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STATUS: TRUCK-KUN ISEKAI ME AND MY LIFE IS- oh wait i see the problem here whoops 1 mo ago
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1 mo ago
Current TRUCK-KUN ISEKAI ME AND MY LIFE IS- oh wait i see the problem here whoops
2 yrs ago
@Zeroth I have the same issue. DO NOT try to uninstall and reinstall because you'd be blocked from downloading the app at all from the site as well.
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3 yrs ago
My back, my back, and my back. They're all in pain.

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In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 7 hrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Top Deck >> Cargo Hold
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Princess Callendra; @Helo Ezekiel
Mentions:
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 80
Injuries:


“Please, I’m made of sterner stuff than that. Unlike some people who claim they’re four-fifty but complain like they’re ancient.”

Dry words, controlled voice; defiant eyes, flushed cheeks. A miniscule, almost imperceptible, smirk tugged on Scaerthrynne’s lips. Callendra had quite the reaction to his remark. Had he touched a nerve? Perhaps trodden upon something she’d rather keep hidden? Regardless, it was interesting, and he scribbled a note in his mind to investigate further should he have the time, or opportunity, in future.

But for now, he had work to do.

“I could just be two-fifty, and I’d still be ancient compared to most of you,” he replied with a wry laugh. “And I’ve heard humans talk about watching their health at the youthful age of fifty, or even forty. I’d like to think that I’ve earned the right to complain about some things.”

Leaving the exchange at that, he gave Vallena a slight nod. The girl nodded back with an eager smile. The two of them then followed Callendra away from the bar, and deeper into the bowels of the airship.

Scaerthrynne stayed about a half-dozen steps behind the Chief Deck Officer, mainly so that he could keep an eye on Vallena. The girl skipped and bounded her way between the two adults, her large eyes taking in everything around her, even though she’d likely seen everything at least a thousand times before. The few passengers she twirled around and slipped past, and the many who had to get out of her way, could easily be forgiven for believing her to be a child on their first passage by airship.

“Careful, Val,” the dark elf called out, more half-heartedly than not, as she almost ran into a lady. A chuckle breathed through his lips, and he shook his head. Vallena was still just a child; she could be allowed some degree of good-hearted wildness outside of her work.

And he had to admit, her childish wonder, and her seemingly inexhaustible pool of energy was…

Well, it was quite a thing. Sometimes a bad thing, but in this case, it was a refreshing thing.

The deeper they ventured into the Stormrider, however, and the farther they left gleaming fixtures and idle chatter behind, in favour of tarnished brass and mechanical humming, the more cautious and timid Vallena became. She clutched her bandaged arm close to her chest, her eyes gazing at the hissing pipes snaking along the ceiling and running down the walls, as she kept herself close to Scaerthrynne. “There’s really hot steam in them.” Her whispered words were loud within such close confines.

“That, they do,” Scaerthrynne replied and patted her on the head. “That’s why I keep telling you to be very, very careful when you’re here, not that you listen.”

Vallena scratched her wound over her sleeve and bandages. “I’ll be careful from now on, Scratch.”

“We’ll see about that,” the dark elf replied with a smirk. “I wonder what it’ll be next time. A leg? Your face?”

“It’ll be nothing!” Vallena protested with a whine. “Then I’ll prove to you that I do listen! And you’ll be so, so proud of me, just you wait, Scratch!”

Scaerthrynne chuckled. “You know what, Val? I just might, if that ever happens.”

He swept his gaze over the walls, ceilings, fixtures, just about everything as they walked. Not a single rune or stretch of arcane circuitry, no matter how small or short, passed his notice. All seemed to be in order, as they should be. The air was getting cooler, and the airship’s hum sounded just right. Every runic array was arranged correctly, their individual runes glowing and pulsing healthily. None of the arcane circuits seemed to be broken, or close to breaking. That was satisfactory. Scaerthrynne could never be too careful with this airship – state-of-the-art and brand-new, to him, also came with state-of-the-art and brand-new problems.

Before long, the three of them reached the entrance to the cargo hold. “Here we are.” Was that unease on Calldnera’s face, when she turned to face him? Or just general discomfort? Vallena didn’t seem to notice a thing, but Scaerthrynne certainly did. “The cargo hold – whatever triggered the ping should be just beyond this door.”

Well, whatever it was that he thought he saw, it could wait.

“Let’s get this over with then,” Scaerthrynne said and approached the door. He did, however, pause to give Callendra a pat on the shoulder, similar to what he did to Vallena whenever the girl felt nervous. “I wouldn’t worry, Venn. It’s nothing we can’t handle. Probably. I’ll go first, then Val, and then you just follow behind us and make sure the girl doesn’t touch anything she shouldn’t.”

“I promise I’ll try not to!” Vallena piped up, perhaps a little unhelpfully.

Scaerthrynne sighed and shook his head. He said nothing else as he quickly manipulated the runes in just the right way to momentarily dispel the wards, and unlocked the heavy latch. Metal ground loudly against metal, ending with a sonorous thud. Putting his weight into it, and grunting, Scaerthrynne pushed the door open. Its hinges squealed, and its bottom edge scraped against the grated flooring. “Venn, close it behind us,” he said as he stepped into the cargo hold.

This part of the ship was dimly-lit at the best of times – all of its lights far overhead, and had been set flush into the walls and ceilings to maximise space – but when it was fully loaded with crates, barrels, and other odds-and-ends, it was practically a shadowed forest of wood and brass. Voices, distant and muffled, came around corners and floated above stacked goods. More like than not, they were from workers checking on items that needed a little more care, or crew members hiding away for a quick break.

“Oh, I think I know the way!” Vallena’s cheery voice seemed out-of-place here.

“Right,” Scaerthrynne said dryly. “You did come down here without permission, didn’t you?”

Vallena giggled nervously, but still confidently stepped in front of him. “W-Well, yes, but hey! It’s great that I did, now that we’re here, right?” She looked at Scaerthrynne with an expectant look. He couldn’t deny that, and so he nodded. Vallena smiled brightly. “It’s really, really confusing down here, but I explored around a lot! Just follow me. I think I probably can find our way around!”

“Make sure you don’t get too far ahead of us, Val,” was all Scaerthrynne managed to say before she sped off down a narrow corridor defined by stacks of crates on either side.

The darkness didn’t seem to bother her at all, and neither did the claustrophobic nature of this place. She led Scaerthrynne and Callendra through the maze of cargo, the pitter-patter of her footsteps, and her calls sometimes all that told the two adults where she was. Scaerthrynne wasn’t too concerned, however. If she could handle herself down here, on her own, when nobody even knew she was here, then surely she was capable of looking after herself now. All the same, however, Scaerthrynne kept a close eye on everything he passed, and everything ahead of her, whenever she was within sight.

A frown came over his face. Nothing seemed out-of-place, nothing seemed abnormal. The climate control system was in proper working order, if the cooling air on his face was anything to go by, and that would be the first to go had anyone messed with the runic arrays or arcane circuitry down here. The lights would be the next to fail, but a quick glance at the walls and ceiling told him that they were all working. Neither were there any strange sounds – aside from echoing murmurs of crew, and ambient hums of engines, he heard nothing else. No strange whispers, no odd–

“Oh, hello again, mister Eyepatch!” Vallena’s voice came around the corner. “What’re you–”

Then, she screamed. “Scratch? Scratch!”

Scaerthrynne reacted in an instant. He dashed forward, skidding around the corner with one pistol already half-drawn. “Val, get back!” He shouted, but didn’t wait for her to reply before grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her behind him. A surge of energy raced through his blood; his head throbbed with the beating of his heart. All he could feel was Vallena’s grip on his trousers, and her shivers against him.

There, in front of him, and standing over a pair of visibly tortured people, chained together, was the man in white from earlier. The very same one who’d been so eager to help the boy with the broken arm.

Scaerthrynne clicked his tongue. He should have known. It was always the ones who appeared the nicest who were into the weirdest, strangest things.

“What’re you doing, Eyepatch?” Vallena cried. “What happened to them? What’s going–”

“Val, quiet,” Scaerthrynne said sternly, not a hint of levity in his voice. The girl whimpered, pressing herself closer to him. He reached for her shoulder, but his eyes remained fixed on the floating object between the bound people, the array of runes inscribed all over it, and the shadowy wisps that curled from it, that linked with the chains and coiled around them. The dark elf hissed through his teeth. He’d seen something like it before. Not the exact same set-up, but close enough to know it for what it was.

“You, the one Val calls Eyepatch,” he said to the white-clad man. “Listen very, very closely. I honestly don’t know what you’re doing, or what’s going on, but unless you really, really want to meet whichever Gods you believe in today, don’t touch anything. Touch those chains, or just make them twitch, and we’re all going to have a very, very bad time.”

He swallowed, then turned to look at Callendra. “And Venn,” he continued. “I need you to stay calm. Go up to the bridge, find the Captain. Tell him not to worry, but we have a bomb aboard.”
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 1 day ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Princess Callendra; @PapaOso Gears
Mentions:
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 70
Injuries:


Scaerthrynne saw the Chief Deck Officer long before she greeted him. It was hard not to; nobody else but a senior officer would have buttons that polished, or an attire that sharp here at the bar. A large part of him had wished that she wouldn’t approach, but when she did, he found the irritation at being given even more work to do minor, and easy to shrug off. It probably helped that Callendra was one of the officers who were nicer to Val.

And it also helped that she always had that oddly charming smile on her face. It was reminiscent of Val’s, if he had to be honest, if that girl was maybe a decade or so older.

“Evening, Venn,” he greeted with a nod. “How’re you going to interrupt our rest, today?”

It was said as a half-jest, of course. While it was true that every meeting Scaerthrynne had with Callendra almost always ended in Val and him being dispatched to perform some of the most mind-numbing, boring, and utterly uninteresting maintenance tasks, he also knew that it wasn’t the Chief Deck Officer’s fault. She really was just the unfortunate messenger of the Captain.

Vallena polished off her plate and spun around in her stool. “Hello, Venny!” She smiled, giving the officer a wave with one hand, and wiping her mouth with the back of the other. “Are you here to eat too?”

Scaerthrynne had his doubts, and with her next words, Callendra confirmed all of them. The urge to let out a resigned sigh was strong, when he heard that it was only a minor energy flux that had given the Captain cause to worry, and so he didn’t bother fighting it. Chances were, it was either a poorly-package, or simply badly-sealed magical artifact leaking arcane energy, or a stowaway who decided that it would be hilarious to play around with the runic arrays set into the cargo hold’s walls for climate control purposes.

It was always possible for it to be something else, of course, but those scenarios were so uncommon, and so far and few in-between, that Scaerthrynne didn’t let them dwell for too long on his mind. He did hope for one of them to come true just this once, however. A rogue sorcerer, for example, would certainly be far, far more interesting than a broken runic array. It would also give the Chief Provost something to do.

"And yes. He knows. If you’re going, she’s going. And somehow the ship’s still flying, so I’m not about to argue."

Vallena giggled at that. Then, she cheered. “Yay! I was worried, you know? That I’d be left here while you and Scratch got to have all the fun.” She clapped her hands on her thighs and looked at Callendra with an expectant expression about her. “Oh, oh! Venny! If, if I do a good job today, can you ask the Captain to let me back into the cargo hold on my own again? What happened last time was just an accident, I promise it probably won’t happen again! Promise!”

Scaerthrynne placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, Val,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at the girl. He turned his attention back to Callendra. “Captain sent you because he knew I’d tell Reiss to piss off, didn’t he?” A wry smile tugged on his lips, and he chuckled dryly with a slow shake of his head. It was a jest, of course. He couldn’t disobey a direct order from the Captain, but he could have made it very, very difficult for Reiss to get things done.

“Tell the Captain to keep his ‘something fermented’,” the dark elf continued. “I’m four-fifty. Four-fifty-one in a few months or thereabouts. I’ve to start watching my drinking. And I don’t need an extra lunch break. I’m busy enough to not be able to use it, anyway.” He jerked a thumb in Vallena’s direction. “If he really wants to give me something, he can allow Val to wander the cargo hold again. She’s not so much of an idiot that she’ll make the same mistake twice, and do you have any idea how annoying it is when I need her to fetch something from down there, only to realise that I’ve to go with her?”

“Aw, thanks, Scratch!” Vallena chirped. Then, she tapped a finger against her lip. “I…Think?”

Another sidelong glance at her, this time accompanied by a grin. “You’re welcome, Val,” Scaerthrynne said and looked back at Callendra. “Oh, and Reiss can apologise to her for all the shi– I mean, nonsense he’s been saying about her. Don’t think for a second I don’t know about that.”

With his terms set, he pushed himself away from the counter. Vallena turned and gave Gears a big wave, and a few parting words, before hopping off her stool. “See you later, Miss Gears!” Her energetic voice cut through the ambient noise of the bar like a knife. “That was really yummy! Thanks again!”

Scaerthyrnne straightened his clothes before taking a step forward. “Well, lead the way,” he said. Then, he leaned in a little closer to Callendra, his eyes narrowed. “You’re looking a little red. I thought I was the only one getting overworked on this ship. You’re not going to collapse along the way from fatigue, are you?”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



...Feat. Iyen

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Interactions:
Mentions: Kalliope @Tae; Cassius, Milo @PapaOso; Hala @JJ Doe
Attire:


Sjan-dehk watched the brief, but tense exchange from a distance. Every part of him wanted to jump in and lend Kalliope a hand, whether with harsh words, threats of violence, or anything in-between. Doing nothing and simply watching was making him more and more agitated with each passing moment. But, his senses told him that doing something would likely only serve to make things worse, and so he remained where he was, stewing in his own unease.

Thankfully, the blonde man and his companion parted ways with Kalliope and Cassius soon enough. Even so, Sjan-dehk kept an eye on the former pair, watching them leave with narrowed eyes, until he was more than just merely certain that they wouldn’t turn around and return to bring more trouble to Kalliope.

He let out a relieved huff, and his shoulders relaxed. But the unease still remained – a strange, sour pang that coiled itself around his heart. It tightened when he shifted his attention back to Kalliope, and saw how close she was, how…Was that intimacy, that he saw between her and Cassius? He wasn’t sure, but every part of him didn’t like it, whatever it was. It set off a storm in his heart, and a mess of confusion in his mind, and both only intensified when he caught her gaze.

No, no, no, you know they’re lovers. You’re just being an idiot. He told himself. Swallowing hard, he placed the very picture of nonchalance on his face as he gave her a single nod, as if to tell her that he’d seen her, and that everything looked fine from his end. Then, he quickly looked away.

“So…Are you still planning for a fight, or are you going to move your hand?”

Iyen’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked at her. She grinned up at him, then pointed to his waist. He glanced down his side, finally noticing that he’d been cupping the pommel of his sword the entire time, his hand wrapped around it and ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. “No, it’s still too early to start a fight. Can’t even blame it on drinking, yet.” He played it off with a joke, and Iyen’s quiet laugh told him that it worked. “Anyway, we should probably get seated.”

“Easy for you to say,” Iyen said with a pout. “You actually have a seat. What about me?”

“What do you–” Sjan-dehk began, but then he saw the namecards on the table, in front of every seat. She was right; there wasn’t anywhere for her to sit. He chewed on his lip, brows furrowed as he looked around for a place for her.

Then, behind his seat and across the aisle, he saw an empty chair in front of a card that read ‘Cynric’. His first thought was that it was strange – the Recompense’s captain hadn’t seemed the sort who’d be part of, or even want to be part of, Caesonian high society. If his attitude towards the two girls in the tavern was an indicator, he’d sooner have this banquet devolve into chaos.

It was a shame, then, that he wouldn’t be attending. “You can use that one, I think,” Sjan-dehk said, tilting his chin towards the chair. “The last I saw him, he was still busy repairing his ship. Unless he’s learned the sort of arcane stuff that’ll let him teleport, he’s not coming anytime soon.” He gave Iyen a sidelong glance, and a cheeky grin. “And if he does, we’ll just play dumb. It’s his own damn fault for being so late.”

“Play dumb?” Iyen giggled and smirked. “You mean, I’ll be playing. I don’t think you have to.”

Sjan-dehk rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Go on, then. I’ll be over here if you–”

The sound of a chair’s legs scraping against the floor interrupted him. He stared, mouth agape, eyes wide, and body frozen in disbelief as Iyen pulled the chair by its backrest across the aisle. “What in the Abyss do you think you’re doing?” He asked slowly.

“Getting a seat?” Iyen asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You can just sit there, you know? And I’ll be here.”

Iyen balked, and shook her head resolutely. “No, it’ll be awkward!” She protested. “You know I can’t speak this local language as well as you, so it’s going to just be me staring at a bunch of other people talking and eating. Can you imagine how uncomfortable that’ll be?”

Sjan-dehk shook his head. “I’m sure they’ve got…I don’t know, protocols or something for this fancy sort of thing. You can’t just move chairs around on your own!” Iyen leaned against the chair, but didn’t budge, and instead looked at him with an arched brow, as if asking him when did protocol and procedure ever prevent him from doing as he wished. She was right. They never did. “I’ll be awkward on my own too, Iyen. It’s not like I’ve much to say.”

“Great!” Iyen chirped. “Then we can be awkward together instead of awkward apart.”

A long, resigned sigh left Sjan-dehk’s lips. “Alright, alright, do whatever you want,” he said. Arguing further wasn’t going to get them anywhere, and he didn’t want to make this matter any bigger than it needed to. It really was just a minor issue, at the end of the day. “But I’m warning you, Iyen, if you get into trouble over this, I’m pretending I don’t know you.”

Iyen laughed. “Sure, Sjan-dehk. Like the last few times you pretended not to know me?”

Sjan-dehk didn’t reply, and simply watched her skip between tables as she moved not just the chair, but all the cutlery as well. The commotion around them, of people mingling, conversing, and socialising, allowed her to pass almost unnoticed. Sjan-dehk read the namecard of the person seated to his left. Whoever this Count Blackwood was, they were going to return to Iyen’s good company.

Woe to Count Blackwood, then.
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 7 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu
Mentions:
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 70
Injuries:


“Meiyu Sadai Xian.” Scaerthrynne repeated the woman’s name, slowly and loudly. The latter for Vallena’s benefit, the former for his own. Each syllable came off of his tongue with clinical, mechanical precision, as if he were analysing every minute sound in his mind before saying them aloud. “Nice name,” he remarked, taking another bite from his sandwich. He swallowed and continued with, “Very Yuan-ti. It’s got a good flow to it. Better than some names I’ve heard, at least.”

Meiyu’s remark about how people rarely asked for a name, and that those who did, regretted it, didn’t pass his ears unnoticed, but he decided not to delve further into the matter. Everyone had their own secrets and their own mysteries. Scaerthrynne didn’t need to go uncovering every single one. He couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued, however. This lady certainly was interesting.

He turned to Vallena. “There’s your answer,” he said to the girl. “Are you even going to use it?”

“Nope!” She didn’t even try to pretend otherwise, looking at him, then at Meiyu, with a satisfied smile wide on her face. “Riddles is Riddles, like how Scratch is Scratch.”

“Huh.” Scaerthrynne raised a brow, his expression more quizzical than annoyed. “What’re your reasons for asking me to ask her in the first place, then?” Before Vallena could reply, however, Meiyu spoke.

“Eat up, little matchmaker. Life moves fast when you’re trying to orchestrate romance.”

A deep flush came over Vallena’s cheeks. The toes of her boots tapped against the counter as she kicked her legs, the fidgeting a sign of her nervousness at being found out. “W-What?” She squeaked and looked down at her plate. A skittish giggle bubbled from her lips and she scratched her neck. “I didn’t– I mean, I’m not orchestrating anything! I’m not even good at music! I was just curious, is all!” She hesitantly looked up at Meiyu, her smile now mostly-sheepish. “I-I like your name, by the way! It sounds really pretty! Like what Scratch said–”

“I didn’t say that,” Scratch interjected. “I said it sounds nice.”

Vallena went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “–And it’s really different! I mean, compared to other names I’ve heard before, at least. It’s…” Her brows scrunched as she tried to think of a word. “It’s…Exotic? That’s how that word is used, right?” She glanced at Scaerthrynne, and got a shrug in response. That was good enough for her, and she continued, “But I’ll still call you ‘Riddles’! N-Not that I don’t like your name, it’s just, um, not easy for me to remember. Like Scratch’s name. It’s really long, you know? And weird. So I call him Scratch!”

She paused. And then added simply, “Names are hard.”

Scaerthrynne chuckled and shook his head. Vallena had a nickname for just about everyone who passed through the Stormrider, with the exception of Gears. It seemed that, in exchange for possessing a head for medical and engineering knowledge, she gave up her memory for peoples’ names. Luckily, things worked out in her favour more often than not. So far, at least.

Meiyu didn’t stay long at the bar, and left soon after Vallena finished speaking. ”If you find yourself in need of some potentially interesting conversation later, do feel free to seek me out.”

“If we meet again, I’ll do that,” Scaerthrynne called after her. He didn’t have a tankard or glass to raise, so he raised the last remaining bite of his sandwich before popping it into his mouth. There was little chance of their paths crossing, he had little doubts of that – the Stormrider was a large vessel. One could spend a week exploring her many hallways, service corridors, and holds non-stop, and only see a third of what she had to offer.

But still, he found himself hoping that he would see her again. She was interesting. The way she spoke of the deadly art of poisoning, the way she carried herself – such as when she went from relaxed to ready for a fight in almost an instant – and the enigma surrounding her all told Scaerthrynne that she was someone who was very dangerous, whose line of work was likely shadier than most, and who had lived a storied life different from most.

And thus, she was very, very interesting.

Scaerthrynne kept his eye on her until her back disappeared into the crowd. Then, he glanced sideways at Vallena. “Matchmaking, huh?” He asked. The girl’s bashful look gave him the answer he needed. “Haven’t you learned anything from the last time you tried something like that?”

“No? What happened?” Vallena looked at him, genuine puzzlement on her face.

“I got punched in the knee by a halfling, Val.”

Realisation dawned on her face. “Oh! That was–”

“And before that, I had a very angry dragonborn coming after me.”

“Well, that was…It was just an experiment?” Vallena tried defending her indefensible position, augmenting her argument with a wide-eyed look of innocence. And it worked, Scaerthrynne had to admit. He huffed in a short, quiet laugh, and shook his head.

“Well,” he said and turned around. “I’d take your failures as a sign to stop experimenting.”

“Aw, I was only trying to help, Scratch,” Vallena replied.

“I know,” Scaerthrynne said, reaching over to ruffle her hair. She giggled and leaned into his palm. A smile, soft and slight, crept across his lips. Really, he didn’t know what was with her obsession with finding him a partner. It wasn’t as if he had the time or desire for one. Almost a half-millenium of life had given him his fill of that sort of companionship. It wasn’t as if any of them had ever ended favourably.

“I don’t understand you, Thrynne! Are you heartless, or just a Gods-damned cunt?”

“I’m sorry, Cutter. I’m sorry I ever asked this of you.”

“Goodbye, Scaer. I…I wish things could’ve gone differently.”

More unpleasant memories. Words only, this time, but still unpleasant. He willed them away with a shake of his head. “I promise you, Val, if that day ever comes when I decide that I want another person to worry about, you’ll be the first person I’ll turn to for help.” He gave the girl a mischievous grin. “But I don’t think that day’s coming anytime soon. Looking after you keeps me busy enough.”

“Hey!” Vallena protested, but laughed anyway. “Who’s looking after who? Where’d you be without me?”

“I don’t know,” Scaerthrynne replied. “Somewhere where I’m not getting punched by halflings, or hunted by dragonborn, or having to clean up after your messes, I imagine.” A soft chuckle left his lips. “You make me wonder, really. How’s it that in some things you’ve got a silver tongue, and in others, you have all of the subtlety of an un-aerodynamic brick?”

“I’m still learning! Just you watch, Scratch.” She huffed, then tilted her head at him. “Wait a minute…Aren’t all bricks not aerodynamic?”

“That, they are.” Scaerthrynne nodded to her plate. “You should eat up. Only a matter of time before we’re asked to go somewhere else. Probably on the ars– I mean, on the other side of the ship, with my luck.”
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 8 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @PapaOso Gears; @Tae Meiyu
Mentions: @FunnyGuy Miris (as Wendel)
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 65
Injuries:


The subtle hesitation, the flicker of emotion; that intense, yet tired gaze in her optics – none of those slight changes in Gears’ demeanour escaped Scaerthrynne’s notice. Neither were any of them unfamiliar to him; he’d seen them all before. Not just in warforged like her, but in humans; in elves; in tieflings; in halflings; in dwarves; in orcs; in dragonborn, in just about every race he’d ever met. Everyone had the same looks, the same reactions when the past decided to rear its ugly head.

He’d experienced them himself, even. There were times when he’d pause in the middle of maintaining his weapons, and recall a time when hardly a day would pass without his firelocks’ muzzles blackened, or the blades of his axes bloodied, by sundown. There were times when he’d be refilling syringes, and he’d think of the times when he’d used his knowledge to kill, more than to save.

“Old ghosts?” Vallena’s question distracted him before he delved too far into the matter.

The girl’s visage was the very picture of curiosity, even if it was genuine concern that filled those two, short words. She tilted her head slightly as she met Gears’ optics.

“She means memories, Val,” Scaerthrynne explained, giving the warforged a nod of understanding. “Don’t worry about it.”

Vallena looked between Gears and the dark elf several times. She didn’t look wholly convinced, but after a while, she turned to the warforged and gave her a bright, toothy smile. “Okay, I’ll try not to worry too much, Miss Gears. But come find us if anything’s wrong, okay? Scratch and I will fix you right up!”

“Speaking of fixing, and optics…” Scaerthrynne leaned over the bar, his face serious and his gaze intense as he looked right into Gears’ glowing, bluish orbs. Nothing about him suggested mischief, or that this was just part of some elaborate banter. “How long has it been since your last check up, Gears?” He asked with the clinical professionalism of a doctor with their patient. “Because I can’t remember the last time we had a look at your optical subsystems. Or any of your subsystems, for that matter. I’m not telling you what to do, but…” His eyes narrowed, squinting as he examined Gears’ face. “Hm, left ocular receptor looks like it’s a little slower than the right to react.”

“Is that bad?” Vallena asked worriedly. “That sounds bad. Is Miss Gears going to be okay, Scratch?”

“I don’t know, Val.” Scaerthrynne didn’t take his eyes off of Gears. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Vallena tapped her fingers on the counter, humming as she stared up at the ceiling. She leaned back, with brows furrowed and tongue sticking out from between her lips. “If…If an ocular receptor reacts slowly, then it’s either a…Problem with the socket linkages, or with the visual interpreter.” She bolted upright, turning to look at Scaerthrynne, then at Gears. “But since it’s only one side that’s slow…It’s the socket linkages?”

Scaerthrynne nodded, pulling back and standing straight. “Good enough answer, for now,” he said. “Those two issues you mentioned are the most common causes of ocular receptor malfunctions, but there’re more ways for an ocular receptor to fail.” Rubbing his chin, he looked at Gears with a surgeon’s eyes. “But since you seem perfectly fine in every other way, and you don’t seem to be going crazy from hallucinations, and you’re not feeding people sheet metal thinking it's bread, I’d say that your socket linkages just need a bit of readjustment or lubrication. Nothing serious.”

And nothing interesting. But he supposed that, with Gears, that was a good thing.

“Sorry,” he said with a grin that was as apologetic as it was mischievous. “But fussing over people, things, this whole ship in general, is what I’m underpaid to do. You’re just going to have to live with it.” He let out a quiet chuckle before turning around, leaning his back against, and his elbows on the counter as he kept an eye on the bar’s patrons. “But I’ll stop holding you and let you get back to work. Wouldn’t want the Captain to find more reasons to pay me even less.”

“Sorry again,” Vallena mouthed to Gears.

It didn’t take long for the warforged bartender to return with their food. Scratch got his sandwich – a simple thing that didn’t look tasty at all – while Vallena received a plate of sliced bread fried in butter, topped with a wide selection of colourful, sliced fruits, and all of it drizzled with honey. “Wow! This looks amazing, Miss Gears!” The girl looked up at the warforged with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much!”

“Just put these on my tab,” Scaerthrynne said over his shoulder. “I’d hate to get you into trouble, and I’ll be back up here after sundown to hunt for faulty lights, anyway. I’ll pay it all then, as usual.”

Vallena picked up her fork, and was just about to dig in, when realisation struck her. She looked to her left, watching the dark elf watch the crowd as he took small bites from his sandwich. She looked to her right, at Riddles as the formerly scary lady chatted with the really grey dwarf. How foolish of her! In her rush to get to Miss Gears, Vallena had placed herself squarely between Scratch and Riddles, and now neither of them looked like they were going to talk to the other! How could they get to know each other, like in those books she’d read, and how could they possibly, maybe, perhaps grow to like each other, like in those books too, if they didn’t talk?

No, she had to fix this. And she had to do it fast, before anything else could distract them.

“Scratch,” she called out. “Can you switch places with me?”

“Nah, I’d rather not.” came the near-instant reply.

“Why not?” Vallena whined.

Scratch shrugged. “I don’t see how shifting a few inches left is going to make a difference, and my senses that tell me that you’re planning something are tingling.”

Why did he have to be so sharp? “Please, Scratch?” Vallena pulled out her best pleading voice, the same which had convinced the guard at the cargo hold to let her pass. “I won’t ask for anything else for the rest of the day, I promise!”

That got his attention. He looked at her with a raised brow. “The rest of the day?”

“Okay, the rest of the morning.”

He didn’t look convinced.

Vallena squirmed in her seat. “Maybe just the next hour?”

Scratch held her gaze for a moment before sighing. He turned around and pulled her plate over to him. “I’ll probably regret this,” he grumbled, gesturing for Vallena to stand up. The girl giggled, hopped off her stool, and squeezed past Scratch to get to her new perch. “But I guess you're not going to stop until I either give in or my head explodes. There, happy now?"

“Almost,” she chirped. This was only the first part of her master plan. Now to put the second into play. She pointed across Scratch’s front, to Riddles. “Can you get her name, please? I don’t think we got it.”

“Whatever happened to not asking for anything for the next hour?”

“Please, Scratch? It’s just asking for her name!”

“Ask her yourself, then.”

Thinking quickly, Vallena cut off a large chunk of bread with her fork and stabbed it, along with a large slice of a peach. She pushed everything into her mouth, her cheeks bulging like a squirrel’s. “Busy,” she tried to say, but her words came out as a garbled mess. “I’m eating.”

Scaerthrynne shook his head. Really, the girl could do the silliest things, sometimes. But she was still just a child. Silliness was to be expected. Vallena kept her gaze on him as she chewed slowly. Deliberately so, almost. He sighed. He knew that she was planning something, but he also knew that arguing with her was a pointless task. Not when she was so set on seeing things through. One couldn’t win an argument when one’s opponent didn’t operate on logic, after all.

So for now, he’d play along, and see where that would get him.

He turned to the woman. “Sorry,” he said. “But my idiot girl over there insists that I’ve to get your name, and I've to get it now before...I don't know, she's just really insistent for some reason. So here I am, asking. What’s your name?”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 8 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sjan-dehk & Kalliope

...And feat. Iyen
Time: 6pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @PapaOso Cassius


As Sjan-dehk approached the grand entrance, the warmth of the banquet hall spilling through the doors, Kalliope’s mind was still clouded by the quiet comfort of being held so securely in his arms. There was a fleeting moment of peace, where she could almost forget the weight of her past, the eyes watching her, and the ever-present specter of Hafiz.

But then, just as they neared the threshold, her gaze flickered to inside the hall where the crowd mingled. Her breath caught and her body stiffened.

Hala Sami.

For a moment, the world around her seemed to freeze, a chill creeping into her veins as the stark contrast of white-blonde hair against sun-kissed skin burned into her memory. The sharp, calculating gaze of her rival, the one who had made Kalliope's life hell on more than one occasion and vice versa, was now within her line of sight. Hala was speaking with Milo St. Clair, their presence enough to send a shiver of dread down her spine.

It took all Kalliope had to keep her composure, but the weight of it hit her in that instant. The last thing she wanted was to make Sjan-dehk a target, to paint a bigger bullseye on him by being carried in so publicly, so visibly. She couldn’t afford to give Hafiz or Hala any more leverage over them.

“Sjan-dehk," she whispered hoarsely, eyes still locked on Hala. "Put me down."

The words were tight, as if speaking them made the reality of their situation more immediate, more real. She hated the feeling of vulnerability it would bring, but she couldn't allow this. Not with Hala so close, ready to potentially exploit any weakness they could find.

Sjan-dehk felt Kalliope tense up and instinctively tucked her in, pressing her closer and tighter to his body. Truth be told, were he not carrying her, he likely would have gotten jittery, himself, from nerves and the tautness of growing apprehension. True, he had guessed that the banquet would be a lavish affair, and true, he had an inkling as to what Caesonian lavishness meant, but still, to see his suspicions confirmed in person was overwhelming, to say the least. Intimidating, even.

It seemed like everyone in the hall had visited a tailor just for this particular event – every article of clothing looked expensive to Sjan-dehk’s eyes. Shimmering fabrics that reflected just enough light to catch the eye, but not so much that they appeared gaudy; cuts and styles that traced the contours of their wearers’ bodies just enough to show off their shapes, but not so much that they seemed provocative; jewels glistening on fingers, around necks, from ears, shining in a veritable riot of colours; everything Sjan-dehk saw spoke of a great deal of pomp and circumstance.

He paused right on the threshold of the grand, impressive doors. A deep sense of un-belonging dug a pit through his guts, as if he were an ungainly, grey whale about to careen into a school of colourful, elegant rainbowfish.

“What was that?” Kalliope’s words were just enough to pull him out of his thoughts, but even so, he failed to catch them. Before she could answer, however, Iyen decided to speak her mind.

“I think we’re underdressed, Sjan-dehk,” she said before letting out a low whistle. “Well, you are, at least.” She glanced sideways at him with a cheeky grin on her lips. “I’m just your ‘guard’, after all. Good luck in there, Captain.”

”Sjan-dehk…” Still too quiet, even Kali barely heard herself that time as she all but squeaked.

“You’re coming in with me,” Sjan-dehk reminded her. “If I’m going to look stupid, I’ll be damned if we don’t look stupid together.”

”Please…” So damn quiet, she thought as she felt panic and irritation rising in her.

Iyen chuckled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Sjan-dehk. You can lead the way, though.”

Sjan-dehk rolled his eyes, the brief exchange melting away his earlier nervousness. He drew in a deep breath to calm a few remaining nerves, and took a step forward, passing under the large doors. Then, he took another, and another, until he found his stride. Unfortunately, he wasn’t too clear as to where those strides should take him. “So, where are we going?” He asked Kalliope in a quiet voice, slowing his pace before he ended up in the middle of the hall.

As Sjan-dehk took another step, Kalliope felt her frustration rise, the panic building in her chest. She could hear his and Iyen’s words, but they seemed distant, unimportant. The presence of Iyen, the casualness in her voice, it was all too much for Kali to handle in that moment. That damn woman was distracting him, pulling his attention away from her need. From what Kalliope needed him to focus on.

She couldn’t deal with being the center of attention like this, not with the potential eyes of everyone on her, and not when Hala could see them at any moment. Every movement, every second felt like it was edging them closer to danger. Sjan-dehk didn’t understand the risks, didn’t see the target he was painting on himself. But she knew Hala. Knew how quickly Hafiz’ minion could turn everything to their advantage.

The irritation and panic welled up inside her, like a pressure that threatened to explode.

”Dammit, Sjan-dehk,” she snapped, her voice rising, harsh and tight as her hands clutched at the fabric at his chest desperately. ”Put me down.” The words were laced with annoyance, dread, and something she couldn’t quite put a name to. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was the growing anger at being so vulnerable, so exposed.

Finally, Sjan-dehk heard her. “Oh, sorry!” A flush came over his cheeks, and his words caught in his throat as he blurted them out, a little louder than he had intended. For how long had he been carrying her against her wishes?

Her legs shifted as she began to squirm in his grasp, restless, trying to free themselves from the weight of being carried, to take back control. Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears, her breath shallow as her gaze flickered again to where Hala’s unmistakable figure still lingered. She could almost feel their gaze on her, even from this distance.

Kalliope’s stomach churned. She couldn’t afford to look weak. Not now.

”Put. Me. Down!” She growled, voice rising with each word, as she smacked his chest. Her whole body stiffened before she tried to squirm out of his arms once more, unintentionally drawing the attention of those nearby.

“I’m trying,” Sjan-dehk managed to say through clenched teeth, his brows furrowed as he fought to keep his balance, to gently bring Kalliope to the ground, and to both things without tightening his hold on her and accidentally ripping something he shouldn’t, or worse, hurting her.

It wasn’t easy. Kalliope’s struggling and squirming constantly shifted their weight – each time he thought he had found his footing, she would move, and he would have to quickly catch the both of them before they went sprawling to the floor. It was reminiscent of wrestling with a particularly large and belligerent fish, one that he would rather release, but couldn’t for fear of falling into the water with it. “If you’d just stop moving,” he said through grunts, his patience getting shorter with each word. Why was she making things so difficult for the both of them? “Kali! Can you–”

Then, the inevitable happened.

One moment, Sjan-dehk was on his feet. The next, he felt his boot slide just that little bit too far along the varnished floorboards, and his world turned upside-down. Kalliope’s dress ruffled, his weapons clattered. Acting purely on instinct, he immediately pulled her close to him, a hand on the back of her head, cradling it protectively whilst pressing her face into his shoulder, while the other looped securely around her waist. He twisted himself, using his legs to control their fall so that he would be the one to bear the brunt of the impact on his back.

They, or rather, he struck the floor with a loud thud, loud enough to mask the pained groan that rumbled up his throat and slipped past his lips. For a moment, his vision was blank, and when it finally cleared, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, and in front of it, Iyen’s grinning face.

“So…What was that about looking stupid?” A giggle followed her words.

Sjan-dehk ignored her. His first concern was the woman in his arms. Grunting, he pulled himself up to a sitting position and made enough space between the two of them for him to have a good look at her. “You okay, Kali?” He asked, one hand on her arm, but the other still wrapped around her waist and keeping her close. That didn’t concern him – he was far too busy running his eyes over her, checking for any bruises or scratches. Neither did it seem to concern him that they had landed in a rather awkward position, with her almost straddling his lap, her dress pooling around them, and he sitting under her.

Kalliope’s breath hitched as she lay against him, heart racing. The fall had jolted her, but it was the way he’d twisted to shield her, how his arm still held her close, that truly stunned her.

When Sjan-dehk pulled them upright, she looked at him…and instantly wished she hadn’t. His face was so close. His voice, gentle and low, stirred something inside her she wasn’t prepared to feel.

And then she noticed their position.

Her thigh was pressed flush against his hip, bare up to her hip from the leg slit in her dress design. The contact made her hyper-aware of everything—how warm he was, how firm his hold was, how her skirts had pooled in a way that left little to the imagination. Her chest brushed his with every shallow breath, and the concern in his eyes only made her pulse thrum louder in her ears.

The sound of her name nearly undid her. She froze, caught in his gaze, something raw flickering behind her eyes. Desire?

Then she shut it down.

"I’m fine,” she snapped automatically, though her voice cracked at the end. Her cheeks flushed deeper, not from pain, but from embarrassment, and maybe something else, too. “You should’ve just put me down when I asked the first time,” she added, her tone sharp but the edge slightly dulled by the way she still hadn't moved.

“Right,” Sjan-dehk replied in a sheepish murmur. He swallowed his embarrassment, but couldn’t look away from her. It was just like so many times before – his world seemed to focus wholly on her, and her alone. His heart thumped a little faster, a little louder in his chest. Was that a flicker of…Something, of some raw emotion, he saw in her eye?

Then, he heard the mutterings around them, and the spell was broken. With a slight shake of his head, Sjan-dehk started to pull himself away from her.

With a low growl of frustration, she shoved at his chest—not with real force, more like a jolt to break the moment—and pushed herself off his lap with all the grace of a drunken cat scrambling off a windowsill. She wobbled a little as she stood, brushing her hands down the front of her dress like it was the fabric’s fault she’d just made a scene.

“Now everyone’s staring,” she muttered bitterly under her breath, refusing to meet his eyes.

Well, let them stare. Those words stayed in Sjan-dehk’s head. He had a feeling that saying them aloud right now wouldn’t do anyone any favours, least of all for Kalliope and himself.

But even with her back to him, she couldn’t stop the whisper of guilt creeping in around her edges. “Come on, we need to greet the King and Queen.”

“Right, we ah, we should.” His words came out awkwardly, and a strange sting stabbed him right in the heart. A very strange sting, and it stayed with him, lingering in his chest and in the back of his mind as he followed Kalliope. Bullets, swords, splinters, spears; he had faced more weapons than he could name, and had likely suffered injuries from just as many. They had all hurt like the abyss, to be sure, but somehow Kalliope’s words, her tone had managed to cut him deeper than anything else.

Iyen placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning around his arm to look at him. “That was one way to introduce yourselves,” she quipped.

“Shut up, Iyen,” Sjan-dehk grumbled, shrugging her hand away. The Sudhrayarn tittered, twirling her way around to his other side and keeping pace with him.

“Oh, don’t worry, Sjan-dehk,” she said in her melodic, sing-song voice. With a casual, somewhat dismissive wave, she gestured to everyone else in the hall. “Look at the likes of these people. I’ll bet my left arm that they’ll have something new to gossip by the time the feast’s over. Nothing to worry about at all, Sjan-dehk.”

Sjan-dehk let out a long, quiet sigh, and nodded. “I won’t argue with that,” he said, then gave his head a slight shake. He couldn’t forget that he had a reason to be here; he had things to do, and things that needed his focus. Picking up his pace, he caught up with Kalliope and walked at her side, his eyes looking the other way. “We’ll follow your lead,” he said, trying his best to sound as normal as he could.

His mind, however, was anything but normal. A confused mess of emotions flooded up from his heart to his head, then back down into his stomach. He glanced sideways at Kalliope. How was it that she could undo him so? He knew he wanted to help her, to protect her. That part wasn’t in question. But still he wondered just what exactly it was that spurred such feelings in him.

Kalliope kept her eyes forward, posture taut, though her thoughts were anything but composed. She could still feel the warmth of his body against hers, the strength in the arms that had cradled her through the fall. The memory of her thigh pressed to his hip, his chest beneath her palms…it wouldn’t leave her. Every time she tried to shove the image away, it clawed back up, vivid and heated.

It irritated her more than she cared to admit.

She noticed the name cards as they approached the high table. Their seats, right smack in the middle of everyone, were side by side. Of course they were. Without looking at him, she murmured under her breath, “We’re seated together.”

And then, with only a brief pause to gather herself, she stepped forward and sank into a graceful, practiced curtsy before the King and Queen.

“Your Majesties,” she said smoothly, voice carrying just the right note of reverence, “your hospitality is as grand as your reign. May tonight be as harmonious as the empire you govern.” The words tasted acrid on her tongue, but she ignored it. She could scrub her mouth out later.

Only after rising did she allow herself a fleeting glance toward Sjan-dehk, but she said nothing more as she waited for him and Iyen to make their greetings, face unreadable, save for the faintest flush still clinging to her cheeks.

Sjan-dehk waited until Kalliope finished her greeting before stepping forward. Collecting himself, he adjusted his bearings, pulled his shoulders back, held his head up, and tried his best to push aside thoughts of the red-haired woman beside him still teasing at his mind. That last one was a task easier said than done – memories of her warmth, of her closeness, was still as fresh on his skin as it was in his head. He could still feel her softness on his palms, feel her slender frame on his body, her legs–

Stop it. He gave his head a little shake, pushed his leg back, and dropped to a knee.

“Wasun Sjan-dehk of Jafi, of Viserjanta greets you, your ah…Your majesties,” he greeted, voice as solemn as he could manage. He held his hands up in front of his face, his palms layered over each other and facing him, thumbs interlocked. His gaze was averted from the King and Queen, and was instead aimed towards the floor by their feet, as was polite.

For a moment, he considered using this opportunity to ask the King for an audience, or to simply tell him about the dire situation along his Kingdom’s coastlines. But Sjan-dehk soon decided that it was a terrible idea. No King, or any person, for that matter, would appreciate having a serious matter brought to them so early into a celebratory event. Better to let the King enjoy some of his banquet first. Sjan-dehk could always find another chance to approach him.

“Rasehnyas Iyen Jodhesi, of Sudhrayar, of Viserjanta greets you, your mej– Your majesties.” He heard Iyen offer her greetings beside him. She knelt in a fashion identical to his, her head turned just enough to sneak him a glance that urged him to keep going.

“We wish long peace and great harmony to your lands,” Sjan-dehk finished.

He waited until he received a response from either the King or Queen before slowly, deliberately standing back up. “So where do we go now?” He asked.

Kalliope gave a curt nod and stepped toward the table, her voice barely above a whisper. “Come on. This way.”

She led the way, eyes scanning the room, and then she saw him.

Hafiz.

Sitting not far off, and she could swear he was watching. Her stomach dropped. The sounds of the banquet dulled, drowned beneath the echo of his voice, the feel of his hands and body against her, the way he’d broken her in the hallway not long ago.

Her vision narrowed. Breath caught.

She faltered.

Without thinking, her hand reached out and gripped Sjan-dehk’s arm. Grasping onto her anchor. The contact steadied her, kept her upright when her knees wanted to buckle.

She held it for a beat too long before realizing what she'd done. Her hand dropped.
“Sorry,” she muttered tightly as she felt her cheeks heat slightly. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. But she moved anyway as her gaze shifted, locking onto Cassius. He stood abruptly, his stance rigid, something off about the way he carried himself. Concern lanced through her. Something was wrong, and she couldn’t ignore it. She had a brief flash to her altercation with Hafiz crossed her mind and this felt similar. She had a feeling he needed someone just like she had.

When they reached their seats, Kalliope hesitated. She turned to Sjan-dehk and Iyen, her voice firm. “Give me a moment. I’m going to check on Cassius.”

Cassius. That was a familiar name. Sjan-dehk still remembered meeting him at the beach only a few days ago. He also remembered seeing him with Kalliope. For a moment, a sour pang tickled his heart, before it was quickly replaced by a strange, wistful, almost regretful feeling. Sjan-dehk didn’t quite know what it was, only that it seemed to hollow him out entirely.

He shook his head slightly. He was being foolish, again. Cassius was Kalliope’s lover; that much had been clear to him since the day at the beach. It was perfectly reasonable for her to go to his aid. What wasn’t reasonable was for Sjan-dehk to be feeling what he did.

“Alright,” he said, remaining standing. Something about the looks of that altercation told him that it was maybe one wrong word, one wrong move away from getting out of hand. “The two of us’ll keep standing a little while longer. Give us a shout or a look if you need help.”

She moved swiftly, her steps quickening as she neared him. That was when she saw Hala approaching, and for a split second, Kalliope paused, considering the person she wanted to avoid. But Hala wasn’t her concern right now, Cassius was.

As she neared, Milo St. Claire’s voice cut through the air, and she saw the tension between him and Cassius. Without sparing Milo a second glance, Kalliope pushed forward. Cassius needed an anchor, a friend. He wouldn't let him face whatever this was alone.

“Cassius,” she called out, voice calm and sweet. “Is everything alright?” A simple question, but her look said it all. I'm here, I've got you. You're not alone. She gently touched his arm, knowing it could be dangerous to do so as if touching a cornered animal, but she was ready to take whatever repercussions it came with.
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 13 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @PapaOso Gears; @Tracxyx Bobi
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 60
Injuries:


Well, that went almost exactly as Scaerthrynne expected.

“Thought so,” he replied, trying hard to keep the frustration from both face and voice, and knowing full-well that he probably wasn’t succeeding in either regard. But who could blame him? He had already lost count of the number of times he had tried explaining to the crew that warforged, contrary to their beliefs, weren’t like regular machines, and liable to regular problems. Rain wouldn’t do anything to them aside from – as it was so eloquently put by Gears – messing with their shine. After all, which idiot would construct something meant for war, and leave them so vulnerable to the elements?

And besides, Gears wasn’t like the other pieces of equipment on the airship, dumb and helpless. She had an actual personality, and could find him on her own if she needed any help.

Scaerthrynne glanced at the gnome again, a smirk drawing across his lips. “Curvature, is it?” Amusement dripped from his words, and he looked at Gears. “He’s got good taste, I’ll give him that.” Then, he gave the gnome a teasing grin before saying to him, “Give it up. Gears’ not an easy lady, and I can tell you that from experience. I’ve been trying for a good time with her, and I’ve got the advantage of being stuck with her on this airship for a long time, but still no luck. She’s got actual standards and class.”

He kept his tone light, as light as his wry words would allow. This was just banter between crew, albeit with a gnome caught in the midst of it.

A tug on his sleeve caught his attention. He looked down his side at Vallena. “Scratch, I’m hungry. Can we get something to eat?” The girl fidgeted on her stool, and her fingers tapped an erratic beat on the smooth, varnished counter.

Scaerthrynne shrugged. “Sure, why not. Anything you want?”

“Something sweet!” Vallena chirped. “We brought some honey aboard at our last stop, right? I remember I saw them loading that stuff into the hold!” She turned to Gears. “Can I have something with that? Oh! And fruits, too. I don’t know what, though. I only saw the boxes. But they definitely, certainly had fruits in them! I got close enough to smell them–”

“That’s…Interesting,” Scaerthrynne interrupted her, shooting her a questioning look, his brow raised. “And especially so, since you’re not supposed to go anywhere near the cargo hold on your own. I remember the Captain telling you that personally after the cake batter incident.”

Vallena blushed. “Oops. I-I mean, I got lost! And wandered to the hold by accident. I wasn’t going there on purpose or anything, Scratch, honest!”

Scaerthrynne chuckled and shook his head. “Right, of course,” he said with a shake of his head, turning to Gears. “Give the girl what she wants, and I’ll just have an egg sandwich. You can put it all on the Captain’s tab.” The man owed him at least that much, considering how little he paid Scaerthrynne for the amount of work he was expected to do. The dark elf up and down, along the counter. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to put everyone’s bill on the Captain’s tab?” He asked Gears, half-seriously. “You know, as a little joke to give the man some excitement.”

“Oh right!” Vallena suddenly cut in, rapping her knuckles on the counter for attention. “You said something about…Emotional discomfort? Something like that? Is something wrong?” The girl looked at the warforged bartender with concern in her large, brown eyes, and almost half her body leaning over the bar.

Scaerthrynne calmly pulled the girl back into her stool by her shoulder. The girl landed on her perch with a quiet ‘oof’. “Easy, Val,” he said. Then, he turned to Gears. “I was about to ask you that, myself. Anything at all bothering you, Gears?”
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 14 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu; @Tracxyx Bobi; @PapaOso Gears
Mentions: @Potter Arya; @princess Phia & Korrak; @Funnyguy Miris (as Wendel); @PapaOso Bastion; @samreaper Menzai
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 55
Injuries:


Maybe the scary lady wasn’t so scary, after all. Maybe Vallena had been wrong about her.

That wasn’t to say that the girl wasn’t unsettled by her any less than before – something about the way her golden eyes never seemed to blink, and the way she kept touching her sword still made Vallena more than a little uncomfortable – but at least the urge to run far, far away was mostly gone, now! Scratch seemed to be getting along pretty well with the lady, too, so she couldn’t be all that bad.

They were getting along very well, in fact, Vallena noted. She hid quiet, playful giggles behind her hand as she trailed behind the two adults.

But anyway! That the dark elf was okay with the lady was a good sign. And that the lady was also fine with him was a better sign. After all, the white-clothed man from earlier – Eyepatch – had been nice to Scratch, and he was pretty nice himself. Therefore, since this lady was also nice to the dark elf, it was a reasonable guess to say that she had to also be a decent-enough person. One that was a little weird, though. But that was fine! Scratch was weird too, sometimes. And now that Vallena thought about it, the dark elf could also be really, really scary on occasion. He thought she didn’t know, but he didn’t know that Vallena knew more than she let on, and that she was sneaky enough to know a thing or two about what he did when–

The girl’s eyes flitted from Scratch to the lady several times. Nice, but weird. Scary sometimes, but nice. A smile curled her lips. Things clicked in her head. The lady was maybe, possibly somewhat similar, or close enough to Scratch! Vallena had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all!

Self-satisfied smugness washed over the girl’s face. Her smile turned into a grin, and she felt as if she had just grown a head taller. That was an impressive bit of logical deduction, if she dared say so herself!

But that brought her another problem. If the lady was scary, then she couldn’t keep calling her ‘scary lady’, could she? It simply wouldn’t make any sense. What to call her, though? Maybe ‘Snake eyes’, on account of her eyes? That was too obvious. And it also sounded almost like an insult. It wouldn’t do. But there was nothing else Vallena could think of to use as a basis for a name.

“…just as likely to draw its own blood."

Vallena blinked up at the lady. Without knowing it, she had slotted herself between Scratch and her, again, and worst of all, she had only caught the tail end of whatever it was the lady had said to her. Curiosity was mentioned, Vallena thought, and so was something about her nature, maybe? But what was all this about drawing blood? Whose blood? And what was doing the drawing? It was all so confusing. Like a…

“Riddle!” Vallena blurted out suddenly, pointing at the lady. “You’re Riddles!”

The moment it took for her to realise what she had just done was short. Very short. Shorter than the time it took for her to blink, even. But it may as well have been an eternity. Her cheeks heated up – Vallena swore they felt hotter than the fire elemental down below – and she wrung her hands so hard that it seemed as if she were trying to twist them off her wrists.

“Sorry!” Her voice turned to a mouse’s squeak. “I-I was thinking about…Other stuff. But yes! Even Scratch says that I’m really curious.” A nervous laugh bubbled from her lips as she tried to think up an answer with what little information she had. “I-I just like knowing things, and finding out about things, and also learning about the world from adventurers’ stories! They always talk about really interesting places. I-I’d love to see some of those places, some day, but for now just knowing about them is fine! Scratch says I need to be a little more careful with finding out stuff, though, but he’s just being Scratch! I-I mean, I am careful and I try to be really, really careful, but I think he just worries too much.”

Another nervous laugh. “Anyway, Scratch and I have work to do! It was nice meeting you!”

Without waiting for a reply from the lady, or even a single word from Scratch, Vallena pushed her way into the bar. Right away, she felt a strangeness in the air. She couldn’t say what it was, only that it reminded of times when she walked in on Scratch having an argument with someone. The awkward tension, the muted atmosphere, it was all too familiar. Vallena suddenly felt very small as she moved through the crowd.

But that feeling, along with the lingering embarrassment from earlier, vanished quickly, and without a trace, when she saw the various people – or peoples – gathered around Gears.

There was the warforged she had seen earlier, imposing and very noticeable amongst a crowd of smaller, fleshier people. But there were also so many others! There was a strangely-dressed woman with ears like Scratch’s, but skin that looked more human-like. What leaves were those that she was wearing? And what animal did those antlers come from? And beside her was a wolf-person. Or maybe a dog-person? Vallena wasn’t sure what the difference was, but she knew she liked the look of his ears. Would he let her scratch them? What would he feel? A muted giggle vibrated in the girl’s throat.

And of course, she couldn’t miss the hooded figure. Hoods meant mystery, and mystery always meant that there was a story to be told. What was their story? Where did they come from? And that bird that was with them, what type was it? Did it have a name? Vallena assumed so. It would be weird to have a pet, and not give it a name. Then, there was the dwarf. He looked old, with all that grey in his beard and hair, and so he had to have at least one interesting story to tell. Vallena was sure of it. Her eyes jumped excitedly between each of these new people. So many questions, so many things she wanted to do, and so little time!

“Val.” Scratch’s voice pulled her out from her mind. She twisted around and looked up at him, brown eyes meeting his knowing, crimson ones. He nodded towards the bar, then grinned at her. “I think this is a good opportunity for you to show me what you know. Go ahead and check in on Gears. Ask her the three starter questions, and we’ll go from there.”

“Really?” Vallena asked. Scratch had always handled warforged-related things from start-to-finish, but she guessed that he was giving her a chance to make up for failing his test earlier. He was nice like that.

“I don’t see why not,” Scratch said with a shrug. “You’ve seen me do it enough times, and we’ve gone over the procedure more times than that. You should know what you’re doing.” He looked at the bar again, then back at her. “Better decide quick, Val. Otherwise, Gears is going to be far too busy to entertain us.”

“I’ll do it!” Immediately after that quick reply, Vallena turned and bounded towards the bar, clambering onto the first empty stool she could find, which happened to be right beside Riddles. The lady was busy talking to another woman, and it took all of Vallena’s self-control to give the latter only the most passing – but still somewhat lingering – of glances before focusing her attention on Gears. Most of it, anyway.

The girl waved to the bartender. “Hello, Miss Gears!” She beamed at the warforged. Gears was nice, and it had always puzzled her whenever she overheard people – passengers or otherwise – say terrible things about warforged. Surely they couldn’t be as bad as what they said, if Gears was one of them? “I’m here to check up on you! Oh, and Scratch is here, too.”

“Thanks, Val.”

Vallena giggled at her little joke. “Anyway! I guess I’ll start. Do you have any…Stiffness?” She stole a look at Scratch. He nodded. Pride swelled in the girl’s chest. “And squeakiness! Do you have that? And the last one…” She paused, her face scrunching up as she scratched her temple with a finger. Just as quickly, her eyes widened in realisation and she smiled. “Oh! And general discomfort! Do you have any discomfort or, or unsteadiness?” She turned to Scratch again, an expectant look on her face. She definitely got this one, there wasn’t any other possibility.

Scaerthrynne chuckled and nodded his head. “No complaints from me, Val. Impressive.” He patted the girl on the shoulder. It was a simple thing, to ask the first three questions any engineer should ask a warforged. Squeakiness and stiffness would immediately identify an issue with the joints, which were the most common points of failure. General discomfort or unsteadiness would point towards a problem with internal systems, which would require some opening up to resolve. After Vallena's mistake with the manifold, Scaerthrynne thought she could do with a small victory to lift her spirits. She was just a child, after all. She could be afforded such a thing.

Leaning against the bar counter, he took a quick look around. Specifically, he looked at the corner where the hateful dragonborn had taken a seat. Not at him – that would have been too obvious – but just at the general area whilst still keeping him well within sight.

Vallena might have missed it, but Scaerthrynne had caught the last parts of his tirade. And to be honest, it wasn’t the contents that had irked him – after a few centuries of life, he had seen just about every stripe of bigotry a person could imagine, and even some unimaginable ones – as much as it had been the anger in the dragonborn’s words. Someone that vexed was liable to do something incredibly silly. That was the last thing Scaerthrynne wanted to happen. At least, not while Vallena and he were present.

But then again, they were surrounded by people who looked like they knew violence well. Maybe that was enough of an incentive for the dragonborn to keep his maw shut.

“Bridge told us you got caught in the rain some days back, Gears,” Scaerthrynne said to the bartender, his words and face amicable. Gears had always treated Vallena and he fairly, and she took enough nonsense from people who were less-than-friendly to her kind. Scaerthrynne had no desire to count himself amongst that inglorious group. “The Captain’s worried that you might be–” He stopped abruptly when he noticed the gnome behind the counter with her. “Hello,” he greeted with a nod, then turned back to Gears.

“I’m jealous, Gears,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Can’t believe the Captain let you hire a hand before letting me get my second assistant.” He threw another furtive glance at the dragonborn’s corner. “Anyway, as I was saying, the Captain wanted me to make sure that you’re fine. And since we’re here, you might as well ask for whatever you need before we go back to playing with the fire elemental. Oh, and–” He nodded towards the dragonborn. “If you’re having any trouble, I might as well take the chance to play Gods and do something about it, too.”
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 15 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 50
Injuries:


Vallena’s muffled protestations buzzed against Scaerthrynne’s hand. She struggled indignantly against the dark elf’s grip, but he simply ignored her with the nonchalance of someone who had, quite evidently, been in this exact situation many, many times before. “We are, yes,” he replied to the woman right as Vallena hit him in the jaw with a flailing hand. Then, she chomped on his hand. Scaerthrynne cried out, more from the surprise rather than pain. His hold on her loosened, and the girl smoothly slipped away.

“Why’s your face so hard?” She cried, cradling and rubbing her right hand.

Scaerthrynne shot her a glare as he rubbed his aching jaw. “You hit my fuc–” It was close, and despite the irritation bubbling within him, he still managed to catch himself. “You hit my jaw. It’s supposed to be hard. If it isn’t, I’m in trouble. More important, what was that for?”

“You were suffocating me!”

It took all of Scaerthrynne’s willpower not to roll his eyes. She was just a child, he reminded himself. It was normal for them to be ridiculous. “Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he said. “Only thing I did was to save you from a hole you were so fuc–” He coughed into his fist. “A hole you were digging for yourself. Next time I’m going to just watch and fill it in after you’re done. How’s that?”

Vallena stuck her tongue out at him before turning away in a huff.

Scaerthrynne continued to massage his jaw. There wasn’t any chance that she had done any damage, but it sure stung, where she had hit him. “Does that look like a frightened girl to you?” He nodded towards the girl and cast a sidelong glance at the woman. “I’m not saying that you are, but if you are, don’t worry about her nonsense. Val speaks her mind easily and forgets things just as easily. She didn’t mean anything more than an observation by what she said earlier, and knowing her, she probably has a whole new impression of you, or a handful of them, by now.”

Shaking his head, he chuckled. “And for what it’s worth, she’s called me scary before, and I’ve been taking care of her for…Well, for several years, now. Ungrateful little brat.”

He folded his arms across his chest and watched Vallena make her way down the deck. She moved with a carefree sort of confidence, and a spring in her step. Like she owned the ship, and everything that had just happened – the boy’s broken arm, meeting new faces – was nought but a distant memory. A smile, wistful and thoughtful, tugged on his lips as he followed her, keeping himself just close enough to keep her within his sight. Every one of her actions exuded childish whimsy. Scaerthrynne could scarcely remember a time when he had been the same. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t ever stay annoyed at the girl for long. She was just a child. Let her enjoy immaturity and youth, and make the memories that he had long forgotten.

Vallena continued on her merry way, and Scaerthrynne could tell that something up ahead, something that was hidden from him by the crowd, had caught her eye. Her steps became quicker, her head kept trying to look through, above, and around the people milling about on deck. Of course, that meant that she paid too little attention to where she was actually going, and it was only a matter of time before she walked straight into a passenger, a halfling. He watched Vallena apologise profusely, with several bows of her head. Then, he watched the passenger berate her.

The smile on his face morphed into a smirk. Some lessons, she needed to learn on her own. But when the passenger’s berating went on for a little too long, and seemed to be going a little too far, he decided that it was time for him to step in.

“Hey!” He shouted across the deck. Both Vallena and the passenger turned to him. “That’s enough. Leave the girl alone.”

“Who’s she to you?” The passenger challenged him.

“My daughter,” Scaerthrynne replied without missing a beat. As he expected, and as he had seen so many times before, the passenger’s anger slowly melted away, replaced by confusion. He looked at him, then at Vallena, then at Scaerthrynne again.

“Your daughter?”

Scaerthrynne shrugged. “She really, really takes after her mother. What can I do?”

“Oh, well…” The passenger glanced at the woman, then at Vallena, then nodded to Scaerthrynne, as if in understanding. “Well, you…You should be more careful with her!”

He disappeared back into the crowd. Scaerthrynne grinned at the woman. “Works every time,” he said, but quickly followed it up with, “Most times.”

Vallena returned to the two of them, her eyes shining with excitement. She looked at him first, then also at the woman, then at him again. “Scratch, it–I mean he–I mean they’re there!” Her words came tumbling out one after another, and were all buzzing with energy. “The Warforged!”

“Yes, Gears has been with us for a while now. Glad you finally noticed.”

“No, I mean–Hey!” Vallena gave him a playful slap on the arm, but then instantly continued as if he hadn’t interrupted her. “I meant the passenger Warforged! He’s–” she pushed her arms out to her side “–Big! And armed, too. Or they. I don’t know. I couldn’t tell. But they’re definitely not like Gears! Gears is prettier. This one looks like they’ve been places! A Warforged adventurer, isn’t that cool? I wonder if they’re using stock pieces or if they did any modifications. Do you think they’d let me–”

“Easy, Val,” Scaerthrynne cut in. “You can’t just go up to them and ask to look at their insides. You wouldn’t do that to a flesh-and-blood patient, would you?” Vallena thought about it for a moment, and Scaerthrynne felt his stomach drop a fraction of an inch before she giggled and shook her head. “Right, well, as much as what everyone else believes, Warforged aren’t just machines. That means if you want to do anything, you need permission. And that means you’d better start learning how to ask for something incredibly ridiculous and get away with it really quick, if that’s what you’re after.”

Vallena tapped a finger on her chin, then nodded. “Okay! Maybe after we’re done working, I’ll give it a try.”

Scaerthrynne hoped she would forget. He could do without explaining to a Warforged why the girl wanted to, in what he expected to be her own words, ‘open them up and study their insides’. Certainly, it would be an interesting experience, but not the sort of interesting he liked.
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 16 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu; @Helo Ezekiel
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 50
Injuries:


The man understood!

“Yes! Scratch’s a nice elf.” Vallena beamed at him and nodded, loose tresses dancing with delight. Most of the people her dark elf friend and she had met before had been either wary or outright hostile towards the former at first, and had been slow to change their minds, if they ever did. Some amongst Stormrider’s crew still viewed Scratch with suspicion, Vallena knew, and that really, really irked her. Sure, he could say some pretty strange things from time-to-time – like now – and many of the things he did were questionable, but it was always for a good cause! Like saving lives, or fixing stuff.

Well, almost always for a good cause. Scratch could be really scary when, as the man said, people got on his bad side, and that was when he would do really scary things. Just the thought of some of the things he had done sent a shiver down her back.

But people rarely got on his bad side, and so those weren’t things he did often. He still did more good stuff than he did bad, as Vallena saw it. That made Scratch a good enough elf, in her books, regardless of what anyone said.

And now there was one more person that agreed with her! That made it five whole people whom she knew that didn’t get put off by Scratch upon their first meeting. Maybe things were starting to look up.

This person was an interesting one, too. Mostly because he was missing an eye, and that immediately lit a curious blaze in Vallena’s mind. How did he lose it? And when? Did he ever miss the eye, or had he grown used to the injury? Would he let her take a look at the wound? Or Scratch? Maybe Scratch could build him a replacement. The dark elf was great at tinkering and making things, after all. And then there were all the scars on the man’s face. What adventures had he had? Were they fun? Exciting? Scary? Did he meet any strange or interesting or nice or bad people? And what about the places he had been, what were they like, and what did the people eat, and what did they wear and speak and do–

Vallena quickly pulled herself from her thoughts, just as the first of many questions was about to leave her lips. A light flush coloured her cheeks. Scratch had pointed this out about her before; she was an excitable girl, and one easily distracted from her tasks. But could he blame her? It wasn’t often that she met anyone new outside of when Stormrider took on fresh recruits, and working in an airship’s engine room or surgery didn’t give her many opportunities to interact with passengers.

But when Scratch was right, he was right. The two of them still had things to do.

She blinked up at the man. He seemed cool. He probably was cool, and he was nice to Scratch too! Thus, he needed a name. Just as she called Scratch, Scratch, Vallena decided that from now on, she was going to call this man Eyepatch. Or Mister Eyepatch, if she was feeling formal.

“I’ll get someone to help you carry–” she began, but cut herself off when she saw that Eyepatch carried the boy with absolutely no trouble. He didn’t even seem to feel the weight in his arms. “Or nevermind. The sick bay’s just down below and all the way at the bow!” She reminded him again. “Don’t worry if you forget, that happens to me a lot. Just ask someone for directions! Or you can just walk in the opposite direction of the engines’ sounds! Scratch taught me that, and it’s always worked for me!”

She waved Eyepatch off, then turned around. A shudder rippled through her as she laid eyes on the scary lady again. There was something about her that didn’t sit well with Vallena, and it wasn’t just what she had said, even if that had done plenty to make the girl want to run very, very far away from her. But it was to do with the scary lady’s airs. It reminded Vallena of people she used to avoid when she had been living on the streets, people who were simply dangerous, and not to be messed with.

Or maybe it was because she had broken another thief’s arm without a second thought.

Vallena shook her head. There wasn’t any need for her to be afraid. Really, there wasn’t! She had Scratch around, after all, and she knew he would always look out for her, just as how she looked out for him. There was absolutely nothing for her to be worried about.

But still, she kept her movements quiet and herself scarce as she slipped behind Scaerthrynne.

The more the dark elf listened to the woman, the more he found his interest piqued. And he liked it; it was a welcome change from the usual, boring fare who booked passage aboard Stormrider. But then again, he supposed that born killers weren’t exactly all that common. And a born killer was exactly what this woman struck him as. The way she spoke of poisoning; the glint in her eye; the way those words flowed so easily, so fluently from her lips, as if they were but her usual thoughts given voice, they all told a story of a person who didn’t just work with death, but had grown up around it.

However, she had reacted somewhat strangely to Vallena’s quiet, spur-of-the-moment remark. A soft-spot, or a sore one, perhaps? Or maybe this woman wasn’t as tough as what he had thought?

He shrugged mentally. None of it mattered, in the end. She was a passenger, and would soon enough be nothing more than a memory, if even that. It was more likely that she’d just fade into being just one, vague face amongst the thousands Scaerthrynne had seen on Stormrider.

“Can’t argue with you there,” he replied anyway. This conversation was an interesting one, and it would be a shame to simply let it go to waste. “The fear of what’s to come, and knowing that it will come, is usually a great incentive for someone to start talking. Or to just make them die in fear, if that’s your sort of thing.” He shrugged, physically this time. “But I’ve to admit, when I did things like that, I didn’t use poisons. Diseases were more of my thing, and it was usually for–”

“Why are you doing this?” The man’s voice was rough, much like the days-old growth covering his jaw. He laid on a simple bed, the sort one might find in a prison, his limbs lashed to its frame by thick, leather restraints. Sweat, and only sweat, covered his body in a thin sheen. He drew in a breath, choked on it, and coughed. Metal rattled loudly as he bucked against the straps on his wrists and ankles. The laboured breath he released after his fit bubble in his throat.

In a dark corner, unlit by the single, oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, Scaerthrynne sat, perched on the edge of a table. That one piece of furniture was the sturdiest thing in this fetid cell. In his hands, he held a sheaf of papers, which he flipped through one by one. “Mister Edgar Federland,” he read aloud, ignoring the man’s question. “You’re an unpleasant son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”

The man turned his head as much as he could, squinting his eyes to peer through the dark. “Fucking elf, I should’ve known,” he spat.

“You’ve got a great deal of charges,” Scaerthrynne continued, and continued to ignore him. “Let’s see here…Twenty burglaries, seven murders, five kidnappings and…Twenty rapes?” He looked up from the sheaf, a wry smile on his face. “You must wake up very early to get all this done in…What? A week? Two, at most? Did you ever consider putting this sort of work ethic to other things?”

“Fuck you.” The edge in the man’s words were blunted by the hacking cough that tore his throat raw.

“Oh, I’m afraid your fucking days are over, Mister Federland.” Scaerthrynne hopped off the table. He turned, humming a tune as he ran his hand across a row of syringes before selecting one, holding it up to the lamp and inspecting its contents. “Your town is sick,” he said matter-of-factly. “Very sick. But I’m sure you know that already. How many died in your prison? Thirty, was it?”

“It’s no fucking business of mine!” An edge of fear in his words. “This fucking town sentenced me to hang, what’s their suffering got to do with me?”

“Nothing,” Scaerthrynne replied with a shrug and approached the bed. “And everything. You’re right, they did sentence you to hang, but I think you’ll find that so long as you’re dead, your fellow townsfolk won’t really care about the process of it.” He flicked a finger against the syringe. “But let me go back to your first question. Why am I doing this? Well, first of all, your town hired me to find a cure for this plague, and in order for me to do that, I must first know how it progresses.”

“Get the fuck away from me!” The man struggled, but the restraints were too tight. Too secure. The bedframe rattled loudly. It skidded and scraped against the bare, stone floor, but otherwise, he achieved painfully little. “You fucking mad elf! Get away!”

“I must know how it kills, you see,” Scaerthrynne went on. He watched the man fight, watched his muscle bulge, and his veins pop as he fought in vain against his lashings. The dark elf clicked his tongue, then held the syringe like a dagger. “You’re only making this harder for yourself, you idiot.” Then, without another word, he stabbed the needle into the man’s gut. The man howled, an otherworldly, blood-curdling sound. “It doesn’t matter where I prick you, you see. This syringe,” he said and pushed on the plunger, “is filled with infected pus, taken from the dead.”

The man’s screams turned to sobs, then to weeping pleas. “Just fucking kill me, you gods-cursed demon!”

Scaerthrynne pulled out the syringe and tossed it aside. A wicked smirk came over his face. “And that brings me to my second reason for why I’m doing this.” He stepped away from the bed, returned to his perch, and picked up the sheaf of papers again. Pulling a pencil from his ear, he tapped the blunt end of it against the sheaf. “It’s interesting. Wouldn’t you agree?”


“–medical studies and such.”

Scaerthrynne blinked. That was a strange memory his mind had brought up. More irksome was that it was a very vague one – he had experimented on people many times before, and had done so under conditions that were similar. That recollection could have come from anywhere. He shook his head slightly, disguising the movement as a mere tilt of his head, as if to work out a crick from his neck. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “I have other things to attend to. That was a good talk. Enjoy the rest of your journey.”

He paused. “And it’s alright,” he said, responding to her apology. “Val was probably just put off by what we were talking about. She’ll learn to get used to it.” He looked down at the girl. “Especially if she wants to be a surgeon in her own right, someday.”

“But not today,” Vallena piped up.

Scaerthrynne chuckled quietly and nudged her away so that he could start walking towards the bar. “Yeah, not today, or yesterday, or tomorrow. I find myself asking when exactly, sometimes.” He glanced at the girl with a knowing look. She didn’t respond, and instead looked away with a nervous giggle. For a while, they walked in awkward silence – Scaerthrynne somewhat level with the woman, and between her and Vallena. The girl trailed just a step behind him, biting on her lip and looking this way and that. Then, she picked up the pace, squeezing between Scaerthrynne and the woman. She swallowed hard and hesitantly reached for the woman’s sleeve, tugging on it gently.

“Hey, uh,” she began, averting her eyes for a while before looking up at the woman. “Sorry. For saying that you’re scary earlier. You are, though, for breaking that boy’s arm, but um…You don’t look scary. You just–”

Scaerthrynne sighed, covered the girl’s mouth with a hand, and pulled her back. “She means she accepts your apology, and that it’s okay,” he quickly said to the woman.
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