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Aerion [IC] Rated M

1,176
Posts
15
Years
  • Seen Jul 18, 2016
Tamor Bellfiend
Oculus Tower
Theme Song: Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)
The silence was painful; Tamor thoughts crept to the forefront and threatened to upset her emotional state. The Monks must have made a grave mistake when they chose her for this quest of theirs. Despite that her wish to not draw any attention to herself had worked she found herself wishing it hadn't. It had worked so well as no one had even attempted to glance her way. It was bound to happen, she wasn't on par with the others… They were so much more. Her fingers curled inwards and twisted the material of her clearly worn robe in her palms that was enough to make more wrinkles. As the man who bought her into the room lead them to the monks Tamor naturally fell towards the back of the rather small group. Her place was meant to be in the last spot, she deserved the lack of acknowledgement from her peers. In her absent-minded state she stepped in front of the other member of the group who also had their hood up, which left her second to last in the line. The weight on her shoulder was gone as her hawk companion flew ahead he (or she) was scouting for danger. As the door opened to the next room the hawk gracefully zoomed passed the group into the sacred room and made several loops around the room before it the others set foot inside.

When they reached the observatory Tamor let out a sigh, was she to receive her destiny here? It could have used a splash of color and some liveliness that these monks lacked. Eislynn had recalled to her the fable in which The Council of Nine blessed the monks onto the world to guide the it. It was rare that any was allowed to meet them; in fact many doubted their existence and paid no mind to the stories of Ekilore. She wondered if this was the proper moment to remove her Mage's Hood but she knew couldn't. They would all whisper, laugh, and point at her unsettled appearance. If Tella was watching would she understand her reason or would she be yet again deemed a failure? Selfishly entranced Tamor barely heard the deep voice of the monk that had removed himself from his seated position to greet them. His voice clearly drew each of them in like they were moths to the monk's flames. Her eyes stuck to the ground she dared not to look into those all-knowing blood colored eyes. Her avian friend returned to perch on Tamor's shoulder his watchful eyes met those who dare to look at Tamor almost as if he were challenging them.

He spoke slowly about the fate of the world, abilities gifted to them by The Nine (Tamor assumed that's how they received them), a broken Orb. Then came the promise, Tamor Bellfiend from Raelus would be revered as someone to look up to. If she survived this task they wanted to grant her lavish items but her need for those were sparse. Even with their abilities the one thing she wanted couldn't be obtained from them, her parent's love. She lacked the bravery to speak up enough to answer a simple question, how did they expect her to bring them an orb? If only she had a different personality, if only she wasn't terrified of their judgment.

She noticed how hesitant some of the others were to agreeing to what they saw as a farce. The Elven woman who stood a few feet ahead of her questioned this tale, as did one of the armored males. Of course they had every right to but they lacked faith. With their now apparent skeptical natures out in the open Tamor knew that a clash of personalities was going to happen between them. The monk seemed to know that these ones would question him and he readily replied now it was up to them to accept. No one had answered his previous question, would she be the first?

"Y-yes, I do," her words struggled to come out. "But, why me?" Tamor whispered to herself, unaware of the man beside her that had overheard her question and subsequently his facial expression.​
 
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CarefulWetPaint

Doctor Lobotomy
1,193
Posts
12
Years
Auden Radke, Oculus Tower.
Theme: Planet Hell - Nightwish.

A rather inquisitive elf was next to enter after Auden, and she was quiet a boisterous. I wonder why she's trying to sound like a male? Auden asked himself, looking at the elf with hidden disgust. She might end up being a fun toy.. elves usually like to think they are above humans. The idea of torturing her was growing stronger and stronger as he examined her with his eyes moving into the magic spectrum, revealing nothing within her. For some reason, lost to Auden, she was faking the grin on her face. Such a pointless mask she's putting on. He thought, allowing his eyes to once again take in the spectacular view that was before him. Moments later another person entered the room, taking his attention away from the view again to analyse the newest addition to rooms gathering group. This one was much more interesting, at least in Audens eyes, as they also had their hood on, covering their face from view. This hinted they had something to hide, which meant they also had something to exploit. Another thing that was interesting was the hawk that was sitting on their shoulder. Auden caught a quick glimpse of the person's face as they lifted their head up slightly, revealing feminine features, that looked strangely familiar, almost nostalgic.

One of the eunuchs suddenly began speaking, with no noticeable signal, informing the group that they could now meet the monks. The members of the group filed out, leaving Auden last, which didn't bother him at all. That insignia, its from the Mage Guild my parents were a part of in Raelus. The insignia rested on the back of the hooded persons cloak, whom Auden assumed was female. This assumption was reinforced by her walking style and perceivable body shape. Thought's raced through Auden's mind as the group made their way to the Monks chambers, trying to think of who could be under the cloak as so many things about the way she carried herself and walked seemed familiar to him. Upon entering the monks chamber, he took position next to her, being more interested in who she was then he'd normally like.

A quick glance around the room showed that they were surrounded by the monks, with all but one of the seven sitting in throne like seats that were on a stone platform which rose them above the group and encircled the rooms outer edge. The lone standing monk was also the only one that didn't have a hood covering his face. His complexion was slightly contradictory as he looked both young and old at the same time, though this wasn't the most intriguing part of his appearance. Red eyes. The monk had red eyes, red eyes they had a slight tint of magic flowing around them, very intriguing eyes indeed Auden thought. The monk began addressing the group, his red eyes analyzing those who stood before him one by one. He spoke of the monks "visions" of the future that brought great hope to the world, an apparent everlasting peace. None of which the monk had spoken of had yet to get Auden's attention, as he continued speaking after a deep pause. The monk continued to speak, bringing up an artificial that could apparently bring chaos to an end.

"And what do you want us to do?" One of the two men clad in armor asked.

"A fair question to ask," the monk replied. "This Orb was believed to be shattered long ago with its pieces becoming the desire of many because of its so called 'value' as a treasure with no owner being astute enough to realize its true purpose. This, in turn, caused the shards to be scattered across all of Aerion. For this prophecy to hold true, we must gather all these pieces to put the Orb of Ardor back together to unlock its power. Undoubtedly, you chosen few will become heroes." The red eyed monk finished, before the other monks finally began answering themselves, though they mostly spoke of the rewards that the would all receive at the end of this "quest".

These monks seem to think quite highly of themselves. And the way they sit above us in those throne like chairs while speaking down to us.. I can already see the looks of disbelief on their faces as I slowly kill them, Auden's mind was again wondering towards torture, his withdrawals being magnified by all the happiness and confidence in themselves the towers occupants seemed to have. I should just refuse this "quest" of theirs and burn this tower to the ground. His muscles all tensed underneath his robes before he caught himself, the sound someone in the group speaking. Relaxing, he continued to listen.

The question came from the other Elf of the group, whom had asked how the orb would bring peace, with her question being reinforced again by one of the two armor clad men. The monks swiftly answered this question, though they did try to avoid answering with solid facts and more on generalisation on what had been told in books or passed down through their order. Still no one had actually accepted their proposal.

The next voice came from besides him, stuttering her words, was an acceptance of the monks quests. Auden's eyes darted to her figure, a smiling flickering before disappearing again. The hawk on her shoulder stared back at Auden, though he ignored it. That voice! It must be her!
"But, why me?" She mumbled, barely audible, though loud enough for Auden to hear from his position next to her. The smile again flickered across his face before disappearing again. Oh Tamour Bellfiend, what a fantastic time for our reunion! He thought, idea's travelling through his mind.

Changing his voice the slightest amount he spoke."I also accept." The first words that came from his mouth weren't those of his true voice.
 
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SV

See You Space Cowboy
3,393
Posts
13
Years
  • Seen Feb 7, 2022

Varian Sigmund and Cassandra Alexandera- Dalenham


Everyone had counted their pay, and their drinks were brought towards them. Varian observed the group as they collected their shares, seeing how each of them reacted to money, making sure everything was in order. Besides the young woman Xeye who left without even picking up her share, the other collected their portion as it was placed before them. Varian eyed the small woman as she left the bar, apparently for the reason of the insults thrown at her by the other patrons. He cocked his head to the side, puzzled by this. He saw her fight earlier in Sabamin. In fact, he had observed how all of them fought. They were all talented warriors, so it puzzled him to see how such a capable fighter, who seemed so untouchable on the battlefield could be so touched by words. He shook his head, and took a few gulps of his Orbrigg Ale before slamming the goblet on the table, satisfyingly letting the aftertaste develop in his mouth. He kept an occasional eye on the pocket belonging to Xeye, making sure he would deliver it to her once she would return. Ava asked a question that was probably on everyone's minds (Well, probably everyone but Cass). Usually, Varian and Cassandra traveled without others. This was often due to their inability to find additional fighters on par (or close to) their skill, or the simple fact that everyone else they employ die untimely deaths. Such was the life of a mercenary. But in this situation, the two of them seemed to fulfill both categories: they were skillful, and thus far, they were alive. Bofvar suggested continuing the band and at this moment, Varian couldn't think of any reason to decline. They were all in it for just about the same reason, the money, and it would be a shame to break such a talented group. Rather, Varian would like to use them as much as he can, if it they ended up dying eventually, so be it.

Varian picked up his goblet and drank from it again, contemplating the notion. "Well, in our line of business, work usually finds us." He set his mug down on the table again. "I haven't actually been in a group in quite a while. I say let's give this a go, unless Cassandra has any objections."

Cass downed her order in a single gulp, already ordering a second round, in the middle of conversing with Bofvar. It was apparent that she was going to let some newcomer out drink her. She needed more. She craved more. "Oh, was that an invitation to talk? Yeah, sure. I don't give a crap." She said, returning her attention back to the dwarf.

As Varian prepared to speak once again, he was interrupted by a clearing of the throat of a short, stout man in front of him. The plump man wore a large, hooded black cloak, and although Varian was no connoisseur on clothing, he could tell it was crafted of luxurious material, perhaps silk. The man kept very well hidden that which he wore underneath, but Varian could have sworn he saw some sort of jewelry on his garb. No matter how well the man probably tried to hide it, he was evidently quite wealthy.

"Excuse me, but I do believe I overheard that you are in fact mercenaries, is that correct?"

Varian looked back at the others, and then turned to the man in the cloak. He put one arm over the back of his chair as he continued to gaze at him. "I suppose we are." Varian finally replied, much to the apparent joy of the cloaked man.

"Splendid!" He exclaimed, perhaps too loudly for which he intended, causing him to look around the tavern to make sure nobody else heard. After composing himself, he spoke again. "I am in desperate need of assistance, and I have no one else to turn to. My daughter has been taken by brigands. They took her north and are holed up north in a fort just outside of Curilan. I have sent others to try and release her, but none have returned. I implore you, please rescue my daughter!"

In Varian's eyes, the man seemed sincere. It was against his better judgment to usually go directly for the client instead of through contractors, but he seemed like he was distressed and in desperate need of assistance. But Varian knew the others might be tired from just accomplishing one mission, and might have liked to stay in the city for a few nights before going on another job. He disliked the notion of turning down a potential client, but the lives and well-being of his group would always take precedence over the client.

"Sorry, but we've only just returned from a job of our own, and we're tired. I'm sure you can find ano-" Varian was suddenly interrupted by the man in the cloak. "How much did you earn on your last job?"

Varian looked at him curiously, bringing his mug up to his mouth and taking a gulp of the ale, and replied. "70 silver." The man was quick to respond.

"I will pay you 70 silver to each of you, and an additional 200 to be split amongst the survivors upon completion." He said, unflinchingly. Varian nearly spit out his drink from his mouth as he heard the offer. He place the mug down on the table and eyed the man suspiciously, before standing up.

"Excuse me for a moment," Varian said to the merchant, grabbing the sack of silver that belonged to Xeye and stormed out of the tavern. He burst open the front door, looking to either side of the streets to locate his blue-haired companion, spotting her in the not-too-far distance down the street.

"OI!" He bellowed down the street in a booming voice, of which his Highman accent was easily heard, lowering his arm with the silver in it and tossing the sack at her with all his might, aiming at her head with the full intent on hitting her with it. "Get your a$$ back in the bar right now! We're talking business!"

Varian looked to make sure Xeye had heard him, before going back into the tavern, noticing most of the patrons, as well as the man in the cloak, were staring at him. He eyed none of them, instead casually returning to his seat and leaning back in his chair, turning his gaze back to the man.

"Who are you exactly?" Varian questioned him. The man in the cloak looked around for a moment before replying. "I am…a reputable merchant wishing only to have my daughter returned to me."

"Most 'reputable merchants' don't mind sharing their name," Cass said with a gulp of the fire ale, shaking her head at the taste, drawing her attention away from her dwarf friend to interject in the conversation between Varian and the man in the cloak. She glared at the merchant, before Varian grabbed her by the shirt dragging her close to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked under his breath.

"What? I don't trust him. Looks...sketchy."

"Says the drunk woman with the giant sword." Cass rolled her eyes. She knew Varian was right. He usually was.

"Fine, fine," she said before releasing herself from Varian's grasp. She downed the Fire ale, and throw the bottle down to the ground with a loud shatter, capturing everyone's attention. "What?!" She roared to the crowd. "Hey bartender! Another drink before I start flipping some tables!" She then returned her attention back to Bofvar.

The merchant took one look at Cassandra before returning his gaze to Varian. "You'll forgive me if I don't share my name, but I came with the job offer under the intention of secrecy. Had I not wanted that, I would have chosen a more…direct way of getting my daughter back to me. This offer shall only come once. Either accept it, or do not."

Varian sighed and leaned back a bit further in his chair. He looked over the faces of the others. Cassandra would be willing to go, he was sure of it. Alys said she was looking for work anyways, and Ava had no plans at the moment either. Bofvar, though seemingly busy with Cass, would probably accept, as most likely would the rest. Without waiting for a particular response from them, he spoke back to the merchant.

"Alright. We accept." He said, picking up his mug and finishing the rest of his ale before slamming it down hard on the table. The merchant seemed overjoyed.

"Thank you, warriors!" He began fiddling in his pockets as if looking for something, but did not necessarily pull anything out. He continued to speak. "Now, I know you wouldn't want to set off right away, and without any knowledge of the mission. Tomorrow at the break of dawn, meet me in front of the gates of Dalenham, ready to go, and I'll bestow upon you the first half of the payment, as well as additional information. Is this acceptable?"

Varian nodded, and the merchant smiled, speaking again, apparently on the verge of tears. "I will see you tomorrow, then. I cannot thank you enough."

"Save your thanks for when we actually finish the job." Varian said coldly. The merchant nodded in understanding, and departed. Varian eyed him the entire time while he left the tavern, before leaning over to the others. "Well, we've got our opportunity. You want to continue on with us, then we'll go together on this job tomorrow. If you don't, here in Dalenham is where's we'll part ways. Either way..."

Varian motioned to the bartender. "Oi! Another round for us!" He yelled at him. The bartender was quick to yell back. "Aye, I'll get you your damn foreign pisswater!"

"And I will shove it up your ass!" Cass yelled in a drunken rage.
 
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897
Posts
11
Years
  • Age 36
  • Seen Jun 19, 2016
Crystia
~
Oh, the gullibility of men was so clear in the people that accepted the deal without question and only compliance; Crystia felt the urge to walk over and smack them across the cheeks just to see their reaction, but getting beaten down by overwhelming numbers was perhaps something less than an optimal result. Still, it would have been awfully funny; she could have thrown up her hands and say a vision told her to do it, and they'd believe her like the village fool would a malevolent Lord's Daughter. Mystical references to a perfect society and its programs may have warmed the hearts of the gullible, but what it really meant was putting power in the hands of these Monks of Elikore.

Nevertheless, the non-committal response that followed was exactly what she would have expected from people hiding something, which they likely were despite their attempts at a benevolent greeting, was something far more intriguing.. She knew well enough that hiding secrets from people was one of the fun parts about being able to manipulate magic; perhaps she'd be able to fool another few of the knights with them if they got to traveling. Though the thought of sitting around men in armor wasn't going to be fun; all clunky metal and straps that took far too long to put on, and would have left her slender elven bones feeling groggy every step of the way.

The Monk dared to doubt her ability to comprehend, as though she wasn't the only one present who understood the machinations, though not the intentions, of Fate. But he continued with his gusto to reveal something tangible for her to grasp, instead of taking the word of isolationists above all reason. If anything, their way of life made them more untrustworthy, for no news of disaster could spread so easily as in a populated or well-traveled area; demons could have assaulted the place while everyone's back was turned. But tomes were always fun, even if it didn't contain the orb's truths; knowledge, secrets, or recipes were all something to make use of.

Unless he'd placed an explosive rune on one of the pages. He did seem to copy her eye trick, after all, what with the stare he gave everyone before announcing that she would be offered the chance to carry the dusty old tome. Ancient pages that would wither like a dried flower to any but the softest touch; of course she would be the perfect carrier! The first task would be finding a safe way to carry it, and the Silver Plains cloak hanging around her shoulders was as good as any other wrap. Soft, tough, and likely to be stolen, but anybody who bothered to hassle them would either die before getting the chance or be dead themselves. Unless she was greatly overestimating the abilities of people around her, because any whelp could be shoved into a suit of armor or called as emissaries if their ruler was egotistical enough to believe their blood stronger than any training.

"That's a lovely offer." Crystia said quietly, as she ran her hand down the edge of her stolen cape and, in one elegant motion, had it swept from her slender shoulders before appearing in a perfect square atop her palm, much in the same way a traveling showman could. Though, she did it more for efficiency than wowing an audience with simple tricks. She waited to be invited to take the tome, or have it handed over, before she wrapped the dull edges in the weave of an eclipsed sun. "And it will quell my concerns, for the time being. Thank you." Though she did not meet the Monk's gaze, the elf gave a nod of her approval.
 

Xlugon Pyro

Dragon Tamer
308
Posts
16
Years
XEYE ANASTASIA ZXKOL
THE BLUE WILDCAT

"OI!" booms a man's voice, the accent carrying itself far before landing in the woman's ears, causing the half-elf to freeze in her tracks, both startled and now anxious due to recognizing the owner of said voice. "Get your a$$ back in the bar right now! We're talking business!"

"****!" she thought to herself, already distraught but her feelings worsening over whatever the highman might need to talk to her about. "Dammit, why can't he wait until AFTER everyone leaves the bar? I hate that place..."

THUD!! The man's athletic toss of her money bag tackles the backside of the woman's head, catching her completely by surprise as the momentum and shock sends her hurling towards the poop-ridden street below her. Of course, the woman is met with a friendly, fresh, warm pile of dung, her face catching the brunt of the excrement's wrath while her merc. money ricochets off of her head and down the street further before rolling to a stop several yards away. Reeling from facial agony, Xeye slowly lifts herself up with her arms before leaning to her left and untying the cloth she holds around her waste, shaping it in her right hand and bringing it too her face to clean off the waste plastered all over her face and down her chest a little too. She hastily cleans the mess, knowing that it wouldn't be in her best interest to take too long in responding to the Highman. After doing her best to cleanse the filth from her face, cleavage and clothes, she scrambles up to her feet, struggling to get herself completely upright as her left foot slips on yet another pile of manure, but she recovers, planting her right foot hard onto the hard street surface and lunges forward, grabbing her strained pouch of coin and making a quick u-turn around back to the source of her most recent agony, the home of the cruel, mean, buttheaded patrons that is the Broken Keg.

After all the misery that befell her upon those dirty streets that the unruly tavern sits upon, Xeye stumbles onto the tavern's porch, bruising her knee before recovering, reaching for the door before her actions then cease. Looking upon the door, her eyes lay upon it thinly, her long, wavey frown and her head aimed somewhat downward, hesitation setting in as she anticipates the torture that undoubtedly awaits her. Sure, she can swing an axe, fling a burst of flame, or just beat someone up, but the otherwise tough and battle hardened maiden of mixed descent is hopelessly no match for the witty retorts and harsh tongues of those who know how to assail one with verbal viciousness. Slowly as to not make even a peep, she tries to trickle into the room like a mouse. Normally, one would think a small woman like Xeye would be adept at sneaking around like a rabbit, but her size can't compensate for the young woman's clumsiness, causing the door to make a loud creek from opening it too slowly, and unfortunately grabbing some of the bar attendants' attention, but not before nearly crashing into the floor below her, catching herself with her left foot and instead collapsing to her thighs instead of having yet another face-to-floor make-out session. Before she catches on to the gaze and attention of the intimidating tavern-goers, her body scurries along to the wall of the tavern just beside the door, hugging her knees tightly to her breasts while sinking her head to the tip of her knees, almost as if she were pouting. Her focus, before she incites the auditory abuse of the tavern customers, is quickly directed towards Varian and her gang, who she catches in a conversation with some hooded man and occasionally, the oft-drunk redhead Cass.

"You'll forgive me if I don't share my name, but I came with the job offer under the intention of secrecy. Had I not wanted that, I would have chosen a more…direct way of getting my daughter back to me. This offer shall only come once. Either accept it, or do not," utters the hooded man, barely audible from her distance and the constant echoing and shouting of drunken men everywhere, the first and only words Xeye manages to pick up, assuming this is what the Highman had called her back for.

"A daughter abducted? I'm not sure what the big deal is, but this guy sure is secretive. Is this what Wolf Pops wanted me to hear? Another mission? Well, he better let me clean all this **** off first. It's his damn fault I'm caked in it to begin with. Mean-a$$..." she contemplates to herself, shifting her head forward so that her hearing might pick up more of the conversation.

"Alright. We accept," declares the Highman, striking up a deal with the merchant, who, from the sound of his response, seems to appreciate the news delivered to him. "Thank you, warriors!"

"Looks like it... A bit hasty to accept a new task so quickly after the last one. That man must've given Wolf Pops a real bargain of a deal," ponders the huddled up girl, picking up whatever traces of intelligence she can from their conversation on the other side of the tavern room.

"Now, I know you wouldn't want to set off right away, and without any knowledge of the mission. Tomorrow at the break of dawn, meet me in front of the gates of Dalenham, ready to go, and I'll bestow upon you the first half of the payment, as well as additional information. Is this acceptable?"

Varian nods accordingly, sealing the deal with the hooded guy, causing the man to close the deal. "I will see you tomorrow, then. I cannot thank you enough."

Before long, the hooded man makes his way to the exit, but not before his gaze meets Xeye's who's still huddled up against the wall of the tavern by the door's left side. It was for just a moment, but their eyes had met. However, it became too brief for Xeye to analyze, with Hooded Guy departing too swiftly. Something felt different this time for sure, and the half-elf would certainly keep her guard up on this next mission. Joining her companions is not even contemplated, especially given her abstinence from alcoholic beverages, preferring her region of the tavern floor to process the details of the gang's next assignment.

"I hope this is worth it. I have a bad feeling about this..."
 

SV

See You Space Cowboy
3,393
Posts
13
Years
  • Seen Feb 7, 2022

Roland Grey (and Zara Serena Freya)- Tower of Oculus, Ekilore


Zara stretched and grinned. During the whole spiel, she had taken to sitting on the floor and yawning every few minutes even though she wasn't tired. Like most of the others, she was rather curious about the monks and the prophecy and the like. After all, she didn't really believe in fate or anything spiritual like that. Still, it would help people and a swordsman's first duty was to help people. Plus, it seemed like it was going to interesting. Zara's grin widened, this time not fake at all.

"I'm in," she stated, still grinning.

With the latest individual accepting, that made all but Percival and Roland to have yet accepted the monks offer. Roland gazed into the monk's eyes. It was a strange feeling Roland had whenever the monk spoke. It was as if everyone word he uttered demanded absolute attention, as if everything he said would be important. Roland had met few men in his life that had his effect on him. It was usually him who would have the effect on another, or so he imagined. He knew very many who admired him this way, after all. But this was different. When the monk finished addressing Crystia, he addressed the rest of them, with the same imposing voice that demanded their respect and attention. The mention of magic distilled a bit of anxiety in Roland, none of which he physically displayed, but instead harbored inside of him. Magic was, after all, a rarity of the current times, and many subjects related to it was often considered taboo. Roland didn't like the artifacts origin from that area.

Yet what the monks said next made Roland think. The goal of creating something that this world desperately needed was enticing. But it was as the monks said: Was it worth the quest? Roland thought it over. His loyalty lied with Hector and Reigncliff foremost. He would want nothing more than to see his lord sit upon the thrown of Ethora, which is his rightful position. Roland would do anything to bring him there. If what the monks said was true, this orb could help bring him there. Through Roland's fame and reputation upon its completion, he could be boosted into a more respectable position, which would no doubt help in Hector's claim to the thrown. But besides all of that, Roland truly recognized that there was something wrong with Aerion. Maybe it was always like this. Maybe it only recently became thus. Either way, it was in need of fixing, and Roland could think of no one more capable of doing so than himself. But what if he was wrong? What if this ended up making things worse? Roland weighed the options, before making up his mind. His pulled out his sword from its sheath.

"This quest is indeed befitting of one such as me. I vow to gather these shards and place them back together. I will not falter, and every foe that will stand in my way, no matter where he may hail from, shall be felled in pursuit of this cause. Let it be known that upon this day, Roland of the House Grey, champion of Reigncliff, will see this mission done."
 
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Miss Doronjo

Gaiden
4,473
Posts
13
Years
tethys.gif

Evelynn
Sabamin, Eveamoor

"How kind of you," Ava patted Eveylnn's hand. "To show such mercy is rare in a mercenary. Isn't it odd though mercenary almost sounds like mercy?"

"My, my, so it does!" Eve said with a chuckle. "You are quite the word bond maker, aren't you? Though, I wouldn't mind more bond making of my own..." she then winked.

Soon her eyes was set upon her payment - seven silver coins about as shiny as the jewels upon her battle-gear prospect. She happily accepted each coin, and shined them up with her sleeve as she carefully held one up near her left eye, as she gazed on how it shined with the light of the sun. "I humbly thank you," thanked Eve. "I knew it was unjust to disappoint lady luck. However, may those orcs rest in peace. Or pieces in their own situation."

Soon the cries of laughter and enjoyment was broken up by a stranger. "Excuse me, but I do believe I overheard that you are in fact mercenaries, is that correct?" he said. Eve looked upon her fellow companions as they addressed him. Soon he spoke again. "I will pay you 70 silver to each of you, and an additional 200 to be split amongst the survivors upon completion."

"70...!" Eve smiled as he stood up from her stool and swooned towards the charitable stranger. "Mmm, Eve does like a man who knows her pleasures. And who is about jolly as he is wealthy. I'll make a special exception on your case."

Soon the job was accepted and the stranger became overjoyed. "Thank you, warriors! Now, I know you wouldn't want to set off right away, and without any knowledge of the mission. Tomorrow at the break of dawn, meet me in front of the gates of Dalenham, ready to go, and I'll bestow upon you the first half of the payment, as well as additional information. Is this acceptable? I will see you tomorrow, then. I cannot thank you enough."

"Save your thanks for when we actually finish the job." the young man that Eve caught her eye upon - Varian said. The merchant nodded in understanding, and departed. Varian eyed him the entire time while he left the tavern, before leaning over to the others. "Well, we're our opportunity. You want to continue on with us, then we'll go together on this job tomorrow. If you don't, here in Dalenham is where's we'll part way. Either way..."

"Hark my friends!" Eve addressed. "I would soon be showered with my father's blood if I did not gain such a furious and handsomly-paid task, working along side such beautiful people. The talented Eveylnn shall accompany thee, and I would gladly dance your fears and troubles away. Until then, sleep well! I hope you will dream of me.. tonight."​
 
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Legend

Kingslayer
1,308
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15
Years

Percival and Roland Grey- Ekilore


The lead monk seemed to be pleased as a small smile stretched across his face, as one by one the Knights accepted the quest despite some hesitation. The hesitation was understandable to be sure as such as a powerful artifact did sound too good to be true, but one had to place faith in the Monks of Ekilore. They were to be trusted as they have guided civilization with benevolence. So why was Percival so silent? Was it doubt? Was it simply overwhelming? Or was it fear? His brother showed no feeling as he proudly proclaimed his faith in the monks and their quest: "This quest is indeed befitting of one such as me. I vow to gather these shards and place them back together. I will not falter, and every foe that will stand in my way, no matter where he may hail from, shall be felled in pursuit of this cause. Let it be known that upon this day, Roland of the House Grey, champion of Reigncliff, will see this mission done."

The monk raised a eyebrow, amazed by the enthusiasm of Roland. "While your desire to be the champion of the land is welcome, do not dare think you can do this alone. Pride comes before the fall."

Roland eyed the monk and his words. It wasn't the first time he was scolded by others in this regard, but Roland had proven he was more than capable of balancing what he would call his 'confidence', and his skill. But in an effort not to show disrespect to the monks, he merely nodded in understanding, if only for the sake of their titles.

As the Monk responded to Roland and spoke to him as a wise mentor would to a student, Percival sunk into a low posture, head down, admiring the floor for whatever reason. His brother easily accepted a heroic role with only glory in mind yet Percival, who knew he had a noble spirit, could only weep in his own self pity. The Monk cocked his head as he looked at him. "Is something wrong, Ser Percival Grey?"

"Ah..no…nothing at all."

"Then I take it that you accept this quest?"

"Yes, of course. I shall do my best to carry out this quest. I just..."

"I would expect nothing less. I see that you have a great destiny before you and that you words and actions will do much to influence the world. Do not let your faith waver," the monk said, appearing to reassure the young noble of Ethora.

"I do have a few words to say before I send you all into the world. Firstly, while we have kept knowledge of the Orb of Ardor hidden within the confines of this great tower, they are others who undoubtedly have knowledge of it as well. These nefarious groups will seek you out once word of your actions spread throughout the lands of Aerion. You must prepared to fight. Blades will bleed and shields will shatter. They will do everything they can to stop you. You must make sure they do not succeed."

The monk mentioned the fact that others would be after them to try to stop them from getting the orb. Roland wonder why this would be so. If the orb truly was the key to 'everlasting peace', why would someone want to prevent it? But a thought had occurred to Roland. Perhaps the orb was capable of multiple abilities, and the ones after it would simply be after a different power, one more selfish and individual, Roland thought.

"Second, to aid you in setting out on your journey, we have commissioned a ship to send you off to your first of many destinations. The ship awaits you at the dock at the base of the tower, where it will take you to the land of Shinguo. Upon arrival, you will be greeted by a friend, one who will help guide you to where the first shard of the Orb is presumably located. My Eunuch friend there will set you out the door. The fate of Aerion rests in your hands. And may the grace of your Gods guide you."

Percival Grey bowed to the Monks and slowly made his way to the door, awaiting the Eunuch to guide them. Roland bowed as well, joining his brother and the others at the door. "Come with me, my lords. I fear time is not our friend." The Eunuch shuffled his feet to the door, opening it for the others and guided them down the stairs, elevator, and through the grand library back outside on the ground level. Percival welcomed the ground, enjoying the smell of the fresh air of the Deep Blue. Seeing everything from ground level was strangely refreshing, if only because he could see literally the entire world as he knew from the top of the observatory.

"Come with my lords. We must head down to the docks." The Eunuch walked a fair pace down to the docks where a large boat was awaiting them.

Sitting at a small, quiet port was a single ship. Black as night with red accents, the ship had white sails with the symbol of the monks of Ekilore embroidered in red. It was a fair size, clearly having a few decks and rooms to be used. It appeared sturdy, fast, and a perfect ship for traveling the Deep Blue and Sea of Storms, a fact that could ease many. A number of sailors were preparing the ship, hoping to get it ready for departure in time. They were rushing, clearly, but were doing so with some degree of effectiveness.

"I must say, I expected the vessel to carry us on this most noble quest to be something a bit less...shabby." Roland stepped forward, looking over the ship.

"Shabby is one way to look at it." A voice addressed the knights. Roland turned around and saw a man, about the same height and build as he, but with a large, black beard. He wore a large, black Tricorne, accompanied under hair combed underneath. He had a black waistcoat with red and orange linings across the edges of it, and matching styles in pants. If Roland knew anything about the styles of Ethorian dress, and he most certainly did know, than he was certain the man was from Ethora, particularly from the accursed region of Dedris, and probably the captain of the vessel. "I look at its dark colors as subtle. I look at it's size as inconspicuous. I look at its unadorned design as discreet. Given the nature of your journey, I imagine these are advantageous, are they not?"

The man eyed the group of so-called knights, and took off his hat to them, giving them a bow of respect. "My name is Richard. Richard of House Crewe, service to House Morok of Dedris. I shall be your captain on this voyage. You best get all of your belongings on board. As I am told, we are on a tight schedule."
 
897
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  • Age 36
  • Seen Jun 19, 2016
Crystia
~
Crystia watched Roland from the corners of her eyes, as he bent his head and proclaimed his duty to the supposedly honorable quest, and wondered where he got that stick up his ass. Wherever it originated from, it affected him with more than just an arrow-straight spine. He seemed to think he was important in the grand scheme of things, simply because two humans wearing shiny clothes rutted one night and showered him in gifts that no others would benefit from, suffering at the whims of a mere man, each of whom were unfit to rule. In her experience, anyone who thought they were important was usually just a pompous moron who couldn't deal with their own pathetic insignificance and the fact that what they did was meaningless. Inconsequential. Such thoughts would be broken soon enough, seeing as the inhabitants of the world needed a magic item to fix their problems, instead of the poetic justice that was meant to fall upon their heads. Not that the elf would have begrudged them it; they'd be very boring if they weren't dim.

Further blabbering from the mouths of Monks, potentially including the entire group, to inflate the egos of those not capable of realizing their own self-worth. It was an interesting concept, for her of all people to be a Lord or Knight, though she suspected their titles would be worth less than a severed foot to anyone outside of this Tower of Oculus. Despite the fact that these Monks seemed to think their titles would be well known, for they wouldn't get to be swarmed by ne'er-do-wells without a star hovering over their heads, announcing to their armed audience that the heroes had arrived. She needed to compose a good name for the bards to sing of, assuming that they were at all successful in their quest. Or that the whispering book didn't reveal an unfortunate secret. Or act like a magical beacon to those who would seek them out, which would be quite unfortunate indeed. Not that she'd let go of it, in either case.

Ser Crystia, she liked the sound of that, descended the depths of the tower at the instruction of the Monks with the same reserved steps and demeanor that she'd carried herself with throughout the whole ordeal. Though she was particularly dreading the trip to come, having to concentrate on a rocking ship that would attempt with all the ocean's might to give her a queasy stomach or unrestful sleep. That was before she could dread the idea of eating whatever food the sailors brought with them, or their potential rowdiness, or whatever amorous activities might occur beneath the deck of the ships. If she could help it, she would spend much of her time in the Crow's Nest, so she could watch the trials and tribulations of the people; one of her favorite activities, in fact, and in no small part for the thrill of invading the privacy of others, as though she were some kind of omniscient being. Except not that, for Fate would doubtless try to poof her away if she were to compare herself to it.

The ship itself was doubtlessly elegant, even featuring one of her favorite colors, but it was clearly intended to intimidate those with fear in their hearts and no food in their bellies. There were so many legends on the tip of her tongue, describing phantom ships or pirate lords, that were no doubt passed around with all the twists of many tellings, much like the talk of her own people, in fact. She imagined she looked quite the oddball to the other Knights of Ekilore, though they would come to know her soon enough, what with the cramped spaces they would no doubt have to find lodging in, and the landscapes of Aerion did not lend themselves to a comfortable bed for every day of travel, so they would need to set up guard duty, as well. Though the armored man could probably be suckered into such a thing, given his immediate response to the sight of the ship. Nobility and honor, all of the things that such folk claimed to represent yet rarely acted as such.

Then came the Captain, who Crystia simply had to watch introduce himself, even though she had to watch him discreetly. She stepped slightly ahead to greet the Captain, a smile coming to her pale lips. "It's lovely to meet you, Richard of House Crewe, and might I say that your hat is glorious?" She complimented him enthusiastically and without any regard for etiquette; in her eyes, kindness was enough. "I haven't seen such a fine article of clothing since acquiring my cloak."
 
5,114
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17
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  • Age 30
  • AU
  • Seen Feb 18, 2023
>> AVA
>> The Broken Keg, Dalenham, Eveamoor

Avangeline clapped her hands at the acceptance of a new quest. As much as she would have liked a fortnight or so's rest between now and her next job, nobody could turn down seventy pieces of gold as well as a split of 200 at the end. Who was this man? Not a merchant, that was for sure. Avangeline was too polite to pry at a client (though Cass seemed happy enough to do it for her) but she couldn't help but feel that there was a certain danger brewing and closing in. Luckily, Avangeline loved danger! To be given an opportunity to both show off and improve her skills was not something she passed up. Ever.

"Hark my friends!" Eveylnn cheered. "I would soon be showered with my father's blood if I did not gain such a furious and handsomly-paid task, working along side such beautiful people. The talented Eveylnn shall accompany thee, and I would gladly dance your fears and troubles away. Until then, sleep well! I hope you will dream of me.. tonight."

"Huzzah!" Avangeline raised her cup into the air and downed the rest of her mead. "To find work so fast is unheard of. You weren't wrong when you said that work finds us, Varian."

She ordered another mead, which was brought to her shortly afterwards with the others' drinks. She took another gulp and instead of discussing something productive like the upcoming mission, she decided to go with something very useless.

"You know what we are in need of?" Avangeline drew out her question, but did not wait for anyone to answer it. "A name! Every band of mercenaries has a name, regardless of their time spend together."

She pondered a minute, though several names popped into her head instantly. It was a matter of sorting the crazy from the appropriate.

"How about... the Magnificent Seven? Wait... no," Avangeline tapped her lip. Wasn't there a band of horseman that went by the same name? "As we met in Dalenham, which is governed under our beautiful Sky Queen, why don't we name ourselves the Windwalkers? It has a nice ring to it and sounds fearful if you say it in a low enough tone by a barkeeper. What do you think?"​
 
1,176
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Tamor Bellfiend
Tower of Oculus
Theme Song
One by one the other members accepted after her, which gave her a sense of pride, as she was the first to say it. A strange feeling washed over her as if she was being intensely watched and dissected by someone near her. Her companion's talons on her robed shoulders rearranged themselves, she had begun calling him Niolas, and his stance was a lot more aggressive with his aggression directed at the overly curious man that stood beside her. With a beak slightly open and wings ready for flight as if was if he dared the man to make one step before he devoured his eyeball. Tamor coaxed him down as she sung hymns Eislynn had taught her; they were solely about Tella's divinity. Somehow he had crept up on her, how could she not have noticed someone who stood next to her? If her skills were that undeveloped Tamor knew she must recant her acceptance and take position on nearest windowsill. At least if she took the plunge on the way down she'd be overwhelmed with the breathtaking sights below and maybe even enough to take hers completely. Tamor shook her head back in forth, she wanted to rid her mind of those dangerous thoughts that were hand delivered from Dabel.

The man who called himself Roland Grey of the House of Grey (how original) had made a outlandish response that's alerted everyone in the vicinity of what a big ego he had. Tamor wondered what he lacked in other areas to make room for his ego and who had inflated it so much? Clearly it was the only thing about him that had gotten blown up in awhile. For some reason the head monk questioned the man beside him, Percival Grey, who far more intrigued Tamor than Roland… Grey. How hadn't she seen that one, of course they were brothers but why was one's armor openly displayed with his belonged House and the other not? It was best not dwell on personal curiosities of others that would never have normally given her the time of day and why should they now? Before her mind had shifted onto the fact that she was yet again alone the Head Monk addressed them one last time before he sent them away with the Eunuch.

As an extra precaution Tamor made it her sole mission to be the last person in the group. It wasn't like Niolas to have an aggressive nature to those who he didn't know but he was very protective of her for a reason she had yet to grasp. The man's robe gave nothing away, no clues, no hints but why couldn't Tamor shake this feeling? Hers on the other hand would only reveal something to another Raelusian, was he? An urge to tell everyone to individually introduce him or herself came over her but she swallowed it in fear that some might reject the possibly poorly time suggestion. Eventually they arrived at a black ship and by Tella's name what an ominous ship it was, painted all black and red as if Dabel himself had designed it. As a man arrived Niolas took off into the sky as if he were surveying the entire ship to see if it fit his pleasing. Tamor noticed how one elf perked up at the sight of the man, perhaps he would become a one-night suitor for her no doubt she'd be pleased. She was even the first to greet him this lead Tamor to wonder what the inside of the captain's room looked like, well, at least someone would see it.

"We already have one Captain of the ship," Tamor mumbled as she passed the others and headed onto the ship but not before she asked for blessing from both Tella and Altantia. Her distaste for Roland was growing by the minute; she made the justification that it must be mutual. "We don't need two."​
 
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Legend

Kingslayer
1,308
Posts
15
Years

Cassandra "Cass" Alexandera and Bofvar Blyr- The Broken Keg- Dalenham


"Oh I do like me games, little lady," Bofvar looked Cass up and down shrewdly. He was fairly confident he could beat her in almost anything she could come up with. Never one to turn down a challenge, he weighed the thought only momentarily before he made up his mind. Drinking was a favorite past time of his after all, combined with the company of such a specimen, he could think of no better way to burn the time. The added incentive of doing anything he wanted, it was just too rich.

"Ah, you got yourself a deal! Just don't cram too many drinks down that lovely gullet, wouldn't want your mouth getting tired before I claim my prize," He proudly boasted before calling for a nearby barmaid. Bofvar paid only passing attention to the ongoings of Varian and his newfound company. Newfound, wealthy company that is. It mattered very little to him at what Varian got him mixed up in. Especially at the price he overheard. Bofvar would do all sorts of rebel rousing for seventy silver, he always aimed to misbehave after all.

Why with that kind of coin, he could drink himself into a drunken stupor for a blissfully long time. Or maybe even do something productive. He quickly dismissed that particular idea before he could even invest much time in its fulfillment.

"What will you be having, sir?" The maid approached and asked him with an almost disgustingly sweet tone. The young girl was obviously compensating for the revulsion she had for the Dwarf. Her tone may have been friendly and cheery, but her ghastly looks toward the Dwarf said it all. She cared little for him and his ilk, or maybe just him in general. It hardly bothered him, however. In fact, it only made her all the more charming, especially since she was obligated to wait on him.

"Not me." He pointed at Cass with a devious smile. "That fine example of bad childrearing will have a dose of Ethorian Liquor, an easy start to our little game." He winked across the table at her, the maid quietly shuffling off to procure the drink. "Unless of course, you want to try something a little stronger?" Bofvar flexed his arms and laughed uproariously.

"Hey if you want to lose, I'll take these baby drinks all night," Cass laughed, as she snatched the drink from the barmaid and gulped down. In a very lady-like fashion belched with satisfaction, before giggling at her own accomplishment. It was a new record for downing that, but she was sure to regret that later. "Here take this empty glass and fetch him some..." Cass paused. It was too early for that one drink, but was it too soon for that one? Oh what was she kidding. It was a Dwarf. He could hold it for a while before crashing to the ground like a sack of bricks. "Fetch this bearded beauty a Lion's Roar. It's a good ale from Idir. This dump ought to have it."

"Right away," the maid said, growing nervous as Cass glared at her.

"This one will hit ya pretty hard. Hope you can take it~."

Bofvar let a belly laugh rumble throughout the establishment. He found the girl and her fire to be both amusing and alluring. "My dear, I can take anything you throw my way and I do mean anything." Bofvar waited impatiently for the maid to return, his fingers strumming on the thick wooden table. "So, are you looking forward to our evening together?" He spoke up as if his victory was assured, licking his lips to wet them from the day spent in the sun. "I bet you're just dying to know what I have in store for you, but I'll let that be a secret for another time," he finished and stood up as the liquor girl approached with the witch's brew.

"Thank ye lass!" He reached out and took the drink before the maid could even say a word. "Why don't you go ahead and fetch one for my companion too. Misery loves company after all, and it would only be fair." Turning, he held the fierce drink to his nose and took a stiff whiff of the concoction. "Whew! Enough to curdle the goat's cheese!" He laughingly proclaimed. "My dear," His attention returned back to Cass once again. "This one is for you, prepare to suffer defeat, or enjoy it, entirely up to you." Winking at her once more, he brought the drink to his mouth and chugged it in its entirety before his smarts told him otherwise. It wasn't called the Lion's Roar for nothing. Bofvar swallowed and slammed the stein on the table as he struggled to stand through the burn. He coughed a few times and beat his fist against his chest triumphantly, if a bit weakly.

"Haha, like the swift kick of a jackass to the stones, that is!"

"Haha. That it is!" Cass said, before letting out a nervous laugh. Truthfully, she was hoping that would take Bofvar would lose his confidence, fall flat on his beard and that would be the end of it, but somehow the Dwarf stayed strong. Their legendary constitution lived up to the myth after all. The barmaid came with another Lion's Roar, one of the two drinks in all of Aerion that made Cass succumb to the allure of unconsciousness following a heavy night of drinking. The other was some drink from Vanaheim. She dare not utter its name.

"Bottoms up!" Cass yelled, hoping feigned confidence would push her through the pain. Cass took the drink down in one sitting, the alcohol rushing right through her. The room began to spin, her face matching the flushed red of her hair and her head throbbing. "Not a problem at all! Hey barmaid...get my friend a uhh...I don't feel so good...." her voice broke out in a moan, before expunging the majority of the last drink onto the floor. "Andal damn it!" She screamed, flipping the table over. "You win this one Dwarf! Varian pay the barkeep! Or not! I don't care!" Cass roared at her longtime friend, before smiling at the winner of the game. "So Bofvar, honey. What am I doing for you on this fine evening?~" Cass said with a not so subtle wink.

Bofvar only grinned and twirled his beard, his mind racing deep in thought. He himself had not been feeling normal since his bout with the Lion's Roar. Liquor normally posed no problem for him and it still didn't, but he would be remiss in not stating that he was a bit woozy. But, he wrestled the lion and won, that was all that mattered. Without a doubt, he knew he would win. How could a small female human best a Dwarf in drinking? The thought was preposterous.

The question remained, however. What would he have her do? Oh, he could fathom all sorts of activities that they could take part in. More than a few involved her putting that pretty mouth to work at something else besides yapping. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to suggest the things that came to mind. Maybe it was the drink talking in his head, but he could not do such a thing, and in such a way, with one of his group members. Maybe if things had unfolded in a more natural course, but as conquest of a game? That would make Cass no better than the corner w***e. Maybe she wasn't, but it nagged at him nonetheless. Cursing himself and his honor, he finally coughed and spoke up.

"I tell you what you can do for me," he whispered across the table in her direction. "Go get a room, lay in the bed and go to sleep. There is coin to be had and I'd rather not be fighting next to somebody who is already halfway dead," he joked. "Let's just say you owe me one, we can have our fun another time." Casting her one last wink, although this one felt forced unlike the others, he turned his attention away from the woman and the hounding of his libido, back to Ava who had been mulling over a name for the group.

"Ava, my dear. Although you may look like a descendant of heaven and a walker of winds, do I myself look like such a creature?" He beamed one of his famous Bofvar smiles at her and wondered if his praise of her beauty won him any favor. "But alas, the name is good as any and you women folk are better to name things than I. I say call us anything but poor and I'm fine with it."
 

CarefulWetPaint

Doctor Lobotomy
1,193
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12
Years
Auden Radke, Ekilore.
Theme.

Annoying wench. Stop asking stupid questions and let me get out of this tower, Auden thought as one of the two elves continued to question the Monks about the quest. Unrelenting her questions came, ever doubtful of everything said, she clearly had too much time on her hands. Her qualms where silenced with the monks handing over a tome to her, like a mother would to shut up her child whom wouldn't stop crying for not getting their way. With a nod she finally accepted, with the other elf accepting soon after. The next one to accept was the one of the knights who seemed to have an extremely over-inflated ego, the kind that brought immense pleasure to Auden as he slowly crushed them. The final one to accept was Ser Percival Grey and he seemed to slightly resent his choice of accepting the quest, until the monk began addressing them as a group again. I have a feeling I'm not going to get along with many of these people too well.. Had worse companions though.

With the monk addressing them, Auden shot another look at Tamor after feeling a weird intent to kill coming from her. His gaze meet the hawks, it's stance becoming quickly more aggressive as Auden caught himself raising his hand in preparation to flick its head of with a quick wind blade. Control, control. Once you're out of this tower you can go find some-
".. we have commissioned a ship to send you off to your first of many destinations."

What. The. F***? Straight onto another boat. I'll kill you all. His extreme anger and frustration was hidden well by his years of practicing keeping a calm appearance, as well as the hooded robe that covered his entire body. The two brothers both bowed before moving towards the awaiting Eunuch. Auden was in no mood to care for the courtesy, sightly nodding his head in the directions of the monks before joining the others as they followed the Eunuch out of the tower.

Outside the tower, the monk picked up his pace as he guided them straight back to the docks in which mere hours ago Auden had left. Tamor, looks like you are definitely a blessing to me, especially in this situation those monks have thrust me into. I might have to kill your hawk first though. He thought sensing a very angry gaze on his back, which he assumed was coming from Tamor's hawk. Nearing the docks he came from the Eunuch turned, leading them towards a smaller and much quieter port that had a single ship docked at it. Their ship. The ship looked to be of an average size, most probably having two or three decks and enough room for private rooms for each of the newly formed Knights of Ekilore. The ship was a dark black with red accents, almost resembling a pirate ship and white sails that had the symbol of the monks of Ekilore embroided in red on them. There was a few sailors who were rushing to get the ship ready for there departure, which was obviously going to be as soon as they got on it, a notion that didn't help Auden's building rage. A shabby looking man greeted them when they got to the ship, defending his pride in joy. The man was clearly the Captain, a fact that was confirmed as well as his name being Richard.

The elf who had the multitude of questions for the monks was the first to step forward and formally greet the captain, though she did in in the way of a compliment which lead Auden to wonder what her true intention in addressing him first was. He didn't really care all that much for formalities at this point in time as he heard a mumbling Tamor complaining about Roland. She passed by him, saying another rude remark to herself, leaving Auden a good opportunity to introduce himself again. Following her onto the boat he walked past her.

"Don't be rude now Dwelf." The words were said under his breathe as he passed her, just audible enough to have her second guess the passing comment.
 
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SV

See You Space Cowboy
3,393
Posts
13
Years
  • Seen Feb 7, 2022

Varian Sigmund- The Broken Keg, Dalenham


Varian cocked an eyebrow at Evelynn. He found her rather strange, although quite alluring too. But he was in no particular mood to call her out on her eccentricity nor attempt to make a move at her either. He found mixing work and pleasure never turned out right, so he had decided quite a long time ago not to get involved with anyone he worked with. Which was a particular shame now because of the large quantity of women with the group. Highly attractive women. Varian raised his ale a bit into the air along with Ava and Evelynn, though he didn't care to bash mugs together with them. It was nothing personal, but in their line of work, friends were hard to come by, or more appropriately put keep. There were others that sometimes worked with him alongside Cass, but they were with whatever Gods they believed in now. The thing Varian found darkly humorous was that he couldn't remember a single one of their names. Not one.

Varian smirked at Ava's mention of the Magnificent Seven as a group name. "Hmm, not sure that name will stick..." He said aloud, though he kept the reason to himself. What happens if one of them died? Do they chop off a number? Do they keep doing so until only Cass and Varian remain again, and they're known as the Magnificent Duo?

As Bofvar and Cass had their drinking contest, Varian was snapped out of his thoughts as Cass's body hit his shoulder, and then slumped onto the ground. He checked the mugs around her, noticing the Lion's Roar, and shaking his head as he took another gulp of his own drink.

"Well, might as well get her off the floor..."

He knelt over and picked up her body. In her unconscious state, Cass was apparently having some sort of drunk-filled delusion, and she continued to speak in gibberish and flail around a bit, perhaps still assuming she was fighting someone. Varian easily slung her body over his shoulder as he proceeded to get her out of the area. Cass flailed once more, her boot accidentally hitting a patron right on the head. He yelled in pain, and stood up.

"Hey, Highman! Just what do you think you're doing!?" He yelled at Varian. Varian, unsure of what happened, turned his body around to face the man. "Hmm?" He said as he turned, only to have Cassandra's foot inadvertently connect with the man's face once more. He doubled back, and held his nose, from which blood now flowed freely. Varian examined the patron, confused as to how he acquired the injury. "You ought to check on that nose, friend. You would not want to dirty up the place even more with your own gash."

The patron angrily huffed at Varian. "My own gash, is it?!" He grabbed for a bottle he had close by it and flung it right at Varian. Varian, who anticipated the bottle, ducked down, and the bottle flew to the other side of the bar, nailing another patron square in the head. The patron instantly fell to the ground, blood able to be seen from his head. His companions with him all gathered around. One of them, a bit taller than the others, looked over to the side of the bar where Varian stood. Varian noticed an insignia on his shirt which prominently displayed the colors of the League of Warriors, a figther's guild in Eveamoor. Great.

"Who threw that bottle?!" He shouted. At this moment, Cass had temporarily come to for a moment, her vision blurred, but noticing Varian looking off into the side at someone. She reached for a bottle positioned at the side of the table, and threw it in that direction, missing the Lead of Warriors member badly and instead hitting the side of another patron on the far side of the room. The man yelped, and clutched his arm in pain, and his own compatriots, seeing the League of Warriors man standing, assumed he had done it. The third party began entangling with the second, and the League of Warriors men aimed at both Varian and the initial man and friends upon who's boot Cass had connected with. Varian, seeing that he was in the middle of both side's conflict, threw Cass's body right at a man who attempted to strike him. Varian then grabbed his ale and downed it all in one go, before smashing it onto the face of a man behind him. All around, chaos erupted. Varian turned to Ava, Alys, Bofvar, and Evelynn.

"Oi! Don't just sit there! Get off your as*es and start hitting people!"
 
1,176
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15
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  • Seen Jul 18, 2016
warning: this post contains violence and adult themes

Tamor Bellfiend and Auden Radke
Captian's Ship

The world around Tamor crashed and shattered into pieces, which in turn cut into her fragile psyche. A single word echoed in her head, Dwelf. In an instant her mind had simply reverted back to several prior where her and Niolas "practiced" her magic under a white oak tree. He's smile always caught her off-guard, like, he knew it was his secret weapon against her and it never failed to trip her up. Rarely had she managed to resist laughing at his overall aloof behavior... Where was he? Tamor had tried for what seemed like an eternity to solve that question but that day was nothing more than a smudge in her brain. Outwardly her facial appearance was solemn as she stood still with her mouth slightly agape and her eyes transfixed on what it seemed to be the open sea. A scream escaped her mouth as the golden hawk landed gently on her shoulder without warning; he had brought her back to reality. An embarrassed Tamor kept her shaky hands in front of her mouth, it was quite clear that her hands weren't the only things that were shaking.

"Y-you!" With her senses focused Tamor believed that that word had been spoken by him, the robed man, who coincidentally had just passed her. How could he have known what she is, how she's an abomination that even Tella would frown upon. "What did you just say? Why are you hiding your face? Who are you?"

She heard me. A smile crept onto Auden's face as he heard Tamor's voice again, this time asking questions. As he turned to address her he shot a weak wind spell into his hood, blowing it off to finally reveal his face and his sincere smile. "Pardon? Were you talking to me miss?" He was controlling his tone as much as he possible to make his reply to seem as gentle as possible. Tamor's hand flew from her face as she reached from something, anything to grab onto to balance herself. The presence of someone she had known, who knew her, was all too much for her. Not a word departed from her lips as he took a step closer to her, still smiling. "I guess you weren't talking to me." He smirked, raising his hood once again as he began heading towards the stairs that lead under deck. She'll follow me, she definitely will follow me.

He began exploring the lower deck, which he assumed was where he'd be sleeping for this seabound leg. Anticipation washed over his body when he spotted a room that had a closed door. This will work perfectly. Opening the door, it revealed a small room with two single beds lining opposing walls. In the middle of the room under the porthole was a single small table and chair. Quickly leaving the room he turned and began searching the area once again. With more haste in his step he made his way towards the end of the hallway towards a large room. Entering the room he spotted what he was after, a knife. The room he had entered had a few tables in it and some cutlery scattered throughout, most probably the ships galley. Promptly he grabbed the knife and began his way back to the small room he had earlier investigated. Waves of emotions were rolling through him as he rushed back into the small room. He immediately shut the door as he entered and began carving runes throughout the room in hard to see places. There was a huge smile on face as he dropped his hood, taking out the chair from under the table and facing it towards the door. Taking his place in the chair, he sat and began waiting for Tamor's inevitable entrance.

Before she had the chance to regain her composure he was gone from her sight. For once she had neglected how she felt everyone now perceived her and moved quickly towards the staircase that lead below deck. Her avian companion flew from her shoulder, once again he returned to his "duty", if Tamor had a clear mind she would've noticed his instant fear. She hadn't the slightest clue what she would say once she got down there but she had to be sure he was who she thought. Each cautiously taken step felt like it might be her last as she chosen to go into an unknown area alone.

"I know you're down here," mumbled Tamor as she scanned the vicinity. Somehow she hoped he would just announce his presence.

She paused in front of the nearest room where the door was swung wide open. The contents of the room were irrelevant to her search because it didn't contain him. A realization dawned on her every wooden door was partially opened except for one. Tamor knew since she hadn't noticed this right away it was further proof of her incompetence. Right away, Tamor marched over to the door and almost considered knocking but instead inhaled a rather large amount of air before she foolishly yet slowly opened the door. It wasn't her best idea but she had to know if it was really him, if her secret was now known. Her hands pushed against the wood inch by inch until her golden yellow eyes lined up with brown ones.

"I-I-I, how? Why? You," Her words were jumbled much like her thoughts. If anything the appearance of someone from her past was nothing more than trouble.

Standing, Auden bowed at Tamor's entrance, thinking whether or not to answer he questions he spoke, "Why hello Miss Bellfiend, long time no see."

"It can't be... Auden?" Soon she was drawn in by the need to get a closer look until she was less than an arms length away. "How long has it been?"

Slowly he began moving towards the door, keeping the same distance she had left between them. With the skill of an assassin he moved around until he was at he side, and close enough to get to the door in a rush. Tamor raised an eyebrow at his moments but never questioned her safety. "Yes, its me Tamor. It's been 11 years I believe. Have you been well?" Ever so slowly, he continued towards the door, now behind her, though their gazed hadn't been broken.

"You need a haircut, like usual," Tamor laughed a bit, she remembered how much she always wanted to cut it all off. As if they had transported back 11 years Tamor swiped a strain of hair out of his face. "11 years... Wow, where did you go?"

Laughing softly at her comment on his hair he continued on his path towards the door as she swiped a hair off his face. "Yes 11 years is a long time, time has definitely treated you well though." He said as he rose up his left hand to caress her cheek. He was only a step away from being able to shut the door now, almost ready to begin his fun.

"You always were a charmer but at least now you've grown into your body," She smiled at him but she had to make sure he didn't tell anyone that was her top priority. His touch was unexpected; the last man that had touched her that way was Niolas. Despite her blind trust in him she kept her hood up in fear that one of the other members might walk in on them. "Do you still live in Raelus?"

Gradually he removed his hand from her cheek as he took the final step, grabbing the door with his right hand. With a flick of his wrist the door was shut, and with another flick it was locked shut, activating his spell that would make the room soundproof and erase any presence of magic to anyone who was outside the room. "You wouldn't believe how happy I was when I realized it was you when we were at the tower Tamor. I was just thinking that I really needed a toy." He said the words so gently that it almost seemed as if he was complimenting her.

"Toy?" Tamor leaned her head to the left in confusion. "Auden, girls aren't toys. You should know this by now!"

Making a quick slapping motion with his hand, a torrent of air smacked Tamor across the face. "Toy's don't back chat their owners, Dwelf." He cracked his neck side to side before taking a step towards her.

The pain throbbed as Tamor reeled back from Auden. She held her right hand against the side of her face. Her eyes widen, which were full of fear and disbelief locked onto Auden's. "Why did you do that?"

Ecstasy, pure ecstasy was flowing throughout Auden's body as Tamor's fear full eyes looked back in disbelief. That fear! It has been way too long since I last saw that. "Why?" He said taking another step towards her, "Because you are my toy, and toys don't back chat dwelf." Reaching out he grabbed her head and threw her towards the left wall, pulling her back by her hair just before she hit the wall, allowing her to fall onto the bed. With her hands Tamor tried to lash out at Auden still taken by surprise that he was actually hurting her. They had always been close friends and even though it had been 11 years he had no reason to treat her like this. Carelessly, he batted away Tamor's hand's as the swiped at him, with soft laughter beginning to escape him as he filled with joy. Another slapping motion followed by another torrent of air smacked Tamor across the face, forcing her down on the bed.

"Here's the deal Tamor, I'm a nice owner, and since we were childhood friends I'll give you one wish and keep your secret," Auden's words seemed genuine despite his motives. "In exchange for my generosity you become my toy and never telling anyone about this side of me. Though if you betray my good will, I'll kill you and anyone you tell in the most painful way possible."

It seemed as if Tamor's fate was already sealed there was no way Auden would relinquish his control over her. Had Tella put her in this predicament to test her? She couldn't wrap her mind around this, where was the Auden she once knew? Tamor struggled to sit up right to look her capturer in the eyes. She should've seen it before; his eyes lacked the softness they had before because now they were lifeless. "You-you must protect my life even at the cost of your own..." As a divine magic user Tamor was fairly certain that she could use her regenerative healing abilities to heal her from any injuries he'd inflict upon her. Yet, her tendencies to avoid combat would only slow down the group in the long run. Even with her life her life in immediate danger Tamor couldn't stop thinking about how she wasn't good enough. "What doe-?"

"Done. Now Strip." He cut in before she had a chance to complete her next sentence.

"Never!" Her fingers clutched her robes and pulled them inward toward the center of her body. Tamor was worried that she had agreed to something that was far more than anything she had pictured in her mind.

Picking her up by her hair and pulling her up to his face staring deep into her eyes he once again spoke. "Strip. Toys don't go against what their masters say." He held her there by her hair, awaiting her reply.

"No," Tamor's defiant attitude had flared to life. She wasn't sure what he wanted and she knew that she didn't want to give it to him.

"Tsk." He suddenly pulled her up higher, nearly ripping her hair out, before landing a solid punch to her stomach. She will be a good toy. He threw he head into the wall before flames began to gather in his hand. "Strip. Last chance, you don't want to die right here do you?" There was anger in his voice as the flame grew larger in his hand.

She cried out in pain causing Auden's twisted smile to grow. Defeated she removed her robes, which just left her overly large, plain white t-shirt that flowed down to right above her knees, much to Auden's dismay. "This is all you're getting. Enjoy!"

"Ah, that was a mistake Tamor." He laughed, extinguishing the flame in his hand as he punched her in the face knocking her down. He smirked as he heated up the knifes blade with his magic. "This will hurt a bit."

* * *​

Auden stepped back, surveying the damage he had done. Tamor lay huddled and passed out in the corner with a large, burning gash down her back. Auden said no more while he recomposed himself. This exhilaration was exactly what he needed after a month of resisting his sadistic urges.​
 
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Legend

Kingslayer
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Percival and Roland Grey- Ekilore Port


"Ah, well a very merry thank you to you, madam." Captain Crewe exclaimed to Crystia, removing his hat from his head and gesturing with it as part of a bow. "I'm glad the monks rounded up at least one gracious guest." He said, his tone directed at Roland as he made his way onto the boat. He returned his gaze to Crystia. "The clothing is the finest the region of Dedris has to offer. Truly the envy of the world." He said pompously, his pride for his region quite evident, to which Roland shook his head in disgust, though he himself had done the same before.

"Captain Crewe. Percival Grey reporting," the young knight said as he boarded the ship. "Anything I can do to assist in the departure? The Monks made it sound like we must depart immediately." Percival was eager to help the captain, mostly due to a self imposed desire to lead the group. No doubt Roland would attempt to take charge, but Percival knew Roland to never be a patient man and easily irritable at best. His leadership could be disasterly and words offensive. Percival would have to be extra courteous in his dealings. Thankfully, he had enough experience in the various courts of Ethora to handle such things.

"What you speak is true, Ser Grey." He replied to him, checking across his complexion as he did so. "From what I understand, you're all in for quite a storied journey ahead of you. And though this quest may be secret from most, the eyes of the enemy are ever-moving. When the lot of you are aboard, we set sail to Shinguo. If your luck holds on and our grace with the Gods holds true, then the skies will be kept clear, and our presence may go unnoticed."

"How long do you think the voyage will take?" Percival asked.

"Honestly, brother." Roland interjected smugly. "You'd think they taught you anything about cartography in that appeaser of a region you call home. Travel by sea to Shinguo should take about a fortnight." One of the other knights, a hooded one of which Roland knew little about, passed a word onto him as she boarded, proclaiming he let the Captain do his job.

"I intend to let the good captain keep dominion over his ship, ser knight. I am merely extending my own right-deserved authority over the quest and it's affiliates." He retorted at the hooded Tamor as the knight passed by.

"And you would think your dear King Hector would teach you any etiquette."

"My lords, please," the Captain cut in, holding his arms up in an attempt to pacify the brothers. "I assure you. We'll be there before you know it."
 
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  • Age 36
  • Seen Jun 19, 2016
Crystia
~
The Captain's boasting was well-deserved but perhaps a bit too congratulatory if his wealth was not going to be shared with the guests of his ship. Any opportunity to acquire such an item would have turned her head indeed, though not enough to bother calling down a storm and dooming the mission for it. Such were the troubles of possessing power. Though, the potential of visiting Shinguo along with the rest of the journey was promising, for it was a place she would rarely have visited on her own time and likely had all kinds of fashions she could adopt.

"It is a worthy hat indeed. But Dredris, hmm? All that business with human trafficking and so on cannot be very encouraging." Crystia commented flippantly, though her mind was quite focused on the concept of them being stolen away by the well-dressed man and sold as slaves. A collection of some powerful people from Aerion, delivered directly into their hands like a gift from the heavens themselves, and an opportunity only fools or those with honor would squander. Though she doubted their ability to properly incapacitate a mage such as herself, for any use of her not requiring completely restrained limbs would quickly end in escape. The reason being that magic was an excellent equalizer, and elven magic, no less. Those poor human fools left in the grasp of the fearful.

A claim most glorious fell upon Crystia's pointed ears, as one of the armored men that arrived with the air of an ego declared himself the leader of their so-called quest. The last time she had checked, there was no individual leader declared by the Monks, who were perhaps their only superior within the organization, because there would have been no hierarchy otherwise. Not that she would have minded the rule of a competent leader, so this man that named himself Grey would need something of an interrogation before he would be allowed to give commands as though he deserved the recognition.

The inky-haired elf slipped over to the Knight's side and watched him from behind her veil, before she spoke. "Sir Knight, I'm curious of which authority gives you rightful command over those gathered for this quest. Forgive my incredulity, but you are rather...baby-faced. Might I have heard of battles you've won with the clever use of sword-arms?"

 

Swolligator

Butcher of the Sands
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Victoria "Alys" Taimor - The Broken Keg, Dalenham



Victoria felt the last vestiges of the Pyro-Ale slip down her throat leaving it's signature burning sensation trailing behind. With already a couple of mugs under her belt, she was feeling rather mildly tipsy as she sidled up to the bar, holding out as much as possible to not let slip her nearing drunken state. She took a moment to clench the bridge of her nose while scrunching up her eyes; an old barman's tale on a quick but minimal recovery effort from alcohol. In this moment of blindness, she felt a hand skim over the leather covering her backside before taking a quick grope. In surprise, she struck out blindly at the nearest patron, knocking the portly man off of his stool. Chaos ensued as a bottle flew past Victoria's head, rustling her hair as it sailed past and shattered against the wall behind her, showering Victoria with shards of glass. She rapidly ducked under the table as another bottle sailed for her, gathering her composure before re-emerging in order to fight.

Her first opponent was a rather large, burly man who came running at her, hands open as if to choke her. The man's face was contorted in rage and anger as he flung himself at her to which Victoria stepped aside, the man running into the wall behind her. Disorientated, he flung out his arm in her general direction, catching her sore shoulder in the process. Pain flooded her body as she sank to her knees, grimacing in pain and clutching her sore shoulder. Out of anger and pain she shot her leg out at the man, catching him in the side of the knee. She couldn't hear the sickening crunch as the man's knee broke, but she did hear his roars of pain, retreating victoriously to recover herself.

As she was backing up a pair of muscled arms wrapped around her body, pushing her arms light against her body and feeling up her chest as they enclosed around her.

"Well, well, well, what is a feisty young brood like you doing in a bar like this?" Came the gravelly voice.

Instinctually, she flung her head backwards, aiming for the man's nose but instead smashing her head into the side of his chin; giving Victoria more pain than the man received. She could feel his hands cupping her chest, making her increasingly angry as he continued to feel her body. Reaching down, he only just managed to sink her teeth into the firm, muscular flesh of his forearms, obtaining a yell of anguish and pain in response. However these moves did little but make the man squeeze Victoria's body harder until she began to find it difficult to breathe. Flailing with all her might, Victoria tried to free herself from the man's grip however every move of hers only garnered a stronger grip on his behalf. Loosing air quickly, black dots began to flood her vision and she was sure she would soon fall unconscious.​
 
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SV

See You Space Cowboy
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Roland Grey- Port of Ekilore


Captain Crewe did not reply to Crystia's comments, but instead listened as Roland spoke his mind, and the woman questioned his capabilities as a leader. Roland, at the utterance of her words, turned his head gracefully, yet incredulously to look upon her. He gave her a look which reflected his opinion of the audacity she had to ask such a question, yet for the purpose of maintaining the bare minimum of pleasantries among the company, he tried to maintain his composure and speak with as little discourteousness as possible. Ignoring her jab at his complexion, Roland gave her a somewhat forced smile.

"I assure you, Ser Knight, that you will have more trouble hearing of battles that I have lost. My credentials are long and qualifying, though I am unsure of what information passes into your..." he paused, trying to look for the right word to describe her country of origin. "...trees." His voice was filled with the racism much common in Aerion, particularly among humans. "But if you have heard of the Grand Tournament of Ethora, then you will have heard of the three-time winner, Roland Grey. Which is who I am. I am also a member of the Lionguard, royal guard of the King of Ethora, may Andal forever watch over his soul, and of his rightful heir, Hector Reigncliff." The last bit he articulated full of pride and loyalty, championing his lord and whom he believed to be the rightful King of Ethora. "Are these merits to your liking, miss...?" He inquired to the elf, wondering what name to call her. Before he could get an answer, the Captain began ordering to the crew from afar, preparing to set sail.

"All accounted for then? Very well. All hands, raise anchor, lower the sails! We make for the port of Duānkǒu!"

Moments later, the ship departed from port, heading into the open sea of the Deep Blue. The Knights' journey was underway.
 
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>> AVA
>> The Broken Keg, Dalenham, Eveamoor

She was quite disappointed that she didn't get to see the rest of Cass' hilarities, Varian inviting them to the bar fight before she had the chance to tell it. The chaos quickly erupted but Avangeline smiled as the patrons yelled at eachother. Bar fights were always a good way to enhance the reflexes. Drunken men and women were always unpredictable and threw heavy swings. It was a chance for Avangeline to not only improve her already fantastic reflexes, but to show all of these oafs that she was a force to be reckoned with!

She was quick to grab a bottle and smash the end to create a pseudo-sword; actual swords would be too un-sportsman ship of her and she'd be far too dangerous if she was put off guard for just a moment (she didn't want to kill anybody if she didn't have to). Her first victim was a dwarf who was throwing his fists around at nobody. He advanced on Avangeline but was quickly put down by a left hand punch to the stomach, winding him. Instead of leaving him on the ground, she lifted the heavy dwarf and placed him on a table. Poor little man would get trampled if he was there too long.

Her second was a human who decided it would be humorous to swing a bottle at her forehead. Avangeline ducked then kicked his leg, forcing him to the ground. With her other foot, she landed a firm kick right in the testicles. That should keep him down long enough until he had learned it was never a good idea to mess with young half-elf maidens in bar fights.

Her third was not by her own hand, but Nem had decided to join the fight as well. He knew not to kill anyone (a short shout from Avangeline stuck him in defensive mode, so he merely would snap at anyone who got too near) but a patron stepped on his tail and with a loud yelp and a snarl, he had clamped his teeth on the patron's leg. The man yelled and pulled his leg out of the grip, falling back into a bunch of chairs. Avangeline gave Nem a thumbs up, who replied with a happy bark.

She was yanked back by her own scarf, forcing Avangeline to step back into another man, this one burly and sour looking. He didn't smell very drunk, perhaps he just wanted to brawl, like Avangeline! She smiled at him and before he had time to figure out why, Avangeline jumped up, wrapped her legs around his neck and twisted herself down until she was on top of the man and his face was planted firmly into the cement. He was down. Nearly ripped the scarf too. The hide of him!

She heard a familiar voice, a yelp from a comrade. Alys was firmly caught within this man's grip and he wasn't just trying to choke her, he was groping her. Grabbing her bottle Avangeline darted over two tables and slid below the giant of a man, using the bottle to cut gashes into his ankles and shin. That didn't fell him but Avangeline didn't expect it to; her next move would make him wail. She grabbed a lemon from a glass that had yet to be smashed and squeezed it on the cut. As he began to cry, Avangeline moved up, quickly cutting his body up and down and pressing the lemon on it. Finally, he let go of her companion and held his arms up, trying not to move like he had just been badly burnt by the sun. For her final move and a reminder to never touch a woman like that again, she the bottle against his forehead, pressed the lemon on it and kicked him down.

"Never touch a woman like that, ever again," Avangeline said, sternly for the first time in a while, "otherwise you will find yourself without your means of manhood. You hear?" The man whimpered and Avangeline took that as a yes, and turned to her comrade, helping her to her feet. "I can't have you dying before the fun's barely begun!" Her smile had returned, as if nothing had happened.​
 
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