Time: Late Morning Location: Sorian Beach Interactions: Charlotte @princess, Sjan-dehk @Apex Sunburn, THE Roman @ReusableSword Mentions: Lorenzo @FunnyGuy, Ruby @SausagePat, Kazumin @samreaper, Ariella @Tpartywithzombi "Oh don't worry, we get compared to gods all the time." John burst out in a chuckle as soon as he heard Charlotte's praise. "You know, every time we saved someone's life, they wipe the sweat off their and their relative's foreheads and bowed their head thanking god for saving them. I am very honored to be so revered." The casualness accompanied the snark, but it was more joking than snorting at Charlotte. If that wasn't clear enough...
"For serious though, thank you. Our work is sometimes thankless, so I am glad to know there's someone out there who appreciate what we do."
From his experience, if the patients was not aware of his...more prestigious status, they tended to be more thankful. Jealously and spite are still pretty widespread, even in more humble and progressive societies.
From then on, quite a few more people began to show up. The first being this handsome gentleman with an...intriguing attire. He had never seen this outfit before, not to mention the abnormally large hat, bigger than the ladies hats that he had seen. But it went off well with one another in an exotic way, so it's much less likely some artist and designer having a stroke of wildness, but rather this is a foreigner from neither Alidasht or any of the smaller colonies from the three kingdoms. If the weird phrasing hadn't given it away.
"Don't sweat it." John raised a hand in response. "How may I help you sir?"
The second being Roman, whose greetings, like usual, was short but respectful. John returned the gesture with his own, similar in intensity, similar in regard. Seeing how Charlotte was interested in getting herself a drink, John decided to go back to the food stalls, but not before checking with the two (and maybe three) in the group.
"I can get you one then." He said to Charlotte. "Which flavours would you like? They can mix and match, so the fruits of preference would be fine." Turning over to Roman and the gentleman from afar. "You can let me know too in case you want a drink. It's really good on a hot summer day, I will tell you that."
((Can assume that John gets back after a few minutes. Don't need to wait for another round))
Time: Morning Location: River Interactions: Rowan @GingerBobOh Mentions: None Equipment: Longsword and Plate Armor "Rough." Barrock replied plainly to the mention of Rowan's participation in the dark elf war. It was the most sympathy he didn't think he'd be giving out to a random stranger, but being one himself, albeit not really participating for any righteous fervor, he knew firsthand life at the other end of a spearpoint. But it was somewhat undercut by him just forgetting Barrock's name just after he just announced it.
"Barrock." He gritted his teeth to conceal his annoyance, but left a very curt response to it.
Rowan proceeded to retreat further into the clearing after offering Barrock an opportunity to join his 'warm-up'. The orc's eyebrows perked. Warm-up huh? Was he just offered an opportunity to fight? A reasonable justification? With natural vigour giving rise inside him, Barrock looked at where Rowan had left him. Grabbing the blade near him along with his belongings, the Orc followed the footsteps. The clunky footsteps catching up with the light elf matched his growing skepticism that slowly caught up with his hotheaded desire for combat. The elf wasn't offering a spar, was he?
Seeing the elf practicing alone, that seemed quite likely.
God damn it...
Now that he showed up, he could not simply chicken out now.
Barrock kept a bit of composure as he dropped his belongings on the ground with the same energy as a little girl trying hard not to sit on the flower she loved. He did get a bit of calm back after grabbing hold of his blade though. It would simply be a training session, that's all, just with this guy here to watch.
The Orc's form was one of might, but at the same time exuberating a great degree of calm and self-control. The long hilted, long bladed sword often came close to a mighty swing that would have sliced through any weak material in its way, but it would stop and switch directions with great agility. Often, as he was yet to get used to having a partner-of-training. Normally he would be a lot more precise.
Steffen, let the others decide amongst themselves which tails to chase next. Having a very limited number of leads made the decision quite obvious for everyone. Cae Mayl this time. Once again a boring ride, but if he could stand the boredom of paperwork, this was nothing but an opportunity to practice a little bit of melody. He had no flute here, but his lips would suffice to create the delicate air dance in the form of a Veltian folk song. His whistling was no louder than any hooves clomping on the trampled roads, but was enough to keep some knights company for the journey.
Cae Mayl appeared around the same time they were at the fort the day before. A breathtaking scenic that gave him no surprise this was chosen as the first shrine to Mayon. The water seemed completely still, a pretty mirror for the goddesses to take good look at themselves, if they needed that vanity. Supposedly, it was deeper than anticipated, but it was the more magical nature of this place that got the message through to Steffen more than the water depth.
With the information that the shrine appeared untainted from Tyaethe, he would be reassured that there wouldn't be anything yet, not at least until the knights were fully disembarked. It still wasn't clear to what degree the Boar's presence here were like. Had they already left, finishing whatever nefarious task they were up to here already without touching a finger on the shrine? Or had they not even arrived yet? Are they around here somewhere, intentionally? That last question bugged him the time he was at the fort, and it would bug him again now.
Seeing Dame Serenity took off with Lein to search for any tracks out of the shrine, the watchdog duty had to be taken up by someone.
"Sir Gerard, Sir Nicomede, if you two don't mind." Steffen raised his hand to attract the two knights. "Let's keep watch on the treelines. Form a patrol to check if there's any Boars there." He figured the knights had enough hands checking the shrine as is.
Time: Late Morning Location: Sorian Beach Interactions: Charlotte @princess Mentions: "Good morning, Lady Charlotte." John returned the hug with his non-smoothied hand, as well as her smile with one of his own, small but with hints of excitement. "Yeah, perfect timing too. Caught up on my sleep and ahead of work schedules, so today is just good old do nothing day for me. Nothing but hunting for free food that is."
The same thing was the case the other day as well, but he and Charlotte all knew that didn't go so well.
Taking one subtle glance back at the group Charlotte arose from, John gave a shrug, lightening up his uptightness with a chuckle. "Sorry you seemed to be having an engaging conversation, so I didn't want to interject." Knowing his history with the Vikenas, both of them, he wanted this little interaction to be less serious than he normally is. "Anyway, you look good today. Do you go here often?"
Taking a sip of the smoothie in his hand, he gestured to Charlotte about his new-found snack. "You want some? I can get you one as well."
These organization names all sounded foreign to Irian, but the young lord was willing to shed lights on the individuals they were dealing with. In simple straightforward terms, they're trash, and they're here to take them out. Seemed like there were people like this in every kingdom and culture though. He did remember a couple of cases back in his settlements, thankfully most of them were just loose groups of low lives instead of an organized group like this.
In any cases, the plan was to get rid of their mounts and wipe them out. Simple enough, Irian did not think much of it other than to prepare. He did hear about the acid as a measure against armored opponents, but decided to opt out of, as his magic infusion were sufficient to pierce through most conventional armors he expects to face. It was also safer, considering acid is easy to hit yourself if not careful.
What he did hear though is the griffin rider's requests, and the horse recipe. Horse meats? That's a new to him. He held back the temptation to criticize it for now, since he had certain respects for nature's bravest and most humble animal, trying to let curiosity take the lead first.
"Is that for us or for Mr. Griffin there?" Irian came up next to Roger. "Never had horse meat before. You guys have it often?"
The journey north took almost a full day by train, and another few hours by snowmobile, and what John was greeted with wasn't a village of wonder and curiosity that sparked many cute fairy tales across the age, but instead silence - an eerie deafening silence. Right there, at the ends of a continent, a silent village sat there suffering from its accursed fate.
But by all means, it was nothing out of the ordinary for an event this calibre. Despite glowing reports from the governor there that the plague had already been contained, fear probably had yet to release its tight grip on its inhabitants. And it would continue so for at least a while longer after he would be gone.
The snow mobile slowly appeared inbetween the frozen treelines, two individuals stood in anticipation: Baron and Baroness Salovey of this tiny speck of land called Omyakon. Their governance was barely a footnote in Varian history, as the place was so remote no one wanted anything to do with the place. But today, they would be put under the spotlight by the Varian Institute, having an outbreak on their hands. Both spouses were shaking, not from cold, but anticipation.
"I don't trust that woman anymore, honey. Look at her, she's itching to snitch us out to the Institute." Baroness Salovey, a stern middle-aged woman, her curly black hair normally requiring high-maintenance cowered behind her large coat and hat, as she glanced back and forth between her bald husband and a blonde lady much younger than her standing at the distance.
"It does not matter how she looks." The Baron didn't even bother looking back at either, instead looking at the incoming snowmobile, that soon parked over at an empty snowfield, its driver and passengers disembarking. "This is their new guy. All new guys follow the books to bootlick their higher ups. Just follow my lead, give him what he wants and we'll be fine."
The driver with the snow goggle was accompanied by two gentlemen, one in military uniform and one wearing plain but sharp overcoat. It was not hard to identify who is who.
When John neared the two nobles, they both gave the doctor a simultaneous bow.
"Doctor Williamson. Omyakon is honored by your arrival." The Baron said.
"Deeply, deeply honored." The Baroness trailed behind.
"I understand the Institution is having a lot of questions regarding the situation, but be assured that we had everything under control..." The Baron continued, his voice monotonous. "Here is our full report...as well as all the individuals to be held accountable."
He handed John a few sheets of paper. The list of name was not important, John skimmed over the report worth lives over. And just like the previous report, it was shoddily written. Grammatical error and spelling error notwithstanding, they seem to lack the knowledge of what is a good report in general. The Barons wouldn't know it from looks alone, but John grew aware the moment they listed the only cause first in the report and then present evidence towards it. Especially combined with the list of responsible individuals, or as John would like to call it, lambs to the slaughterhouse. From his experience sticking around with Mina, it seemed awfully like they were interested in blaming someone.
"No."
A female voice spoke up from neither behind John nor in front of him. Stares of delirium were immediately sent that way.
"These men and women were not the ones responsible. I can attest on their behalf."
John raised his chin in curiosity, but the two nobles immediately intercepted her.
"Doctor Hania, I see you are continuing to spread information that goes against the best interests of Omyakon." The Baron sneered.
"It's not for or against anyone's best interests if it's a fact."
"Doctor Williamson, please forgive her uncouth manner. She lives and often works in solitude, so she can get a little cuckoo sometimes." The Baroness smiled, but John simply met the pretentiousness with a raised eyebrow. She turned back to the newcomer, seemingly confident in what she would say next. "Explain it to us, Doctor Hania. How is it that this plague is caused by magic?"
His eyebrows shot up even more. Magic. That's even more outlandish than the report said.
"That is not what I said."
"Oh it is exactly what you said, darling."
"I said it is influenced by a magical source, not that it was definitely caused by it."
"Oh? Then explain it to us, to Doctor Williamson here." The Baroness's voice churned. "How is it influenced by a magical source?"
The blonde girl suddenly found herself without words to say, especially as her peer, a man with much more power than her, one who with a stroke of a pen could easily ruin her life, was standing right there with his arms crossed. She grasped her coat with an arm, trying to avoid direct eye contact with John.
"I-I'm not ready to explain it at this time."
"As I presumed, there is no answer." The Baron responded, full of self-satisfaction.
"It's disgraceful, really. To think you are a doctor we entrust our lives to..."
John, having observed all three of them, were not really amused. He trusted none of these individuals, but from the brief conversation they had, there is a social dynamic going on here. Both the Barons were talking down to Hania, and addressed her as Doctor, meaning there might not be nobility going on with her. And by having the figurative 'victory' there, those Barons may be able to claim their bogus 'respiratory disease with necrosis and nosebleed' some authority and legitimacy, especially to Hamilton and Louis here, both of whom he did not expect to be aware of such technical knowledge. No, the authority to dictate the investigation should lie with him and him alone.
"If magic is not involved...then," John cleared his throat before speaking. "how do you explain necrosis and respiratory disease in the same sentence? Excuse my ignorance but I have never heard of a respiratory disease that causes your skin to die like that."
It was a bit of a lie. He could think of a few conditions, but they didn't know that. Neither might Hania...
"Honey, how is that the case?"
Works like a charm...
"I'm not sure myself. It could be a new disease..."
"You said it's a common regional disease though. You didn't read the report?"
"No no no Doctor Williamson, I have read the report. Ma-maybe you can talk to the doctors who wrote this instead of me?"
Holes had been poked, his authority had been secured. Now it is time to see who was the one speaking the truth.
"Very well, arrange a meeting with all doctors in this village. I want to hear everyone's perspective." Including this weird doctor here too.
Both Barons looked at each other, their nerves clearly been touched wrongly, but had to concede.
"It will be done, Doctor."
John remembered the ball a few days ago, he confessed being a fashionably boring person, wearing pretty much the same clothes everywhere until the day he is put into the ground. He wasn't kidding. With the exception of the coat, which John opted out due to the uninterruptible sun at its zenith, he looked quite similar to previous day's appearances. How this man, especially one who had lived in the cold north was able to withstand such heat in such stuffy clothes, science would have a field day. But one thing was for sure, it did not seem like he was interested in the water.
Having caught up with his sleep schedules, it was the first time John felt energized. He could finally embark on his lifelong mission: free breakfast. And today, the beach offered them. Its alluring aroma did not break him out of his composure, but it sure attracted him from stall to stall, enjoying a teensy bit of everything before moving onto the next, and then finally settling in with a large refreshment of strawberry-banana smoothie.
"Ah, good stuff. Good stuff." With a kid-like grin, he began trailing the shorelines but never really going close to the water. It was then that he noticed more familiar faces around here: Charlotte and Lorenzo. They were in the middle of a conversation with another woman and a man he thought was familiar. One of the Alidasht nobles? A pretty interesting one judging from his mannerism, and her visible discomfort. Noting that, John simply stood at a reasonable distance, waiting for Charlotte to notice a familiar face. It shouldn't take too long considering how out of place he looked.
It took a little while to go through everybody, but aside from that Boar member in disguise, every bodies in the barrack appeared to just be normal soldiers, no sign of the shards nor any additional Boar insignia.
"There's nothing else." Said Steffen as he returned to Fanilly, Amy and the mercenary lad. "Feel free to double check, however. A black shard is easy to miss."
His chest tightened again, but after the first time, Steffen navigated the bloody carnage more unperturbed. Starting with the bed nearest to the door, a soldier who didn't seem to have much of a struggle, a single stab wound visible, he flipped their body over, his clothed hand trailed the back of their neck. Nothing, just an innocent dead. One to hope they did not suffer long before departing.
Steffen laid the body back down on the bed gently without a sound, turning to the next victim. A group of them, definitely had a worse fate than the last, laid on one another in a pile, with the two top ones with cuts and bruises that had blackened to the hours. The bottom one did not possess the engravings of the Boars, but instead a bloody sword in his still firm grip. He must have died for the protection of others, a valiant death that deserved the salute Steffen made. However, the same could not be said for the other victim.
Holding the collar down, it was gold, not the color of blood nor the pale skin; the borders followed a familiar man-made path. It's a Golden Boar member.
Immediately, Steffen grabbed hold of this soldier one-handed by the neck, lifted him out of the pile and dropped him to the floor rather impetuously in the middle of the barracks.
"Here's one. I'll check the others, can someone look at him?"
Finally. Fucking finally. The Lions entertained, and now the host provided this weird doll that surprisingly had a more useful and benign purpose than expected. Was it worth all those battle for, his lingering annoyance still made it quite hard to decide.
But whatever, results are in and it was basically a tiresome test with extra marks and they succeeded. Irian was just waiting for orders for the final home stretch, but he remembered that even though no one died or was injured, there was still Lirrah who was still sobbing back there, even after the terror of battle had subsided. No, it was actually this time of the battle that trauma would settle in - The quietness, when there are no longer the sounds of clashing steel to distract oneself from confronting with what just happened.
Quietly, Irian slinged the bow behind his back before heading back out, the same opposite direction the Nem had guided him. He did tell her that everything would be alright, the best he could do was follow up with it.
"Lirrah." The elf waved at the pink-haired merchant as he emerged from the room with a huff, but when neared raised both palms up. "Everything is alright. She's gone." Seeing Kayliss's nudge to Cadmon regarding Lirrah made him recall the countless scrutiny he had under some uptight boss. It took a lot of thickening up to get used to it. "Let us get out of here, shall we?"
A dangerous mythical shard causing an uncontained burst of psychosis was not the last thing Steffen expected to hear, but it was still an interesting explanation. It was darn criminal though that the shard could just fall into the fort's hand and caused such a horrific disaster. Still, there were way more questions left unanswered. The mercenaries told them that their employers arranged them here - in this fort. Were the fort captain or some Thaln soldier the employer? Wolf Father forbid that ever to happen, lest they uncover an entire anthill of corruption as the shard should have been returned to the church's possession, not to this random group of 'who knows what' allegiances.
It seemed like they managed to bargain some cooperation though, work should begin to move thankfully. One step at a time: the shard first, and then the Boars.
"Well, if you want the shard found, let's get going, shall we?" Steffen exchanged a quick glance over at Amy, whose outburst had garnered a bit of derision from Sir Renar, and mostly ignored by the rest. Tough to say he had a point, but Steffen couldn't blame sentimentality, especially for one unfamiliar to horrors. Not to let the words dwell on for too long, the Ingvarr handed her a piece of cloth that the mercs had handed to the knights for the shard recovery.
"The barrack will need an extra searching hand." He stated plainly to the churchwoman, not letting his opinion on the matter materialize.
The door to the barrack was stuck and creaky, but a 'gentle' nudge freed it from its dormant state. And before him laid more bodies. It would take a while.
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