Multiverse Crisis MUSH - User contributions [en]

4955/Fade-ing Memories

2016-12-31T11:46:32Z

OrbisFactor: Thedas's weirdness adds to the usual weirdness! People help fix it!

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/12/31
|Location=The Soft Expanse
|Synopsis=The Soft Expanse is a bit of a weird place. This time some of Thedas's weirdness intrudes, for a brief period of time. Adventurers are, thankfully, there when the fecal matter impacts the ventilation system, and so can clean it up.
|Cast of Characters=774, 525, 1078, 1008, 1086, 42
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     This isn't good. Not at all. The Soft Expanse is a highly mutable place, and anything is capable of appearing and then disappearing. But this time what's appeared is... well, it's hard to tell what it is, actually. It's green, that's about all that's immediately apparent. On the edges of the Soft Expanse, near the Great Ocean, is a green, sharp-edged... THING, hanging in the air. It looks like a glowng crystal, with spires jutting out from a central point. But the spires change configuration rapidly, so the shape is hard to tell.     And all around it? Misshapen, hunchbacked things with spindly arms. And ghostly, neon green wisps vaguely in the shape of people. And it seems that every time the crystal changes configuration, more misshappen things and green ghosts appear, in hisses and flashes of green light.     The area it's appeared in is commonly known as the 'last port' before the weirdness that is the Soft Expanse proper. A small port town with a resident to transient population so heavily weighted towards the latter that it's hard to say how the place doesn't dry up and blow away, figuratively speaking. Being so close to the Soft Expanse, this sort of thing isn't an unusual thing, strange things appearing and then disappearing.     Unfortunately this time, the 'strange thing' has spat out creatures into the town, and they're wrecking the place. And trying to wreck the people! But fear not! There is someone standing against the tide! One man in light leather armor and a white cloak. Unfortunately he's only one man, and that crystal in the air just keeps spitting out demons.     And soon enough, he's going to find that there's only so much one man can do against this many demons... 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' "Ah, so that is what the demons of your world look like," Inga comments, next to Dorian. Where did she come from? How did she get there? Questions no one will likely have the time to ask. But there she is, seax is one hand, staff in the other. No armor, only a dress and cloak, her belt hung with talismans. She's already cutting into her arm, flicking a bit of blood toward Dorian. It turns to a fine red mist, shimmering with gold as it surrounds him, healing him while also providing a bit of warding against incoming attacks. "Anything I should know about them in particular? Weaknesses? Immunities?" she asks, flicking a similar ward around herself while preparing to get down to business. "I'm feeling lightning today, I think," she adds thoughtfully. "Tell me they're weak to lightning." 

:'''{{#var:1078|Xiang Qi (1078)}} has posed:'''     Let's face it. There's just not a lot for a guardian spirit to do when the country that's summoned them up is almost never in any real danger. Sure, it makes for a really boring life for said guardian spirit -- but it also makes them ultimately available to go out and answer calls from help from hapless individuals somewhere else! And since the likelihood of her ward actually being in any real danger was really quite low, it wouldn't interfere with her duties at all.     That was, at least, Qi's excuse for getting up and heading out when she heard the call for assistance. She literally comes running into Last Port only a few minutes after Dorian's call for help, sliding to a halt shortly after spotting the green... thing, her black hair fluttering around her face. She, like most of the others, wasn't really wearing anything that could easily be considered armor. It was more like formal chinese clothing, cut for easy movement. "What on earth...?" Her brow furrows, as her eyes flicker from the strange monsters, to the ghostie things, to the green glowy shapeshifting rock thing. Yeah, she wasn't good at naming things, it's probably not going to be an issue though.     It only takes her a moment to figure out what's going on, as one of the hunchbacked things starts charging toward her -- while chasing someone else, but it was still coming her direction.     Her lips tugged upwards slightly, a grin breaking her otherwise serious face, "So it's a fight then... Great~" Her body suddenly bursts into a brilliant white aura, flowing around her and rippling outward along the ground, creating a bright outline around her body. "I like fighting." 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     HEaring a call from a familiar voice, the sorceror lord Argast Wyrdseeker opted to once more come to the aid of the Tevinter mage. Riding in on a nightmare steed, complete with flaming mane, hooves, and the occasional snort of fire from it's nose, he expected something bad. But this...almost reminded him of home. But, he was not here to help. "It seems you find yourself in trouble again, Sir Pavus. It would be a pleasure to assist." He calls forth, hurling a fireball at the nearest hunchbacked horror. 

:'''{{#var:1086|Seifer Almasy (1086)}} has posed:'''      Seifer Almasy winds up in the weirdest places nowadays.      Before - in the Garden times - the worst he had to deal with was enemy soldiers and Guardian Forces, maybe the occasionally Really Freaky Fishmonster on the beach or a mutant hockey player eyeballing a team member from Balamb. And that was really it; the things he was shooting, 99% of the time, looked like *people*. Usually they *were* people, or something close enough to people that it didn't unsettle him, because people shooting people makes perfect sense.      Over the last month or so, he's shot giant rat-men, swordfought a foxgirl, hit on a demi/ur/something-godddess?-thing, and fought a blonde woman who could cast spells like a sorceress but acted like a knight. And these, too, these things were people. Mostly. The rat-men were kind of weird but they were people-/like/.      This, though? This is just *bizarre*. It's unsettling, even for a hot-blooded, think-second-jump-in-first-on-hero-instinct guy like Seifer. He's not fearless, and these weird, misshapen things and bizarre ghosts, the strange nature of the Soft Expanse, and the pulsating, changing spire...that weirds him right the hell out. It's like walking into a horror movie.      Seifer Almasy does not intend to be the first to die.      The blonde unholsters and shoulders his gunblade as he moves towards the sound of fighting. He's running, as much out of a desire to keep moving as a desire to get to the fight faster. Fighting is something he can grasp, even if it's fighting something weird and disturbing that doesn't quite fit in the natural laws as he understands them in a town full of people who don't quite fit in the natural laws as he understands them. Fighting is something he can *do*.      Seifer rounds the corner and immediately spots Inga, and quietly curses his own nature, because Seifer is about to complicate everything over a woman.      With a stride a lot braver than he actually feels, Seifer walks up to Inga and plants himself between her and the oncoming horde. He looks over his shoulder at her and Dorian.      "Hey. Hope you don't mind if I cut in; you don't look like you wanna dance with freaks like these anyway."      He takes his usual stance, gunblade held out in front of him, standing sideways from the enemy to minimize his target. His target abruptly changes as he sees the monster going for Xiang.      "I really want you to be weak to bullets," Seifer mutters before he opens fire on Xiang's opponent. Hyperion is a semi-automatic; each shot is fast and methodical, a perfect complement to Seifer's own personality, with a /bang bang bang bang bang/ ringing through the streets. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     High above, a ship with the appearance of a small castle drops out of FTL. Inside, Staren hurriedly pulls on his armor. <Concerned: Sir, there is tremendous spatial distortion nearby. If it expands, the ship will be in danger> The orange hologram* of what appears to be a robot wearing robe, wizard hat, and false beard appears in front of Staren. "Yeah, that's why I want you to fly the ship a safe distance away. I'll call if I need you." The hologram inclines its head just slightly, and disappears. It's replaced by a hologram* of a woman with long, bright violet hair and a matching dress. <Monsters are swarming into a town on the edge of the 'Soft Expanse'.> She gestures to one side and a live view of part of the town below is displayed on a virtual screen. The unspoken message is clear: You can't just blow them all up. Staren nods, "Got it." and pulls on his helmet, before grabbing his laser rifle and walking across the hub to the manufacturing area, standing with his back to a robot. <<Give me the high explosive load, just in case I can catch some out.>> It swaps out his shoulder missile racks for another set, and then he strides to the telepad.     An observer might expect an exchange like 'good luck.' or 'don't die' or something, but it seems a silly thing for Staren to program an AI to do. He turns into a beam of red light without further words.     A beam of red and white energy streaks out of the sky, hitting the ground next to Dorian, where it takes a humanoid shape that fades into Staren. He immediately starts firing his energy weapons at the demons, misting two and sending another to the dirt with a hole blown through it. "Inga! Good to see you. And you again." He nods to her and Seifer. "Yes, weaknesses would be good to know. You recognize these creatures?" *Actually they're AR illusions, but 'hologram' gives an appropriate visual. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     For his part, Dorian seems to have been more or less backed in a corner. So the arriving people will likely be coming in from the other side of the demon horde. There's a lot of these demons! And Dorian looks like he's had a bit of trouble. His hair's all messed up, and there's spots of blood on his cloak. Well, it's probably blood, it's nasty, black and oily. But he's also bleeding himself, a trail dripping from the corner of his lip -- thankfully that's from a cut on his face, not from inside his mouth. Because internal injuries suck.     Inga's the first he notices, so he notes, "None of either, so far as I know. None have shown any immunity to fire, lightning, ice, or blunt trauma. If there weren't so many..." He trails off there. Xiang Qi gets a look when she appears. Her question gets a pained smirk. "It's not from earth, it's from Thedas. Figured I'd better try and clean up my world's mess. I'll explain further later." Unspoken is, of course, 'if he survives'.     Argast's appearance gets a sigh. "We've '''GOT''' to stop meeting like this," he quips. "But I'm grateful for your assistance nonetheless." The fireball from Argast lights one of the hunchbacked things on fire, and it starts shrieking loudly and flailing around, trying in vain to put itself out. And then Seifer makes his lone wanderer appearance! Dorian gives that pained smirk again. "Not at all," he answers to the question. Though he's probably talking to Inga rather than him. "Not even the decency to buy me dinner before trying to eat me. Really, can you imagine?" More seriously, he says, "But yes. Help is appreciated, thank you."     Staren's appearance gets a lull in the action -- this is something the demons didn't expect, and they peer at him. Unfortunately that also means they get their attention! Dorian calls over to the appearing armored Staren, "None that I know of." He looks at one of the green peopleghosts. "They'll stay at range. The others will try to close in and strike. The spindly-armed ones are stronger than they look."     The green ghost-things are indeed trying to stay at range, flinging shots of green energy at the heroes (and at anything else in range). And the hunchbacked things are trying to close in and claw things with their long, spindly, clawed hands on their long, spindly arms. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast smirks slightly under his helmet. "Indeed we do." He says. Another hunchback horror would be unlucky enough to see another fireball flying towards it from the Sorceror as he moved to close the distance between himself and the rest. "Don't mind the aura...I'm not here to consume anyone." he says. Apparently, he's picking up some snark from Dorian. 

:'''{{#var:1078|Xiang Qi (1078)}} has posed:'''     "HEY!" Xiang Qi stands a little straighter, looking indignant as her chosen demon gets shot and -- of course -- goes down easily, "I wanted to punch him!... it! Whatever." She huffs and turns her attention to a group of demons, her aura brightening around the edges as she lowers her body into a fighting position, "I'll just have to find some more..." And then she punches!     One might have noticed that Xiang Qi was... not exactly close enough to effectively punch anything. But that doesn't seem to be a problem, as the air in front of her fist twists and distorts, and then explodes outward in both a visible -- and particularly loud -- shockwave, that leads to said group of demons suddenly ceasing to exist. She frowns as the cloud of demon dust fades, "...Aww... They're WEAK!" She seems to be complaining about that. "These things are puny!" A ghost's shot of green energy seems to dissipate as it comes too close to her aura, and a couple approaching hunchbacks are quickly avoided and countered as their claws get too close, sending both flying in different directions.     Qi doesn't stand in one place though, she backs off from the approaching demons and rushes through the ones separating her from the other heroes -- she wasn't doing much protecting from way over here. "How do we make them stop appearing? I mean... they're weak and all, but they just keep coming. Is there a limit to their numbers?" 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' A pale brow rises as Seifer appears, moving to stand between her an the oncoming demons. She notes his pose, shakes her head very slightly, and flashes him a smile. Inga knows men. She knows people. She knows that posture and the look in his eyes. She's not interested in damaging his ego, and having someone between her and a melee fight is always welcome. "I do all my dancing from afar--by all means," she says to him. "You might not want to stay /directly/ in front of me however," she says, the runes carved into her staff beginning to glow with a blue-white light. She's actually grown accustomed to how /flashy/ magic is in the multiverse. But first things first. Another spell is cast, an identical ward cast with blood magic for Seifer. To keep his knightly limbs attached and all his insides where they should be. Inga eyes turn toward a surge in energy, a bright light. Xiang Qi, preparing for the fight. Then another draws her gaze and she briefly looks to Argast, nodding to him. A friend of Dorian's then? Her eyebrows furrow slightly, lips pursing. After a moment, she shrugs, then looks back toward the demons. More pressing things. THEN SUDDENLY STAREN! Inga blinks with momentary surprise, a smile not far behind. "Ah, good to see you as well Staren." Inga looks back to Dorian. "Don't worry, I'll be sure you stay in one piece," she assures him. Then, finally, she turns and lifts her staff, sight locking onto one of the ghostlike demons that stay at a distance. She'll see how those handle lightning. Careful to aim around Seifer, a bolt of lightning cracks into existence, slamming into the floaty green form--if it is corporeal enough to take it. It is, like all of her magic, infused with anima. That usually makes the difference when it comes to ghosts. 

:'''{{#var:1086|Seifer Almasy (1086)}} has posed:'''      Seifer grins over his shoulder at Inga. "Yeah, I know how this works. I'll stay right in front of you." He's as good as his word, too - he knows exactly how to stand so as not to get hit by flying bolts of lightning, though he does let out a low whistle as he watches her evaporate a demon.      "The hell do I keep runnin' into you?" Seifer demands as Staren arrives in a flashy teleportation, "You stalkin' me or something?!"      He doesn't really have time to get an answer. Something comes at him - something with tentacles and no face and oozing bits, something that manages to distract him from both his annoyance at Staren (and Staren's flashy entrance) and the weird-ass skeleton horse guy dripping 'I am the worst person' out of every pore he could find. The horrible tendril-thing gets right up in Seifer's face before it dies on his gunblade, shaken apart with a vibration.      "Real inconsiderate," Seifer replies to Dorian as he flicks the gunblade clean with a smooth motion and loads a new (and unusual) dual-clip.      Then all the demons turn to look at their group.      That is not good. That is very not good.      "I'm runnin' pretty dry here," Seifer mutters to the air, "Who do you like?"      Seifer casts a glance at Xiang as she just kinda punches a tornado out of thin air and smashes her way through the hordes. "Yeah, me too," he says to nothingness, "She's cute and she's strong."      Xiang arrives. Seifer puts two fingers to his forehead and makes a salute. "Sorry about that, gorgeous. And I'm sorry about this, too - but I'm running dry and I'm not the kinda guy to leave a battle like this to chance!"      Some spectral *thing* emerges from behind Seifer, hovering over his shoulder. *Thing* is the best word to describe it - it's vaguely humanoid, but spectral and indistinct, with glowing white eyes and weird grey skin. Or, at least, the skin parts that can be seen are grey - the rest is clad in a red cloak, and...yellow-and-purple polka dots? On one side, it has three arms...on the other...three...cardboard arms?      The *thing* reaches towards Xiang with its three grey hands. Blue orbs of light emerge from the woman and leap into the thing's outreached palms. The thing vanishes, and Seifer-      "Are you *JOKING?*" Seifer shouts loudly, "FIRST THE STUPID OPERA THING, NOW THIS?! DO YOU HAVE EVEN THE SLIGHTEST CLUE WHAT YOU'RE AIMING FOR?!"      "FINE! YOU KNOW WHAT, SCREW IT! I MADE THE OPERA THING WORK - I'LL MAKE THIS WORK TOO!"      Seifer takes up his stance again. He's too annoyed to be freaked out, now. "Next time we're pickin' the stalker, you hear me? Guy can teleport, maybe you'll get *that*. That'd be *useful*."      Silence. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren shrugs to Seifer, and looks to Dorian. "Are demons on your world usually this weak?" Staren asks, conversationally but also like he's considering the possibility they're fakes of some sort. "It's strange for me to be oneshotting them... Last time I had to fight a horde of demons, it... it was a slog." Seifer summons a six-armed specter and says something about getting his teleporter. "Wait, what?"     Further questioning is cut off now that he's got the demons' attention! As they converge on him, Staren blows up another three, but a problem soon becomes apparent: His weapons are more than powerful enough to oneshot these creatures, but the firing rate isn't fast enough for him to take them all out before they get to him!     Fortunately, after ten years in the Multiverse, Staren's acquired some contingency plans. As the demons close in he takes to the sky, firing a grenade down to deal with the hunchbacked things, only to find himself under a barrage of fire by the green ghost-things! He can only hope they don't dish out too much more than they can take! 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Argasts's fire is having a definite effect. The hunchbacked things that he sets alight are breaking off the attack to go flail around. And some are catching other demons on fire! Including a Wraith or two! They're apparently vulnerable to that. Dorian smirks at Argasts's statement. "If you're going to eat something, try the demons. I'm sure they taste wonderful." Given the tone, he's probably kidding.     "There's not exactly any dearth of them at the moment," Dorian points out, as Xiang Qi pouts about not being able to punch a demon. But there's a real question, one he answers. "Theoretically it will keep spitting out demons until it's closed. And I don't have any way to close it. But the rift won't stay here long. This region's unstable. It should disappear momentarily."     Inga's lightning bolt seems to affect the Wraith just fine, not to worry, despite being wispy and incorporeal. Dorian nods to her words, too. "Thank you. It would be a waste of a perfectly handsome mage othewise."     Seifer's apparent talking to himself gets a raise of his eyebrow. But the appearance of the multi-armed things is unusual. And it also means Seifer's attracting more attention to himself! Which can be bad. But these things die to gunblades pretty easily anyway.     Staren's words get a raise of Dorian's brow. "Would you rather leave the town its own devices?" he asks. Not much time for more, since Staren flies up. The individual shots of the Wraiths might hurt, but they're not too damaging. These are-after all, bottom-tier things. And their numbers are finally starting to thin.     Maybe Inga's warding gives Dorian an idea of what he can do, as he starts casting Barriers across the battlefield to those fighting. He's trying to get as many of them as possible in one casting, so where allies are grouped together they'll gett Barrier'd first. But eventually Dorian will get everyone with a Barrier. It won't last too terribly long, mind, but it should be long enough to allow the group to wade through the tide with less trouble. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     "Thanks for the offer, but I prefer to avoid indigestion." Argast fires back. But above a group of shades and horrors, the skies open up and down fall a rain of fireballs. "Feel the power of the Dark Pantheon!" He shouts out, watching his foes burn. 

:'''{{#var:1078|Xiang Qi (1078)}} has posed:'''     Qi bounces on her heels as she turns back toward the threatening demon things, punching one of the hunchbacks as it gets too close, sending the thing's whole body sailing through the air, and bowling into several wispy ghost things. She glances over her shoulder as she does so, at Seifer and his flirting, smirking slightly, "Gorgeous? Well now~" She blinks once, her smirk fading as he apologizes... what was he apologizing for?     And then the Guardian Force appears and she raises a brow, "Woah, hold it! What're you..." Too late! She looks like she's about ready to punch it -- because everything can be solved by punching -- but stops when it appears that nothing bad was really happening.     Seifer does not appear very happy with the result though, and she's momentarily taken aback, "Oooookaaaay~" She turns back to the demons -- focus on the baddies for now. Not the angry guy with the weird friend.     She looks at Dorian for a moment, -- "Wait, so all we gotta do is make the green thingy close?" She eyes the 'green thingy' in question... it looked solid enough... and so she put her -- probably ill conceived -- plan into action, stepping toward the demon hoardes, waiting until one of the hunchbacks got close enough... and uppercutting it's ugly face, sending it up into the air, where it was caught by her heel as she spun in a roundhouse kick, to send it flying at high speed directly AT the rift. Maybe if she hit it hard enough, those green rocks would just break. That seemed like a good plan.     The fire raining down on everything -- including the town, makes Qi frown, "Hey uh... Are we trying to burn down this place? Is that necessary?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren flies around, now in a bullet hell minigame. The wraith shots are chipping away at his shield, an amber sphere of force that becomes briefly visible with each hit, white and cracking at the area of impact. The chip damage doesn't seem to be serious, but every time Staren's hit, he's knocked off course which can get him hit by several more before he can regain control. "Rrrgh!" he growls in frustration. It's keeping him from aiming his shots!     And then he sees swaths of demons being set on fire. So that works well, apparently! He slings the laser rifle over his shoulder and reaches into his messenger bag, pulling out...     A magic wand.     Seriously, it's laughably stereotypical -- a slender rod with a star shape on the end, and some kind of clear jewel in the center of the star. He raises it over his head...     And Argast beats him to it. Fireballs, fireballs everywhere!     Well... that doesn't mean Staren can't add to it! He starts swinging the wand around, and with each swing there's an explosion of fire in the direction he aimed.     At least he's only aiming for open, demon-filled areas, and not the buildings... 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga is pleased to see Seifer has done this before, and isn't just being a heroic boob. He knows how to position himself, when to take attacks and when to get out of her way. She nods to him, a acknowledgement of respect. Of course, then he goes talking to himself again. Though she's quite aware he isn't, and if anyone around here knows what it is like to hear and see things others may not, it's Inga. She's not judging. She is interested, however, in the glimpse she gets of Seifer's guardian force and whatever it just did to the dark haired woman. "That was...interesting," she comments to Seifer in a tone that says she has many questions and at some point plans to annoy him with them, with a look in her eye that communicates he should be disinclined to refuse. Inga's eyes widen with suprise as she feels a warding magic surround her. How nice! Doubly warded and protected by Seifer, Inga is set. She's free to sling magic and heal whoever needs it. Though currently the only person who seems to need it is still Dorian. So, she heals Dorian. 

:'''{{#var:1086|Seifer Almasy (1086)}} has posed:'''      Oh, good. They don't have anything to close it with but it *should* close momentarily. That's great.      One of the Fade monstrosities gets a little too close. Its tendril hooks around Seifer's arm, burning through his coat and into his skin. He shouts, a wordless cry of pain, jerking his superhuman arm backwards to drag the burning creature into his gunblade. It scatters as it's carved in half with one elegant stroke. Whatever else Seifer is, he's *skilled*, and he's *strong*.      "Hey, cool it!" Seifer shouts at Argast and Staren, "We ain't tryin' t' kill these people! Just the damn- rrrgh!"      Qi goes running into the middle of combat. "Alright, then - HEY, GORGEOUS! I'LL SUPPORT YOU - GO TO TOWN ON THAT THING, HUH!? DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE SMALL FRY!"      Blue light coalesces into Seifer's off hand, forming into an orb just like the ones his Guardian Force snatched earlier. With some pain, Seifer jams the orb into his gunblade. It pulses and thrums, glowing with an odd light that is most assuredly not blue.      "Stay behind me," Seifer warns the rest of the party as he takes three steps forward - just enough to put him firmly in the fore (much to his misgivings, he's also including Argast in the group behind him) of the main party. As he unslings his burned arm from his jacket and holsters it in his shirt, yojimbo style, he lowers his gunblade.      "Let's see if I'm as good as I think I am, Greg! Here we go!"                       JUNCTION: SHIELDING AURA ---> ATTACK                                              LIMIT BREAK CRISIS LEVEL ONE                                                        PACHINKO RAMPAGE                                      Seifer simply *flings* the weapon, underhand-style. The gunblade, still glowing, starts whirling like a buzzsaw as it picks up speed. It carves into the first demon, cleaving into it...and then it *bounces* into the demon next to that one. The whirling gunblade ping-pongs, pinballs, and pachinkos as it deflects *itself*, bounding from demon to demon and cutting a sharp line in the air. It picks up more speed as it bounces, harder and harder, pinging off the demons closest to Qi to support her rampaging fist attack on the weird green thing. The gunblade keeps spinning until it's cleared as many of the demons as it can; then, like it has a mind of its own, it goes shooting back towards Seifer, springing off a last demon in its path. It shoots like a buzzsaw towards the party.      Seifer snatches the blade out of thin air and turns around, shouldering it.      The last demon it ping-ponged off of explodes in a violent burst of fire.      "THAT'S how you clear an area!" Seifer shouts at Argast. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian does frown a bit at Argast. Though Xiang Qi pre-empts his complaint with her warning. "Yes please, do try to leave the town intact. The whole point was to '''SAVE''' the town, after all, not to destroy it ourselves."     Xiang Qi's attack however... does something odd. The crystalline thing in the air is changing and morphing. Her kick doesn't destroy it, no... and it feels like kicking adamantium! But the attack makes the crystalline thing seem to freeze. And every single one of the demons just... freeze in place, standing as if they were suddenly distracted by something that no one else can hear. Fortunately this means the Wraiths stop shooting at Staren. Also they stand quite still for him to start killing them with fire!     Inga's blood magic is always a little uncomfortable for Dorian to see. But he knows better than to judge her for it. It's not Thedan blood magic, so it shouldn't carry the instant 'aughnobad!' feeling with it. So he offers a smile to Inga as she heals him. The visible cut on his lip begins to close up with the treatment. "Thank you," he offers.     Dorian just kind of... stares at Seifer's attack. The stunned demons are quite literally like mannequins, standing still for the blade to bounce off of them. "...Well, that's something," he observes. "...I'm not sure what, but it's definitely something."     Fortunately, with everyone's aggressive demon-killing tactics, the last of them are taken out. And the rift changes. Instead of being a crystalline thing, it now properly looks like a rift -- i.e., a neon-green hole in the air. It's not very big, maybe a broad torso-width in size. Maybe that's why the demons that came out were so weak?     There are no more demons for the time being. But the rift is clearly still open. "Right then," Dorian notes. "Now that we have a moment..." Addressing the group at large, he notes, "This is a rift, and those things were demons from the Fade. They're appearing all over my world. I suppose with the mutable environment in this area, one was bound to show up here sooner or later. I've closed portals to other worlds in the Multiverse proper before, but I don't have any way to close this. Let's hope the wind changes again before it spits out more demons." 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast looks over and nods. "My apologies. The Red Wind seeks destruction, you see." He says, hoping that explains enough. Then, to hear about the rifts, the sorceror tilts his head. "If it does, I shall bathe them in more flames. Such is the will of Tzeench." 

:'''{{#var:1078|Xiang Qi (1078)}} has posed:'''     Qi stares toward the rift for a moment -- it had stopped. The demons had stopped. Everything had stopped! Clearly, this was the result of her kicking a demon at it. She was the hero, and nobody was going to tell her otherwise. She follows the path of Seifer's sword with her eyes, before looking back at him, "That was a neat trick~ Never seen anyone THROW a sword before." She pauses, "Though I guess I don't see a ton of swords where I'm from, so maybe it's a normal thing?" She looks curious for a moment, then shrugs, listeningt to Dorian, "Sooo... We're counting on this rift thing just sort of disappearing on it's own then? How did you close the other ones? How come you can't do the same thing to THIS one?" 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Now, Inga has been in the multiverse for a couple of years now. Things don't shock her the way they used to. She is fairly sure, however, that there will always be surprises. Gods, she certainly hopes so, because she is likely to live a very long time. Seifer's work with that crazy blade of his is certainly surprising. She's never seen a sword (gun? sword-gun?) do that before. She has no idea how it is even possible, but there it is. The wiseoman just sighs, shakes her head, and brings her knife against her skin again, drawing fresh blood. The cut she'd opened earlier seems to have disappeared. With fresh blood on the iron of her blade she flicks it toward Seifer, a healing aura surrounding him. It smells like blood (because it is) and honey, because ??? With fireballs, and punching, and whatever Staren is doing, she's pretty sure they've got all this covered. Soon enough there is a lull, if not an end to the fighting. Apparently, kicking the rift does well enough. "I see," she says to Dorian, leaning on her staff. "Well, if there nothing to do but wait to see if it shifts away...I think I will go into town and see who there might need healing," she says. "Well fought, everyone," she says, nodding to them all. Argast gets a lift of her brow. Is he always so strange? "You," she begins, looking to Seifer. "I have questions. But they can wait," she finishes with a shrug. Then Inga begins to limp off toward the town to see who else she can bleed on beneficially. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren picks his target areas carefully now that the demons have stopped. And then Seifer does... something. That was a neat trick!     Dorian explains about the rift. It's frustrating, but Staren's no rift-closing specialist. Where's a Shifter or Leyline Walker when you need one?     He puts the wand away and lands on the ground, nodding in agreement with Inga before walking after her. 

:'''{{#var:1086|Seifer Almasy (1086)}} has posed:'''      "Oh yeah, I totally believe you," Seifer replies to Argast, "Just a good Samaritan out for a stroll, that's you."      Whatever else he was going to say is cut off as Inga throws healing blood on him. Seifer is visibly disturbed by this, staring at the vanishing burn on his hand and the blood splatter on his coat.      He taps the gunblade against his shoulder and looks at Qi. "It's a gunblade," Seifer corrects her, "No, that ain't a normal thing. First time for me, too. Didn't give me much to work with. Nice kick, though."      He looks off at Dorian again. "OK, so, can we keep throwing stuff in? Guy walking away probably has some grenades, and I'm sure Mr. Not-At-Fault'd be happy to just keep chucking explosions in all the live-long day. Eventually the stupid thing'll just shut, right?" 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian sends '''a look''' at Argast. "Not that I don't appreciate your assistance. Just, please try to keep the town intact." He makes a 'shoo' motion with his free hand, the one he's not holding the dragon-headed staff with. "Send them to another dimension or something." Pause. "No, on second thought, don't do that. I have no idea what putting a portal over a portal would do, and I'm not eager to find out."     Though then, he smirks in Xiang Qi's direction. "Ironic, isn't it? I can close portals in others but not in my own. This one, I'm not sure how it's made. I'd need to know that first. And as you can see, there isn't usually a lot of time to study them, thanks to the masses of demons they spit out. It may need a specific application of magic to close, or I may just not have the raw power to do it alone. I'm not quite sure."     Inga's words get a nod. "Be careful, this one may spit out more before it disappears. If it does." Hopefully this isn't a permanent fixture; that would suck so much. "Thank you for your help," he offers to Inga as she turns for the town proper. And also Staren, who gets a nod. "You too. Thank you."     Seifer's suggestion gets laugh. "That might have the opposite effect. The idea is to '''not''' attract attention from the demons of the Fade. They're always there." He points at the torn-looking 'bedsheet' appearance of the rift. "That is currently a window into the Fade. It's my world's... I believe you'd call it the 'spirit realm'. Those things that it spat out, are always there. They're fine there. It's when they come '''here''' that there are problems."     Perhaps luck is on their side this time. The rift is beginning to get active again. strands of green light begin to emanate from the rift. But before they touch the ground, wisps of silver begin to blow through the area. And soon there is a 'wave' of silvery light that seems to 'wash' the rift away, along with whatever horrible monsters it was about to put down. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast simply looks over towards Seifer and Dorian, and then the rift. "What a wierd place..." He says softly. He looks over Dorian's staff, and in turn places his own in front. "A dragon? A bit...ironic, don't you think? At least considering our last meeting." 

:'''{{#var:1086|Seifer Almasy (1086)}} has posed:'''      Seifer scowls. He stops just short of suggesting they send Argast in before it closes and letting him attract all the demons he wants. Just short. JUST short. Like, it's on the tip of his tongue, and the only reason he's NOT making the suggestion is that at any minute more demons could come spilling out of the rift according to Dorian, so starting a fight *now* is just a stupid risk. Seifer is a lot of things, but he's not a guy who takes intentionally stupid risks with no real payoff other than self-satisfaction.      But it's right there, in his eyes and on his face. Seifer is a lot of things, and subtle is not one of them.      He taps his gunblade on his shoulder. It's either a nervous habit or a 'keep your wits about you'-type thing he does just to stay aware of his surroundings. His arm slides back into his coat now that Inga's weird blood healing has fixed the burn around it.      Then the problem solves itself.      Seifer's sort of making that 'OK' face right now. He holsters the gunblade, meets Argast's eyes, scowls, and then looks over at Qi.      "Speaking of neat tricks you don't see every day, I've only seen one other person punch like that, and he's..." Seifer bites off the insult, before the lady takes the wrong impression, and finishes with, "...not as impressive. Seifer Almasy." He offers a hand to her, and also to Dorian. He pointedly doesn't offer it to Argast.      He doesn't like Argast. 

:'''{{#var:1078|Xiang Qi (1078)}} has posed:'''     Qi frowns for a second, "Sooo... if you can't close it... Couldn't you, like. Go in? If you destroy all of them then they can't come through anymore!" She looks at the rift, clearly ready to jump in and take on the entire world of fade demons single-handedly. -- This is probably not a good idea, but Qi was never known for her abundance of great ideas.     Thankfully, Seifer's compliment takes her attention off of the rift before she jumps through. "Oh?" She smirks, "I might like to fight him myself~ It's always fun to fight martial artists... especially the kind that have any real fame and experience." She looks at the offered hand, then takes it, "Xiang Qi. You can just call me Qi. All my friends do."     She looks back at Argast, then between him and Dorian... "You two already know each other, I take it?" She tilts her head to the side, "Not gonna start hitting each other, are you? This hardly seems like the time to be fighting when there's that big green thing in the sky." 

:'''{{#var:1086|Seifer Almasy (1086)}} has posed:'''      "I wouldn't say he has either of those," Seifer mutters, but he's grinning anyway. "Always happy to count more pretty girls among my friends, though."      He's nineteen. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian blinks at Argast, then looks at the three-headed staff he's carrying himself. "It's the same one I always carry," he notes. "Well, almost always." There have been a few times where he's used a different staff. But he doesn't seem to be giving it much thought.     Seifer's introducing himself then, and Dorian bows, with a flourish. "Dorian Pavus, Altus mage of Tevinter," he offers by way of introduction. Handshake? Dorian returns that; it's a confident one, a firm handshake without being too firm. Also Seifer might notice that Dorian, despite his accent and upper-class air, has calluses on his fingers. They're not super-thick, but they're present. Those are the hands of someone who's done manual labor.     Xiang Qi's question gets... a look. A look that says 'are you completely out of your mind?'. And he offers, "The last time someone physically went into the Fade, it started the Blight. That was thousands of years ago. and still we have massive, corrupted demons the size of dragons appear and start destroying things every so often. I think I'd rather not make a second foray in." A bit of wryness enters his tone here, "I think having archdemons appear every so often to destroy the world is bad enough." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren stops when he hears Dorian explaining about the rift, and nods to Seifer, retracting his faceplate so he can be heard more clearly. "Closing rifts is tricky business. Trying to blow it up could close it, or make it get even bigger, or do nothing at all." And then it closes! "Well, I guess that solves that..."     Staren pulls some tiny quadrotor drones, insect-sized, from his bag, and sets them to go explore the town and search for anyone who needs help.     "Still, it seems like there must be something better than to just wait for demons to appear and fight them until rifts close... Some more permanent solution. I'm Staren by the way, researcher for the League. Of Progress." He holds out a hand to Dorian to shake. "Nice to meet you." 
}}

4332/A Volcanic Rage

2016-08-13T22:07:15Z

OrbisFactor: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/07/17 |Location=The Magma Zone |Synopsis=A village within an island has undergone strife due to their Guardian being enraged. One adventurer w..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/07/17
|Location=The Magma Zone
|Synopsis=A village within an island has undergone strife due to their Guardian being enraged. One adventurer went to investigate the matter, joined with another traveler and a bit of opposition. What they learn about the Guardian is not as expected.
|Cast of Characters=976, 425, 1006
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      Welcome to the Magma Zone. The entire area is thick with an oppressive heat. Normally, the ground is generally unstable to where they could crumble and deposit a careful person into the lava. However, the area has gotten so out of control that the ground has formed into various mountainous paths. The rocky terrain is scorching with the presence of the magma. The sight is a thick, wavy presence that makes it rather difficult to see what lies ahead.     ...Occasionally, the ground is shuddering. The rumble of a being is heard from afar. There is only rage. The rage of the guardian is heard from the horizon. 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' Natasha's going for a swim in the lava at the magma zone, it's not like she can take one at a normal beach after all. Of course her exercise is suddenly interrupted when the lava she's swimming is suddenly launched upwards into the air She lets out a loud, "Whee!" A volcano erupting here isn't too surprising after all. It's like a giant carnival for her here. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Rage.     Delicious rage.     And not the petty ravings of some mortal being, no. This is the rage of a god. It burns with a kind of fullness that a mortal's anger pales in comparison to. So, naturally, he's come to ensure that it remains as full as possible. Crumbling areas, whether they remain or not, are no problem for him; he levitates over anyplace that might not hold him. Also he is of fire as well.     He is deliberate in his approach to the place where the Wrath is the greatest. Is the guardian a thinking being, or a mere beast? Razel actually doesn't know. He wants to determine that, first of all. He'd send a minion for that, but... all that delicious god-like rage... 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      Just along the horizon is where the great guardian resides. However, the path is paved with rocky terrain that promises nothing more than a bumpy, rough ride. Jagged rocks are set along the 'stairs' paved by the wrath that shaped the magma-filled area. A few of the ground have broken off, leaving a small platform for those who are nimble to jump towards.     Just up ahead...     The ground rumbles once more. Magma splashes up in the sky like a geyser, then they splash back towards the ground. Once the path is clear of the geysers, the way ahead offers only a volatile nature.     Dare to travel ahead? 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' Of course Natasha doesn't have to bother with things like rough terrain. She can just fly it over after all and she's already in the air from the eruption. The lava geysers aren't much of danger for either unless if she gets hit by a flying rock. That was always a possible dangerous especially since she's so light. She notices someone else down below her, had they came here for a swim too? 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Oh Razel most definitely dares. The Devil of Wrath has no fear of fire or lava, and barely flinches as the magma splashes into the air. In fact Razel nears the splashing magma and catches falling drops in one clawed hand. As the drops smoke and cool in the palm of his hand, he smirks. "...Rage on, Great Guardian," he murmurs, to no one in particular. "Draw me to you..."     Natasha might notice a few things about the person below if she's looking closely enough. It's a tall, slender man with hair as red as blood. He's wearing a lot of leather, and his outfit looks like an Arabian fantasy done darkly. And more than that, he has horns, clawed hands, and a whiplike black tail. Fangs peek out of his mouth, particularly because he's grinning in an altogether unwholesome way.     She might also notice that the red-haired man too can fly. He also takes the aerial route, though only flying high enough to get to the area in question and land upon it. He doesn't seem to have noticed Natasha yet, so single-minded in his approach is he. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      The path of the rough terrain brings little opposition towards both of the people that are used to fire. The scalding flames erupt from the magma, as if presenting a force of rage. However, it is less of the God's wrath and more of the aftermath of his wrath.     ...     As the two are taking the more aerial route, they will notice someone who is in the middle of the ground. This particular person is standing at the center of one of the platforms, leaping from broken ground to the net form. As he comes to a stop into a patch of the solid ground, the figure is holding onto a map.     If they look down enough, they'll notice that it's a young boy, who doesn't look older than fourteen years old. What distinguishes him is that long yellow scarf that is easily seen despite the heat.     "Wheewwww. It's hot!" Reize winces, looking at the map while sweating. "Hopefully, I find this guardian soon!" 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' Natasha's a bit surprised to see the other man fly, was he a fire elemental too? He certainly looked like he could be one, but he looks like he's distracted at the moment. Instead her attention turns the younger boy looking at the map and she lowers herself so she's hovering close to him, flames are still jetting out of her feet, "Hi there, are you lost?" She figures normal humans wouldn't likely hang out in a place like this. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     The magma's still wet, so it clings to Razel and his clothing if he's not careful. Doubtless he will spend a few moments peeling semi-dried magma off of his skin and clothing, brushing it from his face, et cetera. Not life-threatening, no. But unpleasant and rather inconvenient. Razel is just vain enough that this will take up some time. While he's peeling a drop of magma off his robe, he hears a sound, and his pointed ear twitches. A voice. A young boy's voice. A young boy who is seeking out the guardian for some reason. No prizes for figuring out why. Does he have a hero on his hands?     Razel descends, noticing Natasha as he does. He's not jetting fire out of himself to stay aloft, though. He's just sort of hanging there in the air. No bobbing or anything, he almost looks like he's standing on something in the air. But of course there's nothing under his feet. "Are you seeking the Guardian?" This question is aimed to both Natasha and the young man with the scarf. The red-haired man's voice is low, calm, almost soothing; his expression is neutral. He reveals little, in expression, tone, or body language. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      While inspecting the map, the boy's face continuously becomes drenched with sweat. "Ugh.." It is almost blinding in a way. He grimaces, until he makes his way towards the figure who approaches him. "Huh?" He lifts his gaze up to see the woman approach in a hover.     Cheerfully, the boy waves a hand her way, "Ooooiiii!" Despite the fact that the scarfed boy is burning up, he still keeps that cheery demeanor. The boy furrows his eyebrows, "Somewhat, I am---..."     That is when another figure shows his presence nearby. Upon hte figure's descent, Reize looks over at the man as he hangs aloft in the air. Keeping a cheerful smile on his face, Reize nods, "Yeah! I am trying to see if I can calm the guardian down!" He exhales a sigh, "He's making trouble for everyone here!"     He grumbles annoyedly.     He straightens himself up, glancing over at the two. "Are you?" 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' "I was just going for a swim, is that what's causing all the eruptions here? If someone's causing trouble here, I'll show them a thing or two!" Even Natasha's voice is fiery as she makes a few punching gestures. "So why is he upset anyway?" She can't help but to be curious now that Reize brought it up. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     "Hooh?" It's one of THOSE noises, one you might expect the villain to respond to a hero's vigorous 'I will stop you!' shout. Razel quirks a brow. "Why do you wish to calm it?" he inquires. "What of the people who angered the guardian? If it is only now angry... then does it not stand to reason that someone has done something to anger the guardian?" Trust a Devil to offer a conflicting viewpoint-- 'what's puzzlin' you is the nature of my game', after all.     Natasha's words get a tilted head. And her angry words get the faintest ghost of a smile. "I wonder... do you ask your question from a biased perspective? Do you believe the guardian is in the wrong, even without knowing what has angered it? Or do you merely wish to know what has happened, without bias?" Throughout all this, his voice remains calm and even, as if he's incapable of becoming angry. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      Reize turns to face Natasha, rubbing the back of his head, "The villagers mentioned that an intruder dwelled here and angered him. They are uncertain as to the details, but all of them have mentioned that the place was to never be disturbed." He frowns.     ... And then Razel's voice has the boy turn to face him. In response, Reize's eyes narrow and his attention fully focuses on the figure despite the heat. "If he is calmed, then he'll go back to his slumber and the people can go back to resuming their lives." A frown stirs, lowering his head at the man's question, "... That is a matter of fact."     His eyes gaze away, "...However, finding the source of the disturbance will have to wait. Not able to find the source if the guardian is still completely angry." 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' "Well, if it's possible the Guardian down without anyone getting hurt, I want to do that. But I'm ready to fight too if necessary." Her attention turns towards Razel as she says that. Natasha's not sure if the Guardian can be calm down or not, she's never met it before after all. "I'm guessing there'll be more destruction the closer we get right?" It shouldn't be too hard to follow after all. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Razel remains calm at Reize's response. "And if you must kill it to calm it?" he asks. "Will you deprive the people of their guardian for what someone else has done to it? Is its life less important?" Yeah, he's probably not endearing himself to the people here, but he's not really trying to. He's trying to throw off the ones that are clearly heroic. Plant a seed of doubt in a pure heart.     Natasha's question gets a small smirk. "Doubtless there will be. It is angry, after all." He looks in the direction from which he can sense the rage the most strongly. "When it stops, its anger does not." 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      "...Wait, what?"     Reize looks rather shocked at Razel's implication, "Kill?! Who said anything about killing the guardian!" His cheeks puff with annoyance, "I have no intentions of killing the guardian! Just have to calm him down!" He frowns, "Though, I don't think he'll be able to be calmed with words." Exhales a sigh of exasperation. He runs a hand across his forehead, trying to figure things out.     Reize glances at Natasha, "Probably, it looks like his anger is getting worse."     ...Just as Reize's statement holds true, the ground rumbles. The entire volcanic area rumbles from the rippling wrath. Further ahead lies the beast.     Reize frowns, "I'm going forward!" Reize is already running ahead. 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' "Maybe you should let me take the lead, I don't think you want to fall in the lava." Natasha starts flying doing her best to keep up with Reize. This is certainly one situation where she has an advantage, she's not sure how well she would be able to fight the Guardian, but if it's attacks are fire-based, it shouldn't be able to hurt her much either. Of course she's not sure what Razel's going to do either. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     And there. The seed of doubt is planted. Razel observes the exasperated sigh from Reize, the far less certain demeanor. And as Reize and Natasha go on, towards the source of so much anger, Razel waits. He waits until the two have their backs turned to him, until they are a distance away. Then the corner of his mouth turns up in a smile, and he chuckles quietly.     Suddenly he seems to disappear. Seems to. He's merely released his physical form. He will travel in the same direction as Reize and Natasha, remaining out of sight. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      "Maybe, but I was not planning to stick around why the guy asked all of his questions!" Reize quips back at Natasha. He looks ahead, not even looking back to see where Razel is at.     As the group get further, the ground continues to rumble. The scorching magma blasts in the sky, fizzling out near Reize, who narrowly avoids the hot liquid. "Gah!" He yelps, yet he continues his run.     While Natasha takes flight, she is not too far from Reize. As they reach further ahead, they are approaching a platform that continuously moves up. The platform ends up leading to a large circular area. The circular area is completely surrounded by magma. The boiling magma bubbles. Occasionally, the walls shudder and chunks of rocks run down the side.     ... More intruders....     ... More... to disturb me...?! 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' There's a bit of a stream of flame behind Natasha as she flys. She makes sure to keep a bit of distance from Reizze so she doesn't actually burn him. "Look we just want you to calm down a bit so no one gets hurt. Not all the people around here are safe from fire, besides if you're the Guardian aren't you suppose to be protect them?" She wonders why someone who's meant to protect would go on a rampage to begin with. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     The voice. Finally, the guardian. And if it speaks, then it can understand. This was exactly what Razel was hoping for-- that the guardian wasn't a mere beast that would be unable to understand him. For he could certainly consume the wrath of a beast, but it was so much sweeter when he could stoke the fires of a being's rage himself.     For the time being, he waits, until the guardian shows itself. He's waiting for the right time to strike. An angry guardian is more likely to not be thinking clearly, and so may accept his offer. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      As Natasha approaches near the boy, he cannot help but feel a bit of distinct heat emanating from his traveling companion. He wipes his eyebrow a bit, grimacing while he looks ahead.     "Oooii! We just want to talk!"     In a moment, there is a gust of wind that blows through the mountainous terrain. It whisks away anything, threatening to even whisk away the two standing at the center should they not hold their ground. For Razel, he could likely tell that was a 'snort'.     Guardian. Those fools will believe their own delusions. I've only tolerated them for this long.     In the instant, there is a large head erupting from the molten lava. The presence is similar to that of a tortoise, though, the creature doesn't show any signs of pleasure.     Intruders have trespassed long enough. They will all suffer my wrath. 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' Natasha has some trouble keeping her ground especially considering she's so light. She's a bit surprised to see a turtle's head pop up but she supposes the Guardian can be anything after all. This is going to be hard than she thought since the guardian seems to be able to create more than just lava and magma. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     The 'snort' even pulls at Razel's non-physical form, leading him to soldify his form again. And so, as he hears the words, he once again becomes visible, 'standing' in the air. "I come not to disturb, Great One. To assist." His voice is the same calm, even tone as ever, even speaking loudly enough to be heard. One could be forgiven for thinking 'aw geez not that guy again'. Nonetheless, there he is.     He pulls a respectful bow in the air. "I am Razel, the Devil of Wrath." Which probably explains much. A look to Natasha and Reize, long enough to indicate them. "They come on behalf of those who have intruded against you. I come on your behalf." As he speaks, he begins to reach out with his powers over wrath, trying to fan the flames of the 'guardian's' anger at the people. "I ask you, Great One. Please allow me to serve you in this, so that you may gain your revenge against the people who have disturbed your rest."     Oh wow, he's a bad guy? Who'd have guessed? One is free to imagine that spoken in the flattest tone possible. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      Truth be told, Reize is not having an easy time trying to get the 'Guardian' to listen to reason. What is even more surprising is that the said guardian does not consider himself as such. "...Huh...?" This is actually a surprise. So, if this being doesn't consider itself a guardian, then...     Before Reize could think any further, Razel finally manifests himself around them again. "Huh?!" His eyes widen, "Wh----"     Finally, the stranger who had challenged his motives make his identity known. The more that the boy listens, the less that he likes. Especially when the man indicates him repesenting those at fault. His expression forms into a scowl, fists tighten.     The 'Guardian' is looking over towards the Devil. He doesn't look like a being of patience at all. However, he pauses his intent to listen to Razel speak. The creature looks briefly annoyed. On his behalf? I do not need anyone on my behalf.     However, someone else to... serve in this crusade. He gives out a snort. That snort is enough to create a gust of wind through the volcano. I'll entertain this. Prove your worth. 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' Well, Natasha can get pretty upset at times and she wields fire. She could likely be considered a devil in some ways though she fights on the side of good. "Why do you want to cause trouble for the people living here?!" She balls her fists and they burst into flames. The girl braces herself against the wind and tries to keep it from blowing her back. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Full disclosure, there is a moment of tension in Razel, the tiniest bob of his Adam's Apple when the Guardian begins to deny needing anyone on its behalf. But then the tension eases as the !Guardian snorts and decides to entertain the notion. Razel bows deeply to the !Guardian -- it's also worthy to note that he's not floating ''higher'' than the !Guardian. He's making sure that the great beast can look ''down'' to see him.     "I am deeply grateful for this opportunity," Razel replies. "What would you have me do, Great One?" He doesn't answer Natasha's question for the !Guardian, no. Even though he likely knows what the source is, he will leave that answer for the Guardian himself to give. It would be rude to talk over his new 'master', wouldn't it? He does, however, send a narrow-eyed smile at Natasha and Reize. Smug bastard. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      "W--..." Reize cannot believe what he is seeing before him. Just as if things could not go from bad to worse, the !Guardian is now making a deal with the Devil of Wrath. The boy finally draws up to call out to the Ancient Being, "You can't do this! I can find the intruders for you and----"     ...You both annoy me.     An eye focuses on both Reize and Natasha for a few seconds. Then, the beast opts to cut his gaze over towards Razel.     I want them out.     The beast declares both Reize and Natasha as 'the targets'. After declaring his first desire, he moves back into the depths of the lava, melding with the presence of the hot, boiling liquid. 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' "I'm not leaving until the people who live here are safe!" There's not likely much Natasha or the guardian could do to seriously hurt each other so that just leaves Razel to deal with. Of course she would have to find out who provoked the Guardian and do so he would have to get him out of the way. The fire elemental rushes at him before she attempts to punch him in the face. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Once more, Razel bows to the !Guardian's request. "It would be my pleasure, Great One." And as the beast merges back into the lava, he turns to Natasha and Reize. "Well. You heard, I suppose? You do have the option of just walking away..."     That is, until Natasha blindsides him! The punch is surprising, and impacts the side of his face before he can dodge, drawing a grunt. He disappears from his spot and reappears a short distance away. One may have the immense pleasure of seeing a frisson of anger tremble across his expression, before the neutral expression settles there once more. Well, mostly. His eyes are narrowed in a way that suggests irritation.     "...I suppose I should say, you '''did''' have that option..." He raises a hand, and a fiery sigil forms to life. And then suddenly there are 'bullets' of flame being launched, at both Natasha and Reize. But these are not just fire. These have a physical component too. They're essentially small 'pellets' of air launched at about the same velocity as an actual bullet.     So, while Natasha may not have to worry about the burning effect, the force of a roughly marble-sized 'pellet' striking her body at ballistic speeds might hurt if it hits. Therefore she has some incentive to dodge too! Poor Reize will have to contend with both, though! Watch your scarf, Reize~. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      Reize did not expect things to go this way. He did not expect for the Great Beast to flippantly tell the guy to deal with them. He also did not expect Natasha to suddenly rush towards Razel to strike him. That blindside punch managed to irritate him.     Reize just stares in total shock. "...Ahh...." That is when a sigil manifests before the devil. The flaming bullets manifest out of that sigil and home in towards the young traveler, "Whoa!" He quickly reacts; a leg pushes forward, propelling him into the air. Those bullets manage to pierce along the scarf.     "Oooi!" He grimaces, the bullet marks tearing through the cloth, soon becoming caught ablaze. Quick to react, he spins around in his attempts to ward off the flames from burning his clothing, accompanying it with patting the scarf down. After spending 10 seconds snuffing the flames, he grits his teeth as he faces Razel. "Grrrr..."     Both boomerangs are drawn from the back, he brings them together in preparation for a strike. Then, he whisks his arms back, swinging the boomerangs outward as he runs towards Razel. Upon the distance closing, Reize springs off of the ground with a spin, using that momentum to whip out one of his legs to catch the devil with a roundhouse. This will be followed with two swipes from the boomerang as he swings them across like a pair of swords. 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' While Natasha's made of magic she can still be hurt by physical objects. She cringes as the air bullets leave red welts on her body. "Ouch!" Of course she's tougher than she might look, she was the runner-up in the WMAT after all. "You can leave too you know!" Her attention then turns towards Reize, "You might want to let me handle this, I can survive being knocked in the lava, I'm pretty sure you can't." She sounds a bit concerned for his safety. Plus she's the one who started the fight. He was pretty brave for just sticking around but this would be like her fighting over an ocean. Razel's not the only one who can attack with hot air as she turns her head and opens her mouth exhaling a huge fiery breath. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Really, Razel could not have picked two worse people to be pitted against. He's a long-range fighter, and all this melee nonsense is seriously cramping his style. Proven quite effectively with that roundhouse. He raises his arm to catch it, but it still throws him, and the wince is seen this close up. Thankfully though, he manages to pull his reversed scimitar in time for the blade to clash against the boomerangs.     He takes the opportunity while Natasha is speaking to get some distance again. Her mention of him leaving gets a tilted head. "Oh no. I couldn't do that," he says, completely levelly. "You heard the Great One, did you not? I have a task before me." He smiles, just a little. Though Natasha's words also give him an idea. And just as she exhales the gout of flames... he remains in place. He raises a hand as the flames come towards him... and then he grimaces, holding the flames at bay just in front of him. He is clearly struggling to hold onto the flames.     But then his idea comes into play... he gives a sudden jerk of his head and a wide motion with his hand out to the side. Notably... the side that Reize is on. And the flames that Natasha exhaled at him arc towards Reize! But clearly it's an effort. Still, though, he can't help but gloat. "That's right, little flame... he is human. You yourself are a danger to him. Can you afford that?" 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      Unfortunately, Reize did not get to make the impact that he wanted. The foot aiming to strike the devil across the face is met with the arm that catches the majority of the blow. That impact dampens, significantly decreasing the effectiveness of the forceful kick.     *CLANK! CLANK!*     As the clashing weapons meet, the sound of metal and crystal resonate through the air and Reize is forced to retract back after his follow-up strikes fail to actually make purchase. "Grrr.." What hurts even worse is the stranger telling him to let her handle the situation. While she does have a point of their differences, Reize's pride takes a blow, much to his irritation. "I am not backing out of this!"     ...However, when flaming breath expels out HIS way, Reize's eyes widen in panic. "Whoa!" Quick to react, the boy steps back, but he stumbles along the way, caught by the intense heat of the flames. He lands on the ground harshly, grimacing. Sweat runs across his face as the heat becomes more intense. "Ugh..." The atmosphere feels so suffocating as well.     Several coughs, Reize grimaces, "... We have to get out of here." The talk, at this point, is a lost cause. Truth be told, Reize is uncertain how long he can stand the heat. 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' Natasha gasps as Razel somehow controls her own fire even before it leaves her mouth. Does this mean he could control her? That certainly was a frightening prospect as there's noting she fears more than hurting innocent people. She looks over at Reize he was in danger as long as they were here. Even if Razel can't control her directly, there's not much she can do to fight that doesn't involve the use of fire. They needed to get some kind of help that could handle the heat and had other means of fighting. "I hate running, but I don't want to hurt you either." The girl starts to back away but there's still the possiblity that Razel might follow them. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     At least this time, Razel doesn't seem keen to gloat when Reize suggests leaving. He does however, note, "It may be in your best interests." He doesn't sound like he's gloating, no. He sounds like he's actually concerned. To Reize in particular, "Your kind do not take to fire well."     Natasha might actually find some consolation on her fear that Razel might control her, if she remembers how it happened. It appeared to take Razel a significant effort to control her flame breath. The application of an actual 'mind' behind a flame seems to make it more difficult for him to control it. So while he may be able to control her flames -- with effort enough to make it not worth doing more than once or twice -- like as not, he's probably not able to actually control HER, thanks to her being sapient.     No, Razel doesn't appear to be following them. He's been ordered to make them LEAVE, not to kill them. Besides, killing them wouldn't be in HIS best interests. Particularly the fiery one. Her anger is potent and burns high. Oh how he wants to be the one to consume that anger. But not now. He has time.     Here though, he asserts to Natasha's words, "Leave now and the both of you may scape with your lives. If you continue, I make no promises as to his continued survival." He glances at Reize, indicating him to Natasha. 

:'''{{#var:976|Reize Seatlan (976)}} has posed:'''      At this point, Reize is struggling to stay up. To be a human in the midst of a volcano like this, he isn't able to endure it for too long. In fact, is everything getting dark? Oh yes, it is. "Ugh..." His eyes start to flutter shut, though he quickly snaps it open.     The vision continues to darken as he looks up at Razel with a confused look, but that frown is still there. "Why are you... doing.."     'Your kind do not take----'     That is the last thing that Reize can hear before everything falls deaf on his ears. Everything is pretty dark.     ...Oh, that is why. Reize is flying flat on his face against the earth as the heat overtakes him. 

:'''{{#var:425|Natasha (425)}} has posed:''' Natasha frowns as Reize faints and the flames covering her hands vanish. She descends down to the ground before picking him up. Of course she isn't exactly cool either but she needs to get him out of here before he drops dead to heat stroke and she slowly rises back into the sky. The extra weight makes it difficult for her to fly but it was the safest way to get him out of here and once she gets high enough he'll be exposed to the cool air. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     And suddenly... thunk. Reize falls. Razel raises an eyebrow. Looking to Natasha, he says, "Take him and go." He almost sounds... concerned? Hard to tell, his tone is completely flat, his expression completely neutral.     However, as Natasha leaves, she might hear Razel's voice, sounding closer to her than he should be standing -- and sure enough, he's not anywhere near her, if she looks. What does his voice say? "Do not despair. Your presence here was not pointless."     But, once Natasha's well in retreat with Reize, Razel flies back up to where the !Guardian disappeared, as if waiting for his next order. There was still the matter of the trespassers, and the people of the village. Razel is eager to know what his new 'master' will do about these... 
}}

Karian Icefang

2016-07-29T03:22:51Z

OrbisFactor: Adding picture on Karian's request

{{CharacterNew
|NameOnMUSH=Karian Icefang
|Color=#0099FF
|Char_id=451
|Img=http://pre03.deviantart.net/7a78/th/pre/f/2015/266/4/2/mcm_wolf_lord_karian_by_serorii-d5t6bh6.png
|FullName=Karian Icefang
|Gender=Male
|Species=Space Marine
|Theme=Warhammer 40k
|Chartype=OC
|Active=Active
|Function=Wolf Priest/Wolf Lord
|Faction=Unaffiliated
|Rank=N/A
|Ranktype=Ally
|Groups=Gatecrashers Union
|Quote="For Leman Russ and the Allfather!"
|PAge=80
|AAge=120
|Aging=Yes
|Height=8"0
|Weight=500 pounds, 1 ton in armor
|Hair=Grey
|Eyes=Yellow
|Voice=Peter Renaday
|Song=The Sons of Odin - Manowar
|Profile=A Space Marine loyal to the Allfather and the Imperium of Man, Karian stands amongst his brothers as the first and last line of defence from chaos and alien forces. Born on Fenris, a savage planet known as a death world, he rose into prominance and joined the hallowed ranks of the space wolves. Quickly adapting to the augmentations and upgrades, he rose to a squad commander quickly. His deep bond to his brothers often leads him to make decisions to keep them safe, even at the risk of his own life. He also values his friendships with the few aliens that have earned his respect in the Multiverse, and is always willing to share a story or two with them. Of course, he still has a distrust of aliens, but that is slowly softening. At his side, his loyal thunderwolf Ygdril and Rune Priest Freyr guide him forward through trials, temptation to stray from his duty, and keep him on the path to a future safe for all man.
|Powers=Adeptas Astartes: The super-soldiers of the Imperium of Man. Given multiple organs and put through psycho indoctrination and 18 implants, these elite warriors are able to do battle on the roughest of terrain, the most inhospitable of worlds. Able to take grievous wounds and still stand tall, they are a sign of not only intense power, but one of intimidation and fear.
|Skills=Marine training: As a Space marine, Karian has been put through training that would break a regular person. A master of hand-to-hand combat, excels at using axes, claws, and swords. Though not a master, he is skilled in tactics, knowing how to utilize terrain in more then simple terms of cover and ambush. While no master, Karian is skilled with his bolter, able to his a target at roughly 250 meters. While trained to fight in a group, Karian can handle himself on his own.

Wolf Priest: The healer and spiritual leader of the Space Wolves, they are responsible for the well being of their assigned pack. Taken from their squads while still new, they are trained in the ancient arts of using salves and potions over medical technology. They also lean the many prayers that fill the chapels of the Imperium, as well as bring about righteous fury from his battle-brothers.
|Assets=Terminator armor: The most hallowed and greatest armor to ever be created for the Adeptas Astartes, the terminator armor stands as both a sign of ones deeds, and his skill. It grants the wearer increased armor defence, and an increase to strength and it also gives the wearer the blesing of even further enhanced optics. This armor also comes with both a heavy Storm Bolter and Power glove as standard Armaments. Karian's suit, however, was switched out and equipped with a pair of the powerful Lightning claws, granting him much more melee prowess.

Mark 7 power armor: The most common type of power armor seen in use by the Imperium. It is a completely enclosed suit of armor that protects the wearer from the outside environment, made of thick ceramite plates. Despite its size and weight, power armor is designed to enhance a Space Marine's strength and replicate the wearer's movement through electrically motivated fibre bundles. It commonly includes numerous auxiliary systems as well as advanced systems to monitor a Marine's biological status. The backpack contains the main power plant, environmental system and additional stabilizers.

The Wolf's Fang: A gleaming adamantium claymore, this greatsword is too big and heavy for any mere mortal to wield. Crafted in the traditional manner of steel folding multiple ingots in the manner of a katana before drawing them out and twist welding in the Damascus style, the brilliant solve of the blade is decorated in brilliant silver wavy swirl Damascus patterns. It is nigh unbreakable, it's edge preternaturally keen. It's cross guard is angled in an upwards v, the stylized designs of howling wolf heads at the tip of each prong, while the hilt is wrapped in a strong but purposely rough tanned wolf leather wrapping, with a steel wolf skull crafted as the heavy pommel. It is balanced perfectly for two hands, but a wielder with the appropriate level of superhuman strength may wield it one handed. Etched delicately upon the blade is text in high gothic reading, 'Go forth, Son of Russ! Your enemies shall feel the fangs of the Wolf!'
|NPCs=Space Wolves: The third of the nine loyal chapters, founded by the primarch Lemun Russ, the Space Wolves, despite their strong anti-authority behavior, are amongst one of the superstitious chapters. Celebrating the wolf, they also do not follow the codex astartes, having only 12 main companies. They are a feral chapter, their gene-seed giving then enhanced senses and fangs, much like the beast they share their name. These squads will never be reinforced, often leaving the higher ranked squads with low numbers. The great companies are also self-contained, making them each an independent army. They can utilize predator tanks, Bolters (both light and Heavy), Thunderhawks, and planetary strike cruisers like strike craft, cruisers, and the BattleBarge. Karian's command over his company is absolute, meaning when he gives an order, it can not be disobeyed or disregarded, save if an order is given by the Great Wolf, or Chapter Master. More recently, the space wolves have updated their aresenal with Helfrost technology. Replacing the standard flamer, this spews forth potent ice, capable of freezing non-elites solid. Karian earned the right to use Helfrost technology for saving the planet of Crispus, and even managing to destroy a splinter hive fleet.(PL 20-25)
|Disadvantages=Xenophobic: As a soldier for the Imperium, Karian was trained to believe that if it was not a human, it was evil. Add to that the fact that it was a xeno that took a part of his arm and nearly rendered him incapable of continuing the fight,and you would find a man with a little more hate for xenos then his brother marines. Though his time in the multiverse has softened his view on Xeno's, he still has some issues with them.

Medical Technophobe: Being a superstitious marine, Karian and his chapter distrust the more modern of medical items, save for extreme cases, like the one that lead to him having his (disliked) mechanical arm. He sooner would use his traditional skills in old medicine.

Pack mentality: Karian has been a veteran of many battles with his squad, having grown to think of them as his 'pack'. With that in mind, he will rarely put them into a situation he has not thoroughly planned out. His connection with them is so deep that he would feel physical pain if one of his pack should fall in battle.

Terminator speed: While this armor grants increased defence and strength, it is extremely heavy. Usually equipped with a Teleporter, KArian had it removed thanks to his chapters disdain of such technology. Karian's speed will be very sluggish.

* Scar of the World-Slayer: A mark laid on all of those who participated in the Union's campaign to kill the Confederate Emperor, Viridian Sunrise, in the year A.U. 20. Though successful, the campaign resulted in the destruction of his inner universe and the countless beings within it. The mark takes the form of a sun-shaped birthmark on the bodies of each of those who were present that day.
Though not necessarily readily visible, it cannot be removed even if the individual should be obliterated and regenerated from component materials. It imposes upon the bearer a complete knowledge of every entity who died in the Union's crusade, from enemy soldiers down to newborn babes. Those who bear this mark will remember them always, from their names, to their faces, to their lives up to their deaths. This does not provide an opportunity to learn the skills of the deceased, though it does give the bearer an insight into the world and universe of Annu.
}}
List of Allies and Friends: Mortimer Balman, Kirito and the entirety of the Gatecrashers Union, the Union (as an outside ally to the members), No.9.

Off-World Traditions (Dorian Pavus)

2016-06-19T22:25:36Z

OrbisFactor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2016/06/19
|Location=Unknown
|Synopsis=Bloody off-world Holidays. Always making him realize what he's missing...
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=774
|Tinyplot=
}}

         Silly, that's what it is. At least, that's what Dorian kept telling himself. Why did one need a special day to honor one's father? Wasn't it enough that the son or daughter make his or her father proud, and have that be their tribute? Or what about the father's birthday? Wasn't that enough of a tribute?         Well, there it was anyway, staring him in the face as he sat at the coffee shop -- the sign that read 'Treat Your Dad On Father's Day!' Dorian sat his coffee down and made a disgusted noise.         "...Ugh."         He didn't like feeling guilty. And that damn sign brought it to the fore. He hadn't even written his father since he'd left the Imperium, had he? Oh, he'd kept an eye on things through Felix. But he had never made an attempt to actually contact his father, not in all this time. He was fairly certain Magister Halward Pavus had better things to deal with than his wayward son. And Dorian didn't want to give his father any hope that he was ever going to come back, or any clues to come and find him.         ...But still, it wouldn't hurt to at least let the man know he was still alive, would it?         Dorian heaved a sigh, and then stood, finishing his coffee. "...''Kaffas''," he muttered, as he dropped the disposable cup in the trash can on his way out. <center>*                        *                        *</center>         About an hour later, Dorian was settled in a chair, in front of a desk. A sheaf of parchment paper and an inkwell were placed on the desk. It was a pretty sharp contrast to the rest of the room, those ancient writing implements in a modern-style room. But Dorian wanted to keep the risk of modern contamination in his world as low as possible.         Dorian wrote a few words, then immediately thought against it, balled the paper up, and pushed it aside. Once, twice, three times, even more. Countless attempts to say what he wanted to say. And plenty of cursing. Why was this so hard?         After what seemed like forever, he sighed, and put the quill back in the inkwell. Before him lay a fully written letter, signed. "...About bloody time..." he grumbled. He'd need to wait for the ink to dry. But in the meantime, he tuned his radio to a specific frequency, one he knew by heart.         "Felix? Are you there? I have a favor to ask of you..."

Off-World Traditions (Dorian Pavus)

2016-06-19T22:23:15Z

OrbisFactor: Bloody off-world Holidays. Always making him realize what he's missing...

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2016/06/19
|Location=Unknown
|Synopsis=Bloody off-world Holidays. Always making him realize what he's missing...
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=774
|Tinyplot=
}}

         Silly, that's what it is. At least, that's what Dorian kept telling himself. Why did one need a special day to honor one's father? Wasn't it enough that the son or daughter make his or her father proud, and have that be their tribute? Or what about the father's birthday? Wasn't that enough of a tribute?         Well, there it was anyway, staring him in the face as he sat at the coffee shop -- the sign that read 'Treat Your Dad On Father's Day!' Dorian sat his coffee down and made a disgusted noise.         "...Ugh."         He didn't like feeling guilty. And that damn sign brought it to the fore. He hadn't even written his father since he'd left the Imperium, had he? Oh, he'd kept an eye on things through Felix. But he had never made an attempt to actually contact his father, not in all this time. He was fairly certain Magister Halward Pavus had better things to deal with than his wayward son. And Dorian didn't want to give his father any hope that he was ever going to come back, or any clues to come and find him.         ...But still, it wouldn't hurt to at least let the man know he was still alive, would it?         Dorian heaved a sigh, and then stood, finishing his coffee. "...Kaffas," he muttered, as he dropped the disposable cup in the trash can on his way out. <center>*                        *                        *</center>         About an hour later, Dorian was settled in a chair, in front of a desk. A sheaf of parchment paper and an inkwell were placed on the desk. It was a pretty sharp contrast to the rest of the room, those ancient writing implements in a modern-style room. But Dorian wanted to keep the risk of modern contamination in his world as low as possible.         Dorian wrote a few words, then immediately thought against it, balled the paper up, and pushed it aside. Once, twice, three times, even more. Countless attempts to say what he wanted to say. And plenty of cursing. Why was this so hard?         After what seemed like forever, he sighed, and put the quill back in the inkwell. Before him lay a fully written letter, signed. "...About bloody time..." he grumbled. He'd need to wait for the ink to dry. But in the meantime, he tuned his radio to a specific frequency, one he knew by heart.         "Felix? Are you there? I have a favor to ask of you..."

'Tis the Season (Dorian Pavus)

2015-12-25T09:53:07Z

OrbisFactor:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=1960/12/24
|Location=Unknown
|Synopsis=All this Christmas nonsense has Dorian feeling sentimental enough to do something stupid.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=774
|Tinyplot=
}}
 
        All the Earthly Elites are going on about this "Christmas" drivel. And it's spread to the non-Earthly ones, too. They're going on about love, and happiness, and family. At some point Dorian realizes... he has no real family anymore, does he? Did he ever? Not really. He had a man who fathered him and a woman who birthed him. That's not the same as an actual father and mother.

        Still. Maybe they did love him, in their own way. And maybe he should let them know he '''hasn't''' fallen off the face of Thedas, or been captured by Qunari pirates and made into someone's lip-sewn magical slave. Maybe there's something to all this talk of family and togetherness.

        ''Or perhaps I'm going insane, one of the two.''

        Nonetheless, Dorian locates a piece of paper and a pen. The invention of those pens that don't need to be dipped or filled is miraculous to him, '''such''' a convenience! So it's one of these that he uses to write on the parchment. Yes, he prefers parchment paper still. He hasn't quite gotten used to the feel of modern paper. But, after a moment of thought, he puts pen to paper and begins to write. Oh he's so glad these pallpoint pens don't '''leak'''!

        Anyway.

        By the time he's about a quarter of the way through the missive, he's beginning to think that maybe he should have invested in one of those charcoal pencils that makes the marks that can be erased by the little pink thing on the end. But oh well.

        It takes far too many hours, and more pieces of paper than he'd like to admit, to get his thoughts to paper. But once it's done, he finally has a letter written. He sits back to admire his handiwork...
 
----
 
''To My Father and Mother,'' 

''I realize I've not sent much of any correspondence to you since I left. Perhaps I've been in error in this. But due to the circumstances of my leaving, I thought it was the best choice, that it would be less painful this way. However, I have heard of the observance of a holiday out beyond that strange rift that has made me reconsider. I mean the big, stable rift in the round archway, not those horrible demon-spitting rifts that spawn all over Ferelden, or the Breach.'' 

''The holiday in question is, as far as I can gather, the celebration of the mortal son of a deity worshipped by a particular religion. Imagine if Andraste bore the Maker a child before she died, and Thedas were to celebrate this child's birth. It's a similar concept. Gifts are normally exchanged; perhaps this represents the generosity of the three "Wise Men" who presented gifts to this god-child.'' 

''This holiday directs that it should be spent with one's family. Or, if one can't be with his family, that he should at least think of them. Accordingly, I've thought of you. I hope you are both well, and that the sudden insanity of Thedas-- both natural and supernatural-- has not affected you too badly.'' 

''I won't lie. I hesitate here. When I began this letter, I thought I would have a thousand things to say, but I truly don't know what further to write. I won't apologize for leaving, nor will I promise to return. You both doubtless know my reasons for leaving by now, so I won't repeat them. I know you don't agree, those reasons are important to me.'' 

''Father, you always taught me that principle is important. That is why I do not return-- principle. It seems a poor excuse to be rebellious, I know. But if I don't fight for my beliefs, who will? If I don't stand by those beliefs, what kind of man am I?" 

''I close now with best wishes for you both, and-- as they say beyond the warpgate, "Merry Christmas". Please take care of yourselves.'' 

''Your Son,'' 
''Dorian'' 

----
 
        Dorian eyes the letter critically. At least he didn't get mushy or insulting. It's a very short letter comparatively, and that makes him curls a lip in a sneer at his own terseness. But it was true... what else could he say? With a sigh, he folds the letter up and places it in an envelope. It too is archaic, and old envelope that must be closed with a blot of red wax and a stamp with the seal of House Pavus. Hopefully there's a courier service that can get the letter to his parents and not cause any chaos in Thedas. The place has enough to deal with.

'Tis the Season (Dorian Pavus)

2015-12-25T09:52:15Z

OrbisFactor: All this Christmas nonsense has Dorian feeling sentimental enough to do something stupid.

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=1960/12/24
|Location=Unknown
|Synopsis=All this Christmas nonsense has Dorian feeling sentimental enough to do something stupid.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=774
|Tinyplot=no
}}
 
        All the Earthly Elites are going on about this "Christmas" drivel. And it's spread to the non-Earthly ones, too. They're going on about love, and happiness, and family. At some point Dorian realizes... he has no real family anymore, does he? Did he ever? Not really. He had a man who fathered him and a woman who birthed him. That's not the same as an actual father and mother.

        Still. Maybe they did love him, in their own way. And maybe he should let them know he '''hasn't''' fallen off the face of Thedas, or been captured by Qunari pirates and made into someone's lip-sewn magical slave. Maybe there's something to all this talk of family and togetherness.

        ''Or perhaps I'm going insane, one of the two.''

        Nonetheless, Dorian locates a piece of paper and a pen. The invention of those pens that don't need to be dipped or filled is miraculous to him, '''such''' a convenience! So it's one of these that he uses to write on the parchment. Yes, he prefers parchment paper still. He hasn't quite gotten used to the feel of modern paper. But, after a moment of thought, he puts pen to paper and begins to write. Oh he's so glad these pallpoint pens don't '''leak'''!

        Anyway.

        By the time he's about a quarter of the way through the missive, he's beginning to think that maybe he should have invested in one of those charcoal pencils that makes the marks that can be erased by the little pink thing on the end. But oh well.

        It takes far too many hours, and more pieces of paper than he'd like to admit, to get his thoughts to paper. But once it's done, he finally has a letter written. He sits back to admire his handiwork...
 
----
 
''To My Father and Mother,'' 

''I realize I've not sent much of any correspondence to you since I left. Perhaps I've been in error in this. But due to the circumstances of my leaving, I thought it was the best choice, that it would be less painful this way. However, I have heard of the observance of a holiday out beyond that strange rift that has made me reconsider. I mean the big, stable rift in the round archway, not those horrible demon-spitting rifts that spawn all over Ferelden, or the Breach.'' 

''The holiday in question is, as far as I can gather, the celebration of the mortal son of a deity worshipped by a particular religion. Imagine if Andraste bore the Maker a child before she died, and Thedas were to celebrate this child's birth. It's a similar concept. Gifts are normally exchanged; perhaps this represents the generosity of the three "Wise Men" who presented gifts to this god-child.'' 

''This holiday directs that it should be spent with one's family. Or, if one can't be with his family, that he should at least think of them. Accordingly, I've thought of you. I hope you are both well, and that the sudden insanity of Thedas-- both natural and supernatural-- has not affected you too badly.'' 

''I won't lie. I hesitate here. When I began this letter, I thought I would have a thousand things to say, but I truly don't know what further to write. I won't apologize for leaving, nor will I promise to return. You both doubtless know my reasons for leaving by now, so I won't repeat them. I know you don't agree, those reasons are important to me.'' 

''Father, you always taught me that principle is important. That is why I do not return-- principle. It seems a poor excuse to be rebellious, I know. But if I don't fight for my beliefs, who will? If I don't stand by those beliefs, what kind of man am I?" 

''I close now with best wishes for you both, and-- as they say beyond the warpgate, "Merry Christmas". Please take care of yourselves.'' 

''Your Son,'' 
''Dorian'' 

----
 
        Dorian eyes the letter critically. At least he didn't get mushy or insulting. It's a very short letter comparatively, and that makes him curls a lip in a sneer at his own terseness. But it was true... what else could he say? With a sigh, he folds the letter up and places it in an envelope. It too is archaic, and old envelope that must be closed with a blot of red wax and a stamp with the seal of House Pavus. Hopefully there's a courier service that can get the letter to his parents and not cause any chaos in Thedas. The place has enough to deal with.

2253/Chatting Mages, Embarrassing Visions, and Illegal Goat Sacrifices

2015-05-24T16:34:52Z

OrbisFactor: Inga meets Dorian Pavus in the park in Chicago. Hijinks ensue!

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2015/05/15
|Location=Chicago-667
|Synopsis=Inga meets Dorian Pavus in the park in Chicago. The two recognize each other as mages from other worlds, have a lovely chat, an inconveniently intimate vision, then get arrested for illegal goat sacrifice in the park.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=525, 774
|Tinyplot=
|Tinyplot2=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Chicago, near sunset in late spring. The park is abloom as the sun grips the land and draws the plants back to life. Everywhere you look there's new grass growing, daffodils and tulips and dandelions. The trees have their young leaves and pollen covers the walkways and parch benches in a thin layer of golden dust. The air is pleasantly warm, people strolling about the park talking or jogging with earbuds and ipods. But not Inga. Inga is standing by one of the larger trees i the park, holding what appears to be a hallowed out cow's horn in one hand and a rope in the other. The rope is attached to a goat, happily chewing grass, oblivious and content. The woman holding the horn is on the short side, standing no more than 5 feet and dressed oddly, wearing a hangerok style dress staight out of the viking age. It's quite stylish...for a thousand years ago. Her long white hair is braided and hangs over one shoulder. Inga raises the horn, mumbles something, then takes a sip of it's contents before replacing the leather cap and turning her attention to the goat. She purses her lips, then looks around... 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Research! That was paramount here. Because not all of these worlds were the same. Or the same technology level. As he finds out when he enters this particular world. 'Modern', it's called. Well, Dorian would definitely disagree on that point. 'Futuristic' would be more like it as far as he's concerned. Buildings taller than the tallest trees! Pathways of stone so smooth they looked as though they'd been poured rather than laid down! Black streets along which some sort of vehicles zipped down faster than the fastest horse he'd ever seen!     It's definitely ... something. He's not sure what, but it's something.     Just one problem with it all. So much innovation all around him ... and there's so little actual /life/ here. Not too many trees, only small patches of grass before and behind houses, and only domestic animals on leashes. Not even any livestock!     Oh but there's a patch of grass. A large patch of greenery, grass and trees, and walkways around and through it. And not only that, but someone with a goat! A herder maybe? He doesn't recognize the style of dress. Nonetheless, when she looks around, she's liable to see someone that looks somewhat ... out of place as well ...     In specific, a man in light leather armor, with a white cloak over it, carrying a staff with multiple serpent heads at the top. Bronzed skin, gray eyes, well-groomed black hair with an undercut on the sides, and an immaculately cared-for moustache. "Greetings!" he replies, if Inga happens to look in his direction. He also bows politely to her. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' No, Dorian is most certainly not what she was expecting to see. She blinks several times before she makes any reply, shaking her head slightly as if to clear it. No, there is most certainly a man standing there in an outfit as strange as her own, greeting her (which people also don't do much of in the city). It does not take her long to figure out that he is not from around here, and likely a new arrival. Inga, now, she's been in Chicago for a bit. She just choosed to dress like a weirdo sometimes because she does not care and things modern fashion is just...bleh. Except cashmere. Cashemere is lovely. Inga regathers her wits and raises a hand in greeting. "Hail! Are you lost perhaps?" she asks, motioning him over. If she lets go of the goat it will likely wander off. Said goat turns its eyes to Dorian and bleets a little before going back to nibbling on grass. Inga takes in his appearance more, eyes focusing upon his staff. Eyebrows rise, curiosity piqued further. Nearby, leaning against the trunk of the tree, is also a staff. Carved oak, runes carved all along its length that would likely be unfamiliar to the other mage. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian doesn't pay the goat much mind. "Lost? Perhaps a bit," he allows. He's not about to admit the truth ... he has NO CLUE where this is! "Do forgive me for saying so, but I couldn't help but notice you seem ... slightly out of place too?" After all there aren't a lot of people running around dressed like they are. Dorian had seen one but he was disappointed to note the man had just been pretending.     And sure enough, Dorian blinks a little in surprise when he sees the staff leaning against the tree. though it's also true that the runes are unfamiliar to him. However, the staff is a sign that, at least in Thedas, is a rather telling one. Mages generally don't have a good reputation, so if you don't /need/ a staff, most don't carry one. "Oh! Are you a mage as well?" Yes, he's admitting it. Because screw that whole 'apostate' thing anyway. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga can't help but smile at his pointing out her strange manner of dress. Inga /does/ own modern clothing, though she managed to make even clothes bought at Macy's look old fashioned. Today she's had something particular in mind though, and so wanted to be in the clothing she was most comfortable in. Clothes that reminded her of home-both place /and/ time. "Aye that is an acute observation," she teases, bowing slightly to him. She follows her gaze to her own staff, then back to meet his eye. "Is it such a giveaway?" she asks, smiling still. She reaches over to pick up her staff, leading the goat over where she can tie it to a lamp post for the time being. It is clear from her obvious limp that the staff is practical in more ways than one. Once the goat is dealt with, she looks back to Dorian. "Introductions I think are necessary. I am Inga Freyasdottir, wisewoman of Uppsala," she offers, obviously curious where this man is from and how he managed to get to Chicago. If he's a new arrival to the multiverse, he likely feels very out of place. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Ah-ha, he'd thought as much. Though her tease draws a chuckle. "I /am/ quite observant," he teases right back. The mention of the staff gets a moment of thought, and he sobers a bit. "Well... Mages are not well thought-of where I'm from, you see. Few want to be mistaken for mages when they only needed a bit of steadiness on a long trip." He is, however, polite enough not to mention her limp.     Introductions! That's right, he totally forgot about that. As she offers her introduction, he places a hand at his chest, "Dorian of House Pavus, Altus mage of Tevinter. How do you do?" He pauses, to bow his head once more, politely. Then he notes, with a trace of humor in his tone, "I expect the name 'Tevinter' is as unfamiliar to you as 'Uppsala' is to me." Then, more seriously, "Well met, nonetheless." 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga tilts her head slightly. "Really? Intersting. I imagine it is a rather long story?" she asks. "Yes, though, I am a mage. You would not know the words I would use, but since then, I have been called a witch and a Seer," she informs. While she doesn't understand all the information he gave with his name, she can assume that he not low-born. "A pleasure, Dorian of House Pavus," she answers, extending a hand. It is what is done around here and she has gotten into the habit-however unwise it often is for her. "Are you new to the multiverse? I have indeed never heard of Tevinter...most people have not heard of my home either, even though it exists in this very world. I am from a world...similar to this one--except completely different," she sighs. That would make no sense to him, would it. Inga clears her throat. "This is essentially the future to me. A long story," she says, waving a hand dismissively. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Long story? "Less long and more ... unpleasant. Not a story for a first meeting," Dorian replies, with a wry smirk. There's bitterness there in that smile, but it's not aimed at her. It's aimed at the /reason/ it's an unpleasant story. Though as she says 'witch', he blinks. Before he goes and starts calling her a 'Witch of the Woods', though, he does point out, "I've heard the word 'witch' before. Though it's likely not the same kind." That's another tale he leaves for another time.     He nods to the question of being new. "Somewhat, yes. I believe Thedas has been part of this Multiverse for some time, but I'd not yet found time to visit outside it until recently." He does seem a little confused at her mention of the same world but different. Though he does seem to understand the concept of the future. "Ah, I see. Perhaps. Your world would become like this one, given enough time?"     Inga, though, might find that the nearness to Dorian may just bring up a few images ...     - A man with severe-looking eyes, an angry look on his face. Before him, Dorian -- but the moustache is smaller. Younger? His face is also angry, but more disturbed. The severe-looking man's upper lip curls in distaste. "Get out," he growls. "You are no son of mine." -     - Dorian, as he is now, facing the severe man in what looks like an abandoned tavern. There is someone in the background, but they are impossible to see. Only that it is humanoid. The severe man looks disturbed, and Dorian looks angry. It's as if their positions had reversed. "I'm never what you wanted, father, or had you forgotten?!" - 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga, while curious, does not pry. Indeed, it isn't ideal to go into complicated stories that are likely quite personal on first meeting. Goodness knows she has her own long, complicated, and unpleasant stories herself. "Thedas...hmm, I have no heard of it. I haven't really been to many places though, really. I'm fairly new myself. It has...been less than a year," she says, blinking, as if this revelation surprised her. Inga shakes her head to her thoughts. "Yes, it has become like this, more or less, though...I have seen little of it," she sighs. Her world is a complete and utter mess that they're all still dealing with. Also not really something to get into at the moment. But all her best efforts not to pry are for naught, as she can't help but look at an image that flickered around him for a moment... Then she's gone, whirling, yanked by the threat of wyrd and pulled with it into a vision. Dorian will see Inga suddenly go still, her body grown rigid. Her eyes roll back alarmingly, her lips parting to begin to comment on what she sees, a habit she can't seem to control when the vision takes her so violently. "The burning gaze of the father, scorn and disgust written plain. 'You are no son of mine,' he snarls, his words cut deeper than any blade....But shame festers, regret finding purchase in long absense. The son has grown, he is a man of courage. Oh, regret..." she trails off, a shudder thundering over her body as she sags forward like a marionette who's strings have been cut. Inga groans quietly as she attempts to recover. Not again! 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian had been about to comment when suddenly Inga ... well, he's actually not sure what's happening to her. She looks like she's going into a fit of some kind. A seizure? She hasn't been infected by the Blight or something, has she? Probably not, out this far. But there may be ailments that are similar.     And then suddenly, words. Spoken in a trance, in a daze. Some sort of hedge-mage perhaps? But the words are dead-on, and Dorian's brows draw together sharply at the words she speaks. Particularly when she speaks the same words 'he' spoke that day ...     He wants to step back, since it seemed to be when he got near that it happened. But then she is looking as though she's about to collapse, and he makes to offer assistance if she seems to need it. "Are you all right?" He pauses, and then looks away, once he's sure she's not going to fall over. " ... I apologize. You shouldn't have had to see that." Maker knows what else she'd find out if he's not careful. There are a few particular secrets he doesn't want others to find out casually ... 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga does fall over, but once on her knees she seems to begin pulling herself together again. The hands that reach to smooth her dress are visibly trembling. "I...will be," she answers, taking a few deep breaths. It wasn't, by far, the worst vision she'd ever seen but it was jarring. It is always jarring. And very personal. Inga's cheeks redden with embarrassment, especially when he apologized. She looks up, shaking her head. "No, I apologize. That's...it can often happen when I am close to someone--not all people, but some...trigger visions more than others," she explains with another small shudder. She seems to be recovering, but she's mortified. "I cannot help it when the Sight takes me like that...and I was trained to speak my visions," she sighs. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian looks embarrassed too! But he's not upset at her. From the looks of it, it seems Inga couldn't help what happened. It's not a though she was purposely rooting around in his most personal memories, looking for the most painful to drag out and examine. Who'd do something like that anyway? Inga seems to polite to do such a thing.     It's Dorian's nature to joke, particularly to divert attention away from his own issues. So when Inga mentions that 'some people' trigger visions more often? He laughs. "You definitely have a good sense of taste then, if even your ... 'Sight', did you call it?" A wait for confirmation and then, "It seems even your Sight can't deny my charm~!"     He really is just teasing to get her mind to more pleasant subjects. Namely himself~! But he does take a step back, just in case. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga nods. "Mmm. The Sight. I can see the wyrd--the tapestry of fate. Sometimes I am pulled forward, sometimes back. Visions of the future are usually nebulous, able to be changed, some paths more likely than others..." she trails off, shaking her head. "It is complicated," she says. Inga pulls herself back to her feet with a bit of difficulty, using her staff to help. His jest gets a laugh, breaking a bit of the tension. "In the multiverse...people refer to many people as...elites. The people who travel throughout the multiverse and have...powers. People such as this tend to bring on my visions more strongly," she explains. She noticed his distance, smiling softly. "I hope it will not happen again. It should not, not for a bit anyway," she says, glancing away for a moment. "Still, there may well be a reason I have seen what I saw, and perhaps that reason will someday be made clear. In the meantime, perhaps I can make it up to you. I can show you the best tavern in these parts," she says, smile returnig. Yes, ale would help, right? "First though, I have to deal with the goat," she says, and moves to untie the goat and bring it back toward the tree. Then she pulls a knife from her belt. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian seems a ltitle surprised. "You saw the future?" Regarding his father? "What did you see?" He knew she'd seen then his father sent him away. But not really anything else. Her words of the present are true, but he's not sure what exactly she saw.     'Elites'. He's heard that word before. "They referred to me as an 'elite' when I registered with the Syndicate." So there's his affiliation there, if she was interested.     As for the visions not happening again? Dorian gives a slightly nervous smile. "I hope not," he admits. "I'm sure it's true of others as well, but I have ... secrets that I don't want getting out casually." And then he blinks as he notices Inga going towards the goat with a knife drawn. He's seen animals buchered before, but well ... "Er ... not that I'm particularly squeamish, but is /here/ really the place for this?" 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga nods slightly. "Yes, but it is only a possibile future. One that is perhaps liklier than other paths...but still only possible," she replies, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow. "Ah, syndicate hmm? I was there before I was recruited by the Union. Though the two are not exclusive," she explains. There's her affiliations! A soft sigh. "Of course. I understand. I will...try. All that I have seen, and all that I could see...I will not tell. I am a Seer and I have my honor," she adds. She then looks between the knife and the goat. "This is the only place near here with any trees...I must make sacrifice to the land so that we have a good harvest," she explains. "Do not worry, it will be quick," she assures, then turns toward Mr. Doomed Goat. Inga looks upward, holding her arms out to her side in a position of prayer. "In honor of Freyr and Freya and the spirits of this land I make this sacrifice, a gift for a gift!" she says, then turns and quite efficiently slits the goat's throat. Naturally, she does this just as a police officer is walking by. Someone must have tipped him off to a crazy lady with a goat in the park. "Hey! Put the knife down! You can't do that here!" he says, moving toward them. Inga blinks, putting her knife away, blood pouring from the goat's body into the ground. "Both of you, put your hands up!" ....And that is how Inga got Dorian arrested. 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian actually understands the whole sacrifice thing. And his definition of 'blood magic' is actually quite different than the usual one in Thedas. To him, as long as everyone involved is a willing participant in the sacrifice, there's no harm done. Or in this case, if it's an animal. Hopefully the animal wouldn't go to waste. Still. "There's not a less public place? A mountain, a--"     He is suddenly interrupted by someone shouting! A constable, from the looks of it! Or someone with a shiny badge anyway. And that object that's being pointed at them doesn't look particularly friendly. Dorian may not realize that what exactly the thing is, but if the constable views it as suitable versus a mage and a woman with a knife, it's likely a weapon.     With not other real hoice, Dorian raises his hands at head-level, palms forward, to show they are empty. "I had nothing to do with this, sir. I'm merely a visitor." Yes, he is totally throwing Inga under the bus. Though maybe not completely. "She is merely showing respect to her gods. Didn't I hear something about 'freedom of religion' in this world?" His voice is kept even and polite, but he's really not looking forward to ending up in a cell. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' The officer insists on bringing them both in for questioning, making one of the weirdest calls in his life as he asks to have a goat corpse picked up. Inga rants all the while about how she was going to eat it and it had better be properly taken care of because it was not cheap! Inga looks to Dorian, wincing. "Don't worry, I'll get this sorted out," she assures him sheepishly. She's completely mortified. It'll just help his bad boy image, right? 

:'''{{#var:774|Dorian Pavus (774)}} has posed:'''     Dorian, for his part, tries to explain that he was just passing through and had never set foot in this city, or even in this world. Hopefully this is not one of the worlds that don't believe in the Multiverse, or don't know about it. Because if not, they're about to learn in a very quick, unfortunate way!     But the constable still wants an official statement, and insists Dorian go to 'the station' to deliver it. Now, Dorian knows the tone -- that's not a request, that's an order. He sighs, cursing under his breath, "Kaffas. All right then, let's get this over with." Inga gets a look. Though Dorian smiles at her statement. "That would be appreciated," he answers as they're led to the car. "It isn't as though I'm not accustomed to being a rebel. But not being in prison is definitely preferrable." 

}}

Silly (Jonothon Starsmore)

2014-12-16T21:07:23Z

OrbisFactor: Fixing a stray apostrophe

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/12/16
|Location=Xavier Institute
|Synopsis=Jono reflects on the silliness of trying to give a gift to basically the god of gifting people. But does it anyway.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=27
|Tinyplot=
}}
        It's SILLY is what it is.

        At least that's what Jonothon Starsmore would have said had anyone asked him to write a letter to Santa Claus in his own world. Before his world unified 'Santa Claus', 'Father Christmas', 'Jolly Old Saint Nick'-- and anything else he was called-- was just an idea. A representation of the ever-so-elusive generosity of other people that only seemed to manifest itself near Christmas. Sometimes not even then.

        An idea that needed a 'face' to make it popular-- the various personifications of a Christmas spirit who gave presents without asking for money. That's all 'Santa Claus' was in Jono's world before unification. Even with all the weird and sometimes miraculous-- and sometimes horrible-- powers of mutants no one had ever popped up with a powerset to make that particular thing possible.

        But now he's heard that there IS a Santa Claus in the Multiverse. That he's known for an annual match that the money goes to charities afterwards. And that there's usually a good chance of him winning. Which actually doesn't surprise Jono. Strongmen and sumo wrestlers had similar builds as what Santa's has been described as right?

        It was stupidly late at the mansion, that was the only time Jono could really get any peace. Between Jubilee's overly effusive insistence that he get some sun during the day and Angelo's penchant to hang around him it was hard to get a moment of genuine solitude. Which was kind of ironic now that he thought about it. He was rarely ever by himself yet he was almost always alone.

        Jono looked at the things on the desk in front of him. A package of Whittard of Chelsea mint hot chocolate. A jar of tiny marshmallows. A notepad on which he intended to write a letter. A pen. He'd have typed the letter but he didn't want to wake up Gabrielle with the clicking. He glanced at the Shinki 'asleep' on her charging cradle and a smile pulled at the corners of his eyes. He picked up the pen and started to write.

'''Dear Father Christmas,'''

        A pause. Then he continues.

'''Do you prefer "Santa Claus"? "Saint Nicolas"? I'm not really sure what to call you. Well, anyway.'''

'''I don't really want anything.'''

        Again Jono pauses. That's a lie. He wants a lot of things. Just... none of them can be given to him by a Christmas miracle. And that's not what this letter is about. He doesn't cross out the words, though. He just adds to them.

'''Well. Yeah, I do want things. Lots of things. But I'm not going to ask, because they'd all be selfish things. And that's not why I'm writing this letter to you.'''

'''It just struck me that a lot of people are going to be writing letters to you, requesting this, or that, or some other thing. You're probably going to be doing a lot of running around for other people. When you were just an idea I didn't even think about it. But now that I keep hearing that you aren't that in this Multiverse, well, it's something to think about.'''

'''What I wanted to do is to thank you, just for being you. For doing what you do. For being selfless, and never asking for anything back. Aside from for us all not to be awful people.'''

'''You probably already saw them, but I put a package of mint cocoa and some of those little marshmallows in with this letter. I used to like this brand back when I could still drink the stuff. There was a store I'd nip down to on my bike during the winter that sold it. I figure after you're done for the year, you could sit down by the fire and relax. Maybe share it with Mrs. Claus, if there is one.'''

        Here again Jono pauses. How did you close a letter like this? How did you give a gift to basically the god of gifts? He tapped the pen in thought against the wrappings where his mouth would have been if he'd had one.

'''I know a tin of cocoa and a jar of marshmallows isn't going to equal what you do. But I hope you can get some enjoyment out of it nonetheless. Thanks again for doing what you do.'''

'''Jonothon Starsmore'''

        His penmanship is surprisingly good. Jono closes the pen and picks up the letter to look it over. It still feels odd to have written even if Santa was real in the Multiverse. And part of him does feel a little silly. But hey. He'd gone this far-- bought the stuff and everything. No sense turning back now. Gathering up the stuff Jono exits his basement room. Hopefully he can pack this stuff without nosy people asking him what he's doing and then laughing about it.

Because it was kinda silly, when he thinks about it. Gifts to Santa Claus? The thought of it is silly on so many levels. But hey. It's the least Jono can do.

Silly (Jonothon Starsmore)

2014-12-16T20:58:38Z

OrbisFactor: Jono reflects on the silliness of trying to give a gift to basically the god of gifting people. But does it anyway.

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/12/16
|Location=Xavier Institute
|Synopsis=Jono reflects on the silliness of trying to give a gift to basically the god of gifting people. But does it anyway.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=27
|Tinyplot=
}}
        It's SILLY is what it is.

        At least that's what Jonothon Starsmore would have said had anyone asked him to write a letter to Santa Claus in his own world. Before his world unified 'Santa Claus', 'Father Christmas', 'Jolly Old Saint Nick'-- and anything else he was called-- was just an idea. A representation of the ever-so-elusive generosity of other people that only seemed to manifest itself near Christmas. Sometimes not even then.

        An idea that needed a 'face' to make it popular-- the various personifications of a Christmas spirit who gave presents without asking for money. That's all 'Santa Claus' was in Jono's world before unification. Even with all the weird and sometimes miraculous-- and sometimes horrible-- powers of mutants no one had ever popped up with a powerset to make that particular thing possible.

        But now he's heard that there IS a Santa Claus in the Multiverse. That he's known for an annual match that the money goes to charities afterwards. And that there's usually a good chance of him winning. Which actually doesn't surprise Jono. Strongmen and sumo wrestlers had similar builds as what Santa's has been described as right?

        It was stupidly late at the mansion, that was the only time Jono could really get any peace. Between Jubilee's overly effusive insistence that he get some sun during the day and Angelo's penchant to hang around him it was hard to get a moment of genuine solitude. Which was kind of ironic now that he thought about it. He was rarely ever by himself yet he was almost always alone.

        Jono looked at the things on the desk in front of him. A package of Whittard of Chelsea mint hot chocolate. A jar of tiny marshmallows. A notepad on which he intended to write a letter. A pen. He'd have typed the letter but he didn't want to wake up Gabrielle with the clicking. He glanced at the Shinki 'asleep' on her charging cradle and a smile pulled at the corners of his eyes. He picked up the pen and started to write.

'''Dear Father Christmas,''''

        A pause. Then he continues.

'''Do you prefer "Santa Claus"? "Saint Nicolas"? I'm not really sure what to call you. Well, anyway.'''

'''I don't really want anything.'''

        Again Jono pauses. That's a lie. He wants a lot of things. Just... none of them can be given to him by a Christmas miracle. And that's not what this letter is about. He doesn't cross out the words, though. He just adds to them.

'''Well. Yeah, I do want things. Lots of things. But I'm not going to ask, because they'd all be selfish things. And that's not why I'm writing this letter to you.'''

'''It just struck me that a lot of people are going to be writing letters to you, requesting this, or that, or some other thing. You're probably going to be doing a lot of running around for other people. When you were just an idea I didn't even think about it. But now that I keep hearing that you aren't that in this Multiverse, well, it's something to think about.'''

'''What I wanted to do is to thank you, just for being you. For doing what you do. For being selfless, and never asking for anything back. Aside from for us all not to be awful people.'''

'''You probably already saw them, but I put a package of mint cocoa and some of those little marshmallows in with this letter. I used to like this brand back when I could still drink the stuff. There was a store I'd nip down to on my bike during the winter that sold it. I figure after you're done for the year, you could sit down by the fire and relax. Maybe share it with Mrs. Claus, if there is one.'''

        Here again Jono pauses. How did you close a letter like this? How did you give a gift to basically the god of gifts? He tapped the pen in thought against the wrappings where his mouth would have been if he'd had one.

'''I know a tin of cocoa and a jar of marshmallows isn't going to equal what you do. But I hope you can get some enjoyment out of it nonetheless. Thanks again for doing what you do.'''

'''Jonothon Starsmore'''

        His penmanship is surprisingly good. Jono closes the pen and picks up the letter to look it over. It still feels odd to have written even if Santa was real in the Multiverse. And part of him does feel a little silly. But hey. He'd gone this far-- bought the stuff and everything. No sense turning back now. Gathering up the stuff Jono exits his basement room. Hopefully he can pack this stuff without nosy people asking him what he's doing and then laughing about it.

Because it was kinda silly, when he thinks about it. Gifts to Santa Claus? The thought of it is silly on so many levels. But hey. It's the least Jono can do.

986/To Catch a Fairy

2014-11-19T03:32:56Z

OrbisFactor: Ineryon seems interested in Kirito's abilities, and hires his Ivalician contact Gaffgarion to find out what he can.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/11/17
|Location=New York-1
|Synopsis=Ineryon seems interested in Kirito's abilities, and hires his Ivalician contact Gaffgarion to find out what he can.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=493, 615
|Tinyplot=
|Tinyplot2=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     A guy walking around in a full suit of plate armor is likely to look weird walking around in New York, even in the Multiverse. So instead, Gaffgarion's wearing a much less conspicuous outfit. In this case a fine modern suit. The slacks and blazer are a grayish brown color, the shirt is white, and his tie is a silvery gray. It's not one of those tacky 'power ties', either.     Beside him, Ladd is looking quite nice himself. Much like his master, if he had worn his chainmail coif and tunic, it would have looked a little weird. So he's wearing a light blue shirt with a gray vest and matching slacks. He's got a coat over it, though, since it's chilly. Both of them are wearing black dress shoes.     The pair of them are sitting inside a coffee shop, due to aforementioned chilliness. Gaffgarion has a cup of coffee in front of him, as does Ladd. However, Ladd also has a rather archaic-looking ledger book open in front of him, and is making notes in it with a feather quill. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      In New York, at some times of year, a guy perusing the streets of New York was odd, but that would probably be if the individual were in Buffalo, or Long Island.... yet, in New York City, things were even weirder than in Los Angeles, so if it wasn't blazing-hot, there might be somebody dressed as Darth Vader; heck, there was even a news article about a guy who deliberately tried to toughen himself up by jogging in Death Valley in a Darth Vader outfit! On the other hand, it would still look 'out of the ordinary', since at least seventy percent of folks wanted to blend in, while the minority screamed for attention.      Gafgarion, not being an insecure, attention-starved, walking ego who needed validation from the whole world, was intelligently garbed in something more appropriate for a person who didn't go out of his way to get people to notice him.... if not the opposite! Ineryon had a bit of a problem, on the other hand. He had blue skin, plus he was seven feet high. Not only did he resemble an overgrown Paul Karason, alas, atop of all that, he had a tail, a horn, pointed ears-- and Ineryon Valos was still experiencing problems creating illusions, so he didn't even bother trying to go incognito. Towering at almost eight feet, he looked like an indigo relative of Robert Wadlow, and most people assumed he was in costume. Occasionally mobbed by people thinking he was some kind of cosplayer, due to there being an Anime Convention at that time, by sheer coincidence, he had his photograph taken several times, causing him the odd dizzy spell now and again; it didn't help people with photophobia to be attacked by flashes.      Eventually, he managed to stumble towards the location where Gafgarion sat, appearing as though he was about to topple over completely if he hadn't sat down just that second. One may or may not believe this, but not only do fangirls like tall guys, but they like elven-looking men, because most effeminate male elves are actually cosplayed by females. Not yet up to par, Ineryon faceplants on the table where Gaff and Ladd are seated, unable to greet them properly. When his forehead hits the table, the whole thing shakes dramatically-- people who are in the eight-foot height range, even the skinny ones, weigh in at approximately four to five hundred pounds. Give him a moment, and he'll be sure to snap out of it. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Ladd is the first to notice, and gives a squeak of surprise, lifting his coffee in one hand and the inkpot in the other as Ineryon's face impacted with the table. Gaffgarion however, didn't notice the Dark Elf's arrival until the face impacted with the table. He leaned back, pulling the arm on that side towards the other side before realizing who it was.     Though he also notes that his coffee spilled with the face-to-table impact. Thankfully there are napkins! As he realizes who has sat down at the table, he relaxes, and then picks up a few napkins. "Take care, good sir. This suit was expensive." He may or may not be kidding, but there's no malice in his voice. As he mops up the spill in front of him, he notes, "You look as though you've been very nearly missed by a Behemoth's charge. What ails you?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Feeling a sliver like he's definitely imposed on Gafgarion, Ineryon groans, "My apologies... if your suit has been permanently marred, I will see to its amendment. In the meantime, I fear I must focus for a few seconds on my own maladies, and if you don't mind posing the therapist, I've a few gripes to offer in exchange for some shiny tidbits." Strangely, the entire time, his face stays pressed against the table, as though too weak to really remove himself due to either mental or physical fatigue.      Gafgarion is fast enough on the draw that he takes the initiative, and bothers to inquire about the dark elf's status-- probably just protecting his investment, seeing that Ineryon had an ongoing contract with Gaf, so the drow was worth more alive than dead. "....Well... the first obstacle barring my passage happens to be a very physical barrier which I had not foreseen when I first arrived in this place. What I mean to say is.... I am stuck in a place in my life where I cannot break free, and I need assistance. It seems you are certain to profit from me today, Entity Gafgarion!" Still being vague, the dark knight in a nice suit might be wondering what Ineryon is referring to, perchance? 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "Seems all right," Gaffgarion replies, referring to his suit. "No harm done. I expect you wouldn't have collapsed so if you were well." And sure enough, the Dark Knight seems to have hit the nail on the head, if Ineryon's words are any indication. "Ah-ha. I see." Gaffgarion tilts his head at the mention of a therapist. "Perhaps I can. Though I must admit to having little experience." Not only in the 'therapy' thing, but in the 'giving a crap'. That tends to be a hard thing for him to manage.     Then again, it's true, Ineryon's paying him. He didn't think the mission of 'keep an eye out for other people with the name Valos' would be all that would be required of him. Things were rarely as easy as they sounded. The mention of being stuck gets a curious look. "Stuck? How do you mean?"     Ladd actually gives a bit of a surprised look as he puts the inkwell and his coffee back down. Perhaps he's surprised his master's being so altruistic. At least, that's what it seems. Then again, money was mentioned, so... 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon wasn't speculating for one microsecond that Gafgarion was offering his services out of the kindness of his heart, for, while most beings had enough mobility in their soul to play the part of the wet clay, which could be influenced by the hands of fate, the despicable stoicism of the dark knight had turned his atrial organ into a hardened piece of rock, which could no more be changed than it could be softened-- it would either go its course the remainder of its days or be annihilated entirely! The heart of the dark elf was probably in almost the same condition, although mayhap not quite to that degree, but it was a drying ceramic, and certainly not moist in the least!      Finally, Ineryon grunts, "Ah... well... the first problem I have... is... mildly embarrassing, since it accentuates my lack of foresight in decidedly utilizing this furnishing as a sanctuary for my skull." His face still hasn't moved from that spot. Raising his arm, and pointing downward, he remarks, "Would your assistant be willing to take a gander under this table for an instant or two? You see... this table... it happens to be constructed of some synthetic plastic, it appears...." If Ladd /does/ happen to give into curiosity, and Gaff gives the order, Ladd will see that the dark elf's hyper-fortified ivory horn has... pierced through the topside of the table, completely through to the bottom and more.... 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     That, at least, was most definitely true-- Gaffgarion's heart, figuratively speaking anyway, was like a stone. While true, that made him incapable of true altruism, it also meant that he wasn't likely to feign care. He might not even be able to!     Though when Ineryon mentions the exact nature of his issue? Gaffgarion blinks, and when Ladd's mentioned, he nods. Ladd stands, and then crouches down to see where Ineryon is stuck. "Ooh, I see," Ladd remarks. Looking up over the table again, Ladd notes, "He is indeed stuck, Ser."     Gaffgarion has the decency not to burst into peals of laughter. He does, however, rest an elbow on the table, and chuckle quietly behind a hand for a moment. It's really not funny. But, to put it in modern terms, Gaffgarion is kind of a douche like that. Once he gets the laughter under control, he replies, "Yes. Most of these tables are made of something they call 'plastic' and 'plywood'. Neither of which are as sturdy as wood. Unfortunately." He stands. "Right then." He steps behind Ineryon and takes hold of his shoulders. "Do you think a quick tug would free you?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon would normally give a nodding gesture to demonstrate approval of Gafgarion's methods, yet, this was impossible in the present, being that his horn stayed his movement at such firmness that he almost felt as though he was beginning to get a cramp in his neck. "Ugh..." It wasn't amusing to the dark elf to be the center of someone's entertainment, but sometimes everybody played the fool.... according to Aaron Neville, anyway. Managing to quell what objections his ego might have had to being treated as a plaything, the iron-willed drow was able to forestall whatever sensations of pride being damaged taking control of his mind.      He relented just a few seconds later to the stone-hearted human, "...I think, Entity Ladd would be best suited to push from beneath, and if you could tow me from the backside, that would be ideal. My protrusive prong has thoroughly pierced this thing.... and it is actually designed almost like an arrow, in that when it is yanked free, there are minuscule barbs on the outer surface fashioned to /rip/ predatory opponents of my race." It also served as a weapon when males clashed over females, but he wasn't about to admit that even he had hormones that could potentially make him act unprofessional at differing junctures! "...As soon as I'm liberated, I'll be sure to swallow a potion, and then... we can converse about yet another job I have for you, Entity Gafgarion. Entity Ladd might be able to help you, as well!" 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Oh yeah, Gaffgarion most definitely finds this hilarious. However, he does have the grace not to laugh aloud, even if there's amusement in his voice. "Do be careful when walking in these sorts of cities. There are a great many items in these cities that are made from similar artificial materials. You may end up making another rather forced performance of this sort if you are not careful."     He also has another question. "If you have barbs on that horn, would it not be dangerous for Ladd to push from underneath?" He pauses, and then looks to Ladd. "Put the coffees and the ledger on another table for a moment." Ladd does so, quickly. And to Ineryon, "So what about this-- Ladd will hold the table steady so it does not follow you, and I will pull." 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Not to contradict Gafgarion, but to offer concern for the man's resources(aka, Ladd), Ineryon tries to respectfully suggest an option, although after he speaks, Gafgarion mentions that holding the table would function, as well, "Hmmm... I was thinking Entity Ladd could wrap one of the cloth napkins I saw around the area where he elects to take his grip.... but I think, now that you mention it, locking down the table would be a better idea, since the napkin might become shredded."      This Valos was not quite as wise as some of the others, even if he was in the range of 'average' intelligence for a Valosian dark elf. It might've made one wonder if the geniuses of the Valii culture were all beings who customarily had IQs rating up with household names heard in New York city, such as Hawkings and Einstein-- then again, maybe they were so smart they were actually just off their rocker; hard to tell with the drows of Lodestone Island! A compromise is reached, and inevitably, Ineryon is pulled from his confines. This causes enough commotion that one of the servers comes over and furrows his brows in a disgruntled manner, remarking, "I'm sorry to say this, but management is going to insist that you pay for the damage you've done!" Reclaiming some of his wit, he thinks up a counter-accusation, and swiftly so, narrowing his eyes and scowling, "You sir, have jumped to a conclusion in this instance, I believe! It just so happens that I slipped. Would your manager care to see how taxing on time and finances a lawsuit is, if you plan to pay for a non-government-funded lawyer? It is /my/ suspicion that if you simply have management replace our table,.... this tiny incident could be /overlooked/....."      What's this? Ineryon didn't slip, did he? On the other hand.... only the dark elf himself knows that he didn't slip-- yet... A Valosian drow could not lie knowingly and willfully, so how did he manage to formulate this response? Inwardly, Ineryon convinces himself he did slip.... it wasn't a physical matter of slipping, alas, but more of a mental matter, for he'd slipped away from his normally obsessive protocols that dominated his stickler-like behavior almost every moment of the day! 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Oh there it goes! Once Ineryon's free again Gaffgarion takes his seat. The hole in the table gets a shake of his head. "I will take care not to remain in front of you should you need to do that again," he notes. His tone is half amused and half wry. Though then, of course, the waiter comes out and starts to jaw about being charged.     Gaffgarion shakes his head at the waiter. "Truly? I have seen these tables in shops. I would wager a single one costs less than you make in a week." A critical look at the man. "And from the looks of you, your wages are not that high." That /could/ be an insult, but it's hard to tell. "And if the table had been made with better workmanship-- and better materials-- rather than these artificial things assembled by some lackwit, it might have stood up to the strike."     Ladd even speaks up, venturing, "A-and are you saying that he should not be welcome here, merely because his physiology is different? Is that not discrimination? He cannot help that his people have horns."     Slapping his knee, Gaffgarion points in Ladd's direction. "YES! That is also correct. And do the people of this city not take discrimination based upon race quite seriously?" He had, after all, heard 'you're a racist' being thrown around this morning pretty heavily.     From a hole in a table to accusations of racism. That escalated quickly. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon is going to have to give Gafgarion and Ladd /BOTH/ a bonus after this venture, for the racism thing hadn't entered his mind, though it was seen to be a problem frequently enough in the modern day of New York. Not everyone was 'that way', despite this, any business-owner or politician accused of it would have all their allies running from them like they had Ebola, if the accusation stuck, whether or not it was actually blown out of proportion on some level. One thing remained true amidst all the arguing; the table was not that pricey, for Gafgarion was positioned in a restaurant better than a deli, but not so prestigious that it bothered to refrain to ruining the ambience with a television set, which was playing some episode of Jerry Springer, full of the usual dullard slapstick that could be scripted by the most ignorant child in grade-school.      To say the least, now that Ineryon wasn't preoccupied with his face stuck to the table, he was already beginning to notice the schtick they had on TV, and wagered that Gafgarion's mildly less-refined, less-intellectual subordinate Ladd had presumably begged the dark knight to let him go to this place so that he could watch some contemporary television programming. Ladd wasn't a buffoon, but he wasn't a genius, even if just seconds ago, the fellow conjured up an excellent reason why the waiter should retract his statements... which he does. The three individuals accosting the server is enough to not only send him back to the kitchen to get food for the other patrons, but inside of that kitchen, he'll be sure to ask a co-worker the favor of taking over his table.      The dark elf clears his throat, "Ah... You have my gratitude, Entities Gafgarion and Ladd. To business, I think. There is... for starters, a fellow named Kirito who has amassed some caliber of fame in his time in this Multiverse. I hear his skills have been polished superbly.... I should be interested to hear of his technique, his style." He shrugs, "...Of course, one might need to engage him in combat to exhume his methods...." 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "Pffft," Gaffgarion hisses as the waiter retreats. "The people in these sorts of cities are so... spiritless. They lack backbone," he observes. He leans over and swats Ladd on the back solidly, causing a stumble. "Good one, Ladd." Thankfully it was /after/ that when Ladd got their drinks (and the ledger book) back on the table.     When Ineryon begins to speak of his business, Gaffgarion looks to Ladd and tilts his head back, as if to say 'now'. The squire nods, closing the ledger and pulling a smaller pad of paper from the inside of his vest. Then he waits. "Kirito, hm?" Has he heard the name? Perhaps, perhaps not. A nod to Ladd, who scribbles down the name. Probably misspelled-- 'Keereetu' or something. Close enough. "What about this fellow interests you, if I may ask? Looking to steal his power? Recruit him?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Shrugging, Ineryon grimaces, while imagining a different outcome, "...Personally, I am not in opposition to the notion that these creatures are so doubtful of their capacity to resist dominion from superior forces.... it makes paving the way easier for those who possess genuine flame." Upon taking sight of the ledger that Ladd had opened, the dark elf scratched his head, "I don't wish to see Entity Kirito disposed of, incidentally...."      "I merely crave to have him tested, and scanned. Even if you are capable of dispatching him, I'm forced to stress that I may need this fellow in the future for certain endeavors I have in mind, but I've a yearning to discern whether or not his adeptness has real mettle." He waves his hand nonchalantly, as if banishing something some his sights, "...But let us not get too mired in trivial details. So long as his functionality is not permanently hampered, and he doesn't discover I beseeched you to have him hamstrung, then I've nary concerns remaining on the slate." Presumably, this reveals that the drow wishes to eventually 'recruit' Kirito, rather than the siphon the fellow's power. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     The suggestion of most people's... well, basically being wusses, at least here it seems, gets a nod from Gaffgarion. "You do have a point there, good Ser," he agrees. "I suppose t'would be much worse for us if there had been some real resistance. But, to quote a statement I have heard, most of the people who work here simply 'put in their time and go home'. The table is likely no great loss to the business." He raises a hand, waves it noncommitally.     And then there is talk of Kirito and Ineryon's purpose for him. "Not eliminated, you say?" Gaffagion rubs his chin. "He will remain in as few pieces as I can manage. I will endeavor to keep that to a single-digit measure if at all possible." He chuckles, and then leans back in his seat. "I jest. I will leave him alive. You clearly have future plans for the fellow. What can you tell me of him?" 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Ineryon's eyelids lazily drop a touch, tiredly, as he hears the snippet about them putting in their time and going home, commenting, "....How enjoyable their lives must be, to spend their whole course wasting hours to earn monetary gain, only to waste money in old age to earn a greater chronological persistence through purchase of panacea prescribed by physicians...."      To him, this seemed as though people were just chasing their own tails for the majority of the spell they dwelled within the mortal coil, albeit, this dark elf never claimed to be any sort of optimist, did he? Then again, the same could be true of himself, except he was actively trying to find what he believed was a solution to the curse that afflicted all sentient, as well as sapient things! With a shake of his head, the drow displays his aversion towards the proposal of Kirito being terminated, "If he dies, then you will receive no compensatory denominations for your efforts, assuming his death is directly a result of your actions. /Obviously/, if he has an unexpected stroke, then you could not be faulted, since there would be no viable way of predicting that as a consequence of your deeds. Fair enough?"      Flicking his hair aside as he tosses his head back, he grumbles, "Ughh... No offense, Entity Gafgarion, but if I knew enough about him to speak of the man beyond his name, I might've given you a few more clues from the get-go, if you know what I mean? The fact is, the less knowledge I volunteer, the more work you must do, which is costly to me. Be it known that I am not an eccentric spender.... I wouldn't say I haggle until the end of time, but I /do/ try to whittle expenses to whatever measure I can.... The answer, therefore, is that I am so nescient to his collective wholeness, that all I know is what I have described." Staring blankly at the dark knight, he inquires, "....Is this satisfactory?" 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "I believe t'is less enjoyable and more boring," Gaffgarion replies. "Had they something else to occupy their time, perhaps living as human sheep would not be enough for them." Here he shrugs. "As you say, less issue for us." Since clearly he and Interyon had backbone! Probably not so much Ladd, but that may change once the young boy grew up.     The Fell Knight nods to the terms of compensation. "That sounds fair," he agrees. "Though as you need him alive, should an outside force intervene, I will ensure his health as well as I can." He's no White Mage, but that's why he keeps potions handy all the time!     "Hmm. I see." Gaffgarion doesn't seem at all put off by this. He has a few contacts he can shake for information in the Multiverse, after all. Besides that? "Ladd. You will need to start looking through one of those... computing things." He's talking about a computer, yes. Gaffgarion is skilled at many things. However, one of those is not, unfortunately, dealing with technology. Nonetheless Ladd nods, and makes some more notes on his little pad. 

:'''{{#var:615|Ineryon (615)}} has posed:'''      Offering a half-smile, Ineryon stands fully, and his ankle is already starting its torque so that he might be on his way, "Entity Gafgarion.... when most people interact with others, even if just meeting them, they have a custom of saying something to the effect of 'a pleasure', though, for myself, this is rarely said, being that I take up not the vice of fibbing." Looking over his shoulder, his grin sustains itself, "...Today's business was a pleasure." Which said something for how tolerable Gafgarion was, even if the dark knight shared no true compassion for the drow.      Ineryon Valos was not the breed to solicit for worship, for understanding, for validation-- all he wanted to do was to get pursuits accomplished. The highly-emotional fluff could be left to persons who wanted to be helped through their trials in life so that they could endure it another day; Ineryon wanted nothing of the sort, for he merely wished to find a backdoor. "Farewell, Entity Gafgarion. I shall await your invoice once you've taken the time to do a well-contemplated calculation of the initial fees, as well as the conclusive ones. Good luck in your quest, master of swords, and cutter of energy...." 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion stands as well when Ineryon does. "I thank you, Ser. It was indeed a pleasure." Because he's going to get paid if he gets info, of course. The promise of getting paid is always a pleasure! Ladd stands as well, and offers a polite bow, but does not otherwise speak. Gaffgarion has him trained to not speak unless spoken to a good deal of the time.     "It will be forwarded to you presently," Gaffgarion replies, of the invoice. "Thank you very much for your patronage, and do take care until our next meeting, Ser Ineryon." Only in the Multiverse could he say that in the middle of New York, even dressed in a modern suit, and have nobody bat an eyelash at him. 

}}

867/The Plight of Legolas

2014-10-31T02:06:23Z

OrbisFactor: Under contract to kill Thranduil, Gaffgarion lures Legolas into a trap, and then waits for his real quarry. Thranduil is quite a bit more than the Ivalician sellsword can handle, though...

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/10/28
|Location=Middle Earth
|Synopsis=Under contract to kill Thranduil, Gaffgarion lures Legolas into a trap, and then waits for his real quarry. Thranduil is quite a bit more than the Ivalician sellsword can handle, though...
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=493, 592
|Tinyplot=
|Tinyplot2=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     It's a strange letter that arrives to the elven king of Mirkwood this eve. Strange... and likely enough to make Thranduil's blood run cold. It's in Legolas's handwriting. And may or may not show signs of stress. Either way, the letter's contents will probably bring more than a little consternation to the king. Thranduil, Elf-King of Mirkwood, I have with me a young man of pale skin and hair, pointed of ears and delicate of face. He tells me his name is Legolas, and that he is your son. My name is Goffard Gaffgarion, and I am not from your world. However I find myself in need of an audience with you, under orders from another party. So much in need of an audience, in fact, that I insist your son remain with me until you come to the clearing outside the Forsaken Inn as one travels in the direction of Bree. You have one day's time-- come alone. Else I will cleave his head from his shoulders as soon as your army fires upon me. If I do not at the very least receive word that you are on your way in that time, I will begin the process of sending your son back to you. A piece at a time. Though I may keep his ears. They would do for an appropriate trophy. --Goffard Gaffgarion     And sure enough, there are a trio of figures in the appointed place should Thranduil appear. The appointed place is a clearing far enough away from the forest that hiding elves within it to keep them at hand would be difficult. There is a large black bird there with glossy feathers; it wears tack for riding, and barding. A war-mount.     It's bent down to examine and occasionally peck at the clothing and hair of a blond fellow-- clearly an elf-- who's been bound hand and foot, and then his arms and legs tied up. And also tied DOWN, it seems, his bonds tacked to the ground with tent stakes. Whoever did this didn't want him escaping. He may be bruised up a bit, maybe a bit scorched-- Choco Meteor is a rather painful and EXTREMELY unexpected attack, but it isn't instantly deadly.     And who did it? The third figure in the clearing, presumably. It's a large, muscular man in brown armor that sports horns on the helm. A blood-red sword that very likely makes any good and pure creature wish to be anywhere but near it is set point-down on the ground. His visor is up, and he waits patiently. 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      When Thranduil finishes reading the message that had been sent to him, he crumples it up and balls his hands into fists. He rises to is feet from his throne and walks with purpose past his guards. "I will return, I have an important matter to attend to that needs immediate attention. Double the guard at all borders and all gates until my return."      The Elvenking arrives at the appointed location riding his trusty Elk. He is wearing his battle armor and a simple crown made of braided silver with a goldish colored jewel at the top of his forehead. Dismounting and letting his Elk go to safety, he keeps one hand on his sword as he approaches.      "I am here." is all he says as his ice blue eyes take in the scene, a frown upon his lips. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     At Thranduil's approach, the black bird looks up, giving a curious 'Wark?' in the elven king's direction. As he notes the approach Gaffgarion picks up his sword and places it in front of Legolas, to block him in case the elf tries to leap forward in his bonds. "So you are," he replies. His voice is rough but strong. This is no smarmy master of deception. This is a warrior.     "You are Thranduil, aye?" he inquires. Presuming there's an affirmative response, he continues, "I am Goffard Gaffgarion. As you can see, your son is still safe." Pause, looks to the elf prince. "Including his ears," he adds, referencing the letter. Then he looks to Thranduil again. "Now. As for what I require you for."     Here he shifts-- oh dear, that's a tensing for battle. He whistles at the chocobo and it warks again, heading back in the direction of the inn. "What I require you for is this. Someone you know all too well has hired me to deliver a message. By eliminating you with as much prejudice as I can muster."     Shield is raised, sword is readied. "Decide, elf-king. Fight me here and your son goes free. Refuse and he dies here." 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil draws his ornate sword with a flourish. "Yes, I am Thranduil. I have never heard of you, I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage." The somewhat smug Elvenking stops a short distance away.      "If it is a fight you want, it is a fight you shall have."      The Sindaran Elf is a man of few words. He isn't above monologing when the situation is appropriate, but when his son, his only heir to the throne, is in danger, actions will speak louder than words. He takes a defensive posture, holding his sword along his arm. It seems a bit unconventional, but Thranduil has never been a conventional man. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "Good," Gaffgarion replies. Pointing to Legolas with his sword, "He stays here until a victor is decided. Else there is nothing to stop him aiding you in combat should I free him now." Pointing now slightly to the left of their current position. "We will fight there, so he is out of immediate danger. Should discourage you from using your magic." Pause. "Of course you know that if any of your subjects charges through the wood to free him or aid you, he still dies, aye?"     Oddly, this man speaks of this situation as thought it's no more than a checklist. As if he expects Thranduil to know exactly how this works... as if he expects Thranduil to be CALM AND RATIONAL about his son's life being essentially traded for his own. This is clearly business. Nothing personal to him. This is all a matter of course for him. He cares not whether he kills Legolas in the course of completing his job for his unknown client.     Perhaps that is the most disturbing thing about this all.     He readies his sword for battle. It's a Blood Sword, a sword that drains the very life from those it draws the blood of. No blood is being drawn yet, but the blade is so full of malice, hate, and all the fell things the elves despise that even looking upon a blade like this must be an additional torture for both the elves.     He's also looking at Thranduil and his sword. High stance, but ready to block low if necessary. Watch for overhead blows. Thin, curved, single-edged sword. A slashing blade, but that clipped point may offer stopping power enough for a stab. He'll need to be careful of both-- there are seams between his armor that are thick enough for a blade that thin to get between. However a blade that small may be thin enough to break. But he's not banking on it; elves are supposed to be magical, aren't they? Adding to that the effect of Aura. Meaning the weapon is probably supernaturally strong.     A long moment of silence follows. Thranduil has two cues that it's about to end. First is the pulling down of his visor. The second... is the horrible smirk that pulls lopsidedly at Gaffgarion's face. And he charges to swing at the elven king. It's nowhere near has hard as he can swing. The experienced in combat will see it's a probing strike. He's testing Thranduil first. 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil stares down Goffard with a steely gaze. On the outside he appears calm and rational. Inside, he's at his utmost boiling point and is just a few seconds away from striking like a snake coiled in the grass. For now, he only has one sword drawn, but he has another on his other hip, perhaps partially concealed by his cloak. Overall, he looks like he is dressed for a ceremony rather than a battle, but Elves always had fantastic craftsmanship. Why shouldn't one look good while being protected?      When Goffard comes at him, Thranduil stands still, measuring his speed and the intensity of his swing. When he becomes too close for comfort, Thranduil swiftly dodges with a quick turn, snapping his arm out to try and deliver a blow with his sword to the man's back. It's with the non bladed side, perhaps also meant to test out his opponent and see how he reacts. He is a lot stronger than he looks but hasn't used his full strength either. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     There are certain points on the human body that hurt tremendously when hit. They send pain flaring through the body from that point as surely as if one had been struck by lightning at that very spot. Thranduil may not have used his full strength but, whether by accident or by design, the flat of his blade struck Gaffgarion PRECISELY in one of these areas on his back. The elven king will thus receive the pleasure of seeing and hearing the results of such a strike. In this case a bitten-off "AUGH!", a pained arch, and a forward tumble.     He doesn't stay on the ground long, however. Gaffgarion is nothing if not tenacious. "Good strike," he compliments as he stands. "Excellent strike." He works his shield arm. He speaks as if they're only sparring. Which is simultaneously ridiculous and possibly a little insulting. And speaking of insulting? Gaffgarion's about do to something Thranduil is probably REALLY going to hate. He raises his shield arm, the fingers of that hand in a clawed configuration. Magic gathers above his hand, the raw mana turning red and orange... Is... is it... is that... is he...?     It is. And yes, he is.     Gaffgation chants something under his breath, clearly a magical incantation. The words translate roughly into something that Thranduil is probably going to hate even more. And hate HIM even more for using.     "Destruction of nature, gather in flame!"     And as he thrusts his hand in Thranduil's direction, a gout of flame appears. Not literally from his hand, though. The fire seems to leap from the earth below the elven king and tries to wrap around him like a great, fiery serpent!     Either Gaffgarion is intentionally trying to make Thranduil hate him-- who uses FIRE against an elf whose kingdom is IN THE FOREST?!-- or he's a fool. 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil's anger is reaching the point where it is about to overflow. Elves are very emotional people, but as King, Thranduil has always had to keep his cool. He levels those cool blue eyes upon Gafgarion, holding his sword out at his side, head tilted back as if looking down at him.      Thranduil has issues with fire. And dragons. When the attack hits him, he quickly shields his face and head from attack. It's an instinct, from back in the days when he hunted dragons. He writhes and gasps, twisting around. Something inside him snaps, though, and he emits a loud cry, throwing his arms out at his sides to try and dispel the flames. Despite it being wrapped around him, he manages to move forth, trying to use his own spell against him, while slashing out with his sword. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion grins at the cry. And makes the mistake of being a little petty. "Might that be burning hair I smell?" he calls out. "Or your majestic eyebrows? Such a pity about that, they're quite-- GYAH!"     Unfortunately he doesn't get any farther than that. Because suddenly there's a burning sword being swung at his face! And what's on his face? His MUSTACHE! Which ends up getting singed by the dying flames. In addition to him getting slapped in the side of the head with a flaming sword. They just didn't die fast enough.     Is that burning hair Thranduil smells? Or just Gaffgarion's prodigious mustache? Which is now slightly less prodigious.     He has to take a moment to put out his mustache. He doesn't comment, though. Probably because despite him acting like this is all fun and games, he knows there's no time to complain about unfair use of his own spell. Besides, it's not like Gaffgarion plays fair. He totally expects someone to return the favor.     Anyway, it's back to swordplay for him. He's hoping to catch Thranduil while he's still flailing, but knows that's not likely. So instead he makes a feign strike for the elven king's arm. But at the last moment redirects to try and strike Thranduil hard with the pommel of his sword. 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil emits a grunt when he's hit with the pommel of the sword, throwing him off balance and making the world spin around. He finds himself crashing to the ground with a clank of his ornate armor. He doesn't go down that easily though and climbs to his feet, a bit winded. He still manages to look fabulous, of course. Elven armor doesn't show scratches easily.      Once he's up, Thranduil rises to his full 6'5 height and tilts his head back to look down at the other man whether he's taller than him or not. "You will not goad me so easily, outsider. I have gone easy on you because I do not believe you are familiar with the fighting prowess of the Elves. Allow me to demonstrate."      Thranduil draws his second sword, darting forward with speed and attempting to whack him in the side with the blunt end of one while making a slicing motion with the other, aimed for his upper thigh. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Elves are fast. REALLY fast. So fast that a human can't possibly hope to match them at full speed. That is the case here, too. Thranduil's dual-sword style doesn't take Gaffgarion off guard-- he'd seen the second sword, after all. What DOES take him off guard is the sheer speed of the elf-king's strike. The whack in the side hurts, enough to get him stumbling the other direction. But his thigh is covered with armor, and with his sideways step, it didn't quite make contact with an unarmored place. It did, however, hurt like hell and raise sparks from the dark armor.     Gaffgarion darts back out of range with surprising quickness. Not as fast as an elf, but quick for a fully-armored human. "Oho, so the gloves have come off then, have they?" Unseen behind his visor, his eyes narrow. His voice possesses a growl as he agrees, "So be it then." And then he raises his sword into the air.     The sense that something is horribly WRONG is almost instantaneous. Even before he speaks. More chanting, something that translates roughly into "Master of all swords, cut energy!" And then he points that sword at Thranduil. He's far out of melee range. But it turns out that's fine.     The sense of WRONG-ness increases exponentially as the area seems to darken noticeably. A growl appears, sounding as though it echoes up from the ground underneath Thranduil. And a large, stylized eye appears above the elf-king, the shape blazing with dark golden power. It opens, crimson energy pouring to the ground like bloody tears. As the energy touches the ground, it SNAPS up into a blade, appearing to pierce the open eye. The eye and the darkness both disappear...     But even the sensation of that energy NEAR Thranduil just feels WRONG in every way. That power was one of darkness and shadows. And if it hits, the elf-king will feel his strength being drained away... into Gaffgarion! 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil rarely looks overly worried, but when that sensation of darkness begins to tug at his very soul, the Elvenking looks concerned. He averts his eyes, bringing one forearm up to shield himself from the oncoming dark. A gasp escapes his lips as the ground around him seems very wrong. He regains command of his senses long enough to try and dodge, but it hits him and he falls to his hands and knees, feeling part of his strength leaving him.      He doesn't waste too much time being down, just like before, but it takes him longer to climb to his feet. His swords scrape against the ground as he's chanting in Sindaran in a low tone. It starts to sound as though it is echoing through the land until he's reached his full height when he speaks the final word and a flash of light accompanies his sword strike, aiming for Goffard's side, hoping to strike through a gap in the armor. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion had been waiting for a normal strike, and had raised his shield to block. The flash of light however, hurt his eyes-- apparently his visor doesn't have flare-reducing lenses. This shifted his attention, and Thranduil will feel the unmistakeable sensation of the sword striking flesh as the blade strikes true between the plates at his torso and waist. And a choked "Hrk!" from Gaffgarion.     Being unable to see for the moment, he can't really aim a sword strike just yet, or risk completely missing. He can, however, lash out in the direction the sword strike came from. Thranduil may have moved in that time, but until his eyes clear up, that's about all he can do. 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil throws himself into a twirl, trying to dodge Gaffarion's attack. He gets a little too close to his lashing out, however and catches his blade across the shoulder. The blow draws blood, and he lands on his feet, staggering back and holding the damaged arm. He seems momentarily stunned, but then looks up and sees Legolas bound and under threat. He sets his jaw firmly and starts /running/ toward Gaffgarion, pushing back the pain and spinning to strike out with one sword, then again to strike in the other direction. He is in 'srs bznis' mode and isn't going to allow this man to harm his only son and heir. A primal cry escapes at the top of his lungs before he even knows it's happening, those ice blue eyes wild. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Ah-ha! THAT'S what Gaffgarion wanted to see! Rage. Anger. He wanted to see the base emotions behind that cool elven facade. Because at that level he can gauge an opponent much better. An opponent can also be made to slip up.     Except rage also gives strength. Particularly when it's the kind of righteous indignation and paternal anger invoked when threatening someone's child. And in this case it pays off tremendously for Thranduil. His vision is slow to clear... and it does so JUST as Thranduil is striking at him. The first sword slams into the seam at his shoulder; the second kicks his leg out from under him.     He falls to a knee, catching himself with his shield arm. He's down! But not out. Which becomes clear momentarily. Because as soon as Thranduil is close enough? HEADBUTT! Unfortunately, due to where he is, this is liable to be in some, uh, not very nice places. Gaffgarion does not follow that unspoken rule amongst men when fighting apparently.     Hit or miss, he's going to get to his feet and get some distance after this. Can't have an angry elfdad with a sword near his throat, after all! 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      So far, they've been almost perfectly matched blow for blow, but there's still a ways to go yet. Thranduil is taken to the ground when Goffard headbutts him. Fortunately his armor makes that blow a little less terrible, but still it's very uncomfortable.      Goffard may get some distance between them, but that isn't going to stop him. He doesn't run, but he walks toward him at a brisk pace, those eyebrows furrowed in extreme disapproval. Drawing a deep breath, he summons all his strength and makes a quick move. He may be six thousand years old, but he's still quite spry and locked in his physical prime for...well, forever. With a grunt, he pulls a bit of a move out of the Matrix, using the dirt ground to slide, arching his back backward. The ends of his hair trail in the dirt behind him as he swipes out one arm to try and hit him hard in the backs of the knees. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Thankfully there's chainmail underneath Gaffgarion's armor, otherwise that could have quite literally knocked his leg out from under him. As it is, Gaffgarion grunts in pain and shock, transferring his weight to his other leg and lunging forward, opposite of the direction Thranduil is going. He's got distance now, and while that's usually a good thing for a swordman's opponent, this particular fell swordsman doesn't need to be close.     This is demonstrated when he starts with that chanting again. It's with his shield hand raised in a clawed fashion, so a spell is coming, not more of that darkness he wields. The chanting translates roughly to "Swirling bolts, gather and strike with power!" It's a clue, just before a lightning bolt lances down from the sky, at Thranduil's position. 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil uses the opening Goffard gives him while he chants to dart in behind him and raises his swords above his head, aiming to bring them both down pommel first against his shoulderblades. It is done with a grunt of pain as his shoulder protests along with the rest of his aching body. He will need to practically bathe in athelas to fully recover from this fight.      "Release my son immediately." The words are said with so much venom even if he doesn't raise his voice. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion had been too focused on the chanting. Suddenly when his eyes open, there is an elf-king in his face! The pommels of the swords strike with a force he wasn't expecting from someone so willowy. It knocks the wind out of him with a loud grunt of his own, and he falls. This results in Thranduil standing over him, very likely with swords pointing down at him, as the elven king repeats his demand to release Legolas.     "Do you not remember the terms you agreed to?" Gaffgarion inquires. "Do all elves so easily break their word?" His tone is a drawl. He's really in no position to bargain. And yet he is, and there is no trace of fear in his tone. He's also trying to anger Thranduil.     Reckless? Definitely. Stupid? Perhaps. Brazen? Gods yes. Demonstrated when he tenses... and then in the next moment his feet kick out and up, aiming for Thranduil's stomach. Hit or miss, his momentum pulls him into a backwards roll that takes him to his knees proper. It will take him a few minutes to get to his feet. But still he baits Thranduil, "Well? this is not finished yet." He raises his shield hand again, gathering mana there... but holding it. "Will you chance that the next one strikes your son?" 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil was a bit careless by letting himself get into kicking range and goes sprawling across the dirt on his side. He rolls onto his front, propping himself up with one elbow as he keeps his head bowed, long hair hanging down and obscuring his face from Gaffgarion's view. He closes his eyes for several long moments. The other man was right. He doesn't want to risk hitting Legolas.      It takes more of an effort to get back up every time he is thrown to the ground, but as long as he can still rise, he will keep fighting. Wiping a tiny bit of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his eerie blue eyes are locked on Goffard, every movement, every breath. He's sizing him up, and preparing his next move. When he does move, he runs so lightly upon the ground that his boots don't leave footprints in the dirt, gaining speed until he tries pulling off a spinning attack, hoping to whack with one sword and slice with the other. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion's a fair bit heavier in both weight and tread, and Thranduil's light steps take him off-guard. He manages to block the first sword, but it knocks his shield to the side so he can't block the second. That sword neatly splits the skin of his cheek just below the visor of his helm. He emits a rough cry of pain and stumbles back with his hand to his jaw. When he pulls it away, the bone is almost visible.     He's not going to delude himself. He's hurting. But so is Thranduil. He just has to gamble on the elf king falling first. And since Thranduil hadn't liked it the last time, let's pull out another dirty trick. But first he needs to replenish his mana. And he'd heard that elves were very magical creatures, so maybe it'll even hurt.     He raises his sword into the air again, and again that feeling of 'AUGH SO MUCH WRONG' starts to rise. Gaffgarion chants, "Dead or alive, slash magic power!" And points at Thranduil again. This time it's nothing nearly so elaborate. The feeling of pulling, before a great purple 'spur' of sorts bursts through the ground at the elf king's position.     It's there and gone, whether Thranduil is hit by it or not. If it misses, so much the better for the elven king. But if it happens to hit, the feeling of his magical energy being pulled away by a multitude of dark, slimy appendages slithering inside him is likely to result. 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Skidding to a hald after his attack, Thranduil takes a few moments to catch his breath. He watches Gaffgarion as he conjures his spell, uncertain what he's doing. Whatever it is, though, he must stop hi-      The spur catches his ankle and he darts to one side, but then the energy drain begins. His mouth agape, he stares out into the distance, one hand searching for something to hold onto as he feels as though his very soul was being drained out of him. He staggers and wobbles, the fight almost out of him. He lowers his head, holding his sword at an angle against his other arm as he begins chanting. The wind begins to blow, picking up speed and debris until he finishes the chant and a powerful blast of air is sent toward Gaffgarion with all the rocks and debris it picked up along the way. 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     The wind picking up gets Gaffgarion's attention, and he stances to prevent debris from being flung at him. Except hitting his shield is just as damaging because of the blunt force. Besides that, the debris knocks into his shield, staggering him, and between that and the high winds he's forced to put his arms out to his sides to steady himself. Which leaves him wide open for a large rock to just nail him right in the side of the head. Down he goes. And he doesn't get up.     Not immediately anyway. But he does eventually stand. He makes to advance on Thranduil... but then at the last moment darts to the side. Towards Legolas. Not to worry though. He's not attacking. He DOES have that fell sword uncomfortably close to Legolas's throat.     Still... this dark knight has shown himself on multiple occasions to be dishonorable. This whole sordid affair with capturing Legolas-- and he HAD to have been stalking him, or set a trap to catch him; Legolas is too cautious to have been accidentally stumbled upon while off his guard. Attacking with fire and lightning. Willingness to rather literally hit below the belt.     Might he have decided that his aim of killing Thranduil was more important than Legolas's life?     "So, elf king." The tone is almost conversational. "I yield. But I will call this a draw. While you may have bested me in combat, I still have your son's life in my hands." He moves around the captive elf, keeping Legolas between Thranduil and himself-- now, to get to Gaffgarion, the elven king will have to go through his son. 

:'''{{#var:592|Thranduil (592)}} has posed:'''      Thranduil stands with is swords at his sides, panting. His hair is a bit tousled, his clothes streaked with dirt and blood. He glares at Gaffgarion with an intensity that he hasn't used since the last war in the Second Age.      "If you harm my son I will find you and I will destroy you. You will feel agony as you have never felt it before." Thranduil's low but even tone is a bit spooky. With a slight flourish he sheathes his swords. "It is a draw, then. Leave Legolas go and we will walk away." 

:'''{{#var:493|Goffard Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "I am told this is an event I should not expect twice." Gaffgarion raises his free hand and... pats Legolas on the top of the head, like he's nothing more than a child. Then, in direct opposition, he raises the sword, bringing it near the side of Legolas's head. "If this is so memorable an event, perhaps a trophy is truly in order." He was talking about rather gruesome trophies in his letter. Surely he isn't planning to...     No, the blade goes back. He instead slides the sword down, aiming to take the end of Legolas's braid. "This should do." He whistles, and his chocobo runs in, standing next to him. He then mounts up on the chocobo's back. "I will see you again, Elf King. I never leave a task uncompleted." He gives an almost merry wave. And only then does he cut the bonds around Legolas.     He doesn't 'accidentally' cut Legolas, no. But that blade is made to drain away the life of any who it cuts, using dark powers. Even contact with the flat of the blade as it slits the ropes, while it should do no damage or harm, will probably feel like cold and slimy things crawling across the skin.     Once that's done, Legolas is mostly free and unharmed. However, while Gaffgarion has removed the ropes that bound Legolas to the ground, he's left the elf's hands and feet bound. Thranduil will have to undo those himself. They're just normal ropes. Then Gaffgarion whistles sharply and the bird begins to run, flapping its wings... and then takes off into the air!     ...Well, following him is going to be damn hard... 
}}

Hol(e)y Knight (Goffard Gaffgarion)

2014-10-28T02:23:30Z

OrbisFactor: Didn't realize the formatting of the beginning was messed up. Fixing it.

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/14
|Location=Unknown
|Synopsis=After getting thoroughly perforated by Sumia, Gaffgarion's got time to think. Also modern hospitals are scary!
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=493
|Tinyplot=
}}
        Recovery yet again. By now he's grown used to being in an infirmary. But this infirmary was different. 
        Technology made beeping sounds all around him. There was a noisy box up in the top corner of the room, and people shouted at him from inside the box. The bed he lay in moved when directed to do so by pressing the sides. And he was required to wear this... ridiculous, thigh-length white garment that insisted upon leaving his entire back side exposed. 
        Gaffgarion had early on attempted to tame the living bed and had managed to anger it enough that he required one of the green-dressed healers to calm it, else the beast would have had him curled like a child inside its mother's womb. After that he chose to leave it be, since it seemed content with the green-dressed healer's placations. 
        This is why, in fact, he has not ripped the NEEDLE(!) from his arm for at least the fifth time. After the healer placated the living bed, Gaffgarion agreed to allow it to remain there when assured it was for his benefit. 
        The room is quiet now, with Ladd having fallen asleep on the small couch in the room. Poor boy almost had a fit when he saw the state Gaffgarion was in. Which explained why they came to this more 'modern' infirmary. Ladd wanted him to heal quickly. And better technology must mean better care right? 
        ...Of that, Gaffgarion is not so sure. 
        The Fell Knight has his journal open in his lap, resting atop the blanket as he writes in it. He writes much differently than he speaks. His speech is abrupt and coarse, yet his writing is fluid and even. 

 <hr>
Thursday, 14th August AU22

     Again doth prompt I consternation and panic from mine squire. A client did contact me for mine help in securing three eggs of dragonkin. A territory doth exist, known as 'The Rookery', whence dragonkin doth lay their clutches en masse. Thus did I go there, to secure three eggs. I did think 'twould be no harder than slaying a dragon. I was wrong.

     No sooner had I set upon the dragon than did a woman arrive, riding upon a wing'ed... beast of some sort. I hath ne'er seen its like before. Four legs, great hooves, a long face with eyes upon the sides of its head, loose fleshy skin covering its muzzle. The woman did give her name as Sumia.

     We battled, but when did it become clear that she intended to use the skies as her refuge, no choice had I but to summon Melody. Lady Sumia did fight valiantly, wounding me greviously. The mother dragon assisted as well, late into the battle.

     The first time the lance pinned mine own shield to mine body, and remained lodged there until did she forcefully extract it. The second time 'twas my carelessness that did bring it upon mine own self. I did think her defeated, and sought to finish her from the sky. She used this to hurl another javelin, which pierced my chest. Miraculously 'twas not instantly fatal. But she had distracted and weakened me enough that I could not fight the mother dragon.

     She did also mention something during. 'Pleegens'? Something to that effect. She spake of these beings as something foul. Perhaps... be they so foul to her, they shalt be fair unto me. Perhaps a chance to return the favor of the lost job. And the insult of referring to Melody as a chicken.

     This infirmary smells of something foul that I hath yet been unable to identify. I pray I shalt be able to leave it soon. And that I may be fit enough should Riovanes require more defenders. The news of Duke Barrington's retreat is dismaying. Should Archades overcome Riovanes, they shalt soon spread to all of Fovohom.

     Yet another foothold in Ivalice. This must not be allowed. 
<hr> 

        For the time being, Gaffgarion leaves the journal open on his lap, allowing the ink to dry. He had no pounce to sprinkle on the pages to dry the ink, so he had to rely on time to dry it. 
        The door opens and a green-dressed healer enters, a woman. He greets her with a nod, and after a bit of quiet conversation about how he's feeling, she begins to fiddle with the machine attached to the needle in his arm. Just something for pain, she assures him. 
        ...Roughly fifteen seconds later, he's out like a light.

A Little Acceptance Goes A Long Way (Jonothon Starsmore)

2014-09-29T17:59:54Z

OrbisFactor: Mood: Slightly Less Broody

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/09/28
|Location=Xavier's Institute
|Synopsis=Despite the fact that Jono's fiery face hasn't garnered a lot of Elite horror or revulsion, it's never really sunk in that the rest of the Multiverse doesn't automatically hate him for being dangerous to be around. The get-together after the "Pirates Be Problems" incident might have chipped away a little of that.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=27
|Tinyplot=
}}
        It's actually pretty late when Jonothon drives his motorcycle into the gate at the Xavier Institute. Which is pretty odd for him, he rarely has a need to stay out late. Aside from the ones at Xavier's, he doesn't have a lot of friends that would take him out drinking-- and he couldn't take advantage of that even if he did-- and as far as anyone knows, he doesn't have an off-world girlfriend. Doesn't mean that'll stop Jubilee from teasing him as if he did have an off-world girlfriend, though.

        And sure enough, no sooner does he step into the common room than he is pounced by an enthusiastic black haired girl. "Hey Jon! You've been out for a while!"

        "Yeah. I didn't miss anythin', did I?" Jono inquires. The girl's effusiveness doesn't seem to bother him. Maybe he's used to it.

        "Nope!" She hops down from where she'd practically climbed onto Jono's shoulders. "Ess-ess-dee-dee." Then she flops down in a chair and starts to tick off on her fingers, "Let's see... Monet punched somebody through a wall-- again, Paige and Sam got into a fight and aren't talking-- again, and Everett got thrown out a window trying to break it up."

        Raising an eyebrow, Jono ventures, "I feel like yer left an 'again' out."

        A voice from the chair across from Jubilee, closer to the television, chimes in, "No. Everett usually has the sense not to get in the middle of a Guthrie family dispute." Jono looks up, to find the gray-skinned Angelo-- or 'Skin' as he was known-- playing a video game. "He had what 'Jubecita' calls a 'blonde moment'."

        Jono shakes his head, but a smile pulls at the outside corners of his eyes. "...Barmy, the lot 'o yer."

        "Oh, then you're right at home!" Jubilee insists, pointing at Jono. Then she notices something in his hand. "Hey, what's that?"

        Lifting his hand, Jono displays the item. "A hat I nabbed off with today," he replies. "Place I stumbled inter earlier 'ad a problem with pirates. As in actual pirates, not that fantasy land knock-off rubbish. Helped some Elites punch pirates in the face, an' blew up a ship."

        "Nice, a tacohat!" Jubilee squealed.

        "Taco... hat?" Jono inquired.

        But before he could ask, Jubilee bounded up from her chair, grabbed the hat from Jono, and plopped it on her head. It was a size or two too big and looked rather ridiculous. "Avast yee, scurvy dog!" she tried, in a bad pseudo-pirate accent. "Yee bettarr gimmie details, or it be the briny depths of Davy Jones's locker for yee!"

        Jono sends Jubilee a look. "Yer missed 'Talk Like a Pirate Day' by more than a week, luv," he says flatly. Then he goes to sit in an unoccupied chair, noticing Angelo's paused his game and turns to look at him. "Like I said, problem wi' pirates. Give yer one clue: town 'as a ship they call 'Victory'."

        "Oh that's just asking for trouble," Angelo states. "Let me guess, the pirates wanted to wreck the ship just because of its name."

        Pointing at Angelo, Jono says simply, "Bang on the napper."

        Jubilee, still wearing the overly large pirate hat, reclaims her seat. "So that's why you were gone all day, you were having an epic swashbuckling swordfight with pirates!"

        "...Not really," Jono admits.

        "Now you've got me curious," Angelo muses.

        "The pirate Admiral lady invited everyone who helped out for drinks," comes the reply. Quickly Jonothon adds, "And before yer ask, no I didn't get 'er number. I didn't ask."

        "Aw man!" Jubilee whines. "You went out for drinks with real pirates and you didn't invite me?"

        Immediately Jono states, "Yes I bloody well did. I didn't want ter clean up the mess getting yer drunk would create."

        Jubilee sputters. "Oh you are such an ass, Jon." But there's no malice behind her words.

        Angelo asks, "So... what else was in it for you? I'm not aware you make a habit of drinking."

        "Reward," Jono replies, pulling the old style leather bag the jingling coins were held in. He tosses the bag to Angelo for examination, since Jubilee has the hat. "An' no, it's not 'pieces o' eight'. It's a local currency called 'gil'."

        "Big ceremony?" Jubilee inquires. "Bleh. Must have been boring."

        "...Not... really," Jonothon admits. "They jus' sat there in the pub, drinkin' an' bein' rowdy for the most part. I floated about the place an' talked with some 'o the pirates. Apparently the good pirates run the city there, an' the ones we punched in the face were the bad ones."

        Jubilee utterly freezes, and looks at Jonothon like he's just grown another head. She raises her hands, as if to say 'stop right there'. "...Wait. Wait wait wait. You mean to tell me... you actually mingled with living human beings? WILLINGLY?!" She flops back in her chair in an overly dramatic fashion. "Oh my God in Heaven, Jonothon E. Starsmore actually enjoyed the company of other people! Tell the Professor! Tell the X-Men! This must surely be a sign of The End of Days!"

        "Bollocks," Jono says immediately, his tone flat, and sends Jubilee an equally flat look. "I was gatherin' info. Besides, I don't see what's the problem with wantin' ter get out every once in a while."

        "Well, you have to admit, aren't exactly a social butterfly," Angelo points out. But still, he smirks. "Good to hear it though."

        "Yeah!" Jubilee agrees, bounding to her feet and then bounding over to Jono so she can pull him in for a noogie, over his protests. "Definitely a step in the right direction."

        When she releases him, Jono immediately puts his hair to right again. Well, whatever semblance of order it ever possessed. "It'd 'ave been rude ter jus' run out after they gave me money," he points out.

        "Like you care about being rude?" Jubilee teases.

        Jono just heaves a put-upon sigh, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. I'm gonna turn in." That said he turns towards the hallway. On the way he picks the hat up from Jubilee's head, to the tune of her disappointed 'awww!'. And then Angelo tosses the bag of coins back to him. "Night all," he offers with a wave. Angelo's 'Good night' in Spanish-- and Jubilee's voice demanding he bring her next time that place has issues with pirates-- fade as heads into the hallway proper.

        But it's not to the boys' dorm he's heading. It's to the elevator. And then into the basement. Since that's where his room is. It's quieter. He's less likely to bother someone with his guitar. And it's safer that way, since the foundation of the mansion's been reinforced so nothing less than a nuke could damage it. Not too much longer and the hat and bag of coins is on a desk. And then Jono himself is soon flopped himself down on his bed and is staring at the ceiling.

        Now that he has time to think, he finds it strange. While he's noticed that not a lot of people in the Multiverse seemed that upset with or frightened by his rather grotesque looks-- especially not the Elites, who had doubtless seen leagues worse-- it really hadn't hit him that there would be acceptance, even in the Multiverse. Not until that little get-together.

        He hadn't actually told them why he wasn't drinking, that he was missing the required parts to drink. He'd said only that the drink 'didn't agree with him'. Which could have been easily rationalized as Jono being 'full of fire' and introducing booze to that would be a bad idea. But even still. The partial acceptance of his nature, so readily offered, felt...

        Frightening. And awing.

        But still. He had to admit, that impromptu get-together wasn't all bad. He... actually kind of enjoyed it, despite there being so many people there. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone else, mind. He'd never hear the end of it.

        Especially from Jubilee!

Hol(e)y Knight (Goffard Gaffgarion)

2014-08-14T13:30:26Z

OrbisFactor: After getting thoroughly perforated by Sumia, Gaffgarion's got time to think. Also modern hospitals are scary!

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/14
|Location=Unknown
|Synopsis=After getting thoroughly perforated by Sumia, Gaffgarion's got time to think. Also modern hospitals are scary!
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=493
|Tinyplot=
}}
        Recovery yet again. By now he's grown used to being in an infirmary. But this infirmary was different.
        Technology made beeping sounds all around him. There was a noisy box up in the top corner of the room, and people shouted at him from inside the box. The bed he lay in moved when directed to do so by pressing the sides. And he was required to wear this... ridiculous, thigh-length white garment that insisted upon leaving his entire back side exposed.
        Gaffgarion had early on attempted to tame the living bed and had managed to anger it enough that he required one of the green-dressed healers to calm it, else the beast would have had him curled like a child inside its mother's womb. After that he chose to leave it be, since it seemed content with the green-dressed healer's placations.
        This is why, in fact, he has not ripped the NEEDLE(!) from his arm for at least the fifth time. After the healer placated the living bed, Gaffgarion agreed to allow it to remain there when assured it was for his benefit.
        The room is quiet now, with Ladd having fallen asleep on the small couch in the room. Poor boy almost had a fit when he saw the state Gaffgarion was in. Which explained why they came to this more 'modern' infirmary. Ladd wanted him to heal quickly. And better technology must mean better care right?
        ...Of that, Gaffgarion is not so sure.
        The Fell Knight has his journal open in his lap, resting atop the blanket as he writes in it. He writes much differently than he speaks. His speech is abrupt and coarse, yet his writing is fluid and even.

 <hr>
Thursday, 14th August AU22

     Again doth prompt I consternation and panic from mine squire. A client did contact me for mine help in securing three eggs of dragonkin. A territory doth exist, known as 'The Rookery', whence dragonkin doth lay their clutches en masse. Thus did I go there, to secure three eggs. I did think 'twould be no harder than slaying a dragon. I was wrong.

     No sooner had I set upon the dragon than did a woman arrive, riding upon a wing'ed... beast of some sort. I hath ne'er seen its like before. Four legs, great hooves, a long face with eyes upon the sides of its head, loose fleshy skin covering its muzzle. The woman did give her name as Sumia.

     We battled, but when did it become clear that she intended to use the skies as her refuge, no choice had I but to summon Melody. Lady Sumia did fight valiantly, wounding me greviously. The mother dragon assisted as well, late into the battle.

     The first time the lance pinned mine own shield to mine body, and remained lodged there until did she forcefully extract it. The second time 'twas my carelessness that did bring it upon mine own self. I did think her defeated, and sought to finish her from the sky. She used this to hurl another javelin, which pierced my chest. Miraculously 'twas not instantly fatal. But she had distracted and weakened me enough that I could not fight the mother dragon.

     She did also mention something during. 'Pleegens'? Something to that effect. She spake of these beings as something foul. Perhaps... be they so foul to her, they shalt be fair unto me. Perhaps a chance to return the favor of the lost job. And the insult of referring to Melody as a chicken.

     This infirmary smells of something foul that I hath yet been unable to identify. I pray I shalt be able to leave it soon. And that I may be fit enough should Riovanes require more defenders. The news of Duke Barrington's retreat is dismaying. Should Archades overcome Riovanes, they shalt soon spread to all of Fovohom.

     Yet another foothold in Ivalice. This must not be allowed. 
<hr> 

        For the time being, Gaffgarion leaves the journal open on his lap, allowing the ink to dry. He had no pounce to sprinkle on the pages to dry the ink, so he had to rely on time to dry it. 
        The door opens and a green-dressed healer enters, a woman. He greets her with a nod, and after a bit of quiet conversation about how he's feeling, she begins to fiddle with the machine attached to the needle in his arm. Just something for pain, she assures him. 
        ...Roughly fifteen seconds later, he's out like a light.

411/Save The Dragons!

2014-08-14T11:32:59Z

OrbisFactor: Adding the scene hook

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/14
|Location=TARGET: The Rookery (TR)
|Synopsis=Hired to steal dragon eggs for a client, Gaffgarion thinks he only has Momma Dragon to deal with. He's wrong... to the tune of one pegasus knight by the name of Sumia!
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=493, 544
|Tinyplot=
|pretty=yes
}}

''<'''!-Scene-Hooks'''>'' Goffard Gaffgarion | An alert goes out from the Rookery. Seems there's someone attacking the nesting dragons. Perhaps stereotypically, the person is armored like a knight.

{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     That alert wasn't lying, either. Not too far from the warpgate (though not the Union one), one hears the shriek of a dragon. it's an angry shriek too. And pained. There's a reason for anger and pain, too. Nearby, a battle is unfolding. A nest high up in a group of rocky crags is being protected by a large, majestic, golden dragon. What's she protecting it from?     He's easy to spot. In brown plate armor, wielding a matching shield and a blood-red sword is a knight. He is the experienced type too, visible because the dragon sports cuts and gashes in her muzzle where she's attempted to bite him. As for the knight? His shield is smoking.     He's aiming for the dragon's head as she brings her head down and attempts to bite at him again. The knight blocks the teeth with the shield and tries to stab over his shield down at the dragon. Clearly he's not going for disable. He's going for killing blows. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     The alert reaches Sumia and out she comes from the Union side gate, the wing beats of her pegasus heavy in the air. Lance at the ready, Sumia and her mount race along the sky, looking for the signs of what made the alert. Little did she know what she was going to see. In her other hand is a flower, all the petals upon it discarded and a confident look upon the woman's face.     The sight of the dragon and knight fighting sends the woman's eyes wide, setting lance upon her mount's holder, grasping at a javelin. "He... hey! This is unacceptable! Please desist!" she shouts out towards the knight, circling the air a bit before lobbing the javelin down towards the knight, not aiming to hit, a warning throw to be precise.     Flying lower, she picks up lance again, landing down on the ground, giving stare at the knight and the wounded mother dragon. "Don't worry... I'm here to help." she mentions towards the dragon, her pegasus getting into a charging stance, a hoof scraping at the ground as she snorts in anger. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     The knight is locked in his fierce struggle against the dragon. The knight scores a hit and the dragon reels, as though stunned. It's the perfect time for the knight to strike the final blow! He sweeps in to do just that...     But then suddenly something flies in his peripheral vision! Not questioning the instinct to do so, he leaps back. And not a moment too soon, a javelin buries itself in the ground! As intended, it would have missed him if he hadn't moved back, but that wasn't a chance he was prepared to take.     The dragon shrieks loudly at the knight, and at first draws back from the woman and her pegasus. Angered and injured, the dragon is not going to be easy to talk out of its protective mommyrage at this precise moment. However, the knight is all too willing to talk.     "Pardon, milady," he begins. His voice is calm, actually. "But you are intruding upon a legitimate business venture. I assure ye, this is not mere random murder of dragonkin. I ask that you leave me to my work." 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Sumia's finger leaves the edge of her ear, giving a light nod. "I'm afraid that I cannot allow this venture to continue, sir knight. Please, leave the dragonkin in peace and try your hunt somewhere else." she responds in kind, "It would do us well to leave the injured in peace to recover." she gives a light smile towards the dragon before turning towards Gaffgarion.     "Will you honor this request?" she asks in a concerned voice, "I do not wish this to come to blows, there should be another place you can acquire your venture, yes?" the pegasus moves forward a bit, letting out another annoyed snort. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion pauses, turning his sword to rest the point upon the ground. His shield arm raises, letting the shield slide a little further down his arm, so that he can rub at his chin as if in thought. "Let me see if I understand you correctly. You wish that I leave a guaranteed site of that which I seek, and risk not completing my task? "     He tilts his head as he looks to her. "Would you be willing to supply me three dragon eggs, then?" Coincidentally there are exactly three eggs in the nest. "Or reimburse me for the gil I would lose in payment from my client?" Here he picks his sword up again. "If not, I fear I must refuse."     Gaffgarion tilts his head up, looking the woman over. "But. I am a pragmatic man. I do not wish to fight you /and/ the dragon. Therefore, I give you a second chance to leave me in peace. If not..." He pauses, spins his sword in his hand once. "I doubt threats of consequences are needed." 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave with the eggs. Nor do I have the payment you request." Sumia gives a nod a bit, listening to something come in to her ear mounted radio. "The land you are on belongs to the Union's kingdom. You are effectively a brigand right now and I cannot allow you to bargain your way to a victory."     Sumia hefts her lance a bit, "I give you just one chance to leave without anything, there are other places that do not belong to the Union's kingdom for you to do your venture, sir knight. Please, for the honor of your status, I bid you to leave without incident." 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "I do not belong to either of these factions," Gaffgarion replies. The mention of his status gets a snort. "I do not suffer the self-entited to deem themselves fit to decry my 'status'. My 'status' suffers only when I do not complete a task. I am Goffard Gaffgarion. I am a '''professional''' sellsword, milady." Here he shrugs. And then takes a step to the side, to be out of the pegasus's direct line of attack.     "But if you will neither let me take the eggs nor offer recompense in exchange for my standing down, then there seems to be only one course of action." He's too far away from her to get to her. With her lighter build, she could move out of the way of a fully-armored knight before he could close the distance. Instead?     He points his blood-red sword up in the air. The blade begins to glow, and he growls, his voice taking on an almost dual-toned quality, "Master of all swords, cut energy!" Then he points the sword in Sumia's direction.     The area seems to darken a little, as a shape like an eye appears in the sky... right over Sumia. Growling sounds echo from the ground below. The eye opens, and bright, scarlet-red energies fall from the eye... and then with a snapping sound, the energy forms into a blade shape, stabbing into the eye above and disappearing.     If the blade pierces Sumia, no damage will be done. At least, not physically. But if it makes contact, she will feel a portion of her energy siphoned away, as if something had 'gulped' of her spirit. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     "I understand then." she replies, stroking the head of her pegasus with a nod, "Then, I believe this would be inevitable." Sumia makes a small kick and the pegasus kicks up into the air, "I am Sumia, Pegasus Knight of the Knight Sisters of Ylisse. I shall remember your name for my report!"     The sword is taken into account, he's not going after her but the chanting? A spell? Sumia eyes it warily as she gives another kick, the pegasus making a few heavy wingbeats before propelling beast and rider at knight.     Sumia's eyes look up, an eye... over her! "Evade this magic!" she tugs upon the reigns as the 'blade' stabs the eye, snagging Sumia in the arm with the etherial weapon. Sumia groans out in a bit of pain before redirecting the reigns to send the pegasus towards the Knight, running right through to give a couple stabs with the pointy end of her lance! 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     That was exactly what Gaffgarion thought was going to happen if he tried to rush the woman. She is after all mounted, and he on foot. So it's not too surprising when she evades the upwards-stabbing energy blade. It's also not too terribly surprising when she comes barreling at him with all the power of her mount behind the strike. And damn does it hurt!     He blocks what he can, but only manages to deflect the point of the lance into his thigh. Which is bad for him, because plate tends not to stand up to piercing attacks very well. And with the power of the charging pegasus behind it, the point penetrates deeply into the armor, and the flesh beyond. "Argh--!" A cry of pain, trailing into a growl, as he staggers back. His leg fails him as he puts weight on it, however, and he falls to a knee with a grunt.     Oh, but he's not out this early. He hisses, supporting himself on the sword as he gets to his feet again. "So. This is to be the way of it, then? Very well." He frees his shield hand as he did before, and whistles sharply. And in a moment, a black chocobo barrels into view, stopping near Gaffgarion and making a loud, sharp "KWEH!" It seems to glare at Sumia and her pegasus. But it sits still as Gaffgarion mounts, even dipping its body down some to make the task easier.     "'Tis mounted combat you wish? Then have at ye!" And he proceeds to charge at Sumia, and take a swing at her. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Sumia pulls the lance free from the peirced armor and makes her way around to make another charge. "Ah, a sellsword who knows the way of mounted... why are you on a giant chicken?" she questions only to shake her head and smile. "Perhaps it may be best for you to stop now, as one mounted knight to another..." Sumia watches the charging bird and knight, nodding some. "Skyward!"     A simple kick and up the two go into the air to make way out of the charging black bird and brown knight. "I don't believe you are capable of flight, sir knight." Sumia takes off a few hundred feet away, landing softly as she readies her lance for another charge. "I wish this didn't have to go this way, Sir, but I do not think it right for you to poach our lands."     Sumia starts charging in again, taking flight mid way only to make a diving lance charge this time while her pegasus attempts to make a mid air stomp upon the black bird's body, though the stomp seems to be more of a 'knock away' than a 'injuring blow' to the chocobo. "I don't wish to injure you more than it will take to have you routed!" 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     The lance comes down, but instead of spearing him as it mihgt have been intended to-- that would probably mean his death-- it gouges along the seam of his armor at his upper arm, drawing blood. But the hoof stomp draws a squawk of indignation from the bird that does not sound too terribly unlike a chicken's pained 'BWAWK!', and it staggers back. Gaffgarion is forced to hold on or fall off.     He gives a grimace that could be either pained or angry. Hard to tell. "Ah, but now you have insulted my dear Melody." He punctuates the statement with a pat of his shield hand to the bird's neck. Apparently that is the bird's name. Suddenly the knight gives a sharp whistle through his teeth, and the bird gives a spirited "Kweh!" And...     Takes off into the air, seemingly without a lot of difficulty. He gives a smug smirk. "What was this about not being able to fly?" He doesn't give her the chance to answer, he's charging again, this time from the air. Should that sword cut into her, she may feel the same sensation as the strange energy blade, but on a smaller level. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     "Insult was not intended, my apologies!" Sumia's lance is pulled out and the tip stained red and seeing the giant black chicken take flight gives Sumia a curious expression on her face. "At least I now know I am not the only one who is capable of fighting atop a mount."     Sumia gets ready to take to the air once more, to give this fight in her domain, though, as pegasus takes air, left arm meets sword and that draining feeling comes to her ten fold as it cuts into the steel armguard above her elbow. She lets out a loud pained sound, stifling it before it goes on too long, her pegasus entering stable flight into the air.     One thing is for certain, she has to keep away from him, hit and run or... she holsters the lance and pulls out another javelin from her pegasus' quiver. "Alright, let's get into a good flight and aim.." the pegasus gives a snort of understanding before taking off once more, heading around the bird and brigand, letting loose the javelin towards them both, a loud 'hyah!' sound is made with the throw and a kick to get more distance between the two. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion is also aware of the success of the hit. Mainly because he feels the pain of the previous strikes begin to ease. It doesn't actually '''heal''' the injuries themselves, though... just makes it easier for him to concentrate on the fight without having to deal with the pain so much. So he's still very much bleeding. But it doesn't seem to be bothering him as much for some reason.     It's this newfound energy that lets him tap the bird's side with his heel and whistle, in time for the chocobo to react with a sharp bank to the right and down. The javelin scratches the bird's side, taking feathers with it, and producing a squawk from the chocobo.     Another whistle, this one of a different pitch than the other, and Melody turns again, aiming herself upward and climbing. He's trying to get on Sumia's six! He will lose the position shortly, whether he manages to attain it or not, because he makes another strafing run at her, again slicing with his sword. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Sumia shakes her head, Javelins wern't her favored weapon of choice and she didn't get much practice with them. Sumia gives another kick and sends her pegasus flying away, looking around as the black bird and knight. She turns to the right and catches that sword again into her arm, her lance arm this time! Another kick and she puts distance between the two, clutching her arm. "Nngh, where did my vulneary go..." she mutters, patting her armor and a pack.. "I forgot them..."     Sumia shakes her head and bites her lip, readying her lance. "I do not believe that asking you stand down is on the table here..." she leans in, whispering to her pegasus, the winged horse flying upwards and circling around.     "Alright, now!" she makes a dive, the wings upon her pegasus tight against its body as she moves to impale the knight with her lance, using the force of gravity and speed to puncture that armor. If she hits that is. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "It is indeed not, milady!" Gaffgarion calls across the space that separates them. Is that a '''grin''' on his face?! He definitely looks like he's enjoying this. Even the black eyes of the chocobo seem to twinkle in glee. Or that could be a trick of the light. It's hard to tell from this angle.     The dive is fast, faster than Gaffgarion was expecting. It's only sheer instinct and training that keeps him from being impaled right off the back of that chocobo! He emits a short whistle and the bird just folds her wings next to her body and drops. It's only a short distance, and the chocobo angles herself first into a dive to get momentum, and then into an upward climb.     The knight's enjoyment of this is confirmed when he adds, "Now I am rather glad you chose not to stand down. 'Tis been a great while since I have felt so invigorated by a battle!" Yeah, this one's a little bloodthirsty, from the sounds of it. But instead of charging her again, he directs the chocobo to get some distance. The reason becomes clear when he clenches his shield arm into a fist before him. Magic gathers in it, and he speaks words that are lost to the wind. Then he straightens his arm, opens his hand, and aims his palm at her.     It's not so much a fireball comes out of his hand... but more that fire merely erupts in her current position! She's moving fast, so the may avoid it. Especially if she can feel the heat rising in the space in time to dodge. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Sumia's lance sparks from the clash as she speeds past the knight in brown armor. "I do not intend for an invigorated battle!" Sumia pasues a bit, "I think of it... as training! YOu are no different than the Plegian's who wish to do war with us as such... I will not give quarter!"     Sumia's pegasus snorts loudly, following up into a rise with the black chocobo, Sumia's lance ready once more, however something's off... he's not coming after her and his hand is glowing red. "What... is he .. it's heating up ov... MOVE!" a kick and yell and off the pegasus goes, a tad bit late as the blast of fire erupts near her, scorching her and her mount, a her armor smoking with the magic and a medium sized chunk of fur singed off her mount's body.     Sumia frowns at this, her gaze going cold at the knight, "You sir... injured my mount. I cannot forgive this! Hyah!" wings flare out and let loose a heavy flap that sends the pair barreling towards the knight and chocobo at high speed once more, aiming at the shield. "First you use magic without a tome and then you have the gall to hurt my pegasus."     She kicks again and sends her mount into a faster speed, wings flapping hard before coasting towards her destination, rearing back with her spear before thrusting it fore, hoping to use the momentum in this. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion's interest is perked by mention of these 'Plegians'. "Oh? Perhaps I will seek them out later," he notes. That is very definitely a teasing tone to his voice, and a snug smirk on his face. He's baiting her now. And he's not being very subtle about it.     And then Sumia is charging him on her pegasus again. He can't possibly hope to move in time, and moves the shield in for the block. The lance reaches its destination, Gaffgarion is certain it is going to strike the shield and glance off...     It doesn't.     His smug expression turns to one of shock and pain as the lance pierces the shield, effectively pinning it to his torso. He emits a loud cry of pain, biting the sound off ruthlessly, and Melody warks in concern. Seems baiting pegasus-mounted knights has its downside.     Oh, but speaking of baiting Sumia? She seems upset about her mount being injured. Perhaps if he can get her to rage, to froth in anger, she will grow careless. So he wrenches his arm out from behind the pinned shield so he can use it again. Hey, jousters have those things on their pauldrons, this can act as one until he can get the lance out. He turns, and with a sharp whistle-- ow, stop breathing so deeply Goffard, it hurts-- and charges at her in the air, channeling his pain into a roar of anger. Hopefully he can score another it with that sword. Its draining effects would help ease the pain.     That also means that there is a knight with his own shield pinned to his chest by a lance that's '''still embedded in his torso''', flying at her at full speed on the back of what looks like a giant chicken, and '''both''' of them with eyes gleaming death at her... 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     You don't hurt a pegasus knight's mount without some reprocussion. Which is exactly what just happened. Sumia's face is in a scowl, aaaand without her lance. She looks at the knight and. So that's where she left her lance... inside her enemy.     Bother...     Sumia pulls out one more of her javelins and looks to be ready to throw it... until the knight gets in close and blade hits chestplate, the sparks from the blade cutting into the armor and biting into her side get thrown out. However, the closeness gives her one idea.     She twirls herself around on her mount, trying to embed the javelin into the shield and hopefully Gaffgarion, while using her other arm to rip out her lance! "I will take your suggestion to heart then!" 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Well, that didn't go as planned. But it's still a little bit of energy, and every little bit helps. Thankfully as the two pass each other in the air, the javelin can't find purchase on his armor. However, that yanking out of the lance '''bloody hurts'''! And 'bloody' is an appropriate way to describe it too. When yanked out, the lance no longer stems the flow of blood. With predictable effect. And the choked 'hrrk!' that results from the pulling of the lance is proof enough of how painful that was.     Pulling out the lance does, however, free his shield, which he takes a moment to grab. It's perforated, but it's still a shield! And if he turns it, he might be able to use the hole already made in it to trap her lance a second time. Hopefully '''not''' with his chest next time... ow, Faram that hurts!     He needs to get to restoring that energy, and restoring it fast. Bleeding out is not a good position to be in during battle. Since the simple sword strike didn't work, he calls again on that strange sword-magic, and the eye appears. This time Sumia's moving, so there's a very, VERY good chance she's fast enough to avoid it. It's a gamble, but he's trying anyway. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Reacquiring her lance was just step one in a not so masterfully planned attempt at routing the enemy. Low on javelins, her lance a literal bloody mess and her pegasus and herself feeling the drain on this battle, what else could go wrong with it.. She turns around and...     That's what can go wrong.     The spectral blade was set up right in front of her and with no time to react, it crashes into her and sends her flying from her mount, the spectral blade peircing both mount and rider, leaving both heavily drained as she goes plummeting towards the ground.     Falling rapidly, it's only stopped with a loud THUD... and a very odd feeling of still moving yet not down. She shakes her head, opening her eyes. Looking down from her post, her pegasus has landed but she's still on a red scaled thing that is moving and has a few scars of its own...     She landed on the dragon. The momma dragon.     Newfound temporary mount acquired, she holds on tightly to her, catching her breath, planning her next move. "I can't take much more of that. I need to rout him fast... Can you help me? Please?" she rubs at the dragon's scales and neck, hoping that it had some trace amount of capability of understanding her.     The dragon slows its flight and turns towards the knight and bird, Sumia peering over the dragon's head with a soft, if painful looking, smile upon her face. "Shall we?" she questions? "I recommend your retreat." She twirls her lance a bit and points it forward, the dragon moving along with the pseudo command, and, with another spin, she moves to slap the blade against Gaffgarion, trying to knock him off his own mount! 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "Ha!" Gaffgarion guffaws, as he sees Sumia fall from her pegasus. And then immediately winces. '''Don't breathe deeply''', stupid! It '''hurts'''! The woman can't fly, he is certain, and must be plummeting to her death. He relaxes a little, allows himself a moment to breathe-- ow-- and then turns...     ...Only to find Sumia and the mother dragon right in front of him. His eyes widen in surprise. "...Bloody f--" WHACK! Probably a good thing that statement was cut off by being smacked. And the knight is also propelled from his perch upon the chocobo's back with the force of the strike. It's a rather immediate response for him to try to put his shield above him, hoping it can slow his fall some. He is not aware that gravity does not work that way.     He is however lucky enough to pass a mountain on the way down. It's this mountain that he uses his shield on, trying to slow his fall with the shield against the rock. Sumia can probably hear his cry of pain and effort echoing through the mountains, as the manevuer places strain on muscles that have already taken a beating.     But it slows him enough that Melody can get back under him. There's some rather awkward flailing around by both of them as he gets settled again. Once he's in the air again, it's with no trace of that awkwardness from a moment ago. NOBODY SAW THAT. It's only then that he responds to her suggestion to retreat. "I? Retreat? Why should I? With you mounted on my previous target, I can dispatch with both of you at once, and spare myself the effort of fighting her while I am weak." A positively evil grin spreads across his face...     Then he whistles sharply and the chocobo darts past Sumia again, Gaffgarion aiming a slice at her as they pass. It's not very well aimed. Partly because he's hurting too much. And partly because... well, if he misses and hits the dragon, that works too. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Dismounting complete. At least... "I don't think a shield works that way..." as she watches the armored man hold that shield up. Sumia and the draconic 'ally' hold position above, watching the man slow himself down on that mountain, the sounds of his pained cries isn't music to her ears though. The pegasus, however, twitches her wings and readies herself to fly once more.     Breathing heavily, she gives a light nod to the dragon, who goes into a dive towards Gaffgarion, Sumia pulling on a scale to pull the dragon back up as he's remounted upon his own ride. "I've accomplished what I set out to do! You would be of not a right mind to engage these beasts with your injuries!" Her comment might fall on deaf ears as the black bird and red sword slice on by, cutting into the metal breastplate with sparks and the taste of fresh blood and flesh upon the blade, a mighty scream of pain as Sumia slumps over onto the dragon, groaning in severe pain, clutching onto her lance as if her life was on the line.     Which for her is almost true.     The dragon lands, Sumia slowly dismounting from it, stumbling towards her pegasus, the pain of actaully moving is quite hurtful, every step causing the woman to wince out in pain. Once she reaches her mount, she pulls out one more javelin and slumps up against the winged horse.     o O (I've got one chance. I need to stop him here... Cordelia, guide me.) the thought running through her head as she leans back, mustering what strength she can under pained and broken self. With a loud grunt and scream of pain, she launches one last javelin at Gaffgarion, using all the force she can muster. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     She's down on the ground now, Gaffgarion realizes. From the air he has the advantage of a whole third dimension of movement that she doesn't have. She's injured (though so is he) and won't be able to fight much longer. Faith, she may fall over if the wind blows strongly, if her slumping against her mount is of any indication of her state.     He has her right where he wants her.     He taps the chocobo's sides with his heels again, and the bird begins into a dive. He's leaning over the bird's shoulder, sword raised-- not back to slice her, but pointed down to run her through. If she doesn't move, doesn't get out of his way...     ...Suddenly that third dimension of movement avails him naught. Too committed to the finishing strike is he to notice her pulling a javelin, too straight in his path is he to turn his course in time. Thankfully he's not too far off the ground...     There's enough time for his eyes to widen in horror as he realizes the error he's made...     And then the javelin strikes true, burying itself in the right side of his chest. Thankfully not the center, or he'd be dead. He's close enough for her to see the wince of agony as the javelin pierces him from front to back. He abruptly aborts the strike, and Melody is wise enough to land, just in time for him to tumble off her back on one side. That had to have finished him, didn't it?     ...No. No, he's '''still moving'''. Though in this case it's just enough to get to his knees and start to work the javelin out of his chest. Which he does after a few experimental tugs, and then a sharp '''yank''' that drew a loud cry of pain.     He hisses in pain, a hand over the bleeding injury. He's a mess. And he realizes she's right. Even if he '''does''' kill her here, he's in no shape to finish the job now. He tilts his head up, and drags himself to his feet, leaning heavily on that blood-red sword for support. He growls out, "You have until the count of ten to get out of my sight before I finish you anyway. And that was five." He hefts his sword, looking to make good on the threat. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     After loosing the javelin towards Gaffgarion, Sumia slowly and painfully moves to mount up, the Pegasus even kneeling down to assist. She hears the cry of pain and closes her eyes, slumping down on the back of her pegasus. "Thank you Cordelia..." she whispers, the mount moving to trot off until the voice of that knight rings into her ears.     "I came to do what... I needed to do. I am leaving now." she takes a breath and winces in pain, the sword cuts still bleeding and her body feeling drained from the spectral blades. She reaches into something on her hip and throws a few of her coins to the ground at Gaffgarion. "Recompense for your ... loss."     She turns her head towards him as the pegasus takes wing and starts flying... "Gaffgarion. Please do not show your face here again. I shall be informing Union members about your brigand-like activity here." 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     ...Well. If she'd just done that to begin with, much of this could have been avoided. Still, it was a rather invigorating fight. Even if many of his inside parts can now be glimpsed from outside. Not a good battle situation for anyone, let alone a lone man with intent to fight a fully-grown dragon. That would be foolish. And despite his intense love for money, he '''does''' love his life a little more.     He's not too proud to take the coins. They're not gil, but they're still spendable somewhere. Still that does rather put him back at square one. And as Sumia flies away on her pegasus, he thinks...     ...Maybe he should have just put dragonbane herbs in the mother dragon's food like Ladd suggested?     '''''. o (Next time. Definitely try that next time.)''''' 

}}

411/Save The Dragons!

2014-08-14T11:30:50Z

OrbisFactor: Hired to steal dragon eggs for a client, Gaffgarion thinks he only has Momma Dragon to deal with. He's wrong... to the tune of one pegasus knight by the name of Sumia!

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/14
|Location=TARGET: The Rookery (TR)
|Synopsis=Hired to steal dragon eggs for a client, Gaffgarion thinks he only has Momma Dragon to deal with. He's wrong... to the tune of one pegasus knight by the name of Sumia!
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=493, 544
|Tinyplot=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     That alert wasn't lying, either. Not too far from the warpgate (though not the Union one), one hears the shriek of a dragon. it's an angry shriek too. And pained. There's a reason for anger and pain, too. Nearby, a battle is unfolding. A nest high up in a group of rocky crags is being protected by a large, majestic, golden dragon. What's she protecting it from?     He's easy to spot. In brown plate armor, wielding a matching shield and a blood-red sword is a knight. He is the experienced type too, visible because the dragon sports cuts and gashes in her muzzle where she's attempted to bite him. As for the knight? His shield is smoking.     He's aiming for the dragon's head as she brings her head down and attempts to bite at him again. The knight blocks the teeth with the shield and tries to stab over his shield down at the dragon. Clearly he's not going for disable. He's going for killing blows. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     The alert reaches Sumia and out she comes from the Union side gate, the wing beats of her pegasus heavy in the air. Lance at the ready, Sumia and her mount race along the sky, looking for the signs of what made the alert. Little did she know what she was going to see. In her other hand is a flower, all the petals upon it discarded and a confident look upon the woman's face.     The sight of the dragon and knight fighting sends the woman's eyes wide, setting lance upon her mount's holder, grasping at a javelin. "He... hey! This is unacceptable! Please desist!" she shouts out towards the knight, circling the air a bit before lobbing the javelin down towards the knight, not aiming to hit, a warning throw to be precise.     Flying lower, she picks up lance again, landing down on the ground, giving stare at the knight and the wounded mother dragon. "Don't worry... I'm here to help." she mentions towards the dragon, her pegasus getting into a charging stance, a hoof scraping at the ground as she snorts in anger. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     The knight is locked in his fierce struggle against the dragon. The knight scores a hit and the dragon reels, as though stunned. It's the perfect time for the knight to strike the final blow! He sweeps in to do just that...     But then suddenly something flies in his peripheral vision! Not questioning the instinct to do so, he leaps back. And not a moment too soon, a javelin buries itself in the ground! As intended, it would have missed him if he hadn't moved back, but that wasn't a chance he was prepared to take.     The dragon shrieks loudly at the knight, and at first draws back from the woman and her pegasus. Angered and injured, the dragon is not going to be easy to talk out of its protective mommyrage at this precise moment. However, the knight is all too willing to talk.     "Pardon, milady," he begins. His voice is calm, actually. "But you are intruding upon a legitimate business venture. I assure ye, this is not mere random murder of dragonkin. I ask that you leave me to my work." 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Sumia's finger leaves the edge of her ear, giving a light nod. "I'm afraid that I cannot allow this venture to continue, sir knight. Please, leave the dragonkin in peace and try your hunt somewhere else." she responds in kind, "It would do us well to leave the injured in peace to recover." she gives a light smile towards the dragon before turning towards Gaffgarion.     "Will you honor this request?" she asks in a concerned voice, "I do not wish this to come to blows, there should be another place you can acquire your venture, yes?" the pegasus moves forward a bit, letting out another annoyed snort. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion pauses, turning his sword to rest the point upon the ground. His shield arm raises, letting the shield slide a little further down his arm, so that he can rub at his chin as if in thought. "Let me see if I understand you correctly. You wish that I leave a guaranteed site of that which I seek, and risk not completing my task? "     He tilts his head as he looks to her. "Would you be willing to supply me three dragon eggs, then?" Coincidentally there are exactly three eggs in the nest. "Or reimburse me for the gil I would lose in payment from my client?" Here he picks his sword up again. "If not, I fear I must refuse."     Gaffgarion tilts his head up, looking the woman over. "But. I am a pragmatic man. I do not wish to fight you /and/ the dragon. Therefore, I give you a second chance to leave me in peace. If not..." He pauses, spins his sword in his hand once. "I doubt threats of consequences are needed." 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave with the eggs. Nor do I have the payment you request." Sumia gives a nod a bit, listening to something come in to her ear mounted radio. "The land you are on belongs to the Union's kingdom. You are effectively a brigand right now and I cannot allow you to bargain your way to a victory."     Sumia hefts her lance a bit, "I give you just one chance to leave without anything, there are other places that do not belong to the Union's kingdom for you to do your venture, sir knight. Please, for the honor of your status, I bid you to leave without incident." 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "I do not belong to either of these factions," Gaffgarion replies. The mention of his status gets a snort. "I do not suffer the self-entited to deem themselves fit to decry my 'status'. My 'status' suffers only when I do not complete a task. I am Goffard Gaffgarion. I am a '''professional''' sellsword, milady." Here he shrugs. And then takes a step to the side, to be out of the pegasus's direct line of attack.     "But if you will neither let me take the eggs nor offer recompense in exchange for my standing down, then there seems to be only one course of action." He's too far away from her to get to her. With her lighter build, she could move out of the way of a fully-armored knight before he could close the distance. Instead?     He points his blood-red sword up in the air. The blade begins to glow, and he growls, his voice taking on an almost dual-toned quality, "Master of all swords, cut energy!" Then he points the sword in Sumia's direction.     The area seems to darken a little, as a shape like an eye appears in the sky... right over Sumia. Growling sounds echo from the ground below. The eye opens, and bright, scarlet-red energies fall from the eye... and then with a snapping sound, the energy forms into a blade shape, stabbing into the eye above and disappearing.     If the blade pierces Sumia, no damage will be done. At least, not physically. But if it makes contact, she will feel a portion of her energy siphoned away, as if something had 'gulped' of her spirit. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     "I understand then." she replies, stroking the head of her pegasus with a nod, "Then, I believe this would be inevitable." Sumia makes a small kick and the pegasus kicks up into the air, "I am Sumia, Pegasus Knight of the Knight Sisters of Ylisse. I shall remember your name for my report!"     The sword is taken into account, he's not going after her but the chanting? A spell? Sumia eyes it warily as she gives another kick, the pegasus making a few heavy wingbeats before propelling beast and rider at knight.     Sumia's eyes look up, an eye... over her! "Evade this magic!" she tugs upon the reigns as the 'blade' stabs the eye, snagging Sumia in the arm with the etherial weapon. Sumia groans out in a bit of pain before redirecting the reigns to send the pegasus towards the Knight, running right through to give a couple stabs with the pointy end of her lance! 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     That was exactly what Gaffgarion thought was going to happen if he tried to rush the woman. She is after all mounted, and he on foot. So it's not too surprising when she evades the upwards-stabbing energy blade. It's also not too terribly surprising when she comes barreling at him with all the power of her mount behind the strike. And damn does it hurt!     He blocks what he can, but only manages to deflect the point of the lance into his thigh. Which is bad for him, because plate tends not to stand up to piercing attacks very well. And with the power of the charging pegasus behind it, the point penetrates deeply into the armor, and the flesh beyond. "Argh--!" A cry of pain, trailing into a growl, as he staggers back. His leg fails him as he puts weight on it, however, and he falls to a knee with a grunt.     Oh, but he's not out this early. He hisses, supporting himself on the sword as he gets to his feet again. "So. This is to be the way of it, then? Very well." He frees his shield hand as he did before, and whistles sharply. And in a moment, a black chocobo barrels into view, stopping near Gaffgarion and making a loud, sharp "KWEH!" It seems to glare at Sumia and her pegasus. But it sits still as Gaffgarion mounts, even dipping its body down some to make the task easier.     "'Tis mounted combat you wish? Then have at ye!" And he proceeds to charge at Sumia, and take a swing at her. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Sumia pulls the lance free from the peirced armor and makes her way around to make another charge. "Ah, a sellsword who knows the way of mounted... why are you on a giant chicken?" she questions only to shake her head and smile. "Perhaps it may be best for you to stop now, as one mounted knight to another..." Sumia watches the charging bird and knight, nodding some. "Skyward!"     A simple kick and up the two go into the air to make way out of the charging black bird and brown knight. "I don't believe you are capable of flight, sir knight." Sumia takes off a few hundred feet away, landing softly as she readies her lance for another charge. "I wish this didn't have to go this way, Sir, but I do not think it right for you to poach our lands."     Sumia starts charging in again, taking flight mid way only to make a diving lance charge this time while her pegasus attempts to make a mid air stomp upon the black bird's body, though the stomp seems to be more of a 'knock away' than a 'injuring blow' to the chocobo. "I don't wish to injure you more than it will take to have you routed!" 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     The lance comes down, but instead of spearing him as it mihgt have been intended to-- that would probably mean his death-- it gouges along the seam of his armor at his upper arm, drawing blood. But the hoof stomp draws a squawk of indignation from the bird that does not sound too terribly unlike a chicken's pained 'BWAWK!', and it staggers back. Gaffgarion is forced to hold on or fall off.     He gives a grimace that could be either pained or angry. Hard to tell. "Ah, but now you have insulted my dear Melody." He punctuates the statement with a pat of his shield hand to the bird's neck. Apparently that is the bird's name. Suddenly the knight gives a sharp whistle through his teeth, and the bird gives a spirited "Kweh!" And...     Takes off into the air, seemingly without a lot of difficulty. He gives a smug smirk. "What was this about not being able to fly?" He doesn't give her the chance to answer, he's charging again, this time from the air. Should that sword cut into her, she may feel the same sensation as the strange energy blade, but on a smaller level. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     "Insult was not intended, my apologies!" Sumia's lance is pulled out and the tip stained red and seeing the giant black chicken take flight gives Sumia a curious expression on her face. "At least I now know I am not the only one who is capable of fighting atop a mount."     Sumia gets ready to take to the air once more, to give this fight in her domain, though, as pegasus takes air, left arm meets sword and that draining feeling comes to her ten fold as it cuts into the steel armguard above her elbow. She lets out a loud pained sound, stifling it before it goes on too long, her pegasus entering stable flight into the air.     One thing is for certain, she has to keep away from him, hit and run or... she holsters the lance and pulls out another javelin from her pegasus' quiver. "Alright, let's get into a good flight and aim.." the pegasus gives a snort of understanding before taking off once more, heading around the bird and brigand, letting loose the javelin towards them both, a loud 'hyah!' sound is made with the throw and a kick to get more distance between the two. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion is also aware of the success of the hit. Mainly because he feels the pain of the previous strikes begin to ease. It doesn't actually '''heal''' the injuries themselves, though... just makes it easier for him to concentrate on the fight without having to deal with the pain so much. So he's still very much bleeding. But it doesn't seem to be bothering him as much for some reason.     It's this newfound energy that lets him tap the bird's side with his heel and whistle, in time for the chocobo to react with a sharp bank to the right and down. The javelin scratches the bird's side, taking feathers with it, and producing a squawk from the chocobo.     Another whistle, this one of a different pitch than the other, and Melody turns again, aiming herself upward and climbing. He's trying to get on Sumia's six! He will lose the position shortly, whether he manages to attain it or not, because he makes another strafing run at her, again slicing with his sword. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Sumia shakes her head, Javelins wern't her favored weapon of choice and she didn't get much practice with them. Sumia gives another kick and sends her pegasus flying away, looking around as the black bird and knight. She turns to the right and catches that sword again into her arm, her lance arm this time! Another kick and she puts distance between the two, clutching her arm. "Nngh, where did my vulneary go..." she mutters, patting her armor and a pack.. "I forgot them..."     Sumia shakes her head and bites her lip, readying her lance. "I do not believe that asking you stand down is on the table here..." she leans in, whispering to her pegasus, the winged horse flying upwards and circling around.     "Alright, now!" she makes a dive, the wings upon her pegasus tight against its body as she moves to impale the knight with her lance, using the force of gravity and speed to puncture that armor. If she hits that is. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "It is indeed not, milady!" Gaffgarion calls across the space that separates them. Is that a '''grin''' on his face?! He definitely looks like he's enjoying this. Even the black eyes of the chocobo seem to twinkle in glee. Or that could be a trick of the light. It's hard to tell from this angle.     The dive is fast, faster than Gaffgarion was expecting. It's only sheer instinct and training that keeps him from being impaled right off the back of that chocobo! He emits a short whistle and the bird just folds her wings next to her body and drops. It's only a short distance, and the chocobo angles herself first into a dive to get momentum, and then into an upward climb.     The knight's enjoyment of this is confirmed when he adds, "Now I am rather glad you chose not to stand down. 'Tis been a great while since I have felt so invigorated by a battle!" Yeah, this one's a little bloodthirsty, from the sounds of it. But instead of charging her again, he directs the chocobo to get some distance. The reason becomes clear when he clenches his shield arm into a fist before him. Magic gathers in it, and he speaks words that are lost to the wind. Then he straightens his arm, opens his hand, and aims his palm at her.     It's not so much a fireball comes out of his hand... but more that fire merely erupts in her current position! She's moving fast, so the may avoid it. Especially if she can feel the heat rising in the space in time to dodge. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Sumia's lance sparks from the clash as she speeds past the knight in brown armor. "I do not intend for an invigorated battle!" Sumia pasues a bit, "I think of it... as training! YOu are no different than the Plegian's who wish to do war with us as such... I will not give quarter!"     Sumia's pegasus snorts loudly, following up into a rise with the black chocobo, Sumia's lance ready once more, however something's off... he's not coming after her and his hand is glowing red. "What... is he .. it's heating up ov... MOVE!" a kick and yell and off the pegasus goes, a tad bit late as the blast of fire erupts near her, scorching her and her mount, a her armor smoking with the magic and a medium sized chunk of fur singed off her mount's body.     Sumia frowns at this, her gaze going cold at the knight, "You sir... injured my mount. I cannot forgive this! Hyah!" wings flare out and let loose a heavy flap that sends the pair barreling towards the knight and chocobo at high speed once more, aiming at the shield. "First you use magic without a tome and then you have the gall to hurt my pegasus."     She kicks again and sends her mount into a faster speed, wings flapping hard before coasting towards her destination, rearing back with her spear before thrusting it fore, hoping to use the momentum in this. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Gaffgarion's interest is perked by mention of these 'Plegians'. "Oh? Perhaps I will seek them out later," he notes. That is very definitely a teasing tone to his voice, and a snug smirk on his face. He's baiting her now. And he's not being very subtle about it.     And then Sumia is charging him on her pegasus again. He can't possibly hope to move in time, and moves the shield in for the block. The lance reaches its destination, Gaffgarion is certain it is going to strike the shield and glance off...     It doesn't.     His smug expression turns to one of shock and pain as the lance pierces the shield, effectively pinning it to his torso. He emits a loud cry of pain, biting the sound off ruthlessly, and Melody warks in concern. Seems baiting pegasus-mounted knights has its downside.     Oh, but speaking of baiting Sumia? She seems upset about her mount being injured. Perhaps if he can get her to rage, to froth in anger, she will grow careless. So he wrenches his arm out from behind the pinned shield so he can use it again. Hey, jousters have those things on their pauldrons, this can act as one until he can get the lance out. He turns, and with a sharp whistle-- ow, stop breathing so deeply Goffard, it hurts-- and charges at her in the air, channeling his pain into a roar of anger. Hopefully he can score another it with that sword. Its draining effects would help ease the pain.     That also means that there is a knight with his own shield pinned to his chest by a lance that's '''still embedded in his torso''', flying at her at full speed on the back of what looks like a giant chicken, and '''both''' of them with eyes gleaming death at her... 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     You don't hurt a pegasus knight's mount without some reprocussion. Which is exactly what just happened. Sumia's face is in a scowl, aaaand without her lance. She looks at the knight and. So that's where she left her lance... inside her enemy.     Bother...     Sumia pulls out one more of her javelins and looks to be ready to throw it... until the knight gets in close and blade hits chestplate, the sparks from the blade cutting into the armor and biting into her side get thrown out. However, the closeness gives her one idea.     She twirls herself around on her mount, trying to embed the javelin into the shield and hopefully Gaffgarion, while using her other arm to rip out her lance! "I will take your suggestion to heart then!" 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     Well, that didn't go as planned. But it's still a little bit of energy, and every little bit helps. Thankfully as the two pass each other in the air, the javelin can't find purchase on his armor. However, that yanking out of the lance '''bloody hurts'''! And 'bloody' is an appropriate way to describe it too. When yanked out, the lance no longer stems the flow of blood. With predictable effect. And the choked 'hrrk!' that results from the pulling of the lance is proof enough of how painful that was.     Pulling out the lance does, however, free his shield, which he takes a moment to grab. It's perforated, but it's still a shield! And if he turns it, he might be able to use the hole already made in it to trap her lance a second time. Hopefully '''not''' with his chest next time... ow, Faram that hurts!     He needs to get to restoring that energy, and restoring it fast. Bleeding out is not a good position to be in during battle. Since the simple sword strike didn't work, he calls again on that strange sword-magic, and the eye appears. This time Sumia's moving, so there's a very, VERY good chance she's fast enough to avoid it. It's a gamble, but he's trying anyway. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Reacquiring her lance was just step one in a not so masterfully planned attempt at routing the enemy. Low on javelins, her lance a literal bloody mess and her pegasus and herself feeling the drain on this battle, what else could go wrong with it.. She turns around and...     That's what can go wrong.     The spectral blade was set up right in front of her and with no time to react, it crashes into her and sends her flying from her mount, the spectral blade peircing both mount and rider, leaving both heavily drained as she goes plummeting towards the ground.     Falling rapidly, it's only stopped with a loud THUD... and a very odd feeling of still moving yet not down. She shakes her head, opening her eyes. Looking down from her post, her pegasus has landed but she's still on a red scaled thing that is moving and has a few scars of its own...     She landed on the dragon. The momma dragon.     Newfound temporary mount acquired, she holds on tightly to her, catching her breath, planning her next move. "I can't take much more of that. I need to rout him fast... Can you help me? Please?" she rubs at the dragon's scales and neck, hoping that it had some trace amount of capability of understanding her.     The dragon slows its flight and turns towards the knight and bird, Sumia peering over the dragon's head with a soft, if painful looking, smile upon her face. "Shall we?" she questions? "I recommend your retreat." She twirls her lance a bit and points it forward, the dragon moving along with the pseudo command, and, with another spin, she moves to slap the blade against Gaffgarion, trying to knock him off his own mount! 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     "Ha!" Gaffgarion guffaws, as he sees Sumia fall from her pegasus. And then immediately winces. '''Don't breathe deeply''', stupid! It '''hurts'''! The woman can't fly, he is certain, and must be plummeting to her death. He relaxes a little, allows himself a moment to breathe-- ow-- and then turns...     ...Only to find Sumia and the mother dragon right in front of him. His eyes widen in surprise. "...Bloody f--" WHACK! Probably a good thing that statement was cut off by being smacked. And the knight is also propelled from his perch upon the chocobo's back with the force of the strike. It's a rather immediate response for him to try to put his shield above him, hoping it can slow his fall some. He is not aware that gravity does not work that way.     He is however lucky enough to pass a mountain on the way down. It's this mountain that he uses his shield on, trying to slow his fall with the shield against the rock. Sumia can probably hear his cry of pain and effort echoing through the mountains, as the manevuer places strain on muscles that have already taken a beating.     But it slows him enough that Melody can get back under him. There's some rather awkward flailing around by both of them as he gets settled again. Once he's in the air again, it's with no trace of that awkwardness from a moment ago. NOBODY SAW THAT. It's only then that he responds to her suggestion to retreat. "I? Retreat? Why should I? With you mounted on my previous target, I can dispatch with both of you at once, and spare myself the effort of fighting her while I am weak." A positively evil grin spreads across his face...     Then he whistles sharply and the chocobo darts past Sumia again, Gaffgarion aiming a slice at her as they pass. It's not very well aimed. Partly because he's hurting too much. And partly because... well, if he misses and hits the dragon, that works too. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     Dismounting complete. At least... "I don't think a shield works that way..." as she watches the armored man hold that shield up. Sumia and the draconic 'ally' hold position above, watching the man slow himself down on that mountain, the sounds of his pained cries isn't music to her ears though. The pegasus, however, twitches her wings and readies herself to fly once more.     Breathing heavily, she gives a light nod to the dragon, who goes into a dive towards Gaffgarion, Sumia pulling on a scale to pull the dragon back up as he's remounted upon his own ride. "I've accomplished what I set out to do! You would be of not a right mind to engage these beasts with your injuries!" Her comment might fall on deaf ears as the black bird and red sword slice on by, cutting into the metal breastplate with sparks and the taste of fresh blood and flesh upon the blade, a mighty scream of pain as Sumia slumps over onto the dragon, groaning in severe pain, clutching onto her lance as if her life was on the line.     Which for her is almost true.     The dragon lands, Sumia slowly dismounting from it, stumbling towards her pegasus, the pain of actaully moving is quite hurtful, every step causing the woman to wince out in pain. Once she reaches her mount, she pulls out one more javelin and slumps up against the winged horse.     o O (I've got one chance. I need to stop him here... Cordelia, guide me.) the thought running through her head as she leans back, mustering what strength she can under pained and broken self. With a loud grunt and scream of pain, she launches one last javelin at Gaffgarion, using all the force she can muster. 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     She's down on the ground now, Gaffgarion realizes. From the air he has the advantage of a whole third dimension of movement that she doesn't have. She's injured (though so is he) and won't be able to fight much longer. Faith, she may fall over if the wind blows strongly, if her slumping against her mount is of any indication of her state.     He has her right where he wants her.     He taps the chocobo's sides with his heels again, and the bird begins into a dive. He's leaning over the bird's shoulder, sword raised-- not back to slice her, but pointed down to run her through. If she doesn't move, doesn't get out of his way...     ...Suddenly that third dimension of movement avails him naught. Too committed to the finishing strike is he to notice her pulling a javelin, too straight in his path is he to turn his course in time. Thankfully he's not too far off the ground...     There's enough time for his eyes to widen in horror as he realizes the error he's made...     And then the javelin strikes true, burying itself in the right side of his chest. Thankfully not the center, or he'd be dead. He's close enough for her to see the wince of agony as the javelin pierces him from front to back. He abruptly aborts the strike, and Melody is wise enough to land, just in time for him to tumble off her back on one side. That had to have finished him, didn't it?     ...No. No, he's '''still moving'''. Though in this case it's just enough to get to his knees and start to work the javelin out of his chest. Which he does after a few experimental tugs, and then a sharp '''yank''' that drew a loud cry of pain.     He hisses in pain, a hand over the bleeding injury. He's a mess. And he realizes she's right. Even if he '''does''' kill her here, he's in no shape to finish the job now. He tilts his head up, and drags himself to his feet, leaning heavily on that blood-red sword for support. He growls out, "You have until the count of ten to get out of my sight before I finish you anyway. And that was five." He hefts his sword, looking to make good on the threat. 

:'''{{#var:544|Sumia (544)}} has posed:'''     After loosing the javelin towards Gaffgarion, Sumia slowly and painfully moves to mount up, the Pegasus even kneeling down to assist. She hears the cry of pain and closes her eyes, slumping down on the back of her pegasus. "Thank you Cordelia..." she whispers, the mount moving to trot off until the voice of that knight rings into her ears.     "I came to do what... I needed to do. I am leaving now." she takes a breath and winces in pain, the sword cuts still bleeding and her body feeling drained from the spectral blades. She reaches into something on her hip and throws a few of her coins to the ground at Gaffgarion. "Recompense for your ... loss."     She turns her head towards him as the pegasus takes wing and starts flying... "Gaffgarion. Please do not show your face here again. I shall be informing Union members about your brigand-like activity here." 

:'''{{#var:493|Gaffgarion (493)}} has posed:'''     ...Well. If she'd just done that to begin with, much of this could have been avoided. Still, it was a rather invigorating fight. Even if many of his inside parts can now be glimpsed from outside. Not a good battle situation for anyone, let alone a lone man with intent to fight a fully-grown dragon. That would be foolish. And despite his intense love for money, he '''does''' love his life a little more.     He's not too proud to take the coins. They're not gil, but they're still spendable somewhere. Still that does rather put him back at square one. And as Sumia flies away on her pegasus, he thinks...     ...Maybe he should have just put dragonbane herbs in the mother dragon's food like Ladd suggested?     '''''. o (Next time. Definitely try that next time.)''''' 

}}

373/Hangin' At the Bar & Grill

2014-08-09T06:52:56Z

OrbisFactor: It's the perfect setup for a "walk into a bar" joke, predictably. Social conversation happens!

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/09
|Location=Bar and Grill at the Edge of the Multiverse
|Synopsis=It's the perfect setup for a "walk into a bar" joke, predictably. Social conversation happens!
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=24, 27, 222, 273
|Tinyplot=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     There's no day and night cycle out here. So, when we say that Serenity's crew has hopped on over to the Bar and Grill for a late night drink, it's kind of a meaningless statement. What's for certain, though, is that the ship's crew has occupied a pair of booths near the side of the Bar, and a goodly amount of the station's booze, as well. River, Simon, Kaylee, and Shepherd Book occupy one table. Mal, Wash, Zoe, Inara, and Jayne occupy the other.     "I'm telling you... Hand of God. He took out his pistol and tried shootin' at it.." says the ship's captain, finishing a tale with a wide grin, and a laugh. His table erupts into laughter; apparently, it's a very funny ending to whatever that story was. 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Wasn't like he really needed to eat or anything. Though Jono often wondered if the fire in his chest would consume things. Kind of like a fission reactor or something. But then again, stuffing pizza in his chest would be weird. And he didn't really seem to need to, so there wasn't really any point to trying. Besides. Weird! But the Bar and Grill wasn't just for fooding. There's always a lot of people there. And as antisocial as he is, it always makes Jono feel better to be able to watch a crowd from the outskirts. Besides that, maybe he could get permission to play there a couple times a month or something. Might not be lucrative, but it'd be a Thing. However, as he enters, he hears louder laughter than normal and looks in that direction. His eyes narrow with a smile, and he heads quietly in the crew's direction. "'Ey," he greets simply, with a friendly wave. Hey, look, it's that weirdo who was floating in space! 

:'''{{#var:24|John Connor (24)}} has posed:'''      Two young people come through the door then. One is a teenager, about sixteen years of age, with a stern expression on his face and a cropped buzzcut. He wears a leather jacket and a hoodie. The other may be about the same age, but it seems harder to determine. Her jacket, however, is a deep purple leather with studs here and there. John and Cameron.      Wandering in, Cameron just behind him like a quiet shadow, John raises his hand to wave ever so slightly towards Mal and the others. He remembers them. Cameron got all strange with that familiar-seeming girl. Jonothon, too, gets a brief wave. He remembers him, too, from that horrible day all those months ago. 

:'''{{#var:222|Regina of Borg (222)}} has posed:'''      And just behind Cameron and John is...the Borg Queen herself, Regina. And sitting atop her head is a cute little shinki! The shinki is dressed like a little nurse, with appropriate hat with a + on it, sensible glasses, and armor that resembles a lab coat. She is holding a syringe nearly as big as she is, which glows with a sickly green light from whatever is inside.      Despite Regina's rather sour demeanor, the shinki is all smiles. "Don't worry, Master! This will be good for you!" the shinki says when they enter. Regina looks...less than convinced. "I have been here before." Regina says, looking around. "I do not see how visiting this place again will do me any good. I aquired you so that you would handle social situations." The shinki tsks. "That's no good, Master. You have to become good at socializing, too!" 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     "Well, if it isn't our very own Drifter... Looking a mite better, not floating around in the black, an' all..." greets Serenity's captain, offering a cheery grin and a wave over to Jono. An empty seat across the booth's table is gestured to, and offered.     "Don't look much like he got sucked out into space.." Jayne comments, helpfully. "Whadya think, 'Nara?" he says, mispronouncing the Companion's name for the umpteenth time.     Regina draws a few curious looks from the crew, from all save River. Because she's... Yep. She's staring at Cameron again. 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Jono looks up when John and Cameron enter. There's a smile in his eyes as he waves back. Oh yes, he remembers that day. And since both John and Cameron appear to both still be alive, he reasons that means there's been no other 'incidents'. Which is good. Though the 'smile' falls a little from his features when he recognizes the one coming in behind John and Cameron. Oh boy, he remembers that one too. Well, sort of. She looks like those things that were pinching the zombies that day. Pinched him too. And also put a hole in the sleeve of his good leather coat! But he's paying attention when Malcolm speaks up, and offers a quiet chuckle. "Feelin' better than when I was floatin' out there, too," he adds, as he sits in the place Malcolm indicated. "Thanks again for that, by the way." Jayne's comment gets a sheepish look. But he feels confident enough to note, "Eh... hard ter explain. I don't 'ave ter breathe, so I can survive in space for a little while." 

:'''{{#var:24|John Connor (24)}} has posed:'''      While John heads further in, to the bar to get a drink, Cameron turns to look at Regina. She looks her up and down, looking utterly unconcerned. None of the Connors have had any run-ins with the Borg or their leader, so, to them, she's just another bit of the wide, weird Multiverse.      With everything sorted, and John on his way over to the table that Mal and his crew are at, Cameron heads over there as well. She's staring at River, head cocked curiously. John pulls over a seat from a nearby table, settling near Jono. Cameron says, "Hello," to River. 

:'''{{#var:222|Regina of Borg (222)}} has posed:''' Regina looks Cameron over as well, then hmms. "You are not human, are you?" she asks, smirking lightly. When Cameron walks away, Regina remains where she is.      "Sit with them!" the shinki says cheerfully.      "I am your master, not the other way around." Regina says, causing the shinki to pout. "Awww. Come on. It won't hurt you. And, building social skills will help you in future conquests where you cannot win through brute force~" the shinki says, much more cheerfully than something like that would usually be said.      With logic used against her, and the difficulties in assimilating new things in this Multiverse always on her mind, Regina finally complies. She walks over and takes an open seat. If none are open, she simply stands there. Looking around at the others. She still does not speak to them.      The shinki tires of this, so hops down on the table and smiles brightly. "Hello everyone! I am Britt! It is nice to meet all of you!" she says, doing a little curtsey. If Regina remembers Jono, she hasn't let on to it yet. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     There's no seats at the booth that Mal, Jono, Inara, Wash, Jayne, and Zoe are occupying, but should Regina like, there's plenty of spare chairs at other table that can be pulled over, like John did.     "You said you'd be back," says River, because her player just can't resist making that joke, eyeing Cameron with that ever non-blinking stare of hers.     "Britt..." says Mal, eyeing the woman curiously. "Well, then, pull up a chair, please," says Serenity's captain, gesturing towards some of the empty chairs nearby. "Was just talking with my space-drifting misfit over here..." he says, thumbing back in Jono's direction. "Good story, that one." 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' "'Ey there," Jono offers pleasantly as John sits down near him. "Everythin' been alright?" Looking between John and Cameron there. His meaning's probably pretty clear. He's concerned, but he doesn't want to air things like that in public. Regina is heading over to where they are as well, it seems, and Jono offers a polite nod of his head. Nothing saying he can't be polite! And then suddenly there's a Shinki on the table, and Jono looks to the tiny robot girl, blinking. Britt, huh? He can't help but chuckle a little bit. Still, he's a little confused as he replies, "Uh, hello Britt. I'm Jono." Pause, blink. "Yer mind if I ask what are yer? Not ter be rude, mind. Just curious." Though he looks a little sheepish again when Malcolm mentions his space-drifting. Though he explains more fully, "I got inter a scrap at a space station an' got tossed out an airlock. Cap'n Mal an' 'is crew here picked me up." 

:'''{{#var:24|John Connor (24)}} has posed:'''      "Hello, Britt," Cameron says.      John adds a more awkward, "Uh, hey."      John turns his attention to Jono. He nods, once. "Yeah. Things have been okay. Nothing major... Cameron's been fine." He shifts the conversation away from that incident. "Might be getting third place in that tournament that's been going on." He holds his drink, some sort of soft drink, in his hands, resting it atop his thigh.      Cameron eyes River right back, and she doesn't blink either. "I keep my promises," Cameron states. "I've been reading a book. The Wizard of Oz. It is John's favourite."      John purses his lips at that. A very 'hey, don't go telling people that' expression. 

:'''{{#var:222|Regina of Borg (222)}} has posed:'''      Britt smiles happily at the greetings from the others, and Regina continues to stand there. She doesn't look like it bothers her, either. "I am a shinki! Brightfeather model! I am a shinki healer. I can fix other shinkis and even do some healing on humans and robots and all kinds of things!" she says. Then, she looks at Regina. "Master, please sit down. People don't like to have people standing there looking over their shoulders." she says, making a pouty face.      Regina raises an eyebrow, then pulls a chair over. "Do not get used to this, Britt. In any other situation, you would not be able to give me any sort of command." Regina says. Britt just waves a hand dismissively and smiles. "I have to do the job you assigned to me, right?" she says before looking at the staring contest. "Staring for long periods of time can be harmful to one's eyes. Would you two like some eyedrops?" Britt says, smiling and holding up her syringe. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     River gives a slight giggle to Cameron's reply. "One's missing a heart...One's missing a brain..." she says, flashing that odd, unplaceable sort of smile that she favors. r     "You're missing both, aren'tcha?" Still, unblinking. No reply is given to Regina's helpful suggestion of the eyedrops. "They just make you cry!" she says, sounding upset. Okay, maybe she does give a reply. %r     Mal relaxes back into his seat, and flashes a grin back to the members of his crew who are at that particular booth. "Ah... Ain't that quaint.." he says, remarking on the back-and-forth between the shinki, the Reader, and the Terminator. Kaylee's totally turned around to stare over the back of her seat at the shinki, eyes wide in fascination. 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Jono seems relieved when John assures him that nothing's been seriously wrong with Cameron. And also! "Third place? If yer get it, congrats. If not, congrats anyway, yer still got pretty far." Though he does 'smirk' a little when he hears Cameron's mention of John's favorite book. But he doesn't comment on it. If John's embarrassed about it, no sense in teasing him. Besides, he doesn't know John well enough to tease him about something like that. Britt answers with what she is, and Jono tilts his head a little. "Shinki? I 'eard a little 'bout 'em durin' the tournament. Couple were in it, I think." He'd been watching it on and off, but hadn't really been devoting a huge amount of attention to it. He chuckles at the interplay between Britt and her 'master', but he doesn't comment. Much like the situation with John's favorite book, it's kind of not his place to, since he doesn't know Regina well enough to tease her. And she probably wouldn't take well to teasing anyway. 

:'''{{#var:24|John Connor (24)}} has posed:'''      "And the Lion is missing courage," Cameron says, seeming to step right past the question from River. "I have sensation," she tells River, without judgement. "I think. I feel. I wouldn't be worth much if I couldn't feel." The suggestion of eyedrops doesn't seem to phase her in the least. She doesn't even reply to it, probably isn't even aware that the question was directed at her.      "Yeah," John says to Jono, "Third place will be more than enough prize money. It'd be a big help. She'll do it, I'm sure." 

:'''{{#var:222|Regina of Borg (222)}} has posed:'''      Britt seems rather confused by River's reply. She blinks a few times, then smiles. "No they don't. It just seems like you are crying because your eyes are so nice and moist afterword!" she says. When she notices Kaylee's staring, Britt stares back for a few moments. Then, she whines. "Oooh. Now I need some!" She pulls the tiniest eye drop bottle ever out of her coat, then leans her head back and *drop* *drop*. She blinks a few times, straightens her glasses, then smiles again. "There. All wet and properly lubricated." she says happily.      Regina, meanwhile, is facinated by Cameron. She can tell, via her scanners, that Cameron is some sort of hybrid of man and machine. But, different from Borg. "Missing either is a cause for concern." Regina says to River, though she probably isn't thinking about the heart as emotions. She looks over at Jono after that. "You...I believe I have encountered you before." she says, peering at him. 

:'''{{#var:273|Malcolm Reynolds (273)}} has posed:'''     Mal's just leaning back in his seat, enjoying the back and forth between the other members of his crew, and his friends/strangers gathered there at the table.     "Third place?" he asks, looking over towards John, then. "Sorta..... stumbled into commentatin' one of those matches," he says. By that, the good captain means he literally -stumbled- into the wrong booth, and ended up commentating one of the earlier WMAT matches.     "Good shit, though," Jayne comments, sagenodding. "The fightin'."     River's still doing that whole fascination-stareoff with Cameron. "So you went to see the Wizard, then?" she sort of asks/says. "Was it just an old man behind a curtain? Or did he already fly away...away...away." 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Jono's aware of a bit of... well, maybe not tension. But there's something there. Cameron and River are not-quite arguing. The statement from John gets a nod, and Jono turns his attention back to John. "Lemme know if I can do somethin' else ter help," he notes. "Even if it's just donatin' funds for somethin'. I ain't filthy rich, but I can afford a little." Britt's antics get a smile out of Jono, such as it is. It's mostly his eyes. Also the glasses are adorable. So he chances to ask her, "Any idea where I can read up on Shinkis?" Regina's statement draws his gaze to her then, and he nods. "Yer did," he confirms. "Somethin' having ter do with a village 'o undead an' takin' tissue samples I think." If he had a mouth, he'd be smirking wryly. "I 'ad ter 'ave me coat patched." He doesn't sound upset about it. He almost sounds amused, in fact. Mention of Malcolm commentating gets a blink. "Musta missed that," he replies. "How does that work, anyway? That tournament?" It's almost over, he knows, but maybe there will be another sometime, and he can look into it a little better then. 

:'''{{#var:24|John Connor (24)}} has posed:'''      Cameron just replies to River, "No. I haven't seen a wizard, or any old men behind any curtains." She's picked a hell of a time to go completely literal - but it's not much of a surprise. Her head tilts slightly as River repeats that final word, like she's stuck in a loop.      "Third place," John confirms to Mal, keeping an eye on Regina as she looks Cameron over. "Thanks, Jon," he says. "I'll keep that in mind." 

:'''{{#var:222|Regina of Borg (222)}} has posed:'''      Regina nods lightly to Jono. "My drones must have thought you were one of the residents. We were trying to determine how those creatures were alive. Such as the walking skeletons and the zombies, both of which seemed to be reanimated dead. We are capable of many things, but resurrection still evades us." she says. She smirks lightly when he comments on his coat. "And, where did you aquire a patch only a millimeter across?" she asks.      Britt smiles as Regina actually starts talking, then looks over at Cameron and River. "Oooooooh~" And then she sings, "o/` We're off to see the wizard! The wonderful wizard of Oz! Becausebecausebecausebecausebecaaaaaaauuuuse! o/`" The little shinki dances around the table, skipping cheerfully along and smiling brightly. She giggles after that little bit, then stops and looks around. 

}}

Radio Frequencies

2014-07-17T08:07:35Z

OrbisFactor: Adding Gaffgarion's frequency

This page aims to list all radio frequencies which are either public or semi-private, based on voluntary listing. You can add them yourself, or send Homura an @mail with the listing information if you don't feel comfortable editing this page yourself or hate Mediawiki code.

Please note that whether or not a frequency is marked as encrypted or public doesn't make it any less impolite to just jump onto a frequency your character has no immediate tie-in to. If you have the slightest doubt about it, make sure to ask the owner whether or not your character can get on it or if it's alright to observe.

'''Freq''': The frequency.

'''Owner''': The current moderator of the frequency.

'''Enc''': Whether or not the frequency is encrypted, and how to get its encryption key, i.e. "ask owner".

'''Purpose''': What the frequency is for.

==All-Purpose/TP Frequencies:==
{| class="wikitable sortable" cellpadding="10" cellspacing="0" width="100%"
! style="text-align:left" width="5%"| Freq
! style="text-align:left" width="10%"| Owner
! style="text-align:left" width="5%"| Enc
! style="text-align:left" width="75%"| Purpose
|-
|| 06.08 || [[Milla Maxwell]] || No || Tales of Xillia-1 stuff, doubles as local cross-factional during scenes.
|-
|| 16.03 || [[Homura Akemi]] || No || Anyone involved, wishing to be involved, or planning to get involved in Madoka-1 scenes, whether random ones or TP ones, is free to have this frequency on. It will not always be used, but expect it to replace Union-IC when Unaffiliated or Confederate parties are involved, or when we have to discuss things and X-U isn't an option. You should only actually ICly know about/use the frequency once you've been told about it, though. (Attend a scene/be told/etc.)
|-
|| 95.5 || [[Courier Six]] || No || Mojave Wasteland general frequencies, also Radio New Vegas
|-
|| 413.612 || [[Summer Powers]] || No || Pesterchum Chat. Open to public. Codenames are used. Two words together, first one lowercased, second capitalized. profoundBadness and crowravenWolfmoon are examples.
|-
|| 66.6 || [[Psyber]] || Ask || Heaven or Hell backup radio. Will be utilized for smaller scenes featuring group members as well as splitting conversations off the main band.
|-
|| 11.5 || [[Elise Leroy]] || Ask || XCOM-1 'public' radio frequency, for allies not directly involved in XCOM day-to-day activities. Used for field ops also.
|-
|| 13.37 || [[Chris Rothschild]] || No || Hacknet, a public frequency for techies, hackers, etc.
|-
|| 00.04 || [[Alternis Dim]] || No || Frequency for all Bravely Default-1 scenes/TPs/etc.
|-
|| 305.19 || [[Elliana Fairchild]] || No || Frequency for all cross-factional communications related to Elliana's various scenes, plots and TPs when J-IC isn't an option.
|-
|| 900.1 || [[Mister Satan]]/[[Serori]] || No || Yearly frequency for the WMAT's (tournament) IC chatter.
|-
|| 42.0 || [[Theo Morrison]] || No || Radio Free Nerdery. Public channel for casual talk from nerds of all stripes.
|-
|| 3.853 || [[Kirito]] || No || Radio frequency for Kirito's Node scenes (Abstractum TP).
|-
|| 192.9 || [[Eliot Ness]] || No || Radio frequency for Assassin's Creed: The Untouchables scenes.
|-
|| 7746.54 || [[Fuki]] || No || Radio frequency for Confederate Shinki.
|-
|| 44.44 || [[Ciaran]] || Ask || Radio frequency reserved for Dark Souls cast members. Please inquire before joining us. May be used for Dark Souls theme scenes.
|-
|| 4.97 || [[Mizuki]] || No || A frequency to share dreams, both the ones you have when you sleep and the ones you have when you're awake. Casual philosophy talk is also permitted. All of this is IC, cross-factional, and anonymous unless a person intentionally reveals themselves. The owner of the channel is common knowledge, however. Completely public.
|-
|| 53.13 || [[Sakura Kinomoto]] || No || Frequency for discussion related to the Deck of Light node.
|-
|| 80.8 || [[Goffard Gaffgarion]] || No || Frequency for those wishing to solicit Gaffgarion's services as a sellsword. Note: It's usually going to be Ladd answering unless it's specifically requested that a caller wishes to speak to Gaffgarion.
|}

==Personal Frequencies:==
{| class="wikitable sortable" cellpadding="10" cellspacing="0" width="100%"
! style="text-align:left" width="5%"| Freq
! style="text-align:left" width="10%"| Owner
! style="text-align:left" width="5%"| Enc
! style="text-align:left" width="75%"| Purpose
|-
|| 141.80 || [[Solid Snake]] || Ask || Snake's personal CODEC frequency.
|-
|| 9979.5 || [[Iria]] || Ask || Iria's communicator frequency.
|-
|}

==WMAT Frequencies:==
{| class="wikitable sortable" cellpadding="10" cellspacing="0" width="100%"
! style="text-align:left" width="5%"| Freq
! style="text-align:left" width="15%"| Arena
! style="text-align:left" width="75%"| Purpose
|-
|| 900.1 || All || All-purpose WMAT IC chatter frequency.
|-
|| 900.2 || Devil's Hand || Frequency for listening to specific match commentary.
|-
|| 900.3 || Diablo Desert || Frequency for listening to specific match commentary.
|-
|| 900.4 || Gizard Wasteland || Frequency for listening to specific match commentary.
|-
|| 900.5 || Northern Mountains || Frequency for listening to specific match commentary.
|-
|| 900.6 || Spinach Wasteland || Frequency for listening to specific match commentary.
|-
|| 900.7 || Yunzabit Heights || Frequency for listening to specific match commentary.
|-
|| 900.8 || Tournament Stadium || Frequency for listening to specific match commentary.
|-
|}
[[Category:Index]]

Defense of PA-N51

2014-06-28T04:24:44Z

OrbisFactor: The very generous but mysterious "League of Rule Companies" submits an urgent, last-minute contract and gets a wide variety of Elites answering the call.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/06/27
|Location=Skaro Wasteland
|Synopsis=The very generous but mysterious "League of Rule Companies" submits an urgent, last-minute contract and gets a wide variety of Elites answering the call.
|Thanks=White Glint, for running
|Cast of Characters=7, 27, 42, 62, 136, 322
|Tinyplot=
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' Contracts from the distant and uncommunicative organization known as the League of Rule Companies have become quite popular on Multiversal job boards. Not only are they well suited to the typical Elite's portfolio, but they don't ask for any specific comers, and they pay an absolute fortune for the level of work they entail, simply due to the sheer wealth of the corporate entities handing them out. Usually there is at least a few day's notice of any given job with an encrypted briefing and intelligence file sent out upon accepting any one contract, however, today one marked *URGENT* has suddenly gone up with less than a day to prepare, listed under "field combat" and "humanitarian aid" tags. Upon acceptance, the download features a strict countdown with only hours remaining on its mission clock, with a hastily prepared briefing from one "Albrecht Drais Heavy Industries" warning of an impending attack from one of their corporate rivals only just detected crossing the North European sea a short while ago. What makes this more interesting than a simple company proxy skirmish is that the target isn't a military installation, listed instead as the PA-N51 new resource plant. The briefing stresses that aside from a small defense force, the residents are entirely noncombatants and paid civilians, and the forces being employed against them comprises nothing less than an automated drone strike, making for an obvious attempt at a complete wipe-out operation rather than attempting to force a surrender or seize the facility. The fact that there will likely be hundreds of casualties if a counter offensive fails is stressed several times on the way over, before displaying a set of coordinates for what looks like the northwestern corner of Russia. Arriving at the site paints an entirely different picture from what one would expect. The bitter cold and sweeping winds are definitely of Russian origin, but flakes of solid black ash fall along with the hail, settling to the ground and tinging the snow grey. Despite the fact it should only be early afternoon judging by the position of the sun, the horizon is painted bloody red by the peculiar way the light filters through the haze of off-coloured clouds, totally at odds with the winter landscape. The resource plant appears to have been erected in the middle of a city, but it's clear nobody has lived there for some time. Snow is piled up almost a storey deep in places, and in others, the ceilings of square, drab grey buildings have collapsed in from age. The only lights in the skeletal ghost of a town are the aircraft landing lights that dot the scaffolding of a complex of fuel reserves, power recyclers, and what appears to be a blockaded mineshaft, which any inbound aircraft can use as markers in the awful visibility. 

:'''{{#var:62|Elise Leroy (62)}} has posed:''' "Responding Forces, and Local Garrison. This is Big Sky. I am on approach vector, bearing 157 at 20000 feet. Requesting a landing beacon." the gruff pilots voice transmits over open, local broadband. Elise is in the back, along with a pair of MEC troopers, and and pair of SHIVs, with another Augmented trooper along for the ride. She's wearing a helmet this time, the faceplate reflectively coated to obscure her face. "Alright Strike One, this isn't usually part of our operational method... but we have to secure the facility, and make sure the non-combatants aren't harmed. Sledge, Nova, you two system link with the SHIVs, I want you out there in their faces, make sure they don't get through. Scotch and I will hang back and organize what defenses are on the ground, and evacuate civilians to a safe area with Big Sky's help. Questions?" 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Well THIS is a crappy place to put a research facility. Or whatever it's supposed to be. Either way, if it's not military and someone's going to try to blow it up, that's not something Jono wants happening. Even if he can't do much more than just evacuate people. What's inside the computers, and the facility itself, is doubtless valuable. But lives are more important. Jono's dressed in a coat and long pants, but he doesn't feel the cold, even though the coat is left unbuttoned. Since he assumes this is going to pretty much be a fight right from the get-go, he hasn't bothered to wrap his face. Because the wrappings are completely absent, the extent to which he is basically a living flame is really apparent here, even under his black shirt the light of that staticky fire can be seen. Strangely, the winds didn't seem to affect the fire, but it licks around what can be seen of his face as if there was no wind. He's standing near the landing pad, figuring if the enemy is going to come by air, they're going to have to have a place to land. And this is the best landing place that he can find, so guarding it is probably a good idea. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa is with Elise as support as normal, she's not a front line fighter she knows it but she's suited up in XCOM combat armour if only for her own protection. With a nanovest it gives some level of protection from things. IT's better than nothing and she's sticking to the Skyranger, she does have some gear set up and has already plugged it into the back of her neck. information appears before her eyes as she set sup to provide electonic support to the XCOM units getting into the thinck of things here. <This is K.O. All things are go here.> 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:''' MINUTES AGO Staren lays back in his chair, playing an oldschool videogame on his headware, when a flashing indicator appears in the side of his vision. He pauses the game. "What is it, Dawn?" "A job posting on the Syndicate board is asking for help preventing civilian casualties." Staren looks over the posting, and the download data. "I see..." he frowns. "What is /wrong/ with that world?" He shakes his head, but he hops out of his chair and walks to the hangar with a mix of anger and excitement. It's been too long since he sat in the cockpit. As he's suiting up, another call comes in. A request for a ride. And not from somebody he'd have expected to go to this sort of fight... NOW Like a giant chrome-finished fighter plane, the Star Hawk flies in from the nearest warpgate at supersonic speeds, before taking a long, slow deceleration (Staren doesn't want to subject his passenger to high G forces on her first flight) until it's going slowly enough to form up on the Skyranger. Arms and legs unfold from the machine, waving to the X-COM transport, and then heading in for a landing alongside it, VTOL-style. Once on the ground, the legs crouch, the canopy opens, and Staren unclips enough straps to turn around and check on his passenger. "How're you holding up, Rarity? Was the ride okay?" The passenger seat was made for humanoids, not ponies, but should work well enough just for transport flight if not for fighting. Extra straps may have been required. Staren will have insisted on wearing a torc or belt that can deploy into an emergency suit (and yes, he has one designed for ponies), but she doesn't /have/ to have worn the helmet or suit (safety orange might not be her color) while inside the plane. 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' 'Field Combat' would make her twitch, but 'humanitarian aid' pulls at the Element of Generosity too hard to ignore inspite of personal reservations. Someone really needed some help.... and were willing to pay heftily for it. She could stock -so many- supplies for that much credit. So here Rarity, despite a few misgivings, was. "Goodness, this is literally the middle of nowhere! While keeping distance from populated urban centers is likely appreciated, this is by far extremely obscure in location." With that the unicorn turns back from the view, thankful she had managed to charter a ride of her own. "Oh, just fine dahling. Just... fine..." Rarity adds a nervous chuckle at the end. This wasn't really her style of travel, but hey, desperate times... Rest assured she made sure what belts were necessary were -extra- firmly strapped in. Her nitpickiness was not taking a back seat even if she was. 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' Aside from Jonothon practically being a flight beacon himself in this grey, snowy, hazy mess, a somewhat harried sounding flight coordinator welcomes both aircraft with a tone of palpable relief, stammering into the radio as fast as he can manage. "Oh thank god! I was beginning to wonder if anyone would be able to get here! You're just in time though! Here, use VTOL pad! We normally reserve this for crude fuel transports but this is an exception! A big exception! You are very much cleared to land!" Weather shielding retracts from a pair of landing pads near rows of enormous reserve drums that probably once stored refined oil. Almost instantly, the markings begin to disappear under a layer of snow, but the strings of landing lights are enough to go by. From the ground, the perimiter of the resource plant feels a lot larger than it did seeing it from above, owing to the massive towers of convoluted pipes and vent systems bringing power from underground. The only way to not get lost under the poor visibility is by memorizing where the bright red beacons are atop each antenna and navigating by their relative position. Looking out for lights in the distance also brings it home just how close the group had cut it. On the opposite horizon from the early sunset, deep into the damp, foggy mist, lights begin to twinkle through the mess of falling snow and ash; spreading gradually from a central point until a broad band of glittering spots canvasses the entire eastern skyline. It's difficult to see much else at that distance, but the pattern suggests a V formation, their placement suggests hovering at at least a hundred feet, and their numbers sugges . . . a lot. 

:'''{{#var:62|Elise Leroy (62)}} has posed:''' "Thanks flight control. Coming in now. I have space on board for your non-combatants, it'll be a bit cramped if you have more than a dozen, but I can make a few trips to a safe area while the AO is cleared." offers the Pilot. The big, heavy brick of a dropship comes in, and lands almost gracefully, dropping the aft hatch and disgorging the contents. The pair of MECs, one painted blue, the other a deep crimson, stomp down the ramp, followed closely by drab-grey plated turrets on tracks. The SHIVs scan for targets, their weapon barrels spinning as they go through pre-combat diagnostics. Elise and 'Scotch' step down from the Dropship as well. "Keep an open channel." she says to her team, and looks back to Kotone. "We're counting on you too, Miss Yamakawa." she offers, the visor blocking any indication of her expression. "Alright Strike One. Move out!" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:''' Staren frowns a bit at the snow. That's now how snow is supposed to look. He doesn't trust it. But elites are already out standing in it... sigh. Once Rarity's down from the plane, he suggests: "Did you ever get to alchemize your stylish glasses? They'll sync with the inertial tracker in the bracelet and show you where you are, if so." He could go on about the complexities of automatic mapping software, but... nah. "Good to see you again." he nods to Elise. He forgets if he's supposed to call her that right now or not, so he doesn't call her anything. Staren gets on the radio with whoever was guiding them in. "Okay, is there anything more you can tell us that we need to know about this place or your attackers? Also, I'm gonna need this dome open to launch and fight. This isn't a transport plane." 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' Rarity barely waits long enough for Staren to land his ship before she undoes the belts with a yank of magic and clamors out of the craft. She almost does the 'kiss the ground' routine, but stops as she leans over when she realizes how dirty and snow covered the ground actually is. Uuuh. She stands upright again and ahems softly. Nothing to see here! For a moment she's pondering if she should unpack some more suitable winter clothing (or her anti contamination suit. Don't ask) when the sparkles in the distant fog catchs her attention. "Oh my. I think we're already going to have company soon." So in the end she has to do a different suiting up, in a flash of magical energy dawning her Harmony Knight armor instead, scarf and cloak giving a dramatic flutter behind her as she pulls out the 'stylish glasses' and slips them on. Check. 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Jono's thankfully far enough away from the landing pad so that its opening up doesn't trip him up. Possibly literally. Once Elise, Kotone, and the others disembark from the craft, Jono nods in greeting to them. "'Ey there," he offers simply. Staren and Rarity get the same simple greeting... though he pauses a bit at seeing Rarity. He blinks a few times. It is, however, her warning that brings his attention up to the skies. "...Bollocks. Not wastin' any time, are they?" The tone is wry. But then again he didn't figure they would. It wouldn't have been marked urgent otherwise. Looking to the group, "Got a plan yet?" 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa is keeping a tabs on what ever infput she's getting from the SHIV's and MEK troopers at this point. She listens as the people who called them for help so far as she can tell. It seems like things are going to be pretty damn serious. She's keeping tabs on com signals and anything else from the several feeds she has going on her ability ot handle all this input shows just how over clocked her brain is with her implants. 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' "We appreciate the assistance Big Sky, but are you sure it's really a good idea to be flying in this? If any of those drones get through, you'll be shot down immediately! I'll send anyone who's brave enough up out of here, but just evacuating the non essential personnel we don't have room for in the bunker will take a significant amount of time!" There appears to be a sheltered runway from the landing pad leading into one of the larger buildings surrounding the mineshaft, designed to be wide enough for loading vehicles to take in offloaded supplies without exposure to a lot of weather or radioactive fallout. Almost immediately, the doors open at the far end, and slightly over a dozen of either the bravest or most panicked civilians begin a mad sprint out; an even mixture of hard-hatted workers in coveralls and white collar looking office types. They barely seem to notice the military hardware being offloaded from the craft, cramming themselves into it as soon as there is space. "That's the first wave, unfortunately we've got more where that came from!" "Nothing much. This area's all defunct so go nuts, so long as you don't hit the plant! You don't want to see what happens if something here blows up!" The radio coordinator goes silent for a little as he cross checks some data before responding. "We've got an even mix of Eqbal's AS-8 Aves type mass produced drones and Omer's Amon-S types. They'll probably be using suicide weapons too. The former is a flight transformation type mounted with light autocannons, and the latter is an aerial strafing type with long distance laser weaponry. We're looking at sixty . . . no, eighty at the very least!" Staren's craft is almost instantly cleared for takeoff. Anyone watching the skyline can see where the glittering dots begin to light up the mist around them, illuminating little spheres of snow like a flashlight peering through smoke, revealing the shapes inside, if only vaguely. As the operator said, there appear to be two main types comprising the enemy force; the larger type shaped like a thick disk with reverse swept wings on both sides, toting a folded up array of thrusters and machineguns beneath it; the smaller shaped like a slick, black sphere trailing oddly squidlike tendrils behind it, bearing an enormous sensor array at its front like a single, massive eye. The air soon fills with the dull hum of thrusters and the steady clicking and chirping of electronics, eerily reminescent of a swarm of approaching insects. The quiettness of their approach is actually unsettling. Anyone checking their positional electronics like Kotone can see that half of the force is slowing to a halt at that distance while the other half proceeds ahead at a steadily increasing. Energy spikes are detectable all over the place as the squiddy types hang back, twisting in strangely fluid motions as they hover to a halt, focus all their attention on the landing zone, and proceed with their programming to eliminate all visible hostiles before proceeding. The snow explodes into a steamy hellhole as a veritable wall of laser fire strafes the are with no significant accuracy, vapourizing chunks of frozen earth and concrete as glowing blue lines scatter all over like falling raindrops, going for sheer volume of fire rather than precision. 

:'''{{#var:62|Elise Leroy (62)}} has posed:''' "I've flown through worse. Taking off now, I'll return once I've unloaded this set." states the Skyranger pilot as he closes the hatch and guns the engines. For a flying brick, the large craft is pretty agile, and surges away quickly, before that laser fire comes in. "Sheisten! Sledge, Nova!" the MECs nod, then head out to the approaching mob. The SHIVs follow after, barrels spinning up as they start selecting targets. "Kotone, prioritize targets for the SHIVs, remember they have a Suppression Mode, use it if they start breaking through!" she calls, dropping to a knee right there in the landing pad, unslinging her rifle. "Scotch, get in the facility, prep the next group for evac, and find out if they have ANYTHING we can use! Hell, I'd take some fuel barrels to throw for explosives!" She shoulders the stock, sights down the scope, and unleashes a glowing red Bolt-type round aimed for one of the Laser drones, that big sensor 'eye' making a pretty open target. 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' Well she came for the humanitary aid part of the request, so that's what she's going to do. Rarity wheels around and gallops towards the landing area again where the civilians are making a break for the aircraft. They're going to have to run across open ground and that is not going to do, not at all. Not when there's LASERS bucking everywhere. Snow and ash plumes up briefly as she skids to a stop, facing towards the incoming invasion and the long range assaults. "Staren, if you're going to keep using your vehicle, now would be a really good time to get back in the air..." She spreads her hooves a little to brace herself, lowering her head as her horn starts to glow with her magic, concentrating. A matching glow starts to ripple up from the ground around her, amplified by the powers given her by her Element. Then cracks split open in the ground and several crystalform structures rise out of the splitting ground as she draws it to the surface with her gemstone magics to form a sort of protective barrier to help shield the loading civilians from the lasers. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:''' At the comment about explosions, Staren replies: "Kojima particles, right?" Then he's briefed on their attackers. "An /enemy/ transforming type? That's new..." He nods. "Hah! Drones won't stand up to me and my Star Hawk! Stand clear everybody!" He rebuckles himself in as the cockpit canopy closes... and this time, armored plating telescopes out over it. Staren's not getting shot in the cockpit again! But the drones are already here! "Oh no you don't!" The Star Hawk transforms to humanoid mode, raising its arms as Staren fires /everything. The weak but reliable 'homing beams' fire from concealed emitters on the legs, zooming in on the nearest drone as Staren slowly sweeps his right arm left to right, the gatling railgun spinning up and sweeping lines of fire across the enemy force. Then the Star Hawk leaps, thrusters taking it up out of the dome as the FAST packs on the left arm and shoulder open, each firing a salvo of missiles that seek out the telltale points of light. 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Well, it's a cinch there's nothing Jono can do about the long-range craft. A motorcycle is still a ground-based vehicle, and couldn't do much to help him against the airborne menaces. However, the others that ARE approaching... that's another question. With the others scrambling to their places-- and not a one of them having said anything about where they needed him-- Jono instead gets where he should be able to hit the enemies that are approaching. Tilting his head back, he emits a blast at the first one he can concievably hit. It's not fire, it doesn't burn. It's more just kinetic force. A LOT of kinetic force. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa gets the idea of how crowded things are going to be. She understands such. SO she's alreay looking for other ideas and things they can make use of it seems they are going to have to do some line holding from the looks of it. She hears about the number of drones they may have to deal with? This is going to get pretty nuts. She sees that the forces is slowing down a bit. <half of the enemy forces are slowing down while the other half is picking up speeds also I'm getting energy spikes as well I'll keep looking into it.> 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' Crystals choose to be a good choice of laser defense. Unlike where the curtains of cyan blue light tear up the metal and asphalt all around until it shatters and melts, the beams partially defracting through Rarity's barrier disperse most of their energy inside of it rather than concentrating it on the surface, leaving only shallow craters. Unfortunately, the sheer volume of fire means the material starts to heat up very quickly; cracks spiderwebbing between impact points. It at least appears safe enough for the time being to the next, larger wave of noncombatants to evacuate, mostly bottom rung workers this time, unlikely to have space reserved for them in a protective bunker. They certainly don't look happy, but they wait patiently for the dropship to return, muttering amongst themselves in an effort to keep calm. 'Scotch' finds a small mob on the opposite side of the main doors, comprised almost entirely of men in outdoors work wear, save a handful of people who may or may not be scientists. The dropship may be able to get both groups in two runs if Big Sky really wants to test the weight limit, but it's more than clear that these people are considered expendable if the facility doesn't have a large enough combat shelter to house them Outdoors, the hail of lasers makes it dificult to find an opening to fire unless one has the benefit of significant armour. Elise popping off shots with her own weapon works perfectly well, seeing as the drones had halted at the ideal range to use light based weapons. Though the optical emitter seems to be the source of their firepower, sending a red wavelength bolt through something focused for the blue spectrum from the opposite end completely fries the delicate innards of the machine, sending drones left and right listing out of position with scorched, smoking sensors, when they don't simply crash and burn. Jonothon more or less escapes unscathed with the bulk of the enemy forces focusing on the source of return fire instead of him. There are plenty of stairs for maintenance personnel to get to the top of one of those towers, after which he is only a stone's throw from the drone's flight level. The portion of them still moving forward are the disk shaped ones, propelled by conventional rocket boosters. Almost immediately, his first blast trashes the one furthest in the lead, smashing the fragile and cheaply produced engine and sending it downwards as a flaming wreck. The others behind it, proceed over its smouldering skeleton without pause. Only a handful stop to steady themselves and return fire on him. The air is suddenly filled with the percussive staccato of gunfire, bursts of high calibur bullets rattling the tower frame all around him; shredding through the walkway in short order. Staren seems best suited for a mass aerial engagement, as the laser weaponry scorching the Star Hawk's armour hasn't simply riddled him with holes just yet. Unfortunately, the signature of his engine winding up attracts a lot of attention from the Amon-S types, suddenly redirecting the bulk of their fire from the landing pad defended by XCOM, towards his craft as it takes off. The homing lasers are relatively ineffective against the exteriors of the spherical drones, but the closer targets are the bulkier, ballistic ones, which seem to be punctured just fine by the energy beams; even going so far as to explode spectacularly as their fuel and ammunition cooks off from the heat. The long ranged shooters however, seem to be much more vulnerable to kinetic penetrators. The railgun rounds completely shatter them, breaking them to pieces with a single hit. As he fires the missile battery however, the enemy gun line suddenly begins to shift; individual drones sliding horizontally in mid-air, breaking apart in a strange, hovering strafe pattern that causes the majority of them to miss at the last second. As for Kotone, the facilities are sadly fairly barren. Unless she feels like causing a huge fireball by blowing up a fuel platform, she's limited to the handful of military aircraft 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' she's limited to the handful of military aircraft still left on other landing pads where the snow is starting to pile up, likely still in working condition if they were abandoned that recently, but what use they'll be of is questionable. 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Oh good, towers and stairs! This means Jono's not going to be totally useless here. Once he notices them, he'll quickly take to them to try to get in a more effective range. He's effective, all right... enough that they start shooting at him. Staying in the one tower is kind of stupid, especially when they're shredding his only way out. But getting down is going to be a chore, especially with the being shot up. So instead he does something rather stupid. He jumps off the tower, hoping to land on one of the drones that are shooting at him. He might be able to temporarily ride on the drone, until one of the others shoots it. But then again, that's kind of the idea, to get between them so they'll shoot each other. 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' The magical crystals are already showing damage as the heat intensity splits spiderline cracks in their structure, but they're holding for the moment. Fortunately the way they're slowly weakening they're more likely to just fall apart into dust eventually, sparing anyone using them for shelter from shrapnel when they do finally fail. It'll hold long enough for Rarity to divert her attention elsewhere. Like the actual invasion. "By the stars, if they were going to try and wipe out an entire area, they could of at least sent a force that doesn't look so -bland-." That's her observation for the night. "And so many guns. There -is- such a thing as over-accessorizing, you know." Though while she's commenting she's using her magic scarf like a grapple to get up to a convent position on one of the facility's structures. Once there she pulls out her magic bow, Crystal Stitcher. It hovers in front of her in her magic as she draws back the line, an arrow manifesting in it once taunt. She takes aim at one of the groups of drones. Aim.. breath.. and release! The arrow arcs upward a bit when fired towards the drones, then magically splits into a shower of slightly smaller arrows with sharpened gemstone arrowheads to bombard down on the constructs. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:''' Things start off well enough. Staren's attacking drones, they're shooting the field... but when he takes off, things get worse. Lasers, so many lasers! Staren holds up the beam shield on the left arm to block a lot of the followup shots -- for now, the lasers that scorched his armor aren't much to worry about /yet/. He's in a giant mechanical war machine for a reason. Still, if they were able to focus-fire him and shoot around the beam shield, with this many... he could be in trouble fast. So, Staren had better start thinning their numbers! Noting the effectiveness of his weapons, he makes a decision: "I'm gonna go after the backup ones! You guys handle the close-in ones!" Still, after saying that, he fires the lasers one more time, then transforms back to hybrid mode and boosts past the front line, manifesting a beam saber and slashing another on the way through. "Alright, squid-things! You're up!" He starts sweeping the railgun across the back line, until he has enough missile locks -- another two salvos of missiles fire, dozens of little projectiles zooming off this way and that leaving spidery smoke trails. 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' Jumping on top of a drone is pretty stupid, but to be fair, the ones Jon are tangling with have wide, flat, circular surfaces on which to balance. He could stand up on it if he wanted. His impromptu platform barely wobbles as he jumps on top from the amount of thrust it's putting out to stay airborne, but the others around it make their own movements, rapidly skirting around his field of vision to surround him from all sides, aiming from above and below to calculate an optimal firing volume before simply letting rip. Meant to be exceptionally cheap and disposable, they don't seem to be programmed with allied preservation in mind, because as Jon's platform tries to move out of the firing zone, more than a few of the bullets slash into the surrounding drones just as he had predicted. Stray shots puncture thrusters and jam ammo belts, while those who recieve a more thorough blasting drop from the sky like flies. The problem is, the one he is on top of recieves the most thorough blasting of all, falling to pieces out from under him as slugs rip through the air around him, and possibly into him. How pretty Omer's attack force is doesn't seem to be top on the list of concerns. In fact, considering how much of a mess the Elites are making of them, it becomes gradually more and more clear just how insultingly little of a detachment they had sent to clena out this facility. Someone must have known that PA-N51 was staffed by noncombatants when they decided drones would be enough to do the job, fulling well planning to kill them. In any case, the unmanned weapons are armoured only just sufficiently to take small arms fire from ground forces, and so a hailstorm of piercing arrowheads far harder than their constituent metals more or less rips half a dozen of them to shreds. The snow is littered with broken pieces of machinery and flaming wrecks already, but the numbers of the enemy seem to be far greater than initially anticipated. Staren's beam shield is reasonably effective against the fusillade of beam fire coming his way; leaving high energy trails streaming from the front of his craft as he accelerates. The S-types are apparently much more intelligent than the Aves however, because while Jonothon has them shooting each other, the ones Staren engages with seem to have learned from his first assault. This close in, many simply don't have the time to avoid imminent micromissile impacts, being blown to bits one after the other like firecrackers. Simply sweeping his railgun scythe-style yields much less effect than the last time however. The drones use those strange, tentacular thruster arrays in fluid pulses to juke out of the way, scattering their battle line so they don't present such a neat target. In fact, as he dives right into the fray, they seem to be actively surrounding him, giving the priority to his combat craft rather than the landing zone. Close range lasers begin to cut into the Star Hawk from all directions as the drones attempt to shoot where his shield isn't, aiming at no particular point on the craft, but trying to melt it through sheer numbers. Thankfully, with those three distracting the drones so much, Big Sky is able to make the round trip with little in the way of incoming fire; only a few stray bullets dinging the dropshit here and there. The next wave of civilians crowds on so heavily that there is barely room to breathe inside, but the suppressive fire of the quartet of rapid-fire weapons coming from XCOM's special forces is enough to keep the leading edge of the Aves squad from proceeding much further. As a V formation however, the more they take down, the more build up behind them, and sooner rather than later, Elise's position is compromised by gunfire from above; the heavy rounds slamming into Rarity's crystal wall much more dangerously than the lasers had. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa is keeping tabs on the information she's getting there's a lot of people to protect and she seems keen to help where she can here,. She keeps tabs on the drones and wonders about their load outs and just why this assault is happening. She missed the details on that and is more focused on combat support and making sure the civilians can get away in time. Kotone goes quiet, now, why because she's trying to jack some of the abaonded aircraft or attempt to but this might take a bit and is risky for her. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:''' Staren goes right for the squids... but their programming is more intelligent than he planned for. "Ah! You gotta be kidding me!" Staren shouts as warnings flash on his HUD. "It'll take more than that..." As he speeks, he's already in fighter mode and speeding away from the site faster than he hopes the drones can follow, throwing in some aerobatics to throw off their aim. Still. Getting caught surrounded like that... if he messes up like that a couple more times, his big fancy warmachine might become so much slag. Staren loops around, firing short bursts at a few of the distant light spheres instead of the sweeping lines of before. Staren fires another salvo or two at as many missile locks as he can get, but he's staying away now -- playing up the advantages of his machine's speedy aerospace fighter mode. 

:'''{{#var:62|Elise Leroy (62)}} has posed:''' Elise grunts, and dives out of the way as autocannons start smashing through the defensive cover. "They're breaking through!" she calls, bolting for a new cover position. The SHIVs and the MECs continue to shoot at the incoming Aves, selecting targets based on Kotone's direction, she can highlight targets in their HUDs. Scotch does her best to keep the workers calm... then starts asking what could be used as improvised weaponry, and if any of them have experience with the grounded planes, even if its mechanical or electronic. 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' The heavier artillery smashes into the crystal barricades, compounding the weakening damage done by the heat from the energy weapons. Rarity frowns as the structures start to fall apart.... but then her expression brightens again. "Ideeeeaaaa~" The next barrage to pound into the crystal formations breaks their weakened structure apart instead of the simple breaking down the lasers were causing. Chunks tumble towards the landing area below... And then stop, briefly floating mid-air as a shimmering glow surrounds the largest, most dangerous ones. Rarity is visibly straining using her magic to this compacity, but she manages to reorient the sharpest edges of the chunks upward, and then fling them back at the attacking drones. 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' That's sort of what he had planned. He didn't plan on taking several slugs in the torso! Fortunately for him his torso's mostly empty anyway, except for that fire, and the slugs don't affect it. It does, however, still HURT LIKE HELL! And these aren't exactly pistols, they're probably much higher caliber. Add into the equation his 'surfing' platform is getting shot out from under him, and you have a good recipe for falling off. Thankfully the snow's piled so high, and he was over one of those large drifts when he fell off the drone. He's much lighter than a normal man his size would be, thanks to missing most of his body's internal organs. He's still falling from a great height though, and as he lands, the ashy, sooty snow flies up. There's no movement as he lands, and the snow begins to settle. 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' Amazingly, a short while after Kotone jacks into their onboard computers with her cyberbrain, a group of abandoned aircraft actually manage to take off using their automatic piloting systems. Helicopter blades whirr up to a steady, chopping thrum as one by one the military gunships begin to lift into the air, stabilizing at a height well above the drones, before tracking them with their thermal cameras and starting to unload autocannon and rocket fire into them. There aren't many, but the firepower they command is still enough to shoot down an entire wave of drones before they begin to focus back on them. Weaving back and forth has some effect, but already the choppers begin to take significant damage, clearly not designed for a straight up firefight. Staren is lucky enough to be far faster than the Amon-S design, meant more for hovering and stabilization than chase and pursuit. Lasers move at the speed of light of course, but their targeting software has difficulty keeping up with him as his craft changes course too fast and erractically to properly adjust for. The sky is a rave-tastic lightshow up above the rest of the battle as the Star Hawk and drone mass shoot back and forth at each other, interspersed with little pops of light as the unmanned weapons explode in the distance. The workers aren't nearly as tactically minded as Elise. All they can seem to think of is taking one of the two jets off the runway and ramming it into a group of drones before setting off all that aircraft fuel. It's not exactly a great plan, but they're technicians, not strategists. As tough as the mechanized XCOM squadron is however, even with the front waves eliminated, the main mass of Aves drones is upon them, and the amount of chattering machinegun fire makes it dangerous for even a MEC trooper to stay out in the open. Even worse, as Staren pulls away, some of that laser fire starts coming back, strobing back and forth across the snow as the aim corrections slowly zero in on the SHIVs. With the crystal barricade down, the remaining civilians are left scrambling for the dropship, but the tradeoff seems to be worth it for the moment as the jagged pieces go hurtling through the less maneuverable wedge of Aves types, taking down improbably large numbers and knocking even more of them out of shooting position, momentarily letting up on the number of bullets pouring into the landing zone, already resembling a moonscape. Jonothon is spared a crystal boulder to the face by his timely descent from up above. The holes punched in him would be explosively gruesome if his chest was actually packed full of squishy bits, but seeing as they'd been hardened penetrators, the damage is really restricted to just that. Holes. A contingent of his buddies detach from the main group to swoop down in around where he fell, randomly probing the snow drifts with bursts of fire to try and ferret him out. 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' Rarity puts a hoof to her forehead for a moment, much akin to someone rubbing down a migrane. "Remind me not to do that often..." That was pretty taxing, better lay off the magic for a bit. But then what else can she do to help? Erecting more barriers would just keep them back for only so long. There has to be something else she can do to give the people some protection. What was it her father said once? Something about sometimes the best defense is a good offense.... granted he was talking about hoofball plays. But wait. Maybe that can be applied here... Hopping down to the snowy ground, Rarity reachs into the depths of her cloak and pulls out.... A hair dryer? Sure, it's a large portable one, but what is she going to do with that? These things don't even have hair. But it's not for them. Instead she points it at the ground and fires it up, sending plumes of ash and now melting into water and steam snow into the air in an attempt to obscure whatever means those drones are trying to use to see where they're going. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:''' Staren has found a strategy that works. Why stop? With most of the shots missing him, he can hold out a lot longer. Normally, his supply of missiles would be an issue, but today... after the effectiveness of his missiles in his WMAT fight, he swapped out two of his lesser-used weapons for two additional missile packs. Lucky break for Staren, it seems! 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' There really doesn't seem to be any movement where Jono fell. His fall from so high up meant that he ended up pretty much buried. Good cover. Which gives him the time he needs to recover. See, while he didn't have any internal organs to get hit, it's still a rather painful shock to be shot with presumably high-caliber rounds from what may or may not be similar to a minigun. So there's a few minutes that he just sort of... lays there, eyes open, doing a pretty good impression of a corpse. His fire's still burning, but it's very low. If he wasn't covered up by the snow, the beginnings of his no-mouth could even be seen. Eventually though, he gets himself together. And as he starts to move again, his fire burns a little brighter. Possibly bright enough to see just barely under the dark snow. He doesn't give off heat, and life-sensors fail against him, so light is the only way to know where he is. Thankfully the caliber of the weapons was high enough that they didn't stay in his body. Still broke a few ribs. Mercifully missed his spine though. He has a few more pressing concerns however. Such as the contingent of drones after him. Once he makes his reappearance, he's sure the drones will get after him again. He'll wait 'till they're close enough to hit, but not close enough that he gets hit by those guns again... The drones' sensors have a split-second to realize his glow has gotten brighter, and the fire has sparked to life, before he aims a MASSIVE blast of his psionic fire into the air at the drones. 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' Were it not for the fact that Staren is tying up the more advanced drones, Rarity's strategy might have met with more limited success from their thermal sensors. The Aves types however, rely entirely on visual and radar confirmation, and so as the cloud of ash and steam goes up, the gunfire goes all over the place, aiming for vaguely human shapes that appear by total coincidence in the shifting, smokey mist. This leaves XCOM able to act with total impunity, gunning down the last, largest wave with help from their S.C.O.P.Es. With the last group of civilians is long gone, the main force seems to be dwindling slowly but surely. Emptying his missile banks leaves Staren with far fewer contenders for air space, lessening the laser fire on him which allows him to take better shooting positions in turn, starting a destructive cycle for the gradually vanishing Amon types. Once they go past a certain critical mass however, the remaining units freeze in mid-air as their optics turn bright red; issuing a series of horrible, electronic shrieks, before their tentacles flip towards their front side and twist together like drills. One after the other, they purge their thrusters in a single, explosive boost; rocketing themselves forward at the Star Hawk like guided missiles. The first one narrowly misses him, overloading its battery and exploding spectacularly in midair. Then in twos and threes, the rest of the wave proceeds; staggering their suicide attack protocol to maximize their chances of hitting him. Meanwhile, Jonothon is in the perfect position for a surprise attack. The gunfire all around him is unnerving, but misaimed. He can hear the high caliber rounds thudding into the snow, splintering the concrete, and shattering windows here and there, but none of the drones can find him in his buried position. The moment he springs up, they swivel around all at once, aiming their weapons as they draw lock-on. It's just too slow. The next instant, the entire contingent goes up in psionic flames as a roaring pillar of incandescent fury sweeps them away in a current of destruction; peeling their chassis apart and blowing their innards out in a fountain of shrapnel. The beam goes so far as to take out a significant chunk of the diminishing aerial force as well. The remaining drones are practically cleanup by now. 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' The number of drones is dwindling and the civilians are out of the way. This means Rarity can divert her attention to other important tasks now that the fire fight is thinning out. She runs back to where the remaining XCOMS are holding their position, producing magic bandages and other aids from her cloak to tend to their injuries while the others finish off the drone brigades. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa gets the old machines coming back to life, she moves to send them after the drones wivh what payload they have, it's enough to help slow the tide and she can use them as utterly disposable units if she needs to. She knows things are not going to last long but she does attempt to keep the drones she's jacked going as long as she can. The longer she cna buy time the better right? 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Jono shakes his fist at the falling drones. "That's what yer get for ruinin' me good coat, yer wankers!" he 'yells', rather rudely. 'Yell' being slightly inaccurate, since his speech is telepathic. Also means that the drones probably didn't hear him. And unless any data collection the drones might have is able to pick up telepathic speech, no one on the end of whoever sent them is going to hear it. There is, however, a more important problem. Those disk shaped drones are the perfect size to glide down in a very graceful descent. Graceful, perhaps... unless you're standing where one's about to fall. Which Jono realizes he is when one of the drones is about ten feet away from him. "OH BALLS!" He leaps to one side, ending up facedown in a snowdrift, barely missing being a crashlanding site for the drone. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:''' "Red eyes? Whatever that means, I don't think so!" Staren starts shooting at the drones with the railgun again... And then THEY COME FOR HIM. After the first one whizzes by and explodes, he sees where this is going. "Aww, f*ck no." The Star Hawk flies up. As in straight up. He can go to /space/. How high can the drones fly? "Go go go go goooo! You can't catch me! Ahahahahahahahahahaaaaaa!" Still, Staren can't turn on a dime, not without losing speed. While he's flying diagonally up they have a shot. He dodges, subtle rolls causing his fighter to zoom to one side or the other. But they're getting closer. *BOOM* That one was almost too close... *BOOM!* his fighter shakes around him as it's knocked slightly to the side, and Staren struggles to maintain control as another drone zooms up to him... And then the drones fall behind. He's supersonic -- they're not. That settles it. Ahh, it is /good/ to be in the cockpit again, fighting a battle with fifty tons of steel*, circuits and high-tech weapons systems under his control. This is how you fight. Much better than being down there on the field... * - Actually, mega-damage capacity alloys. 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' The last of the Amon types explode harmlessly in the distance behind Staren as his supersonic ascent climbs him just out of reach, rattling shrapnel all over the Star Hawk's hull, but leaving him safely out of the range of the high explosive. Chase him as they might, burning fuel at that rate leaves them with a very limited distance over which they can charge, so the much larger vehicle wins out simply in terms of capacity. With the laser fire over with, XCOM is left more or less cleaning up shop, shooting down the last of the Aves as the roar of guns descends to infrequent snaps and pops, only broken up by the sound of one of the hijacked helicopters crashing. It isn't long before, finally, the last slug is thrown, and the last piece of metal thumps to earth, leaving the snowy wastes in almost total silence, save for the subtle burning of fuel fires. There isn't a spot all around that isn't either marred by a bullet hole or covered in jagged metal, but the quiet is a welcome change, even as the snow already begins to cover the wrecks that were shot down early in the battle. The kind of reverent silence is finally broken by the radio operator, speaking in hushed tones of awe. "You . . . actually did it! All those drones . . . I just . . . wow. Wow." 

:'''{{#var:136|Rarity (136)}} has posed:''' Rarity fluffs a hoof through her mane. "It is kind of what we do, dahling." Pause. Then turns to peer imploringly in the direction of Staren's mech. "Now can we please go someplace warmer? I do believe frost bite is bad enough on its own, I would rather not risk my likelihood with -radioactive- frost bite." 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa will recall cany drones she had that might have surived the fightinging, they could be salvaged or otherwise put to other uses, thankfully it seems that things are over at this popint. One way or another, she relaxes now and slumps back in the sky ranger a bit letitng her self breath again now. 

:'''{{#var:27|Jonothon Starsmore (27)}} has posed:''' Jono picks then to make his reappearance, having had to dig himself out of the snow again. The guy on the radio speaks up as Jono's getting himself out of the snow, and it catches his attention. "Everyone all right?" he asks over the radio. Not just the others on-scene, either. "Any 'o the civilians get hurt?" he inquires. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:''' "YEAH! Hahahaaa..." Staren chuckles to himself as his superior technology leaves the drones in the dust. Sometimes... sometimes it's nice, to not be worrying about a mysterious assassin, or trying to figure out /how/ to save a world, or trying to figure out some world's stupid politics... Sometimes, you can just go in, blow up some bad guys, and go home feeling good about yourself afterwards. That makes today a good day. Later, he'll be trying to repair the biggest and most complex machine he owns... but right now, he thinks to himself as he levels out and looks down at the clouds below... right now, he can bask in the victory. <Yeah. Yeah we did.> he replies to the radio operator. <That's what we do.> he smiles. Then he takes a deep breath, gazes out at the horizon for a few seconds... and dives back down. He comes in for a landing to pick up Rarity. The machine is scorched all over, and crisscrossed with etched lines where the lasers melted away armor. "Yeah. Let's go home. To our respective homes I mean. You to your home and me to my home. I mean. Unless you want to visit. You can if you want, that's fine. I have friends over all the time. Well, no, not really actually. But I could! I mean... not that I don't have friends, you know I do, I just... don't have people over often. Is that normal?" He holds his hand to his visor. "Or I could stop talking. Oh! Are you alright? That is what I should have said." 

:'''{{#var:322|White Glint (322)}} has posed:''' "We're all fine. Somehow." Responds the operator. "I didn't see Big Sky get shot down, so I assume everyone who got out early is safe. We suffered some damage from stray fire, but nothing blew up, so that's a big plus. We can probably fix this in a week or so. Don't sweat it!" He stops for a moment, suddenly remembering something. "Oh right! We're authorized to pay out your reward on-site! Forward me your account info and I'll be depositing it directly. There's a bonus for no significant damage to the facility as well! Lucky you!" 

}}