ssamath scaring the life out of him. Breathing rapidly, his voice escaped inadvertantly, quietly and raspily. Dim grey light filtered through rubble and fabric pooled in ditches of sweat beading on his forehead and falling down the sides of his face, pooling in his collarbones, gathering onto his chest where it fell and fell. Weakness overtook him, his arms felt detached and numb, as though annexed by a hive of ants, how his skin crawled and his fingers shuddered. Renewed nausea drilled into the back of his throat where it struggled against his mouth, which suddenly closed to prevent the escape of whatever remained in his writhing pit of a stomach, which felt like a ball of worms. Drawing his knees up, the memories of the day before returned to him dreadfully, like guards marching en-masse to a stranger's home. His teeth still hurt from the explosion. He drew his knees up, remembering the stone statues. What a mess. Leaning forward, he felt his knees press into his forehead and his scalding breath travel up the crevice formed by his legs pressed together, brushing over his face and warming his eyelids. Over the course of several minutes, he brought himself out of his panic-stricken state and his breathing evened into long breaths. At some point his hand reached out to rest on Nava, his fingers gently digging into her fur and massaging whatever spot he found.

Another minute produced him from his tent, his hair matted and pushed back, his tail drooping over the ground, his eyes puffy, and ironically a rather pale grey complexion which might have suggested some illness. With trudging footsteps laden in scales, he exited his tent, somewhere far from the rest of the tents and turned to his right. There was some affair regarding the things he found in the ruins of the dome. Several carts of material, several toolboxes, he bequeathed them all easily to the efforts to repair the portal. With a bag slung over his shoulder, he swayed his way toward the great statue of the portal. His left arm stretched out and as though it were a natural movement, in an instant with a light snapping noise, the oar of a boat grew from thin air and he gripped it, and the sound of water flowing in a river filled the chamber -- probably much to the chagrin of those working to clear water, Charon realized with some embarrassment, although he had no say in this particular feature of his magic -- and many of the pieces of the portal, if and only if they would not collide with any of the stone bodies or unseat any of the structures set up here, would float into the air suspended by his magic and float very carefully to the approximate place they would fit if the portal were whole again. With a glare of concentration, he put a hand on his chin and began inspecting the portal with the pieces floated near their rightful places to survey what sort of true damage has taken place to its structure and how it is meant to work anyway. Perhaps those rings were simply vestigial. His tail whipped from left to right while he squinted. While standing, he leaned rather heavily on the oar. Indeed, though he could lift a few thousand pounds of stone with a gesture, it seemed in that moment that he was like an old man, hunched and flagging under nothing but gravity.

Through all of the bustle of the camp, through even the noble form of Lysanthir moving through it, Charon seemed laser focused on his tasks. It was not cold, it was almost neurotic. His movements never strayed near others, his gaze fixed firmly on the portal. The smell of food did not draw gurling from his stomach. He stood like a post in the middle of the camp, though out of everyone's way, somehow exuding antisociality. His demeanor was uncanny, there were few people to ever look so alone in such a crowded spot.

 

[Katsuya]

- Isa Bianchi -​

As Moss’ gentle hand comb through his red strands, he tilted Isa’s head slightly, revealing that silly sleepy smile. Isa mewed when warm lips pressed on his pale forehead and he groaned in quiet protest as the merman separated himself. However he quieted down when he snuggling into Moss’ pillow, taking a deep breathe. The redhead mewed again when Moss climbed back in an hour later, jostling him awake from the slight wiggles. Though blearily, he held onto Moss again as if he was a missed Teddy bear.

“Mornin’ Mosssh~” Isa mumbled, leaning up to place a wet kiss on his cheek. “Why movin’?” He is still half-asleep.

Zer0

 

[Zer0]

- Camp Tova Kay -
"Barad Eithel, December 30, 600"​

"Good morning, luprisca." he whispered, pressing his cheek into Isa's kiss, and wrapping his arms around him comfortably. Moss smelled like market spices. "I went to the market for water and because I wanted to cook something for us, and I stopped by Leonid's. And now I have something for you." he smiled, and pulled the package above them. It was soft, lumpy, and when Moss drew out the cloth from within, Isa beheld a comfy shirt with the words in a font of sass:

"Speaks Fluent Sarcasm"​

Katsuya

- Shattered Golden Dome -
"Barad Eithel, December 30, 600"​

Even with Manuel's research, the man did not bother to write the basics of his arithmetical calculations, jumping immediately to more complex rune circles that someone who was familiar with this sort of mechromancy would understand, not someone not used to it. He used symbols Charon did not know the meaning of, next to numbers and lines that didn't make sense, that led to circles he could draw, but did not know where to put. What was more, the drows had not finished searching for the missing pieces. And when Lysanthir came along with the mages who helped build this thing, they told him that there were smaller pieces that were likely lost in the rubble and need to be re-made. Pieces they did not know yet.

They had been mindless slaves when they made this, and had gaps in their memories. Nevertheless they put their heads together and got to work.

Later, when Charon decided to help with the rune lines from the east bhrumstone engine, it didn't go as well either. The pockets of petrified water made work slow, as they had to create safe channels to drain them first while carefully moving rocks. Charon was requested most of the time to hold heavy debris for long periods of time, traveling back and forth to lower levels when he needed to see if he moved something this way it won't make anything collapse. Luckily, the collapses that occurred were not serious and nobody got hurt.

Sisyphus Happy

 

[Katsuya]

- Isa Bianchi -​

He hummed happily as he felt Moss’ comforting arms around him, snuggling into his chest. Dazed indigo eyes looked up, slowly waking up as he stayed awake to listen to Moss’ words. Then he blinked owlishly as Moss pulled the package. Unwrapping his arms to receive the present with an excited grin, Isa pulled the shirt up to unfold and-

“Hahaha!” Isa laughed, mirth twinkled in his eyes as he read the simple sentence. “Oh gosh, I love this- heheh!” He noticed how soft it was, fascinated with the cooling feel under his bare skin Before pulling it close. Then he wrapped his arms around the merman to pull him close to give his face a bunch of kisses.

“Thank ya, Moss~” Isa purred, kissing his cheek again. The little sprout on his head that was once calm and slightly curled, became bouncy.

Later on that morning, after helping Moss cook breakfast and eating it, Isa wanted to check on the portal’s progress. ”if that’s okay?” He asked the merman.

Zer0

 

[Zer0]

- Camp Tova Kay -
"Barad Eithel, December 30, 600"​

Moss laughed with him, admiring the shirt as well, happy it made Isa laugh. Isa had been so tired last night, nodding off on his shoulder, so it was nice to see him smile.

Moss hummed, pressing his face forward for the rain of kisses. "Kiss meh on the lipsh." he mumbled, puckering for Isa.

He noticed the sprout. It was still there! He stared at it for a moment, was it going to be there forever on his beau? It was cute. He wondered how long until he should tell Isa, it was kind of funny him not knowing.

Later, after breakfast and Moss just wiping the plates as best as he could since they had to conserve water, he nodded at him. "Of course, luprisca, you don't need to ask my permission. Do you mind if I not go with you? I need to take inventory of our stuff, I'm still missing some things, and I need to go to the oasis with Okami and get water. And probably look for another place for us to set up camp. This ice island is going to melt soon with the desert heat back." He scowled up at the ceiling to the unseen desert sun.

Katsuya

 

[Sisyphus Happy]

- Shattered Golden Dome -
"Barad Eithel, December 30, 600"​

Even with Manuel's research, the man did not bother to write the basics of his arithmetical calculations, jumping immediately to more complex rune circles that someone who was familiar with this sort of mechromancy would understand, not someone not used to it. He used symbols Charon did not know the meaning of, next to numbers and lines that didn't make sense, that led to circles he could draw, but did not know where to put. What was more, the drows had not finished searching for the missing pieces. And when Lysanthir came along with the mages who helped build this thing, they told him that there were smaller pieces that were likely lost in the rubble and need to be re-made. Pieces they did not know yet.

They had been mindless slaves when they made this, and had gaps in their memories. Nevertheless they put their heads together and got to work.

Later, when Charon decided to help with the rune lines from the east bhrumstone engine, it didn't go as well either. The pockets of petrified water made work slow, as they had to create safe channels to drain them first while carefully moving rocks. Charon was requested most of the time to hold heavy debris for long periods of time, traveling back and forth to lower levels when he needed to see if he moved something this way it won't make anything collapse. Luckily, the collapses that occurred were not serious and nobody got hurt.

Sisyphus Happy

Health: Healthy
| Toughness: Background Ability (10) + Armor (1) [11] | Spell Power: Background Ability (14) + Knowledge (4) + Equipment (1) [19] |Manna: Background Ability (4) + Knowledge (6) + Spellslinger (4) [10/14]
Condition: 3 | Roleplay Points: 2

Χάρων ​

"Thwok... boooom," cries ring out or are cut short, screaming and roaring into the netherworld, never to accept their fate.

In many ways his intellectual travails felt like adventure. Learning "the rules" so to speak, from his knowledgeable teacher and the mechromantic advancement of his fellow pupils felt like a journey. His mind wades through ignorance like a fog and the further he walks, the more his mind feels like a cavernous story. In all ways it was a journey. When learning quickly and with ease, and learning many great things, it was like a cool breeze in the mind. Refreshing and engaging, the laws of magic, for example, a great hill, the view from the top unmatched; a majestic mountain visible from his boat during one trip reminded him of the experience at once. The myriad of biological forms and their anatomies, strange and wonderful fields of low hills rolling in the wind. When progress was slow, it was tiring and uncomfortable, like a long trek on a hot day. Peering at the equations, he recognized just enough to feel like progress was being made but there were clear jumps in logic, he would follow along and try to predict the next step and find nothing, instead a turn in the story which threw him for a loop -- every single time. Like stumbling through a sweltering cave in pitch darkness, he followed through the reasoning and processes with the illusion of understanding which when applied failed spectacularly. He could only stand there, red with shame, holding up some heavy objects while magi and Lysanthir discussed. Every so often, a question would be posed, he would attempt an answer with a few others, and something tacit in the work would be mentioned which precluded his meager statement, and he would go back to holding up heavy rocks.

By the end of the day he found himself sitting down with his hand resting on the bottom of his chin. There had been several mishaps during the day, all of which he volunteered to take care of given his poor performance during the day's studies. His green eyes were dull and irritable like thick storm clouds while he glared at the ground, repeatedly rubbing his mouth and chin. He stayed like that for some time after the day's disasters concluded until Lysanthir was released from his deliberations. Charon approached the refined man with an irritable look on his face, his eyes darting around, his head and shoulders hunched, his lips moving silently with an obsessive flair. In spite of his ghoulish comportment, he waited respectfully for his drow overseer to address him, or give some indication that he was in the mood to be bothered. There was a passivity in Charon's posture which, in spite of the agita possessing him.

Over the course of the day, his complexion did not appreciably improve. Dark bags dwelling under his eyes and a sort of bleariness in the movements of his gaze indicated an infirm state. His hair, already disorganized and unkempt, seemed stiff and heavy where it poked up in various parts, brushed off of his forehead. A certain greasy sheen clings to it, even in this low light.

 

[Zer0]

- Drow Camp -
"Shattered Golden Dome Courtyard, December 30, 600, Early Evening"​

Lysanthir, whom Charon discovered was more of a leader than a tinkerer, who spent most of the day getting those smarter than him what they needed, was writing up with a quill and parchment what looked like an inventory list inside his tent next to the large pavilion for their dead that was starting to smell, the rot masked somewhat by the smell of incense and herbs.

He had been surrounded by other drows, some the usual messengers who'd come in, deliver parchment or speak quickly, before setting out again with his written orders, others seemed to be in charge of other operations who would stay longer, discussing things at length with him. And it was at the end of one of these discussions with a well groomed female drow with expressive blue eyes and several blue freckles on her nose that he turned to Charon and acknowledged his politeness with a small bow.

He did not look at him anymore the way he did back when he thought Charon was going back on helping him. And had been warmer, in that familiar schooled polite way of his, betrayed only by the smallest of gestures, like the way his eyes was less squinty. "I think that a break is well deserved. You look . . . very frustrated. Come, Master Charon, sit, have a drink. What can I do for you?"

Sisyphus Happy

 

[Sisyphus Happy]

Health: Healthy
| Toughness: Background Ability (10) + Armor (1) [11] | Spell Power: Background Ability (14) + Knowledge (4) + Equipment (1) [19] |Manna: Background Ability (4) + Knowledge (6) + Spellslinger (4) [10/14]
Condition: 3 | Roleplay Points: 2

Χάρων ​

"I shan't set," he replied vehemently -- there it was. The faint accent hiding in his cadence burgeoned, stirred by his poor mood. Immediately, an expression of regret cooled his face. Raising his hand and rubbing his fingers together, he paused and blinked hard, looking down to say, "I-I should sit."

He did so after taking a deep breath and returning a short attempt at a bow to her, the woman in the tent with them, and bearing a bashful expression. He took his seat finally, leaning back and inflating himself with another mediating breath to sit up and inclining his head, "my apologies, this day has tried and tired me -- I am under-performing and it pricks my ego," he admitted with a mournful look to the side, "I will sit for a moment and collect myself, I should not misconduct myself,in front of you," and though he sat, agitation still possessed him by the shoulders. He continued to press his fingers into his lips and rub irritably, around the area a red spot formed from his constant worrying of the skin. Such a cycle seemed to maintain itself; he would rub his lips, realize he was doing so, then rub his hands together, pull them apart forcibly, and then rest them on his thighs, only to move them there too. All this proceeded while he spoke, "h-how is your," he paused and peered forward a little, glancing over the pages in front of him, "accession treating you?" he inquired politely.

 

[Katsuya]

- Isa Bianchi -​

Upon Moss’ request, Isa’s smile softened. Gentle hands cupped his tanned cheeks as he leaned over him to press their yearning lips together. Playful, the redhead deepened the kiss before cutting it only to dive in again and again until his fiancé was breathless and red. Then he chuckled alluringly, picking up on where the merman was staring for a moment. . . On top of his head?

Moss saw how bouncy that sprout was, the tips of it’s leaves curled bashfully.

He dismissed it for now, decided to focus on waiting for Moss to breathe steadily. Then they had breakfast after the merman went out on his search—-Gosh, breakfast was bad. It tasted odd and for some reason, the redhead felt a weird cramp in his stomach. Like his stomach wanted to jump but can’t. Like it’s turned to stone or something. Still, the redhead wasn’t one to waste food no matter how bad. He ate everything in his plate. On the topic of him wanting to visit the dome, Isa listened with a wince and nodded. The pain passed a bit for him to resume normally.

He grinned when he saw Moss scowling at the ceiling, assuming that he hated how quickly the ice was melting. “Of course, Love. I’ll stay on contact in case something happens again or where to look for ya.” Isa sounded like he got used to crazy things happening out of nowhere by now. What with the way he causally waved a gloved hand up and his tone expecting another mishap; not that Isa could help it.

The Templars were nearby, the engine blade is working somewhat—speaking of, L still had to talk with him about that—, Titan’s parted soul is still in the well, and all Isa wants to do is to let him go to the Southern Lights! Or rest! Bring peace to the poor Ancient already!

Isa took a deep breathe, wincing as his stomach didn’t expand, feeling it tugging but not moving. Then he stood up. Wearing his new comfy shirt, with dark pants, and a cloak to shield him from the water in case he needed it. He helped wipe the dishes clean and held Moss until it was time to part. “I’ll see ya soon~”

Dark shadowy hands formed out of his armor underneath and floated outside for Isa to sit on; Off he went to the ruined dome. Wondering what he would see when he arrived there. Trying to not think about the water under the floating claws.

Zer0 Sisyphus Happy

 

[Zer0]

- Drow Camp -
"Shattered Golden Dome Courtyard, December 30, 600, Morning"​

Moss was smiling like a loon, breathless and red.

After their kisses, he frowned at his bowl of baba ganoush, slowly chewing on his pita bread. From where he sat on a colorful rug, he looked at Isa who finished his food, and wondered if maybe it's just him feeling strange. Maybe Isa's kisses gave him serious stomach butterflies? He shrugged and finished his food too, though he stretched his jaw, wondering why his mouth felt kind of numb.

At Isa's words, he looked up nodding, and smiled. "I'll tell you if Okami and I have reached the Ebony Oasis too. I don't trust the water here anymore . . . Nor the food." He looked down at his bowl. "I might go hunting too . . . I feel a tad numb . . . Iike my tongue's deadened."

Before Isa left, Moss hugged him, kissing his cheek. "I'll see you soon too." This moment made him feel happy. It felt domestic. Like he was the wife saying good bye to her husbando. " Stay safe, my sassy one." He chuckled at his shirt. "Tell me if you want me to get you anything from the oasis or the market, okay?"

And with that Isa was off. Along the way, he saw scores of survivors evacuating Barad Eithel. There was a long line off the eastern shores of the shallow lake where most people were heading east. And on the way to the dome, he spotted some Templars arguing with the drows who don't seem to be letting them in. But the other drows around the area recognized him, and they greeted him before leading him to the courtyard behind the dome where they had made camp around the remains of a sun-like portal. This wasn't the large one where he had seen the void, but a smaller one which one of the drows explained was where they stepped through from Windshear. Charon, Lysanthir, and a couple of older looking drows were working on it, its large pieces being held up by Charon's magic, but they seemed to be stuck.

Katsuya

- Drow Camp -
"Shattered Golden Dome Courtyard, December 30, 600, Early Evening"​

Lysanthir smiled wanly. "It is familiar work. I did this often when Lord Aredhel was still with us." He looked to the direction of the Mourning Tent. "I was his servant . . . He did not survive the fall of the dome. "

Sisyphus Happy

 

[Katsuya]

- Isa Bianchi -​

In the back of his mind, his ego purred happily to see Moss this dazed and cozy. Especially because he caused that lovely reaction~. Isa pushed back his pride as he watched the loony smile grow on his love’s face, admiring it in their peace.

When the merman mentioned the food, the redhead looked at him and winced. “Yeah . . . Uh. I feel numb in my stomach too. I just didn’t want to waste it.”

Isa smiled when Moss kissed his cheek. He did the same for him before gently nuzzling the tips of their noses together sweetly, hugging him tight. “I will stay safe~ ya stay safe too, Luprrrrisca~“ Then Isa left, holding onto the merman as much as he could until the tips of their fingers released each other as the redhead floated by. Waving at Moss as he already felt the longing to stay—- then he sighed when he was far away to see the camp. He really wanted to stay with Moss, but duty calls, and from the view of the drows pushing the Templars back; it seems not everything is as peaceful as Isa hoped it would be.

More noises. Great.

With a deep breathe and wincing from the tugging feeling in his stomach, Isa just watched from above as he passed by the arguing the crowd. Then he was let in after a Drow recognized him. When it was safe enough to step on the ground, Isa hopped off the shadowy claws and continued to follow the Drow. “What’s goin’ on outside?— and inside?” He asked to the drow that was leading him in the dome. Where he saw Charon and Lysanthir talking.

Zer0 Sisyphus Happy

 

[Sisyphus Happy]

Health: Healthy
| Toughness: Background Ability (10) + Armor (1) [11] | Spell Power: Background Ability (14) + Knowledge (4) + Equipment (1) [19] |Manna: Background Ability (4) + Knowledge (6) + Spellslinger (4) [10/14]
Condition: 3 | Roleplay Points: 2

Χάρων ​

A faint creak filled the suddenly reserved tent when Charon took a breath and leaned forward in the chair, a dry, geometric object molding at the foot of one leg. He placed his forearms on his knees and pressed the tips of his fingers against each other, splaying his them out to form an oblate cage to hold his attention. He allowed a moment of silence, both in observance of the fallen noble and out of a fear of misspeaking. Once that moment passed, he spoke quietly, "you were a servant? My imagination held you as a lord. It now beholds him as one who was truly capable," he eulogized, hoping dearly that this Aredhel character was not some despotic beast. For a moment his agitated face relaxed, his forehead smoothed, or became as smooth as it could be with scales. Following suit, his shoulders relaxed.

With his manner subdued by the heavy conversation, the agita faded for now, replaced with some curiosity, which played in his eyes while they orbited Lysanthir. His attention was chiefly focused on his interlocutor but his eyes flitted to the woman in the room, a glance just as long lived as a busy bee's stay in an empty flower. In this way he revealed that he had some intention to address her next. After all, having been so rude as to first mostly ignore her then cast an outburst toward one who may be her superior, he faintly wondered how close she came to accosting him to return him to his senses. Turned toward the camp once more, it's relatively spartan conditions. Perhaps there was a suspension of the hierarchy here, in some capacity since in some thin way, suffering creates equals among those upon whom it is inflicted. Green orbs heavy with bemusement, he watched the drow's response.

 

[Zer0]

- Drow Camp -
"Shattered Golden Dome Courtyard, December 30, 600, Morning"​

"Repairs are proceeding slower than we'd like, Master Mage." said the drow, a fumbling one who had piercings, to Isa. " The stone water is making work complicated. As for outside, the Templars wish for us to stop. They fear the sky tearing and the stone rain returning. They wish to destroy the well, but Master Lysanthir told them it is not that simple, and that the dome must be repaired in order for that to be done. But they do not believe us, they think we only wish to use the dome for ourselves, and they fear us wielding the power to command the goliaths. They threatened us with the army coming from Menagerie, but we are hoping that the main bulk will pass and continue to Sanctuary. We heard rumors that war has been brewing there."

Katsuya

- Drow Camp -
"Shattered Golden Dome Courtyard, December 30, 600, Early Evening"​

"I am still a servant. I am Lord Aredhel's steward." Lysanthir's fingers paused the scratching of his quill and he glanced at the tent again. There was a softness to his eyes, looking at something only he saw. A fond memory. "He was . . . He took care of us. Always said that we will make it . . ." He cleared his throat, straightened, eyes schooled to their usual calm again. "And we did . . . And we'll make it home . . ." He looked at the tent again, solemn. "If it's the last thing I do."

The freckled female drow waited idly at the corner, gazing ahead. The way she carried herself, stiff and sharp, was akin to a guard at casual attention, just watching over the two men.

Sisyphus Happy

 

[Sisyphus Happy]

Health: Healthy
| Toughness: Background Ability (10) + Armor (1) [11] | Spell Power: Background Ability (14) + Knowledge (4) + Equipment (1) [19] |Manna: Background Ability (4) + Knowledge (6) + Spellslinger (4) [10/14]
Condition: 3 | Roleplay Points: 2

Χάρων ​

Charon offered a look of concern toward Lysanthir despite his soft expressions and for a moment looked with him toward the tent. Oddly enough, it felt to him like an intrusion between the two and he looked away from the lord's provisional tomb first, and spread out in the chair just a little, assuming a mildly uncouth position, sitting at an angle in the chair and bracing his palm against the top of his thigh. He looked down at it, ghostly white with just a little red peeking from the bottom of the crevices. Discomfort drove him to reach over and idly itch it for a few seconds. A moment passed between them once more. Something in the atmosphere bade Charon take his time in this conversation, rushing Lysanthir's responses would feel only rude, no, painful. On the tail of that moment, he replied softly, his emotions finally fully in check. His state, more akin now to the way this steward found him, was quite dry all of a sudden, and formal in spite of his relaxed posture. He was pulled by his imagination to the time Lysanthir had with this lord. Feelings of prosperity and perhaps stability, hope, the comfort of having a strong leader. Something stirred in him, to which he turned his head slightly, a twitch, as though perking up to a faint noise. Nearly against his will, he thought of home. Of discomfort, mistrust, rejection, isolation, loneliness, dark long corridors broken and molding, metal vats darkened by time yet still filled with liquids and creatures. His brows dropped low over his eyes and he blinked hard again, realizing finally that another feeling laced all of his recollection -- just a hint of envy. A brief moment of discomfort flashed on his face and he leaned over to the other side of the chair he occupied, a high pitched whine emanating once more from the wood.

"Entirely too few of that genera of men exist in this world," he offered simply. There was more, of course, questions, nuanced opinions, compliments, all possibly overstepping. Charon had no interest in distancing Lysanthir from himself even more. Remembering quickly the two instances of what he would consider possible manipulation by the drow; perhaps it would be more accurate to conclude that his admissions to displeasure are conducted without remorse and with spiritual savagery, in either case the poor lizard-man believes it is entirely too easy to find himself on the outskirts of Lysanthir's disdain, to receive nothing but biting, gelid scorn and find the life of a means to an end. The tiny ember of anger at his earlier accusation of choosing Isa and Moss over his attempt at redemption in response to a simple question fueled a little excursion of his imagination, to visualize his own name next to the barrels of tack and nails. Guilt followed close behind, beating his own scorn over the ears and casting it away quickly, and with a turn of his head he regarded the drow woman respectfully. He offered a secondary nod, "did you know him also, madame?" he asked respectfully, entirely too presumptuous regarding the etiquette required by the room.

He leaned carefully forward in his seat and grasped the arms of the elderly chair supporting him. In a measured motion, he rose with it and rotated just a little bit in her direction, so that he might regard the both of them with his front. Placing the thing back down slowly so as to not make an offensive noise, first the front legs with a whisper of a "donk" and then the back, he leaned into the laddered back of the chair and crossed one leg over the other. His tail, poking between two of the lower rungs, swished over the stone and came to rest near Lysanthir's desk. His mood remained low in intensity, but he could not successfully hide the face of someone who is reminiscing about something unpleasant. His right hand rested on the leg which crossed over the other and his left hand was held in the air by his head, his thumb restlessly tracing over his fingers. Green eyes roamed about the floor directly before his chair twice as often as it roamed between Lysanthir and this unknown figure. A wistful look softened his eyes but concern tightened his face and at the corners of his jaw, muscles tightened and indicated that he was clenching his teeth behind the thin lips which rested on his face relaxed.

 

[Katsuya]

- Isa Bianchi -​

“Isa. Please call me Isa.” He grinned mischievously.

As the redhead listened to the Drow, he took a deep, deeeeeeeeeeep breathe before sighing. His grinned tensed and sharpened. “Of course, they feel that way. Why am I not surprised~?” Isa grumbled, already knowing the answer. Sometimes, he hated being right. Perhaps it was a good thing to be weary around the Templars, even the ones who were under Theosebia’s control. Else, they might think he is a necromancer just for singing to the dead or feel offended that he knew how to bring peace to others’ soul like their priestess or priest. Whatever person.

He briefly wondered what the Templars will feel, should they ever see him asking Loki for help with freeing Titan’s soul.

”Then I guess I should hurry and get ya guys home soon.” Isa told the Drow. He didn’t know about the war in Sanctuary. Just the one close to Bird village and how The Godfather is helping them. He thought of Wild Flower, Sassy, and Max. Are they doing okay?

By the time they reached the main room, Isa saw and heard the bustling drows. He thanked the Drow that lead him there before walking over to Lysanthir, who might know what exactly they needed help with; he didn’t want to startle the others.

“Morning, Lysanthir. Morning Charon.” Isa said calmly.

Zer0 Sisyphus Happy