[IC] Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

[Sho Minazuki]

The southern territories of the Lothian Empire were the flattest stretches of land available to it, thus it was natural that many farms were built here. In the wake of the war, the long and vast plains spotted with mountains, valleys, and trees, once were yellow at this time of year, now green or brown with lands becoming more and more untended. Whether the crops were left to die in the middle of harvest, or had already been taken over by mother nature. Sitting amidst these lands was Garleton, once the booming city of the Empire's finest produce, now a fortified hold, dedicated to recruitment of soldiers for the war effort.

Garleton was a large castle town, but with a rather modest castle, which was unlike others within the Empire. The modesty of it once reminded the citizenry of the relationship between peasant and lord, but now lays mockery to this idea with it's current and well-hated Emperor. There is a certain air of reluctance around those who have come here to sign up for the war effort. For the mercenaries, it was another job, but for the citizens of the Empire, many are finding it difficult to fight for an Empire that is heralded by 'that' Emperor. Perhaps, if it were not for the young lordling sitting behind the registration tables for mercs and citizens alike to sign up for the war effort, many would not have decided to do so. A similar radiance to that of Elliot, a well-loved prince who had died just a few years back, to the people who beheld young Alnard, it gave them some semblance of hope. His bright face, and red hair that the first Emperor of Lothian had, was to them, the ideal beacon that the people needed.

It didn't take much to convince mercenaries, they signed up on the first day with money and jobs on their mind, but it took a few days for citizens to start coming in significant numbers. It wasn't until they heard one of the princes would be leading this little army, which was a rarity. Normally a prince would be given an elite guard, but it appears this was not the case. While some may have scoffed it off that it was suicide, an inexperienced prince leading an army was not promising, but sometimes, all people needed was something worth fighting for, and with hope they throw their lot in with him.

Within the tent behind the registration, the Prince spoke with his personal advisor, just one man, old, scarred, wearing heavy armor. The retired general Hadrick.

"When you made this request to your father the Emperor, even I was surprised. Had you given the word, we would have been willing to just give you a regiment of knights to command into battle", he commented. Hadrick stood tall, shoulders broad, while clean shaven, his hair was already whiting away, being a frizzy dark gray. He held two scars, one upon his chin, and the other just near his temple, just jutting out from his hairline. His eyes seemed to be constantly gaunt and judging those who came within view, and a constant half-frown. He was a man who command power with his presence, even in his old age.

"I'm aware Hadrick, but I had chosen to do this. I think the people need it. I had thought over what I could do to help in these times... Kalvas commanded an elite unit, while Fenris has... Well, last I heard he has gone to Dinas Afaraon. When I took a short tour of the countryside it occured to me the connection between the ruling class, and the citizenry was frayed. This is to...",

"Such a reason for recruiting troops? I would call you foolish. Training new troops is no easy task",

"Right, but as it is now, there are so few willing to fight for my father, I think the people need a new reason", as he uttered this, Hadrick began to smile, a genuine smile,

"Hmph. Hehahahaha! To supplant your father in the people's minds! How shrewd! I had not thought you to have that kind of gut!",

"That... That was not my intention, but-"

"Say no more my prince, I understand. For now, I suggest you rest, perhaps take a walk around the town and see the people. You wanted to fix the connection between ruler and citizen did you not?"

"That is true but-",

"No no, let me handle the papers for our new recruits. I understand your motive, morale is very important for an army afterall", the young prince looked down at the papers of recruits and their forms, he pursed his lips for a moment, before looking back to Hadrick.

"Very well. I will be back in perhaps an hour. I'll expect a report when I return", with that he turned to the tent entrance and left, Hadrick bowing in response.

Instructions

Hider

The castle town of Garleton is rather small compared to many others, perhaps even only being a 1/5 of Edinburgh. In it's current state, it's quite busy and bustling, but mainly due to military presence and activity. There is currently a retinue of Reynes Knights stationed here too as additional defense in light of the Empire's military being stretched thin.

You are here in this town for one reason or another. Here for business as a merchant or part of a travelling group? Here to sign up for the war effort as a soldier, or as a mercenary? Perhaps you even live here. Regardless of the reason, this is where you are.

So what shall you do for now?

If you are a recruit, you will be ordered to show the army trainers what you can do by picking a weapon of choice and fighting a soldier in a spar.

If you are a mercenary, you can relax. Most of the mercenaries who signed up have either taken up camp just outside the walls, or are taking a drink at the tavern just down the road.

If you are a citizen passing through, you will be doing your business. Whatever business that could be, that's up to you.

[Haeo]

Trace Retloth

Trace Retloth had just signed up as an unaffiliated mercenary. Since he didn't belong to a company he could be assigned anywhere. He was quiet and only said what was needed. There was no point attracting undue attention from a new employer so he kept his skill to himself. Besides, there were many in the world who were better than him. Of that, he was still certain. If notoriety and fortune were to come his way, they would come on the battlefield.

The town was glutted with people and vibrant with noise. Trace had known battles quieter than these pre-battle markets. He longed to return to his tent outside the walls. It was at least a little quieter there, though the other mercenaries were fairly rowdy. Even though the money was good in war, mercenaries had to consider their odds of living to collect. Looking around, Trace had seen a lot of mercenaries who didn’t seem likely to. In fact, most of the bigger name companies didn’t seem to be here. At least, he hadn’t seen their markings or names in the camps outside just yet.

He hoped that they weren’t trying to join the Lyonesse. It would be tough going without having to face veteran mercenaries from the same lands. The numbers here weren’t very great. They weren’t as bad as they could be, but the people weren’t leaping forward to defend the Emperor and the Empire. Then again, if his mother wasn’t buried near Edinburgh… maybe Trace would have sought other sources of fortune a long time ago.

But, for now, there was only one reason why he was still suffering with the crowded streets of Garleton. His whetstone was getting pretty worn and he didn’t want to go off to battle without one. He still had a few coins from his last job, enough to last a few weeks or so if he camped in the wild and only bought food that he couldn’t hunt or trap. But, the way prices go in places like this, he would be lucky to find a used whetstone that he could afford. He was forced to check the small merchant stalls that were hidden and out of sight. These places often charged less in an effort to attract customers to their less suitable locations. However, they also frequently offered lower quality.

It took over an hour before he finally found a tiny shop run by a poorly dressed teenager who had an assortment of poor quality daggers, knives, and a few serviceable tools that had likely been stolen from craftsmen and soldiers as they walked through the crowds. Among the motley assortment was a chipped whetstone. Aside from the chipped corner, it seemed to be in good shape but the boy was offering a fairly low price for it. It could have been one of his highest value items. After all, most of the stolen tools and weapons had some kind of small markings that would allow the owner to identify it later. The whetstone did not have any and could be purchased more safely.

Trace showed interest in a dagger as well as the whetstone and began to haggle over the price. He favored lowering the price of the dagger at first but eventually, with apparent reluctance, gave up on getting it and took the whetstone for about three-fourths of its listed price. Then he moved back into the crowds before allowing his disappointed expression to fade back into stoic neutrality. He had what he came for. The quiet called to him.

Then he heard the raucous noise of a bustling tavern by the road and remembered that he hadn’t eaten or drunk much for the past couple days. More than that, he hadn’t heard many rumors worth hearing. As much as he longed for a quiet moment at his camp, dying because you don’t like the noise of the places where information flows… would be embarrassing.

He headed into the tavern, paying no heed to the sign above the door, and found one of the very few empty seats. It wasn’t as remote as he would like but it was at a table midway between the wall and the center of the room. It would do.

Trace didn’t stand out much. Most of his gear was leather and his lance was simple iron and unadorned. So, it took a few moments before a hustling serving girl to notice him and take his order. He only ordered a little food and an ale. But, he kept his ears open. He wanted to gather rumors of the Lyonesse army, if there were any, as well as any news of the bigger mercenary companies. He hoped that it wouldn’t take him long to get some information worth hearing.

The ale… wasn’t very good… even for the price.

[Yankee]

Belisendé
Garleton, Lothian Empire

I made it, the young woman thinks. As she walks the road into town, leading a rather aggressive looking horse with a pink ribbon tied to it's tail, she takes in the view of the castle and it's surrounding lands. It's in a sorry state, quite different both from the capitol she grew up and the small villages she had spent time in on the way here. Her pace slows as she takes it all in. She imagines what a charming place it may have been in the past, before war or rebellions or the need for foreign knights. What a charming place it can become again, once this is all over. Before she can get too deep into her thoughts, the majestic animal beside her snorts and pushes his nose against her head. Bel pushes his muzzle away, sighing as she does so. "Yes, yes. Thank you, Sunbeam." Her voice is light and doesn't waver. Is she nervous? Of course, a little. She'll be training - for war - soon, but though her heart shivers in anxiousness, in anticipation of the future, her voice is still with hope. Bel continues forward a little quicker now, sparing glances at the gathering knights and mercenaries as she moves closer to the center of Garleton. I've heard that his Imperial Highness the fourth Prince is here, her thoughts flow as she walks, that's surprising. It would be nice to see him again, but it's been years. He probably won't remember me... and if he does, would he actually let me fight? I may have to avoid him anyway... The speckled gray stallion she leads gives anyone looking Bel's way a nasty glare, keeping strangers at a distance while she is lost in thought, insuring she won't bump into anyone by mistake. As they come upon what seemed to be the biggest gathering of potential recruits, they stopped. It was hard to see past the crowd of men and women, taller and stronger looking than her. It doesn't phase her, she just waits at the edge of the crowd, idly petting her horse's mane and shoulder. "We'll get us both some food soon," she murmurs, the stallion snorting contentedly in response. They both look over now to their third companion, a 'hunter' they had met a few days ago during their journey to Garleton. Bel gives him a curious look, while Sunbeam fixes him with what could only be called a stink eye. The horse didn't much like the man, but then again, he didn't much like any human outside of the Imperial family. Although Bel remained a little suspicious, the man also wielded a bow and had been kind enough to give her some tips. For that she was grateful, and now that they had reached Garleton she wondered if he was also here to enlist.

_________________________ Status: Alive & Well Class: Squire Inventory: Iron Bow Vulnerary

[Savo]

Einar

Garleton || Lothian Empire: Tavern || Noon

"Bullshit!" A cry of agitation erupted from one of the larger tables, overpowering the cacophony of laughter, jeers, and shouts that echoed from one of the larger tables with the men and women that were crowded about, exchanging their bets with one another as the sound of jingling filled the room. The loser of this game, a bristly man who looked to be in his mid-thirties with his arms as thick as trees and a gut that one could assume was carrying gallons upon gallons of mead glared at his opponent, clenching his fist tightly as it slowly began to turn an ivory color. Across from him was a much younger lad, couldn't of been anything but in his early twenties with a much smoother looking face with an angular jaw, though it was blemished with a bit of muck and the occasional cut or two. There was nothing that stood out about his outfit, not the straps, the sheathes, or the leather padding he had, marking him as a mercenary; the only thing that was different was the short black cloak he bore, with the insignia of a birds eye an plumage. The younger man casually receded into his chair stretching his arms outward, pretending to ignore the mans angry screeches, grinning as he stared at the results, tipping further back into the chair until he nearly nicked one of the tavern wenches that were hustling to deliver some saps food before he swiftly caused his chair to crash back down, averting getting his hair wet will ale. Placing an elbow down and leaning onto the table, the man rested his cheek on the back of his hand as he conceitedly raised an eyebrow and extended his other arm outward an gestured to his opponent, only to retract it instantly back, narrowly avoiding a knife as his payment. "Oy, what the hell d'ya think you're doing," he said, lacking any hints of anger, but rather sounded bored; his tone was mocking and his rolling gray-blue eyes only served to emphasize that. They also seemed to provoke his opponent as well. "I'm givin' ya yer propah payment ya cheeky rat-ass bastid," the man growled, leveraging a thick, accusatory finger at the boy, shaking it constantly, "you defa'ly cheated meh, I jus' know it! There's naw way you could've wan' this much!" The mans rabid replies fell on deaf ears as the man huffed, twirling his own finger around before pointing to a couple of people, announcing the names "Helane, Levon, Ulfric, and a couple'a more I can't remember, you all've beaten me before." A couple of nods occured from the people he directed his own slender finger at, cementing his own argument in place as he shrugged with a self-assured frown, feigning any sort of displeasure he might of held for the man. "Along with that, everyone was watchin' me play, and none of em' have claimed I'm a cheat, so, Faust, what I want is the money I won, so fork it over." The man slowly began to rise, hands trembling as he clenched at the splintered edges of the table, appearing ready to spring over and wring out his neck like a mother wringing out a dish cloth. However, some of his friends whispered and chattered over the other people gathered around the table, murmuring amongst themselves. Finally, a decent sum of gold was tossed across the table and the younger man swooped in and swiftly snatched up all of the pieces he rightfully owned as of now. "Ya limp-dicked bastid', betcha' had t'cheat and steal th'Ravencrests hard earned gold, yea," them Ravencrests kicked ya out because of ya havin' to pinch em' out of any gold they had ya lil' parasite," he guffawed, wheezing with a yellow smile, doing his best to take digs at the younger man who was just ignoring him right about now. This seemed to agitate the man who rose up, taunting the boy more and more as he marched on over, "Probleh kicked ya out because ya havin' t'pinch em' out of aneh gold they had ya lil' parasite! Betcha' that sword is nothin' but show too!" Once the man had collected all of his coin, he packed it into a safe place, wincing as his nose wrinkled, lips frowning in the face of this adversity. "Well Faust, outside of that all being nothing but horseshit you're spouting, I will say that I left the Ravencrests for the same reason that you're causing me to leave this tavern," the man waved his hand, rolling his eyes as he turned his back on the man and began walking away. "Awhu, why iwsh daaat widdle boooyeee," he could hear the tone of mockery in his voice, visualizing the smiling kissy face Faust was making as his former opponent spoke obnoxiously. However, all he could do was smirk at Faust's languid attempts to rile him up. "Because I need a breath of fresh air," he waved his hand, fanning his face as if he had caught his opponents stench. There was a roar behind him, followed by the sound of scrambling and the yelling of the barkeeper to cease this fighting or he would get some of the soldiers to handle it for him. Above that all, however, was the young mans confident smile as he held up an arm behind him and waved to the group of mercenaries, "I'll seeya fellas later tonight for another round!" And just like that, he was out the door, passing by other people, citizens, mercenaries, and conscripts alike, taking in a deep breath of fresh air before wickedly laughing to himself as he shook his head and leaned on the side of the inn. "Suckers," he muttered as he began to survey the area, discerning and filing who was new, who was old, and who looked easy enough to cheat out of their coin, as well as musing on some rather important subjects. "Maybe I should upgrade my armor, but then again I did see nice looking charms that peddler was selling the other day..."

_________________________ Status: Feelin' Lucky Class Page Inventory Iron Sword Vulnerary Experience 0/0 Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E

[Sho Minazuki]

Alnard Val Lothian
Garleton

The castle town was bustling. For the merchants, war was good business, and bringing the recruitment efforts here showed no shortage of business. Furthermore mercenaries would get paid, and perhaps use their immediate pay on wares made or sourced here too should they need it. The people greeted him as he passed them, as he had decided to see how the town was doing. It seems their reception to him was generally positive. Still, he could feel the weight upon his shoulders just surmount as he did, it wasn't just the Empire he was here to represent, but also it's hope, which they once pinned on Elliot. It wasn't apparent to him until he decided to take to organising a force to command. Still despite this, there was a feeling within him telling him he could do it. A certain positivity. For now perhaps he'll look around the plaza, before heading back and seeing to the enlistment papers. It seems today was a better draw than yesterday, or when they started for that matter. As he was told, and led to believe, the call to arms just needed some time to get around. Sitting around and doing nothing did not suit him however, so while he was in the plaza, he would answer questions by anyone who approached him. Usually it was just residents who wanted to ask him about the war, benefits, and so forth. It seems many were worried that the war would result in some devastating casualties, but he assured them things would be fine. Even as he did, a feel, a biting feeling told him it was uncertain, but that wasn't what anyone wanted to hear. It was worrying as he stopped receiving reports from the front lines too. It was a routine thing that any commanding officer needed to get. Still, perhaps it was nothing.

_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Spell Lord Inventory: Rapier Vulnerary

[Amaterasu]

Sumire
Plaza, Garleton: Noon

Clack. Clack. Clack. A sound of clacking from a pair of wooden sandals echoed through the bustling streets filled with people armed with a weapon or two. There seemed to be a waiting queue of some sort but this foreign maiden was simply searching for a suitable place, paying no heed to what seemed to be the current focus of the masses. A boy equipped with an iron lance, and a man carrying a light weight lute, closely trailed behind her until a sudden stop. A contented beam upon her lips, Sumire the dancer declared with arms spread wide, "This crowded area shall be my performance stage for today! Busy as it may be, one look at my alluring movement will surely turn gazes upon me!~" As she gave a cue towards the hired minstrel to take position, Sumire herself spread the ornamented fans in her possession open with a cheeky expression. Tap. Tap. Tap. The minstrel tapped the tip of his boot thrice before the stringed instrument came to life, a slow, carefully struck rhythm sounded throughout the area. The people within the direct vicinity were puzzled by the sudden playing of music and turned to face the peach colored figure. The once playful air about her had completely been replaced to that of a mature grace. The dancer slowly rose from an initial kneeling position, elegantly swishing one fan outwards as she carried herself up. The two fans were then spun quickly, leaving after images resembling that of a flower as Sumire twirled in place. Music hastened its pace as the dancer herself picked up the pace of her graceful movements with the fans. "What is that garment? I've never seen the likes of it before." "Yer focusing on the garment? Look at her go! Don't think I've seen lasses here dance like that!" "Mommy, I want a pretty fan like that!" One way or another, a number of eyes watched as she performed, giving the dancer a contented smile as she continued to sway.

_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Dancer Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Sword

[Lugubrious]

Artemisia

Garleton

With a heavy sigh, Artemisia placed the stack of scrawled-on papers back inside the drawer they came from and slid it shut. Disappointing. While unsure if these documents even existed, she'd put all her efforts into chatting up anyone in the treatment ward with the lung capacity to do so, but now that she got her hands on these records they substantiated what her investigation suggested. Nobody bearing pink eyes and any sort of illness came through this place within the last few months. That meant another week of her time wasted, and her search no closer to its end. Worse, Artemisia hadn't the slightest clue where to look next this time. Before she could pay any mind to her next destination, however, came the hardest part of her time at this one: saying goodbye. A few minutes later, Artemisia poked her head around the corner of a doorway leading to the main ward. In front of her and unaware of her guest, the Sister appeared to be changing the wrappings of a man Artemisia knew to be suffering from gangrene. In his lucid moments -'lucid' being a quaint term for 'so stuffed full of painkillers as to be delirious- he'd told Artemisia about the battle that left him lying in a ditch, his flesh rotting while he still clung to life. It had been a dispute between two minor lords, with one catching wind of an assassination plot and sending his keenest ranger to take the assassin out, only for that bowman to fall victim himself. As part of her infiltration here, Artemisia helped to debride the dead tissue and wrap the sites to prevent infection, but the Sister knew the art of healing far, far better. Still, places like this never turned down help, which was the only reason why the dark mage's method of searching worked at all. As Artemisia watched now, the Sister wrapped a layer of soft, salve-soaked wrappings around the man's leg, then covered that with a thicker, dry layer of coarse bandage for sealing. Without looking up from her work, the blue-haired woman murmured, “You're not scheduled to come in for another few hours. I applaud your dedication, but I must wonder why.” Artemisia flinched. Sheepishly coming out from behind the corner, she took her hat into her hands and held it flat across her chest. “Y-your senses remain startlingly potent, ma'am. Well, since you inquire with exactitude, I have no alternative but to oblige your requested candor. Regrettably, given your choice of words, this must contain a barb of irony, but I...I am afraid that I must depart posthaste.” Whirling around, the Sister affixed Artemisia with stern, gray-green eyes. The winestain birthmark across her face gave her a mildly menacing visage, but those eyes held no wrath. Only disappointment. “You're leaving?” A genuine sorrow commanded Artemisia's features, but she did not avert her gaze. “That is...accurate. I am pointedly aware of your clinic's urgent need for additional healers, and my heart does pang for the ill and afflicted, but I cannot remain. My ultimate duty is inescapable.” Knowing flitted through the Sister's eyes. She said nothing, but she knew thanks to her proximity to Artemisia that she harbored an overriding devotion to her deity—a deity she suspected was not her own. Realizing this, Artemisia wanted to crumple in on herself. The Sister, so dedicated to her faith, tolerated the presence of an outsider without question? The urge to say something rose within her. “You have my deepest sympathies, ma'am, but I cannot stay. It was never my choice to make.” For the first time, the knowledge that she was doing the right thing wasn't enough, and Artemisia faltered. Looking at her feet, she muttered, “Hate me if you must.” She didn't realize what was coming until it was too late. Out of nowhere, white-robed arms wrapped around her, and the Sister pulled the shocked mage into an embrace. “Never. We all have our duty. Thank you for helping us here, child. Someday I hope you will return.” Something bit at Artemisia's heart. It caused a bubbling sensation in her throat, and water pooled in her eyes. She was a charlatan. She didn't deserve this love or forgiveness. Every ounce of help she'd provided came under the sole pretext of gaining access to information that might help her find her target. Hadn't it? Another few minutes passed, and Artemisia emerged from the ward onto a street lit by the noonday sun. After dabbing at her eyes, she replaced her hat on her head and glanced around. It looked like a very busy day, which meant getting ready to travel again would be difficult and tiresome. She took a few steps, then turned to look back at the entrance to the ward. What would become of its patients without her? Would the Sister, worked ragged when she first arrived, be able to take care of them without running herself into the ground? Artemisia forced herself to look away. “I cannot afford to let myself get attached to each stop on this journey,” she said aloud, trying to convince herself. “The show must go on.” With that, she stepped into the street. Avoiding the biggest crowds for fear of being jostled or otherwise put upon added to her travel time, but before long the dark mage reached the plaza. She meant only to cut across it on her way to the market, but something caught her gaze. A strangely-dressed woman danced to music, her rhythmic motions wholly unfamiliar and fairly enchanting. Fascinated, Artemisia stopped to watch from a distance, making sure to place her back against a wall so nobody could come up behind her.

__________________________ Status: Melancholy Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets New entry The investigation in Garleton is concluded. No hint of my target, and no leads. Yet, I have gleaned more about non-magical healing, and something besides: the Sister is an unequivocally wonderful individual. A true commoner, unremarkable in anything save her spirit, yet surely kinder and tougher than the most revered cardinal. She deserves to be remembered. I wish I could stay, but my mission beckons me indisputably onward. Still, I am determined that time will not stain her face from my recollection. One day, when my mission is done, I will return.

[Flood]

Rin
Plaza, Garleton: Noon

His morning routine was the same as always. Open eyes, breathe, sit up. Straighten clothing, looking professional is an important part of the job. Practice forms for one hour. Eat dried rations, drink exactly two gulps of water from canteen. It is at this time that the client awakens, which means that Rin's morning routine has now ended. He must now adjust to the routine of his client, or the lack thereof for Sumire. Today they went out to hire a wandering minstrel, a Dancer's best work was done with music according to Sumire. And so he strapped his lance onto his back and prepared to take on the day and whatever challenges it may throw his way. 'Day 17. We have arrived in Garleton with few issues aside from idle complaints from the client, the client remains untouched. Things may change as we enter our first major town, I will have to be more vigilant.' Deals were made, coin passed hands, but these details were of little importance to the bodyguard. Everyone was evaluated as they passed by his client. The city brimmed with danger, mercenaries who had to much to drink, citizenry on edge with the arrival of their prince, soldiers looking to vent whatever frustrations they may have, anyone could be a threat to his client's safety. Rin made sure to stay close to her, close enough to shield her from any sudden threats but also far enough that personal space was not violated and his client felt comfortable. 'A man who stunk of alcohol leered at the client, a subtle shift of my lance quickly sobered him up. He passed by us with no incident. A child reached out to touch the client's robes, I was swift to interpose myself in between the child and the client. The client seemed annoyed by this, I will have to ponder why later.' When she eventually chose a place to perform, Rin's senses tightened even further. A crowd was the ideal place for an assassin or other rogue to hide, bursting from cover when you least expect to attack. He had already evaluated several possible routes of escape should worst come to pass, the current favored route would no doubt knock over the excited child pointing at Sumire, but no permanent harm would come to him. Rin took a moment to observe his client as he scanned the crowd with arms crossed and gaze narrowed. The way she moved her arms, it was reminiscent of a flower blooming. The gentle melody of the bard sped up, turning Sumire from a blooming flower into a storm of petals dancing through the wind. Rin's eyes softened slightly as he watched his client work, it was far from the worst thing he had ever- Rin's eyes were torn from Sumire as he noticed a subtle shift towards the front of the crowd, but it was merely a father lifting his daughter onto his shoulders. False alarm, but he would have to reevaluate his favored escape option now that the father had joined the child. If he knocked her over and the father tried to grab Rin then it would be an suboptimal escape route.

_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Recruit Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Lance Status of Client: Working

[Haeo]

Trace Retloth
Garleton Plaza

Trace heard nothing of value. The only noise that drew his attention at all was a brief altercation between gamblers. The winner left, unharmed and still cocky, while the loser was restrained by the others at the table. It was an odd scene but not terribly important. The most valuable things he learned during his meal had to do with the lack of quality in the drink, the lack of knowledge among the patrons, the lack of any rumors from the battlefront, and the fact that good music was so out of place here that it managed to cut through the din of the tavern even at some distance. He paid his bill and left the unfortunate inn behind as he followed his ears. It didn't take him long to find the source of the music. The lively tune was unfamiliar and the dancer was exotic as well as lovely. He took a moment to watch before he remembered the feel of the lance haft in his hand and turned his attention to the crowd. They were entranced. Many of them gaped openly at the spectacle. For all the dancer's looks and grace, she couldn't hold Trace's gaze for long. Such forms of beauty just reminded him of his mother. However, there was one figure in the back of the crowd that drew his eye more firmly. Dressed in striking black robes and carrying a book, the young woman stood out from most of the drab and rough crowd. She actually might be about his own age, though he wouldn't ask unless it became important. She seemed... magical. It had been a long time since Trace had practiced magic but he could still recognize those who did often enough. It was a skill that had earned him a bit of coin in the past since mages were often in need of fighting hands to keep their enemies at a tidy distance. Furthermore, they could usually bring down foes that his spear had trouble with. The combination simply worked well. This one didn't seem like she was a mercenary but she also didn't look like she was waiting for anyone. If she was looking to travel alone... she might find more trouble than she could handle. If he hadn't already signed up to join the prince's army as a mercenary he would simply offer his services straight away. But, in this situation, as attractive as the idea of having a mage at his back was... he couldn't think of a way to convince her if she already had other plans. Then again... he saw a shift in the crowd. It was a small shape, lurking in the alley shadows near the young mage. Trace began moving quietly through the crowd. He was careful to not disturb the front row of people watching the show but he also avoided exiting the crowd entirely. He needed the cover to get close enough. It took a couple minutes but he eventually got close enough to get a better look at the situation. It was a thief, a small knife flickered briefly in the light before being pulled under a tattered cloak. From the physique, the thief seemed quite young and thin. Trace took a deep breath as he stepped out of the dense portion of the crowd, acting like a man just looking for fresh air. The thief twitched, moving toward the mage's book and purse while hugging the wall in an attempt to avoid being noticed. Trace's spear twirled with a momentary rush of air before the butt end thumped into the thief's gut. The thief dropped to the ground and dropped the knife before quickly stumbling away into the shadows while gasping for breath. He wasn't the hero type and he didn't like talking much but this was a situation that called for all his charm and social wit. So, Trace mustered his social muscles, nodded blandly as though nothing had happened, kicked the tiny knife away from where the kids in the crowd might find it, and spoke gloriously. "Good day, miss." The words were calm and flat, neither warm nor cold. In fact, they were almost irritatingly without flavor. But, they were accompanied by him taking a place against the same wall, his eyes casually flitting over the crowd. It actually looked like he was her bodyguard and he had just shown up to work.

_________________________ Status: Alive & Well Class: Recruit Inventory: Iron Lance Vulnerary

[Lugubrious]

Artemisia

Garleton

Intent on the mesmerizing spectacle offered by the lady dancer, Artemisia remained wholly ignorant of her surroundings. A practiced eye might have caught discreet repositionings or vague momentum, but the dark mage either didn't notice or didn't look in the first place, which to a sharp observer no doubt suggested inexperience. Her blithe unawareness allowed an unseen sneakthief, having identified her as a likely mark, to draw nearer and nearer, until the viper was poised to strike. Before he could, however, Trace made his move, walloping the vagabond with his spear's solid shaft. Startled, Artemisia jerked away, thinking for a moment that he'd meant to hit her, but instead of an assailant she found a scrawny kid on the ground, struggling to get air back into his lungs. She watched him scurry away for a moment before giving her full, albeit dubious attention to the lancer. For someone who'd just assaulted a man in broad daylight, Trace seemed incredibly casual. He greeted her with nonchalance before looking away, simply placing his back against the wall where he stood and resuming his observation of the dancer. Baffled by his manner, Artemisia stared for a moment before looking back down at her book. In the pregnant silence that followed, she awkwardly entered another few lines in her journal to describe what happened, putting together something to say at the same time. She didn't like talking to people for no reason, particularly people who looked as boring as Trace did, but unless she missed her guess he'd just saved her from a pickpocket. That warranted some kind of gratitude, but why did he act so indifferently? It wasn't like she was gregarious to begin with, and it put her off. “Good...morning,” Artemisia greeted after way too many seconds, her voice stilted and just as flat as Trace's. Whether or not it was still morning was the least of her concerns. “Um. Thank you very much. That fellow...slipped my peripherals. I was fortunate...to be under your vigilance.” Perhaps, she reasoned, she had better get moving. The dance had to be just about over, after all. Yet, fleeing right now would be more than a little impolite after this stranger just helped her. “Is...is there something that I may do for you in recompense?” Forcing herself to look at the uninteresting-looking man, she gave her best smile. His helmet's shadow obscured his eye color somewhat, but they sure weren't pink.

__________________________ Status: Awkward Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets New entry I just witnessed a bizarre occurrence. A stranger approached whilst I, spellbound, absorbed a gorgeous dancer's performance, and attacked some miscreant sidling up behind me. Then, rather than initiate normal conversation, he just stiffly bids me well and stands there, not even looking at me. Was what just happened not unusual? His demeanor is so freakishly casual given the abnormality that just transpired. I would say something if I could, but this silence is rock-hard. I fear I must try anyway.

[Typical]

---

Branna Naves

---

^{Town Edge || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Noon}

Branna poked a finger through the hole in the wing in front of her, then tugged lightly. The wyvern jerked, rearing back and flapping his wings with a snort, the wind stirred up by the motion ruffling Branna’s hair as she laughed. Coming out in scratchy cuts punctuated by silence when her vocal cords struggled to make ends meet, the sound was a mixture of hoarse and croaky before it dissipated into the air at the edge of town. Getting to her feet, she stroked the wyvern’s flank, admiring his iridescent armor. Movement to her left drew her eyes, and she looked over with a smile, waving at the two passing squires, who quickened their pace down the path. Then, turning back to her wyvern, who’d lowered his head so that he was eye-level with her, she headbutted him, then patted his cheek. “Later, Mors,” she croaked, waving as she walked towards the town. The wyvern shook his limbs out, then took off running, his bounds giving enough lift to boost him up when he opened up his wings. Into the air he went, veering towards the nearby forest as Branna continued into town, a smile on her lips. With the sun high in the sky, the busiest place in town was the plaza, given that the marketplace was situated near there. On one side, people bustled through makeshift stalls as shopkeeps shouted out their wares. On the other was a milling crowd out of which music spilled, and Branna walked towards the song. At the center of the crowd she found a performance going on: A minstrel plucked at his lute as a richly-robed girl danced before the crowd, brandishing a pair of flower-emblazoned fans. Despite the fast pace of the music and the size of the girl’s robe, the girl’s movements maintained an aura of elegance as she moved, and Branna paused at the edge of the circle to watch, her eyes drifting over the others there. It was a mismatched crowd of people, both villagers and travellers within, judging by the number of children and weapons present. Soon enough, though, Branna found the most solemn person there: Behind the dancer was a boy with a spear, who stood off to the side only enough to remain somewhat inconspicuous. His eyes were fixated on the dancing girl, but they quickly darted to the side when the crowd around him shifted, and Branna traced his eyes to a child being lifted by her father. As she was standing across from the child in the crowd, it didn’t take much time for the girl to notice Branna on the other side of the dancer, and when she did Branna raised a hand to wiggle her fingers. ‘Boo,’ she mouthed. The girl’s eyes widened, her small hands gripping for her father’s, and Branna’s grin stretched wider.

_________________________ Status: Tickled Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 0 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary Stats END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

[itano123]

Another day, another way. The light of the day laid bare on a young mans face as the curtains to a window could no longer hold the force the sun shined with anymore, with the light in his eyes he let out a grunt and fell out of bed to get ready for whats left of the day. The man went by the name William now and never really had any routine for days, he liked being free to decide what he would do on the spot, and he was willing to make the most of this way while he could.

But why was he waking up late? shouldn't he be rushing for the recruitment he bothered coming to this city for? Thinking to himself while picking up a small bag of coins, William smiled, he was indead a lucky lad at times. But it wasn't really luck that brought this purse to his hands, it was the way he pretended to be what hes not. William had simpily blended into a group of mercinaries on his way to the town, it was good most don't care of past or what they are doing, they only care for capable people Which he showed off well enough over time. This way he could joing the battle and never have to actualy enlist, putting on the winners smile William walked out of the inn and into town while thinking of how everything just fell into place, all you have to do sometimes is tell people what they want to hear. It was all too easy, so now the young smiling man could leasurly go through town and stock up on any supplies he felt was needed at his own pace.

Walking into town William heard some light music in the distance and decided to stroll over, for it was always a pleasure to get some entertainment. Though when he got to the plaza he was surprised to find not only the sound of music, but the image of dancing to accompany it, which was strange.
"hmmm what a strange sight to see the two mix so well for looking so different......speaking of different...." speaking to himself, William thoughts seemed to trail off.

[Amaterasu]

Sumire
Plaza, Garleton: Noon

Unaware of the events transpiring at the background, Sumire kept her focus on the careful maneuvering of the fans. The melody from the stringed instrument had begun to relax until fading into silence, just as the dancer's spinning movements steadily sunk down into her initial position with a fan upon her face. The gesture was reminiscent to that of a once blooming flower, wilting away back to the earth from whence it came from. There was a momentary pause. Not until a thundering round of applause and cheering errupted from the audience. Lifting herself off the ground, the maiden adjusted her posture and neatly placed hands in front of her for a properly done bow from their culture. The crowd continued their applaud, some even throwing out pocket money onto the area before them. Sumire seeing what they're doing, voiced out, "Thank you one and all, you are all too kind! My name is Sumire and it was a pleasure to present to you the dance of my people!" She flashed a bright smile towards them and waved as she cued the minstrel to collect the earnings from the performance. While she wasn't desperate to earn money, it was a good way to add funds for their travel and accommodation. A number of children ran up to her in excitement, questions and praises overlapping one another's in discordance. Before Rin, her very strict bodyguard, were to make a move to separate the children from her just as earlier, the pinkette raised a hand as a sign for him to be at ease. "They're just curious children, be at ease, Rin. While them on the other hand..." Her voice trailed off as she glared daggers at the sleazy looking mercenary men, who stopped in their tracks upon feeling the malicious intent behind her gaze and forced smile upon the delicate features of the girl. "Hey miss! Hey miss! Where did you get that pretty looking robe?" "You were so beautiful! I wanna learn to dance like you!" "Can I touch the fans? I've never seen big pretty ones before!" As Sumire knelt down to be at an even height with the young ones, she put an effort to reply to each of their query, "Okay, settle down little ones, one at a time. This is a traditional garment from my homeland far, far away from here. Why, thank you! If you keep practicing passionately, one day you may be able to dance like me! Um, if it's just a soft touch, perhaps--" At the corner of her bright yellow eyes, a familiar brunet figure caught her attention. With eyes widened in shock, the dancer suddenly screamed with a tone opposite to the gentle one she had just a second ago, "IT'S YOU!!" Her finger pointed accusingly at the spectacled man in the crowd with the same never-fading smiling face she couldn't forget. Astonished by the sudden raising of the voice, the crowd of children fell silent with bewildered expression. Realizing she may have scared them, the girl apologized, "O-Oh, forgive me for screaming. I'm truly grateful for your praises but I must excuse myself." With a quick bow of her head, Sumire quickly stomped over to the man in question and pulled him away from the nosy crowd. "To think you'd trail us all the way here after we've surely lost sight of you days back, why do you keep following us?!" There was clearly no intention to hide the irritation in her voice but who could blame her? The first time Sumire and Rin had noticed they were being followed by this man was after the performance she had given a couple days ago, at the previous town. Finding it odd that he seemed to be following whereever they went, Sumire ultimately decided to ride a carriage over to this town instead of Rin resorting to violent means which she would rather avoid if it could be helped. But here he was, yet again before them.

_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Dancer Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Sword

[DELETED324324]

Thom Chaff Garleton: Peacekeeping duty, noon

Thom had made it all the way to the imperial capital, only to be stationed here. A castle town called Garleton, he had entered town with a fresh batch of recruits, and trained soldiers alike. A caravan of soldiers had arrived early in the morning, been assigned duty shifts, and times to keep them prepared for when it's time for them to march. Thom had been one of the unlucky ones assigned guard duty with three other men, their names he couldn't be bothered to remember, nor did he say much to them as they joked among themselves. "They'll be dead soon, why should I even bother." The warrior thought, no one in their position ever made it far on the battlefield, they were lowborn they were mean't to die. To escape the thoughts, and to remain upbeat Thom threw himself into his work instead scanning the market, and the plaza for any signs of trouble. Of course thieves wouldn't be this bold to steal in broad daylight with an entire garrison on high alert, but they were there if tensions got high as well which was often the problem at least that's what the watch captain had told them when he dispatched them out to walk the streets. Another issue was spies, the other duty of the guard was to watch suspicious individuals who didn't quite belong within imperial borders, and to Thom it was the mercenaries that had flocked to the town in droves, if he was a spy he'd come in among them, and hide. Not to mention that most of them were foreigners so they often stuck out. He'd mark them down mentally, and if any trouble came to pass they'd be the first to end up in the cells. The group of guardsmen stopped at a market stall that smelled of foreign spices, and food. "We're gonna grab a bite to eat, Thom you hungry?" Asked one of his group, Thom gave him a head shake in response, and instead turned to face inward on the streets. Keeping watch. All of this hustle, and bustle made him nervous. Among the crowds could be a hundred enemies, and he wouldn't even know. At least on the battlefield he knew who his enemies were. The sound of his fellow guardsmen voices drew him out of his thoughts. "We're on the move again Thom, come on." Thom didn't say a word, he just fell in behind them as the guardsmen walked, ate, and joked among themselves. From the snippets of conversation he caught, the three of them were from the same town, so they already knew one another, or had been family friends. Leaving Thom the odd man out, not that he wanted to speak with them anyways. As they walked further into town, they heard the sounds of music. As they pulled closer they saw quite the crowd gathered around a woman dancing. Her elegant movements had gathered quite the crowd, but Thom didn't seem to care about that instead quietly asking the group around him. "Do you think she has the proper papers, to hold up a crowd like this?" The other three chuckled, and one of them replied. "Lighten up, and enjoy it Thom" "Hmph" Was all he replied, as he watched the girl finish her dance. They had got there late so they hadn't been able to catch it all, and she appeared to be taking questions from the throng of children that had now surrounded her. All of the foreigners in this section of town had him on edge, so many merc's, so many armed with weapons that if something went wrong that he didn't doubt they wouldn't hesitate to draw them. The yell from the dancer just about made him reach for the axe strapped across his back, but a collective moment of clarity came over the four guardsmen, and they just sat now alert watching the goings on, not quite ready to show their hand yet.

_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Guard Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Axe

[Mike Dracopyra]

The young man Bel and Sunbeam had been with for the last few days, simply said to the horse giving him stink eye "You can give me that look, all you want horse but it won't make me cower in fear like it does, to the other people. I've seen a lot more then you'll know" He said in a cheerful tone. He had seen horrors beyond measure during his travels but he had maintain a certain lack of connection to those event as to not let his mind crack.

He had met Bel when the young woman had basically missed a target and had almost hit him while he was hunting, she had told him she was inexperienced so out of the goodness in his heart, Mike choose to give her some pointers when using her bow, just to ensure she did not endanger anyone again, plus he had also threatened Sunbeam once when the horse got in the way of a training session, which is probably why the horse hated him so.

Mike gazed up at the City as they followed everyone into it, he had also noticed a shift in Bel posture which told him two things, one that she was certainly a green horn traveller who had not seen much of the world beyond her and two, that she seemed to be avoiding something or someone, he would assume he'll find those answers eventually but for now as a tease to Bel. "Alright, cutie, if you wish to sign up you gotta be quick to learn. Whichever group you join, don't much care for the inexperienced, I could probably sweet talk them into letting you join if your my vassels unless you can impress them on the spot, I've got some contracts to fulfill while I'm here" He told her with a flirtatious wink.

[Yankee]

Belisendé
Midday | Plaza | Garleton, Lothian Empire

Bel looked over at her companion as Sunbeam let out a wet, annoyed snort. Right, that flirtatious nature - it's what had her still wary of the man, even though she had traveled into town with him. She wasn't particularly bothered by it per se. In the past she had been on the receiving end of compliments from potential suitors, and had even gotten marriage offers once or twice. She was neither upset nor flattered by his sweet words, though his mention of her lack of experience brought a frown to her face. "I'm... aware of that, but I intend to be accepted by my own merit," she told him. "We've worked hard, and I think we can do it." We of course being Sunbeam and herself. The horse had been her close and only friend since leaving the capitol. Sunbeam snorted again, becoming uncomfortable as the crowd grew more dense around them. Bel noticed the shift in the crowds attention as the sound of music drifted over them, coming from the other side of the plaza. Someone trying to boost the morale of soldiers and citizens alike, or looking to make a few coins from the mass of people? "We're going to move away from the crowd," she said, already beginning to shuffle back toward the new edge of it before the people engulfed her while trying to get a better look at the source of music. With a glance back at the man, she said, "I appreciate the knowledge you've shared with me, Michael. Good luck with your contracts." Sunbeam pushed his way out through the crowd, and Bel followed along with him. Soon enough they had made it to the edge again. She had overheard several people converse amongst themselves about a beautiful dancer. That caught her interest. She had seen several dancers perform in the past and she had thoroughly enjoyed each performance. Dancers could... inspire people. It was like they had a strange power to fill their audience with determination, spur them onward. Belisendé could use some of that right now. Curiously, she began making her way around the edge of the crowd, trying to peer through the gathered people. There were much too many to see through, of course. Though Bel was looking for the obscured performers, any people in Imperial uniform caught her eye. Once she was even sure she'd gotten a glimpse of familiar red hair, and she promptly moved on. If it was the prince, she'd greet him only after she'd been accepted. She was determined to enlist, to help the Empire... and though it was unlikely, if any of the officers she knew had been stationed here in Garleton, and they refused her - ah, I don't even want to think about it! She studied a nearby small group of soldiers, looking for any familiar faces. She didn't see any, and overheard one name - Thom - which wasn't familiar to her. Safe, then. Before Bel could continue on though, she heard the final swell of music before it came to an end, and soon the dancer's voice calling out her thanks. Had she missed the performance? The young woman felt her spirits fall. She really could have used that pick-me-up. Maybe... they would be up for an encore? Bel let go of her horse's reins, fixing him with a stern look. "Stay here," she ordered, and the animal huffed but made no move to wander off. This time, Bel moved directly through the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the dancer, but in her haste she crashed right into a young man with dark hair. She was sent reeling, but managed to stay on her feet. Ow... "Excuse me..." she mumbled out, rubbing at her face. The man appeared to be a mercenary of some kind.

_________________________ Status: Alive & Well Class: Squire Inventory: Iron Bow Vulnerary Stats END: E STR: E MAG: D DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: D LCK: C Supports N/A

[Haeo]

Trace Retloth
Garleton Plaza

Trace listened without moving for a long moment. What he wanted was some certainty. He had no idea how the war was going. There weren't even any rumors worth listening to. There weren't any refugees either. It was strange. The enemy army seemed to have vanished for all the people knew about it. It made him nervous. Not knowing what to say to the mage next to him also made him nervous. It didn't help his nerves that she was actually pretty, a fact that he had missed when he noticed her from a greater distance. He was reminded that he had never actually had much polite contact with the fairer sex. After all, most of the ones that mercenaries encountered were either on the battlefield or in disreputable lines of work... and those lines of work reminded Trace too much of his mother for him to have any interest at all. Since he didn't know anything about the mage that he hoped to work with, he decided to simply speak his mind and hope for the best. His free hand came up to scratch behind his ear in an unconscious act of nerves as his mouth finally opened. "My name is Trace, Trace Retloth. I just signed up as a mercenary for the Prince's army but I have a bad feeling about things and I've always felt safer with a mage at my back. I know it's too much to ask you to sign up or anything like that... but this feeling... I don't like the fact that nobody seems to know where the enemy army is. There aren't any refugees or even rumors." Now that he was talking about his concerns his grip on his lance tightened unconsciously. "You look like you're traveling alone. Normally, a mage could travel alone without much trouble around here. But, with an invading army in the picture... I think it might be too risky for you to try and travel alone until the war's over." He took a breath to steady himself before he launched into the rest of his socially awkward speech. "I don't know why you're traveling and I don't know whether or not you're actually traveling alone and if I hadn't already signed up for this war I'd just offer my services outright but... I don't take a client's money and then back out. So, I want to help you travel safer without abandoning my current employer and the only way I can think of to do that would be for you to accompany me and stay close when trouble shows up. It's weird to ask... but there it is." And, with that, Trace sealed his mouth shut and waited in tense silence. With his social incompetence and personal concerns practically written on his sleeve, he was certain of little else other than that he might as well sign off on permanent bachelorhood and sporadic unemployment for his future. Still, he had spoken the truth. His nerves were winding tighter as time went on. Silence was the worst thing a fighter could ever hear from any enemy, and the bigger a group the worse the silence was. For an entire army to have produced no current rumors meant one of two things. Either they were coming closer, fast, and not allowing anyone to escape... or they had managed some kind of silent retreat without the empire's scouts reporting it. Trace didn't like the odds of the second option at all.

_________________________ Status: Awkward & Well Class: Recruit Inventory: Iron Lance Vulnerary

[Lugubrious]

Artemisia

Garleton

As the stranger leaped into his response, more than making up for his silence before, Artemisia listened with her brow furrowed and mouth just slightly open. All of a sudden, the man -Trace, it seemed- just wouldn't stop rambling on, and was he ever forthright. Not only did he appear unduly concerned with her wellbeing, but he made no bones about a potential arrangement being for his benefit, too. Artemisa appreciated honesty, but this Trace wasn't making a good case for himself. Of course the roads and towns would be perilous with a war brewing, but Wayfarers could handle themselves, even one not long down the path. In fact, Trace offered exactly the opposite of what the dark mage wanted—she needed to keep her distance from armies and battlefields, sticking to the shadows as she hunted her quarry in safety. Sure, travel meant new places, and the one she sought could be among the ranks of the Prince's army, but sticking with a company meant losing her agency. They would decide where she went, and if her target did not serve in the corps, leaving to continue her search would mean branding as a traitor. That was, if her status as dark mage or witch didn't get her stoned first. Running over these considerations in her head, Artemisia came to a decision. As much as she wanted to pay back Trace's kindness, not a single definitive positive swam among the murky sea of negatives. The dark mage, now with something to build off of, gave her answer with confidence and finality. “I am unable to acquiesce. My prerogative is to remain as far from the armed forces as I'm able while I pursue my own endeavors. To be certain there are risks, but I assure you I am more than capable.” She reached up to remove her monocle, which she slipped into a discreet pocket. An opportunity lay before her, and a subtle air of mischief entered her eyes. “However, since we seem to be very forward today, I would not mind joining you for lunch as recompense for your aid.” She looked at him sideways, a smile on her face. “Having labored in the medical ward for a while, I am less-than-ideally informed about recent happenings, and could use some conversation as well as sustenance. Furthermore, this plaza...” she eyed the crowd, watching a few interesting figures near the dancer, “Is fit to burst. If you remain eager to offer me protection, you can save me another round of bustling brutes and thieving fingers with a meal in a nearby tavern.” Surely this fellow harbored experiences more interesting than his looks, and while she took her mind off the melancholy of the clinic with someone's story, she could also comb him for potential leads. As a loner herself, she figured that this Trace, quite possibly attention-starved given his nervousness and obvious discomfort talking to a woman, wouldn't possibly decline.

__________________________ Status: Decisive Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets

[Flood]

Rin
Plaza, Garleton: Noon

A few different things of note happened as Rin stood guard. A spear wielder assaulted a would be thief who was approaching a mage, likely another bodyguard and client duo judging by how he simply settled next to the woman with little fanfare. Medium priority duo to be watched, the spear wielder was a possible threat but they showed no sign of approaching. More people gathered in the crowd, most being low priority due to both distance and how they were limited by the crowd. Sumire soon finished her performance, sending the bard to collect their payment from the ground. Several children ran up to her with stars in their eyes, Rin was already moving to intercept when Sumire raised her hand to stop him. "They're just curious children, be at ease, Rin. While them on the other hand..." While Rin had many objections, especially after seeing someone their age try to rob someone in the crowd not even a minute ago, she was correct in that the objectionable looking mercenaries needed to be cleared out. "Your presence disquiets my employer. Please vacate the premises immediately and never come near her again." It was far from elegant to be sure, with the group of three narrowing their eyes and beginning to step forward to give the boy half their age a piece of their mind. "Now you listen here kid, you don't tell us-" Any further objections were interrupted by a swift punch to the throat, leaving the man on the ground and gasping for air as his friends crowded around him. Nothing more needed to be said, Rin turned away from the wannabe mercenaries and headed back to Sumire who was finishing with the children. "IT'S YOU!!" Rin's stance immediately tightened as he ran to Sumire, who had now pulled away their stalker from the crowd to avoid making a scene. "I would suggest we break his legs to prevent any further pursuit." And of course the first solution Rin had to offer was the most efficient and likely the most distasteful to Sumire. It's why he led with the option, he knew it would be rejected out of hand, meaning his next suggestion would be met with much more consideration. "Failing that, we could always just knock him out and hand him over to the local guards. I am sure they would know what to do with a strange man stalking a woman through several towns." He said as he already drew his spear and experimentally twirled it around, getting ready to give the man a concussion he would never forget. Or maybe he would, those tend to happen with concussions.

_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Recruit Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Lance Status of Client: Agitated

[Haeo]

Trace Retloth
Garleton Plaza transition to Tavern

Trace listened silently as his excessive honesty produced all the desired results of a collapsing sand castle. Maybe there were other reasons why his solo jobs had been fairly low paying. The thought bore examination, later. For now his instincts were telling him that it would be a bad idea to separate from the kind of force multiplier that a mage represented. After all, he could probably beat up to maybe six enemy soldiers himself... maybe more if he could use the terrain to his advantage. An average mage could probably beat between two and four... or up to twelve with a comparable terrain advantage. Him paired with a mage... and they should be able to best between ten and twenty reliably, depending again on terrain. His instincts had kept him alive enough times that he didn't question them now. Battle was coming and not enough people were prepared for it. But, this mage was a stranger who had no reason to trust his instincts and he had made a fairly worthless first impression. He would have to play by her rules if he wanted to keep their survival odds high. So, he nodded once in answer to her offer and efficiently led the way through the crowd to the tavern where he had eaten previously. He regularly checked to make sure that she was following and that she wasn't being bothered by the crowd but there didn't seem to be any problems of that nature along the way. The tavern was still somewhat rowdy but the inner volume had dropped since his earlier visit. The peak time had passed and there were more seats available. Since he had already eaten, he had little to do other than... perhaps fail to converse properly again. But, he could choose a sensible place to sit. There was a table that was near one corner. It afforded a good view of the front entrance without putting their backs against the wall, and the corner bench near it was unoccupied so it offered some little privacy as well. He led the way and gestured to his new mage acquaintance that she should take the seat that was closest to the corner bench while he himself took the seat that afforded the best view of the door.

_________________________ Status: Resigned, Tense & Well Class: Recruit Inventory: Iron Lance Vulnerary