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there needs to be more cuteness in the world

cute girls doing badass things

rp with me if you agree

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ayo
Posted. I really need to get around to those NPC sheets. If I haven't done one for at least Minuette by the end of tomorrow, yell at me, lol.

Mirie Agustria of the Grand Bank,
Duchess of Caelin



Execution Grounds\\

And indeed, the execution was not what it had seemed at all. In fact, what happened had far exceeded her expectations, and Mirie had to be impressed. Duke Willowsteel was allowed his last words—a speech, and the crowd responded in kind. It was interesting, how it started. The murmurs and yells among the crowd started sporadically at first, and then drew closer and closer to a riot.

Were those rotten tomatoes? They were.

Still seated, the duchess of Caelin threw up a shield of wind around the stands. It would not do if her other the other important guests would be marred by an unfortunate fruit, and it served to add additional protection to the Queen, as well. Returning her attention to the crowd, she watched the chaos placidly at first. She was convinced there were plants in crowd—and a prelude to something else.

The arrival of Islara and then a dragon of all things was on cue, as unexpected of a manner of a rescue as it was. It seemed the last vestiges of Roland Corrin were still hanging on—here to enact some manner of revenge for the dead duke.

This was also quickly beginning to become out of hand as she watched the butchery of the Queen’s knights. Taking in the scene, as her eyes flicked towards the Queen, then Vulluin, she made a quick decision. She leaned over to Minuette at her side, whispering. “Do not interfere when it comes to Duke Willowsteel. However,” she commanded, before raising her voice to be properly heard, “See to it the Queen is protected.”

For a brief moment, Minuette gave her lady a questioning look, before inclining her head a fraction as she rose, drawing her sword.
Mirie’s attention was drawn back towards the crowd—Vulluin’s magic had dispersed much of the initial rioting, but the appearance of the Duke’s would be rescuers was beginning to reinvigorate those committed to his cause. She remained in her seat, not to intervene personally, but she kept up her shield for the benefit of those still in the stands.

Minuette had taken two of the duchess’s lifeguard, and appearing next to Sir Hayworth, arrived in time to even the odds. In contrast to Mirie’s knights, with their maidish accoutrements that made them stand out as Mirie’s, she was dressed as a proper countess for this outing, but was still not a woman to be underestimated herself. “It would appear you would have things in hand,” she greeted, complementing her counterpart’s guesswork as she took a guarding position.

“But when it comes to the safety of her majesty, it is better to be safe than sorry, no?”

Good point, @Click This, would you like to go before me?


Sorry about the absence. I'll try to write something up tonight so we can move on.




Whirrrr…

Despite the utter and absolute chaos that the ship and its passengers were being subjected to, Éliane was having the time of her life as she cackled with glee, aiming at the flying very human skeet targets as she peppered them with a hail of bullets with each press of her minigun’s trigger. The sound of rounds leaving the multi-barreled weapon was music to her ears, a symphony to match Ciradyl’s opera.

The Valheimian losers fell to her might, scythed down by a weapon of their own making.

The battle itself wasn’t going too great, but at the rate Éliane was reducing their targets, it might not have mattered…

Whirrrr… klunk.

Until the last of the ammunition belt was fed into the gun and ran dry. Éliane gaped as she pointed the weapon, its barrels already spinning down.

It was empty.

Immediately a wave of depression hit her as she reluctantly released her hands from the trigger… and then immediately grabbed it again, hanging onto it for dear life as… the battle developed not necessarily to the Kirin’s favor. Izayoi had literally split the sea.

That was a terrifying feat to behold on a normal day, but on a wooden barbarian pirate ship out at sea in the middle of a battle, the sensation of their only lifeline being knocked about was a contrast to the high that she had just experienced. She lurched forward as the ship rocked, tripping as she did so and landing on her gun as a result. The back end of the weapon smashed into her gut, making her retch as she keeled over in pain.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to rise. They were still in battle, and even as the ship was knocked about, the Valheimian airship had closed and was continuing to fire on them. She was in no position to immediately help the others, but she could still shoot.

Still coughing as bile threatened to rise up from within her, she switched to the rifle she still had, unslinging it from her back. From this distance, the engines and sensitive bits of the ship were all but exposed to any talented shooter. Steadying herself to the best of her ability, she braced herself and lined up her gun at the ship. Even with the unsteady platform, shooting through the windows of the bridge was child’s play for any member of the Household Guards, let alone herself. Slamming the bolt back in place after briefly checking her weapon, she aimed, and put several rounds through the bridge windows, shooting at the Valheimian officer still at the helm. She then switched targets, finishing off the remainder of the ammunition in her rifle on the optical rangefinders of the airship, shattering its glass construction.

Then she reloaded—this time with her favorite explosive ammunition. How nice would it be if she could get a golden BB and blow apart the engines from those exposed intakes?

She shot again.




It had only been less than a quarter of an hour after Eve had left. After one last close inspection of the gun, Éliane had nearly fully reassembled the gun and was ready to bring it up to the deck for a test firing when the alarm was raised. Being below decks at this point, the Skaelan officer was unable to see what the threat was as she watched pirates stream up towards the upper decks, with hastily grabbed weapons in hand.

The pink-haired girl grimaced; at this point in the voyage, considering who they were taking passage with, the only threat on the high seas was going to be Valheimians of some sort. Momentarily leaving the gun where she left it, she sprinted to her room and hastily threw on her Household Guards jacket and belted on her weapons before she dashed back to the gun. By the time she did so, the sounds of battle were well under way, as blades crashed and guns spoke on the decks above. Thankfully, it didn’t feel like they were being outright bombarded by whatever vessel had caught up to them, but with the way the deck shook, it was also clear that they weren’t slacking, either.

Although Éliane was totally surprised by the ambush, a small smirk played across her face as she threw a belt of ammunition over her shoulder and picked up the rotary cannon. It looked like she would be getting a chance to properly play with her toy now, in a proper live trial in combat.

When she came onto the deck, it was the chaos as she expected. The rest of the Kirins were already there, clashing with Valhiemian soldiers as their airship kept pace in the air. She squinted briefly at what was going on—was that a dragoon Izayoi and Rudolf were fighting? With a squad of Valheimian grunts on jetpacks?

Éliane immediately began setting up at the aftcastle of the ship, giving a vantage point over the entire ship, wincing as she did so at the discordant singing that clashed over the decks of the ship. Whatever foul sounds were reaching out from the Valheimians, it seemed like Ciradyl was countering, which she was grateful for. Normally, she wanted to be more mobile than setting up in one place, but when there was a chance to test out dakka…

A moment later, she was ready, and she began cranking the rotary gun to get it started up.
Whirrrr…

And she immediately began aiming at the Valheimian fake-dragoons bouncing about on their jetpacks. Éliane thought nastily that they were about to get a taste of their own anti-air as she tracked a pair that were about to make a run on Ciradyl, and then immediately opened up with a brief hail of bullets. It took less than a second for one to be immediately knocked out of the sky, minced apart by the large caliber guns, and sending the other tumbling away into the sea either from a hit or a bad evasion.

Grinning savagely, she then turned her attention to Mr. Bouncy apparently traitor dragoon and depressed the trigger as well.

She just had to be careful with the small amount of ammunition she had.
Not really much of a post but it gets Mirie back into it a bit.

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.
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