Avatar of Click This

Status

Recent Statuses

9 mos ago
Current If I read what?
1 like
1 yr ago
What a terrible day to have eyes
4 likes
2 yrs ago
Yes
10 likes
2 yrs ago
Imagine being a fan of Newark, NJ
1 like
2 yrs ago
Eventually he'll land on the wrong horse name and get yakuza'd
3 likes

Bio

there needs to be more cuteness in the world

cute girls doing badass things

rp with me if you agree

Most Recent Posts


Mirie Agustria of the Grand Bank,
Duchess of Caelin



Execution Grounds\\

The confluence of events over the past few days was becoming troublesome for Mirie. Between the Athius affair, the fallout with Ravenfell and subsequent failed gambit, as well as simple domestic affairs on Caelin –most importantly, the arrival of the Queen at the Grand Banks-- the issue of the downfall of a fellow ruling duke had almost become forgotten in the entire mess. Almost.

The emergency return to Caelin Castle via her seed after being ejected from the ghost king’s court meant that she had been robbed of conferring with Laurent and Altina after their little act of rebellion. There had been no time to discuss the matter of Duke Willowsteel.

It was a perfectly pleasant day, with a beautiful sky and a pleasant warmth from the sun overhead. Mirie thought it hardly suited an unjust execution as she sat there with her entourage among the other ruling dukes. It was clear that what the Queen had intended was as much of a punishment as it was an example for the other nobles.

Fall in line or meet the same fate—the message was clear.

Unlike Rhinecliff, Mirie’s party was commensurate to her status as a duchess, with more than the simple two knights that she had brought to the meeting with the Ravenfell king. As usual, she had her handmaiden Minuette by her side, alongside her guard of knights, dressed in the armored maid-like battledresses that were emblematic of her household.

In the absence of any coordination, Mirie decided she was still going to let the chips fall as they may. While she didn’t want to see a fellow duke executed, and in such an undignified way, in terms of realpolitik, both a rescue and an unmitigated execution were both detrimental to her goals. Both acts were inherently destabilizing, inching the province further into the waiting hands of a future civil war.

With a sigh, she remained, looking forward and crossing her legs as the drums began to beat.

For a moment, her eyes too met the condemned duke’s eyes and saw the fire that remained in them.

Perhaps this execution was not all that it seemed after all.
Motherfucker.

@Click This@Irradiant I’ll be waiting on at least one of you before I add. Also in general, last chance for the potential Sev-savers to do anything.


Been kind of wrecked from jury duty lately, but I'll see if I can cook something up this weekend if that's not too late.

&





It turned out, in the end, that Éliane required use of a shop bench after all. The Skaelan woman had wanted to avoid it given her distaste for using the pirates’ facilities overmuch, but after her brief conversation and a promise to bake, she had discovered some issues with the minigun that needed some workshop time. That was how she finally found herself below decks again– the gun partially reassembled, but still needing maintenance as she hovered over a vice, clamping a slightly misshapen machined part to be worked on.

Perhaps due to the hyperfixation on her new toy, Eliane noticed far too late that there was now something-... someone standing right beside her; someone noticeably shorter, petite, and clad in darker clothing, making her blend quite well with the dimmer lighting of the lower decks. Said someone was none other than the Kirins' very own elemental powerhouse and the only Valheimr native among them.

Eve was staring at the contraption with her usual (lack of) expression, but behind the stoic veil lied the spark of curiosity. In fact, the fixation was rather mutual as the gray-haired girl perceived Eliane's recognition of her presence a few seconds too late than it should be, "..." prompting her to perk up, shifted her crimson gaze at the taller girl, then blinked, verbally saying nothing and yet still conveying something along the lines of 'don't mind me, please carry on' to the Dame Commander through her subtle mannerisms.

It was very unlike Éliane to be caught off-guard, but it wasn’t complete. She knew from the other members of team Kirin that Eve had a tendency to do such things, but whether it was intentional she wasn’t quite sure. In a way, the small girl reminded her of Esben…

That said, it looked like the white-haired girl was merely going to stand there right next to her, which perplexed even Éliane. Tilting her head, she regarded the other, not immediately getting back to work. “Do you need something, Eve?”

Even though they might share this tendency to be flight-footed and seemingly popping out of thin air, there was at least one glaring difference between the SEED and the Pseudolon, in that upon going on the offensive, Esben would remain a lurking shadow in the battlefield, while Eve would announce her presence like fire, thunder, and lightning. After all, a six-inch blade and an artillery battery could both be quiet before they engaged their functions.

Speaking of functions, Eve didn't manage to return her gaze back to the partially-assembled machine before the salmon-haired House Guard inquired her, which was... admittedly a good question. The faux dragoness took a brief moment to ponder things, glancing back and forth between the gun and its mechanic before blinking once, "I was wondering why you ceased your tinkering, is the machine broken beyond salvation?"

Éliane canted her head to the side in response to that. “We’re talking, and it’s bad to multitalk for delicate work like this,” she replied, Although much of the gun had been reassembled, the parts that were not were decidedly more delicate– mostly part of the rotary and firing mechanism of the Valheimian gun. As far as inspecting it went, it had been very enlightening and Éliane very much wished to show it to a Skaelan gunsmith and exchange thoughts about the foreign design.

“No. I don’t think so. Some parts need readjustment, because criminals and thugs are clueless.” She pointed towards and then picked up another part. “See, this piece is part of the feeding mechanism for the gun belt, but it may need to be reforged. I’ll bet a hundred gil that the gun jams regularly because of this piece.”

”You were the one who initiated the conversation.” Eve replied matter-of-factly, though unlike some others in the group, there was absolutely no sarcasm to be detected in her tone, it really was a mere factual observation. Though the Pseudolon immediately abandoned the topic for something far more interesting.

Her gaze continued to be trained on the bullet-vomiting device as the taller woman proceeded with her impromptu lecture on weapons engineering. Though Eve didn't exactly grasp all the minutiae of what goes into what, however, she did subtly perk up at a certain word.

”Reforged, hmm...” The black mage mused with a hand rested against her chin, ”Is that the source of your conundrum? You need heat, correct? I may be able to provide.”

“Hmm…” The pink-haired Skaelan briefly rubbed her chin in consideration. “How fine of a control can you adapt for your magic? If the piece is slagged then I’ll really be in trouble.”

”Hmmm…” Another good question, now that Eve thought about it, she never really compared herself to other, more “traditional” black mages… until now, ”I've noticed that… ‘normal’ mages require gestures and incantations to cast their spells, while I do not. Unsurprising, considering I possess ether instead of blood.”

The gray-haired mutant then pondered a bit more, ”In conclusion, yes, I wield magic as if they're my own limbs.” She then snapped her fingers as a small yet intense jet of flame spawned at the tip of her index, ”Tell me when you’re ready.”

After a moment, Éliane inclined her head. “Okay, let’s try it.” Taking the compromised part in question, she swapped it onto the vice, leaving the slightly misshapen piece for Eve to apply a large amount of heat to it. “Go ahead. If it breaks I’m not sure where to get or make a replacement, though…” She was not a blacksmith or gunsmith, after all.

"You'd have simply gotten a replacement already instead of trying to fix an old component." The mage quipped as she took a moment to carefully observe the misshapen part, using Eliane's guidance and her own intuition to triangulate the best spot for applying the stream of magical heat. Once they were both sure, Eve aimed the tip of her index finger at that particular area, then worked the ether flowing within, resulting in a small yet highly concentrated flame to continuously spew from said fingertip, enveloping the piece of metal like a makeshift blowtorch. "Just signal me when to stop."

The taller woman gave Eve a strange look at her comment, but allowed the girl to do her work without any further interruption. She carefully adjusted the piece with her tools while it glowed red before she was finally satisfied. “Okay, that’s enough. We’ll wait for it to cool down and I’ll see if it fits better later. Maybe go up on the deck and test fire the gun…”

As aforementioned, the flame-jet abruptly ceased upon Eliane's signal, then Eve simply retracted her finger to give Eliane the room to do whatever she'd do next with the - hopefully - fixed component, "I see..." The black mage mused, rubbing her chin, "I believe to properly test its functions, you'd need a target or two. After all, it's not enough to simply be able to fire, it needs to fire properly so the projectile is appropriately lethal, no?" Speaking about targets, the occasional flock of birds could be seen in the sky, maybe one would be infested with the blight, that'd be convenient.

Regardless, it seemed the House Guard could take it on her own from here, Eve was just pleased that her magic could be useful for things other than delivering death and destruction, these small instances of mundane utility were never not appreciated. "If that's all, then I'll be going. I certainly hope the machine will be functional." With a nod, the Pseudolon left the Dame Commander to continue tinkering with her latest obsession.
@Click This You are welcome to adjust your seed in light of this minor change.

I'm considering having all PC dukes and duchesses having teleportation capabilities. However, they will be fixed to teleporting close to the ground. I would ask everyone to refrain form using teleportation that would result in an insta-kill for anyone else, like shoving someone into a portal that opens into the sea.

You can have your mages have an 'aha!' moment if you like, or get your hands on the blueprints of teleporting. This will make it easier so I don't have to skip ahead by a week to account for all the different ways of travel to get to any place.

What does everyone think?


If we go with teleportation being standard for all dukes and duchesses, would it be a more standardized type of spell?
I think it's funny if the varying levels of teleportation remain restricted to the more adept mages or to those at the top of society (or just really rich).


This, for the most part. Get fucked, peasants

Though Mirie's seed is somewhat less useful relative to the others' teleportation, aside from the scrying.

and

Esben Mathiassen




”Found a space to tinker after all, Éliane?”

The voice came from behind the reddish-haired woman, the light that she was using to work by momentarily blocked as her much-taller countryman came and looked over her at the weapon she was busy with. Her gunblade and rifle sat nearby, as meticulously clean as could be expected from any of the personal guard of Skael’s overseer; the cannon she had claimed from Mizutani Tane’s mansion, meanwhile, lay just before her in a state of...

...Disassembly was the best he could describe it as. Truthfully, the mechanisms of such things weren’t Esben’s strong suit. Even though his buckler was of his own design, it was comparatively quite a bit simpler. If he had to guess, she was busy working with some portion of the firing mechanism, though that was where his working knowledge of such a firearm came to its end.

No, she set that aside almost instantly. Just a momentary curiosity, or part of the continued breakdown? This was why he didn't mess with such things.

He held a canteen of water out to her, fully aware that the cool sea breeze could only do so much to alleviate the sun beating down on them—them especially, who were used to a colder and more consistently overcast climate. ”You’ve had something other than coffee today, ja?”

The pink-haired Skaelan was engrossed in modifying part of the mount of the gun, with most of it laid to the side. She had made an effort of looking all over the ship for a place to work, but the spaces available were either too cramped, dark, hot, or filled with distasteful pirates. Outdoors was just as bad, with the opportunity for parts to roll off the deck if she wasn’t careful, but there at least was a breeze.

Looking up at the sound of Esben’s now familiar voice, she shrugged and accepted the offered canteen. “In this climate, doing otherwise would be foolish, even for me,” Éliane admitted. “Come to admire my new toy?”

”Would you be unhappy if I said no?” The unsurprising answer was plainly evident in the question he shot back. ”A bit curious just what you intend to do with it, but I don't think I can appreciate it quite the way you can.” Given that she'd accepted the water without any argument, he stepped off to the side, sitting down and settling in against the railing at the edge of the deck.

The ship rocked once, heaving itself over a fairly heavy swell; Esben stopped one piece of the weapon from rolling away with his foot, before it could slip between the deck boards and lead to an annoying search. Some seabird—judging by the sounds it was making, sorely affronted by the sudden jostling—took off from overhead, squawking irritably as it flew. He assumed as much, at least; usually they were quieter if they weren't bothered about something.

”Not willing to share the armourer's bench? I imagine it would be a bit more...”

He looked over the bent-over form of Éliane, where she hunched and scrabbled over the deck as she worked on the firearm before her.

”...Comfortable, at least.”

Éliane shrugged at that, but appreciated his move to rescue one of her parts from moving too far away from her. An old, barbarian ship like this was a terrible place to work on a gun, but it wasn’t like there was much else to do.

“Thanks. No, but I’ll need to do some work on a part or two. Those thugs weren’t maintaining this gun very well. No appreciation or knowledge of what they were using… though that works in favor of Valheim.”

How better to control a local criminal element than to supply them with weapons they couldn’t maintain? It was good that they busted part of it, at least.

She took a drink of the canteen before offering it back to Esben. “Have you finished cataloguing the rest of our spoils?”

”Eh? Other than what specifically applied to me, I didn’t pay too much mind to the rest of it. I think the others went through it all and decided what to do with it before we left for this boat.” Pilfered treasures and what to do with them was about as far out of his usual area as dealing with the rotary cannon; he’d gotten what he needed in the papers that Mizutani had left around her desk.

So long as the team didn’t run out of money or resources—exceedingly unlikely, given the details of the reward from Leonhart that they were not entitled to claim—he couldn’t really bring himself to care what happened with what they’d taken from the mansion. Nor was he entirely wanting to have every conversation focus just on their current mission, so it wasn’t a topic he intended to remain on for long.

”You know your family’s recipes, Éliane?”

She tilted her head. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Esben tilted his head the opposite direction, giving a flat stare back.

”You know that’s not an implication here.”

The change in topic came easy enough to her, although Esben’s reply did not. She stared back. “I’m not sure what implication you’re implying from my question.”

”That I’m asking as though I worry you might not.”

Éliane set the part she was working on down as she fixed Esben with a stare of her own.

After a few beats, she finally spoke again. “Were you looking for a particular recipe?”

”...”

It was unclear if he was just continuing to stare silently for another few seconds out of sheer incredulousness, or if there was something else going on behind his blue eyes. After another moment, however, he looked away, glancing back out at the ocean.

”When we’re someplace with a proper oven, if I can find what you need, could you make me their arlettes?”

She didn’t answer immediately, rather taking the moment to pick up the metal part again and resume inspecting it. “Yes, I’ve seen the galley here. It is about what I expected from pirates.”

Éliane looked at the piece again, this time with a glass, frowning as she did so. That piece might need some work; she set it aside. “Looking for a taste of home already? I can do that, it would be nice to bake again.”

A pause. “Esben. Does cinnamon and the right flour even exist outside of Skael?”

”Cinnamon is an import. And flour is flour, isn’t it, so long as it’s the right grain?”

There was an abnormal, somewhat worrisome note of despair somewhere in his voice, though his face remained as impassive as ever. ”And...somewhat. Solitude was never home for me, although I liked the bakery far more than any of the rest of the city.”

He paused again.

”Especially compared to the room I was renting while I studied. It got rather draughty in the last year I was there, after somebody put her foot through the roof.”

“Right. We’ll have to see what grains are available in the markets at our destination,” she replied, raising the slightest hint of an eyebrow at the tone her fellow Skaelan had taken with that response. Her lips curved upwards. “I suppose I should be flattered on behalf of my family.”

It was now Éliane’s turn for another pause as she gave his last statement some consideration. She looked almost thoughtful. “But that’s rather unfortunate. Whatever lady that was should be more careful.”

”Somehow, I don’t think that careful really enters her mind all that often.”

“Hmm.”
Been a little checked out the past few days but I'll see what I can cook for a post.




Éliane, had, apparently, missed a great deal in the couple of moments that she had spent inspecting and then disassembling the rotary gun outside the room. It didn’t take a genius to guess the main details of what had transpired, though, and it looked like Mizutane’s interrogation and execution had been far messier than anybody had expected.

Then, there was the matter of Ciradyl, and the reason why Éliane was crowded together with the rest of Kirin and the other Ospreyans in a safe house meeting room, holding what to all purposes was a military tribunal instead of being in the workshop fully stripping the gatling gun and getting it ready for her own purposes…

If anything, though, the Skaelan officer was understanding of the Ospreyan woman, despite the allegations and aspersions cast on her loyalty. Skaelan politics, as superior as her country was the others was a particularly nasty thing; there would have been little need or even the skills necessary for the existence of SEED had that not been the case. There were so many circumstances and strange ploys that she was familiar with not just in her brief time in the service, but simply by being exposed to Solitude politics that she would not judge until she understood the full details.

And Esben, in a truly Skaelan way, provided. He had all the documents and evidence that betrayed Ciradyl’s intent behind her actions.
She understood. Like many things when it came to high-level politics and decision making, she understood, but didn’t like it. It was part of why she had left SEED, among many other things, but at heart, Éliane was very much a pragmatist. Just as she disliked working with criminals, it was still the pragmatic thing to do, and so she did it; here, Ciradyl assassinated ostensible allies and fellow countrymen, but only to preserve what remained of the stately ship. She didn’t like it, but she understood.

So, she wouldn’t judge. There was little for her to say that wasn’t already said by the others, and she had little to do with the woman, either.

“Unfortunate, but understandable,” were her only words that she added on the matter. Perhaps she would speak to her at a later time, but with the interrogation all but over, she nodded her head and left. There were spoils to be inspected, after all, and after that mess of a mission, she would much rather have a piping hot cup of coffee and pour of the design of her new toy.




It was clear that the situation was more or less managed, at least from what Éliane could see. Although the mansion was starting to burn down, it was still gradual enough. With the rest of her team crowding around the criminal of the house, an extra body was not going to do anything else but to get in the way of what needed to be done in that room.

And Éliane hadn’t really wanted much to do with this mission, anyway. The fact that there was a beautiful crew-served weapon of her dreams right in front of her did much to alleviate the sour taste that remained, and she continued to scrutinize the gatling gun to see how best it could be taken with the group. She was already imagining mounting it in the wagon for Goug to use, either for fire support or for self defense that was very much overkill…

Seeing Rudolf stop briefly to take a look at the gun for himself as well, she nodded at him. “We should be able to take all of it. It’ll be very… useful…?”

She tilted her head as he was urged on, and shrugged. Still not needed, she continued to dismantle the gun. If she pulled her arms through the removed wheels and hung them on her shoulders, and then carried the rest, then maybe it could be done…

It didn’t take long, but Éliane had the thing dismantled soon enough. Someone else needed to grab the full ammunition box, but as it was now, she was carrying it. With her arms through the wheels looking like ridiculous shoulder pauldrons, a belt of ammunition across her shoulder, and the actual gun just barely held with all the rest of the bulk, she looked as ridiculous as she expected as she finally moved into the other room to see how things were going.

“…what in Artimis is happening here?”
Skill issue ;3
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet