Hidden 8 days ago 8 days ago Post by Tatterdemalion
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Handmaidens!

So, I’ll give you a little bit of context for the Architect-Knight. I’m sure Tsane already has this on lockdown, but bear with me.

The Dark Chivalric Period (characterized by the reign of Queen Aria, who was the Dark Dragon in disguise, as you well know) was a period of strange adventure and Outside-based prosperity. (You may here note that the Khaganate’s aims and methods are strongly modeled off the DCP.) The Architect-Knight was Aria’s right-hand woman (and, yes, more than that), and the series of quests that ultimately gained her that hammer were one of the great triumphs of Aria’s Questing economic policy.

It was also a trap laid by a wicked and vengeful intellect. The hammer’s architectural marvels, the accelerated way in which it constructs and breaks down doors and walls and pillars, all rely on weakening the fabric of created reality. Each one is a facsimile of true creation, a hollow shell over what should truly exist. Aria had hoped to one day make the world hopelessly dependent on the Architect-Knight’s craft, only to tear it all down in a moment.

This is why the Stacks are uniquely vulnerable to her, as something mired in unreality.

Anyway, I’m sure this won’t be a problem. Keep fending off the Rootwalkers, who would very much like to follow the Architect-Knight through the door she’s made, swarming into the Chrysanthemum (which is, you may remember, sacred to Heron).

If Kalentia was here, she’d be very useful— which, of course, must be why she is not here.



Eclair Espoir!

Mayzie jumps a little, a flush coming to her cheeks as she flicks her stylus out of sketching-mode and into shorthand-mode (which is, of course, another wickedly sharp reminder of childhood). She slides behind a turned-over table, but then proceeds to poke her head out so often that she might as well be completely out in the open. As if she can’t decide between safety and adventure, for all that she’d claim she’s made that decision.

The crowd has largely done the same; many of them seem to be under the impression that this is a very entertaining floor show, up to and including the Rootwalker that just tumbled down through the door in the ceiling. Unwholesome, untidy things, those; the Order of the Aurora helped stem the tide when they flooded the homehubs of the Avel.

Any minute now, someone’s going to notice that a real Rootwalker is actually here. And that more are trying to fight their way through this very awkward door. And that Vespergift’s worst nightmare is coming to pass.



Yuki!

Anka Arju-Wajz, who is playing the part of Suli’s agonistes here, has also drawn her heartblade in order to cover the downed woman. A threat is on her lips; her tail lashes with agitation at the danger, the peril, the thrill in that roar. She is a dangerous, athletically capable, and talented woman.

This, and the ancient bans that still bind Aria Thendragon, save her life. For the ancient queen does not fling her at terminal speeds across the Chrysanthemum, but merely sends her ragdolling into open air; Anka twists and tumbles down several stories, eventually hitting the water with her limbs tucked in and her head lifted.

"Pathetic,” she rumbles. Talons limned with the light of her heart push smoothly through her skin. "You lost already, Elm. Now it’s my turn.”

Magasha calls up fire from the jewels she wears, but is distracted from commanding it by the table that Aria rams into her stomach. Fire descends like snow onto the crowd as Magasha flails her way down the stairs, who are stampeding up and down the staircase away from this scene.

Timatheo tries to get around her, quick as a shade, and she sweeps a leg low to catch him at the knees, then breaks a chair casually over his back.

This leaves Pasenne, quaking, rattling, staring her down as this monster rolls her neck. Pasenne might buy you a moment more to run away with Hazel. You bought you and Suli and Hazel that much time, after all.

She came along because you vouched for her.

(But also, read on.)



Cutie!

The Nagi who’s seized you turns to flee, and then finds the tip of a thin— one might even say dainty— heartblade at her breastbone.

“I must insist that you release my associate,” Alcideo says, and only the pulse at his neck betrays that his coolness is just a facade. “Let’s not have any unpleasantness; Management is already on their way.”

He’s got this the wrong way around (hasn’t he?). He’s trying to save you from being saved (but do you want to go with her?). He’s distracting Yuki at a moment where she’s distracted by the woman whose voice is bass-boosted and the fire falling out of the air, and he’s so focused on protecting you that he’s putting himself in danger.

If he ran now, he’d be safe.
Hidden 8 days ago 8 days ago Post by Anarion
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This wasn't...this wasn't how Thellamie was supposed to work. Everyone fought with Heartblades! And, sure, a kick or a shove, or uh whatever happened with the skateboard firecracker paint thing back in Crevas. But not this. This was brutal. Anka had flown off the building! And Timatheo was, okay, hopefully? The chair was weaker than his spine, but, but what if it hadn't been?!?!?!

Part of Yuki wanted to just run and hide. She hadn't signed up for broken ribs and months of rehabilitation! Hazel certainly hadn't! In that brief instant, her heart simply wanted to get her and Hazel out of Thellamie right now. She's already defeated one star, how much can this world demand of them?! Dimly, she registers that something is happening behind her that would make it difficult to run and hide with Hazel, but her facing and her focus had been to make sure that Walking Elm and Aria were both in her clear view, so she's not actually looking at where they're all standing.

No, her focus now is on Pasenne. Poor, brave Pasenne who hasn't made an attempt at anything yet as her tail rattles with fear. Pasenne, whose talent is making a good cup of tea and doing excellent makeup and looking great dressed as a slave girl for her disguise. She doesn't deserve any of this, and she certainly doesn't deserve to get yeeted off a fucking roof! Whatever's happening with Suli and Hazel, they'll have to deal with it and make their break to safety. Yuki can't afford to turn around now. And whatever part of her heart was quailing grows silent in the face of her outrage.

Yuki lets out a primal scream she didn't even know was in her and lunges towards Aria Thendragon, ripping her heartaxe towards the side of the monster at full sprint. "What the hell?!" she shouts without ever stopping, learning from Anka's moves that her speed is the only thing keeping her from getting her chest caved in.

"Who the fuck even are you?" She pivots on her foot at full sprint, slides behind Aria and kicks away from her, ripping her cloak off in the same motion to block Aria's view and free up her movement. She launches herself away from Aria and in the opposite direction as Pasenne and Suli, praying she's too far for the counterstroke that could send her flying in one blow. But she doesn't keep going to safety. Instead of running away further, she turns again, using a neighboring wall to kick up and and twist herself towards Aria again. She's moved to be ready to bring down her axe with all her momentum in case Aria sprinted after her. Her muscles flex as she goes almost four feet in the air, her tail whips behind her, and her armor gleams in the evening sun as she comes back down with a rattle and a thunk. She stands and hefts her long heartaxe, the only thing that's actually bitten this monster.

Yuki's lungs are burning and her hair is gleaming with sweat as she raises her face to the monster that's threatening her friends. Her ears twitch, and she manages to pull a thin, feral smile across her face. "You want someone here?!..." she speaks through heavy breaths as she keeps on the balls of her feet to dodge whatever's about to be thrown at her and prepares to run back in again. "You go through me, bitch!"

[Entice: 6+2+2=10.]
Hidden 7 days ago Post by Thanqol
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Injimo!

"You're thinking about this too hard," said Injimo placidly, ignoring the destruction taking place behind her. "It's simple. Anyone could be a shapeshifted fox, any sense could be an illusion created by a malicious sorceress, any opponent might be an immortal with a plan centuries in the making. Asking questions is a waste of time. The only truth that can't be faked is the truth of the blade."

She shifted her stance, arcing out wide, tracing the tip of her spear through a loop of electricity - and then pulling the entire web tighter.

"To the victor, answers," she said, pulling the knot of the lightning thread tight around Eclair's tea-station.

Tsane!

Tsane loved her grandfather.(1)



"Do you think," she suggested to Cair, "you could go and get some sort of lightning grenade or scroll or something?"
"Fresh out!" said Cair brightly. "Heron was carrying most of those, and those she wasn't got broken down for elemental essences."
"How about ice?" sighed Tsane, rubbing her temples. "We can take advantage of all of these water effects with frost magic, right?"
"Oh, for sure!" said Cair. "I've got an entire crate of blizzard staves back here. Heron fought an entire army of guys armed with them."
"Then that'll have to be good enough. If we freeze enough of them we can stack them into a wall and that should buy time for Injimo to get back," said Tsane. "Which seems to be the only plan we're capable of following."
"Hey," said Cair. "Maybe Heron comes back instead?"
"She's not coming back," snapped Tsane.
"Sure she is. She always comes back when things are getting dire. I've seen it a hundred times!" said Cair happily, pulling open the lid of a massive blue treasure chest to reveal a trove of sapphires and twisted ashwood. Enough to plunge the Stacks into a new ice age.

[Overcome: 9]
Hidden 6 days ago Post by Phoe
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"Mmm. I disagree, utterly."

Rise out of seat, drain cup without slurping. Snap gesture, barrier magic around tea set. A summoned item, rather than a magically created one: it is not permissible to see it destroyed or damaged. Threat determined, priorities established - do not allow the diners to come to harm. Do not allow a mess to be created, or failing that at least minimize its impact so that it may be swiftly cleaned later. Do not allow this bitch the satisfaction of successfully baiting me.

Eclair places one hand over her heart and closes her fingers around the forming hilt of a heartblade. She pulls it free without flourish, this slender curving sword with its iridescent gleam coating it from tip to simple cross guard. She flips it over in her hand, spins once on the balls of her feet, and throws it full force at the spot where her barrier is being crushed by the lightning web.

Sparks fly. Her own barrier wobbles and shatters under the force of her blow, and she rushes in during the flash to pull the table away and preserve her teapot and the remaining supplies and dishware. This is not enough to save them, but it does buy just enough time to unsummon the set before the trap can swing all the way closed. Nevertheless a stain on her honor; she has been forced to rescind an offer of tea without offering an apology.

In the meantime, her heartblade ricochets off the impact zone and spirals up into the air where the edge of the blade almost bites into the ceiling. It sails over the net that still has Eclair boxed in and neatly slices the Rootwalker in two. She allows her eyes to briefly flicker over to the strange door all of this madness had appeared from to mark how many more, if any, had come following after to this point. With a sigh, she puts her hand back over her heart and summons the blade a second time without any variation to her technique.

"Logic is the blade that can defeat all forms of deception or sorcery. The mere fact that someone would lie to you at all, or involve you in some centuries-long scheme is itself a valuable piece of information. Take for example yourself. On the surface you appear to be dodging attempts at interrogation but with only a minor amount of inference and questioning I can paint a relatively vivid picture of your situation.

"You are familiar with me by name but not by reputation. You furthermore believe you have cause to treat me as a threat, and you believe this so strongly you are willing to endanger non-combatant diners and waitstaff for the sake of maintaining focus on the clearly more dangerous opponent. However! In your continued insistence on delay tactics where you would be better served by offense (were I such a threat) I can safely conclude you believe two more things: in the first that I am better than you, and in the second that this makes your job something more akin to an advance scout. You intend to twist your defeat into mine by discovering a weakness in my technique or tactics. This proves that you are a woman of intelligence who ultimately agrees with my beliefs."

Eclair buries her sword in the tangle of the lightning knot and twists until the threads of electricity pull wide enough apart that she can hurl a light-infused (and hastily wiped down) fork through that space and impale a second Rootwalker as it stumbles through the portal.

"However. Your stance is imperfect. Your feet are pulled closer together than they ought and your toes are pointed slightly inward. It is not enough to break your technique (which is impeccable), but in connection with the tension with which you hold your spear I feel confident enough to make this assertion: you do not believe your partner is going to arrive. Whether you have accepted this or not, Princess Heron is not coming. Is something delaying her? Or are you off mission? That is the question on my mind. And with that question in mind I am offering you this second opportunity. You refused my offer of tea, but will you at least lower your barrier so that I may defend these people without restriction? As I am without my armor and my skateboard escape is quite impossible for me to begin with, and if your goal is strictly to ascertain my capabilities and proclivities you are certain to learn more working with me in this moment than against me."

Three paces to the left. A quick turn of the head to ensure Mayzie's safety and continued cooperation. A single, very stubborn and equally jarring hiccup that forces a hand to my mouth. Shake head once, twice. Resume grip on weapon.

"Simply getting out of my way is likewise agreeable. But no matter what, know this. Regardless of your actions or intentions I will arrive at the truth. And I will walk the path my vows demand to reach it, without fail."

[Defy Disaster with Radiance: 6 + 5 + 2 = 13. Risking personal mobility and managing with style]
Hidden 4 days ago Post by TheAmishPirate
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Cutie breaks the surface, and gasps his first clean breath in what must’ve been hours.

He misses drowning.

The sounds. A startled shout, fast-fading. A heavy thud. A cough. A gasp. The sound of dozens, hundreds of people crying out and fighting to escape somewhere, anywhere. (It was farther away last time. This close, he can make out the waves of panic. He can hear the individual screams.) Something shatters, splinters, and he can’t turn to look, and he’s afraid to look, and his imagination fills in the gaps.

How? How did this happen? He was just bringing out a plate of cinnamon rolls. He only had a few minutes left in his shift. A lady, a pretty lady was smiling and laughing with him, and he can’t tell how much his heart is racing or fluttering. It’s all gone wrong. It’s all gone so, so wrong. There’s smoke. There’s fighting. There’s screaming. No, roaring.

Yuki?!

Racing. His heart is definitely racing. It’s not making them leave any faster. It doesn’t seem much to care.

She’s different. This isn’t like when she misses the dodge roll and the boss only had a sliver of health left. She. She’s angry. He’s never heard her so angry. He still can’t turn to look, but he can hear as well as ever, and a hundred AMVs tell him what she, what Yuki must look like right now. What she could look like. (The tray? No. No. It’s too far away. Can’t go back for it. Maybe make her another treat afterwards. Say something now. Now. She needs you to say something. She needs you to be there for her. Do it. Talk. Say something. She needs you. She needs you. You have to say something. Say something. You need to. You have to.)

Cutie is still. Cutie is staring at scales. Cutie is silent.

Walls of coils press in on all sides, gently, as they carry him away. Hugging him close. Shielding him from. All this. Behind them an axe sings and a leopard growls, and they know Yuki is still on her feet and fighting.

Cutie snuggles in deeper. Even though he doesn’t deserve it. It’s just. Instinctive. The coils. They’d do it for anybody.

And then they stop.

And his heart freezes.

(Say something. You have to.)

“‘Deo, please.” He’s fighting to keep his voice from cracking. He’s fighting to keep his eyes dry. “You’ve got to get out of here. Get everyone in the cafe out of here. Through the back halls if you have to, just get them as far away as you can. I,” There’s a thousand things to say. There’s no time to say anything. There’s no room to get it wrong. “I’m sorry. Tell Miss Yaz it’s not her fault. I’m going to be okay. I promise. The one with the axe?” Be strong, Cutie. Be strong like her. “That’s Yuki Edogawa. She’s my friend.”

(He doesn’t deserve this. Not him.)

“Just, please, Deo. Go. I’ll be okay.”
Hidden 2 days ago Post by Tatterdemalion
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Handmaidens!

I do regret to inform you that, given your circumstances, you'll be able to freeze all of the Rootwalkers in the room, but if you don't do it from outside the room (say, inside the tearoom where Injimo is having so much fun), then you'll end up freezing yourselves, too. (This isn't fatal, thankfully; can you believe that in Yukisworld, people can't survive being frozen in an ice crystal if you have warm blankets and tea ready after the crystal's shattered? It truly is a bleak place.)

But it would be best practices to clamber down into the tearoom, pump the room full of ice essence, and in the process seal the door shut with more ice. Then you'll only have to handle the assassin, catch the Architect-Knight, and enter the Stacks by another route! Simplicity itself.



Yuki!

"Don't use your name," Walking Elm says from behind you, her voice still high and cheerful. As sweet as poisoned honey. "That's not information they need yet~!"

Aria clutches at her throat. For a moment, it's illuminated from within; starlight flecks her lips like blood. Things that are not muscles shift under her skin. Then she draws her lips back into a crazed smile, all for you.

"You are brave. A knight. I used to have knights like you." Her voice is a hoarse whisper, the roar gone. She pushes her starglasses back up her face, hunches down low. Her tail drags across the floor. "Heroes! I hate heroes." That word there, it reverberated with a second voice, one that is slick with mud and hate.

She comes at you like a comet. You sidestep, flick your axe out, and she slams into it, keeps coming. She catches you by the throat, smashes through the thin wooden wall of the cafe. You wrench free and careen into tables, smashing abandoned plates and teacups on your way down. But she doesn't press her advantage, she doesn't leap on you and give you a bad end, all claws and teeth and the sweet smell of death. She clutches at her face and cackles, hair spilling out between her fingers.

"What do they call you? The Rootfelling Knight? The Lumberjack-Knight? All the great knights have a title. Oh, what I would have made of you back then!"

Take a String on her; she imagines you among her court and its chains on her heart stir. (She thought she could inhabit a role and avoid contamination by the world, as if it would not enclose itself around her- right, Yana?) She is also giving you what she thinks you want: honorable combat between a knight and a monster.

Your throat aches. You are lying in broken porcelain. Take a Condition, too. You are facing Aria Thendragon, though you haven't gotten her name yet. You are fighting the champion of a Fallen Star, a dragon of rotting wood and light and command. Fighting her, in any context, is a very good way to pile up Conditions.



Cutie!

See, even I remembered this time!

Anyway, Yuki just got bull-rushed through the cafe window by that scary lady. No read on which of them is getting out of there. You'd really hope for it to be Yuki, but...

Alcideo doesn't say a word. He does do a duelist's salute with his heartblade (you never asked him if he could fight, did you), and he puts his trust in you.

Take a String on Alcideo. Go ahead. It's yours for the taking.

The snake-princess starts slithering in the other direction, heading upwards, just because the whole press of people is going down- and then she's stopped by a hammer slamming down onto the stairs, and a sudden wall bursting up out of the floor underneath that hammer, and then, oh, and then?

Cousin It from your Addams Family comes crashing down on top of the wall, except she's got bare arms, both of which grab the hammer and heft it up.

Dear damosel / death-delighting;
invasion I incited, / an influx of idiots
wood-worked / without will,
but bitches / my back do break.


"The Handmaidens harry me hence, hard-treating me. Come, carry this callow--" She breaks off, swings the hammer, shatters a heart-arrow the size of a bloody ballista-bolt (see, now she's got me doing it). On the other stair of the Chrysanthemum's helix, Yaz nocks another arrow. The Chrysanthemum is not helpless.

"So much violence, Hazel~" Walking Elm is following you, arms outstretched welcomingly. "What a fuss~ Why don't you come with me and I'll make sure both of these knights fix everything they've broken!" She smiles and it's radiant and perfect and you're holding your breath, aren't you?

"...ugh, my head," the Nagi princess groans, holding one wrist up to it. Her breath is coming hot and quick and her cheeks are flushed. You can feel the warmth in her shifting scales. You are holding your breath and not getting turned on at an unfortunate moment, aren't you? "What... are you... doing...?"

"Finding a happy solution for everybody," Walking Elm says, and the sun is behind her now, throwing her face into shadow. Above the two of you, another one of Yaz's shafts splinters into jagged shards of magic which fade away harmlessly. "I don't want to have to hurt anyone, believe me!"

And it sounds so much like she means it. She's a very good actress, after all.



Eclair!

"Everyone," one of the chefs says, banging on a pot with a ladle in order to get attention, and it's just misfortune that you're the closer one to that noise, isn't it? "We've just received word that we need to evacuate the building! The stairwells are unsafe, so if you'll all follow me through the staff entrance?"

Mayzie looks from the chef to you and then back to the chef and then back to you. "Come on," she hisses, standing up. "Now's our chance to get away from this mess, Miss Logic!" She's still got your notebook, and in this moment she's split as to whether to stay or to go whether you will or no.

If you had a String on her, you could pull it. But there are ways and means to get that sort of String in a moment like this, aren't there?

The floor beneath all of you trembles. Somewhere down below, there is yelling and the sound of smashed tableware. The sort of thing that every member of the Order instantly attunes to and itches to fix, isn't that right?
Hidden 2 days ago Post by Thanqol
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Sayanastia!

It is easy to become the axis on which the world turns. Too easy. Perhaps that was her sin.

All she does is present herself. No more than that. As much as her pride insists that that alone is all she is doing, the world reacts the way she knows it will. She needs draw no sword and give no speech and everything falls into its order, the order it is used to, arrayed against her, the Archenemy. Arrayed against...

She huffs what she resentfully knows to be a laugh. She thought she could get away with breath, thought that she could transmute it into an engine of destruction. Sure enough her breath out came with a flick of entropic void, vaporizing the left half of a loungechair. But the world long ago adjusted to the rhythm of her breath. The world long ago adjusted to the consistency of her opposition. The world long ago moved on from her rises and falls. The world instead turned its attention to novelty remixes like The End Dragon.

She can smell her, even from here. The stench of rotting wood, insects and compromise. Willing to settle for a filthy bog, swarming with microbactrial life and buzzing cicadias, as the only approximation of true void and true peace her feeble echo of a mind can conjure. Obsessed with her hatred of heroes and the backwards-approximations of them that were her knights. Hatred had been a trap so obvious that even she, Sayanastia, for all her blunders had never fallen in to. She'd raged and corrupted and ambushed and possessed and cursed and transformed, but she'd never hated Heron or Civelia. To do that would have been to take them into her heart, undoing the purity of her purpose, taking her eyes from the goal of universal nonexistence and lowering it to a pathetic tripartite romantic comedy. She could at least take solace that her decline had been one of tragic gravitas and...

Fuck. It was just fucking elegance again, wasn't it? Every time she thought about her downfall it came back to this absurd obsession with being elegant.

"Yana...?" said Cair cautiously. She did not react but for the elegant flick of a tail. "Nice of you to join us...?"
"The End Dragon is here," said Sayanastia. "A pretender and, worse, a failure."
"Oh. So, hypothetically if the Architect-Knight were to have gotten her hammer from the Stacks, it wouldn't have been a minor and isolated incident...?"
"What care I for she, chained to her rhymes by ropes of hair?" sneered Sayanastia. "A shadow of a shadow. No, I shall address my wayward puppet, and you shall clear my way."

Injimo!

"Looks like you were wrong," said Injimo with a smile. "Looks like my backup is here after all."

The enormous, looming shape of the Dark Dragon Sayanastia raises up behind Injimo, endless in her majesty.

And then it baps her on the back of her head with a wing. "And so shall you."
"Ow," said Injimo. "But also, rude?? I'm fighting a -"
"You are losing to a drunk who correctly guessed that Heron's arrival is not immanent," said Sayanastia. "Do not embarrass yourself further."
"But -" another wing-clip to the back of the head got the message across. "Ow! Okay! I'm going."
For a moment, Eclair Espoir was left face to face with the undivided attention of the Dark Dragon, the terror of the ancient world, the breaker of the first sun, the ruin of castles, she whose waking scream bought forth the terrors that would haunt the world for ten thousand years.

"I appreciated the parry with the teacup," she said, before leaving heralded by darkness.
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