Crusader Lord

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Lillianna

It was quite a bit of walking they had to do. They had left early, early enough so that she hadn't been able to do her early morning exercise routine at least. All the same, the mage hadn't wanted to tire herself too much before heading out on the road either. It would be plenty of walking and moving about just to get to where they were going, and if they had to make camp before getting there so be it. Other than that, however, the mage was simply glad she'd been able to meet the new member and get to tell the rest of Second Chance her little side-mission to Cherrad along the way perhaps. In that vein of things, they were perhaps getting closer to said on-the-way destination as well. However...

“These enemies are vulnerable to elemental damage but regular weapons will not touch them,” the paladin told them all. “Unfortunately, there will likely be some innocent people who have had their minds enslaved by the wraith and stand in our way. We will have to spill blood. I know its hard but harden your hearts, because any hesitation will end in your death.”

Well, she was at least better prepared to fight whatever came when they would head into the Temples of Hades. At least in terms of appropriate damage types and so forth. The idea of having to kill innocent mind-warped individuals along the way wasn't exactly one that she looked forward to, though, but it also made sense that they'd have to deal with bloody and tough work. Lillianna herself had never been a soldier. She had tried to 'soldier on' at times, but that was as close as she'd gotten to that outside of the combat and near-death experiences she had within the Mazy Hillocks. Even then, the nightmares still came to her from time to time about her near-death experience....likely would still afflict her for some time to come at that. Easily.

But Barracker had been a curious sight to be introduced to, even if she was the last in the group proper to even get to do so. Albeit his true nature was something of a concern in general, but she could feel 'something' about him or on him that just screamed 'different' in the magical sense. Not that she had some 'extra sight', but-....eh, well it was limited to spirits really. Maybe it was just gut instinct then? Status of being a magic caster in general? Either way, he seemed earnest and willing to work and fight with them. Had some veterancy and experience as well, which was going to be very useful for them moving forward in her mind and was something she had verbally noted being thankful for about him after the two had been introduced.

"Afternoon there, adventurers," he greeted, tipping his hat. "You ain't, per chance, on business in the area, are you?" He pointed back the way he came. "The village of Cherrad's up yonder way. They're in dire straits, right now, what with Hades' Temple gone rogue 'nd all. They've been waiting for the Adventurer's Guild to send some help about that."

“Yes sir, we're Second Chance, and we took the job from the Guild. I'm Adam, it's nice to meet you. It's too bad what's happened there. Is there anything we should know about the temple so we aren't caught off guard? We're not from here so any help would be appreciated.”

Hmm. A friendly passerby was certainly a welcome sight, especially one that had information. Not that they didn't perhaps stand out like a sore thumb as adventureres really. So, eh, it was at least nice to get some information. The mage gave a causal friendly wave with her free hand, even as her other hand held her staff as a walking stick for the time being, but not wanting to interrupt the mage would allow Adam to speak to the man without jutting in verbally. In all honesty, she had gotten the information she wanted and needed from the man regardless without having to say a word! It certainly made things more convenient.

Though...how was Cherrad going to react to her asking around about a dead adventurer? It was certainly something odd, and she wasn't sure if it'd raise eyebrows or open some kind of old wounds. But regardless, she wanted to look into that man's history and past if she could. Learn more about the one who had helped save her life before the group has saved it not too long after she almost threw it away with her own two hands. Even now she still felt a small chill on the back of her neck and uncommfortable warmth in her arms and stomach just thinking about it all. Ugh.

"Oh right!" Rummaging through his pack he found what he was looking for, a set of 10 knives with scabbards greeted him, thanks to the whole "getting thrown in jail" thing he had forgotten he bought these, they weren't daggers or specialized knives, they were just utilitarian blades that he had gotten for his party members, in case they needed them.

One by one he passed them to their new owners "Here, a little extra something in case you ever need it"

"O-Oh, thank you James."

Lillianna accepted the new knife with mild surprise as she was knocked out of her train of thinking once more, but would gingerly put the tool inside of her bag of things for the time being as well. It was just a basic knife for survival utlity, it seemed, but all the same she was glad for it. Anything extra that might prove useful one way or another on or off of the road really. In that vein she was thankful, though hopefuly the passerby had some more good information to hand them in the meantime. Not that it was a guarantee, really, but she felt it prudent to get what they could along the way to the Temple proper. Anytthing that might help them do better, act better, or plan things out better than they'd had the pivledge of last time.

Made her for a second wonder if the souls of those dead party members were still there, back in the Mazy Hillocks, as well. She would, however, lightly shake her head side to side to try to help her brain sift out said thoughts all the same.

"Information? Hmmm," he thought about Adam's question, his eyes searching the party as he did so. "Well, s'gotta be at least twenty cult members up in that temple, to be sure. A small army, it must feel like. They've got weapons, magic and they're not afraid to come out and use 'em on the neigbouring villages."

At least if the wagon driver's information was reliable enough, that was certainly some good information to know ahead of time. Plus with them attacking neighboring villages it meant more trouble, perhaps trouble of the sort that Cherrad proper had tried to petition the Adventurer's Guild to provide help against at that. But no one sending help there? That was perhaps the oddest part unless it didn't pay enough to convince many adventurers to take up the task, among other potential reasons. Not a good sign of things, perhaps, in that sense.

The wagon driver didn't seem to take well to Barracker either, at least from how he looked at the native man in Lillianna's eyes, but in truth the mage wasn't very well-rehearsed on the other man's life and such otherwise. Heck, everyone else had gotten to seemingly know him a bit better than her in one way or another thus far to boot. But the time was still early, and there would be time and experiences to share that would allow her to get to know the other man better. More than that, hopefully this would allow them to better counter the threats ahead somewhat that they had just been informed about to boot.

As he looked at Barracker again, he was suddenly reminded of something that might be useful.

"Actually... there is something you ought'a know. The village of Wensleydale, a couple'a miles on other side o' Temple Hill: A man came to the village, last week, looking for help to rescue some injured folk who'd escaped the cult and were at the bottom of Temple Hill in need of some aid and escort. Wensleydale sent ten of their men with the man to go and get the escapee 'nd bring them back to safety. Only, it turned out t'was a trap. The man was actually a cultist who was luring in unsuspecting villagers for recruitment. One villager managed to get away but told that the rest were beaten and taken prisoner." The wagon driver shook his head. "It'll give a man nightmares wondering how they manage to brainwash innocent people. Be careful adventurers. This cult is not above using deception in it's evil workings."

Well...Barracker had been right about one thing regarding this mission in his warning prior to their departure. Mind controlled or forcibly-indoctrinated people were certainly going to be on the table for this.

Indeed, the would be perhaps to enough of an extent it ouright made the mage feel perhaps reasonably uncomfortable with the thought of having to kill a poor soul like that. Yet at the same time it was something her mind began trying to harden her up for at the same time to cope with the thought. If they were going to try to kill her, then, it stood to reason that she could defend herself and had to defend herself with potentially lethal measures without hesitating about it. This wasn't some modern court that penalized you for killing a knife-wielding robber in your own home, nor was it a perfect situation at all in the general sense really. A mess....was a mess....was a hell of a mess.

And if tropes were any indication, for all she knew Cherrad had a mole for the cult there who had been brainwashed already or something like that. Just ready to mess things up and turn a pit-stop into a madhouse. Ugh. But perhaps she was overthinking thing again in that sense, yes? Maybe it'd be a good side stop and they could gather what she was after there before continuing onward to the Temples of Hades.

Yet still, a light grimace came onto the mage's face as these thoughts crossed her mind, and her hand clutched her staff just a bit tighter.

Pokemon: Dream

Clarissa Ryte

Wailord's Rest Cafe, Industrial District, Byjerfal City

(Urban Exploration)

“Oh, you after them Murkrow? Ugh, those nuisances are always bullying Wobby here.” Beryl harrumphed.

“Wobbu…“ Wobbuffet shrunk slightly. Literally, deflating its body a bit at the mention of the Murkrow.

Sir Lopsalot would stare for a moment at the momentarily-deflated Wobbuffet, before lightly hopping off of Clarissa's shoulder. Lightly making his way over to the other Pokemon, the Buneary would lightly pat the sad Wobbuffet in what looked like a consoling sort of manner. Well, do more than just attempt to console the poor bullied Pokemon at least. He seemed to try to chatter with it, as if trying to encourage or motivate the poor soul, though what he was saying in particular was not something a human would likely understand at least.

"Bun...bun bun! Bun bun. Bun? Bun!"

The Buneary then looked back at Clarissa, giving her a small nod as their eyes breifly met, before returning to the other Pokemon to try to socialize with Wobbuffet at least. Though to the psychic trainer, it felt like....ah. Sir Lopsalot was getting even more heated to find those Murkrow himself now, wasn't he? Didn't seem to react until they'd been told the Wobbuffet was being bullied by them anyway. Hmm.

“Normally they ain’t out durin the day but if they were, they’re probably having a scuffle with them Starly that live over in the Resort and Commercial districts. Miss Keira loves those birds. If you wanna find some you might try your luck once night comes? Otherwise I think I saw a few roosting up in the roofs of some of the warehouses. There's a few of 'em normally roost out there by that old toy factory's roof, but uh, not easy getting up there and they usually got a huge flock. As for our menu…”

Miss Keira? That was the second time she'd heard that name mentioned since the airport, actually, from the mouth of the bodyguard who'd been glaring at her after a certain Valarie had pressured her into taking a VIP ticket. Ugh...she still had to go to that too later, unless she wanted to create more trouble for herself in a bad way. Plus it would be a bit too rude to not come, really. But maybe before then she could at least find a Murkrow to catch and call her own. Perhaps even get it to tell the cafe girl there was one less Murkrow to harass her own Pokemon? Er, she was still trying to think things through if they got to that point even.

"Who is Miss Keira, by the way? Someone at the airport earlier mentioned her near me as well, really, and that she likes Buneary as well. I'm a bit curious now."

It was certinaly a question worth asking now, since someone else had mentioned the mysterious woman's name. But to like the Murkrow as well as Buneary? A peculiar sort of style this person had when it came to Pokemon. Felt oddly familiar to her own tastes for the moment being, at least, as well.

But they at least had some information on where to go for getting a Murkrow during the daytime too. Old toy factory, she'd said? Plus resting in the roof of some warehouses at that. Could also wait for the night and after the contest and so forth was all over with as well, perhaps, but it at least made them easier to look for in terms of 'location' if nothing else. Though marching all the way to the Commercial District again or all the way to the Resort District just to look for Murkrow fighting the local Starly was not something of a motivator after making their way all the way over here. Hmm.

Beryl grinned, taking a few steps towards Clarissa. “...welll…how about this. Since you’re new trainers and its ya first time here how about I do a little favor. Half price anything ya want. As for our special, well, today its a stew made with fresh deep-sea fish, served with a loaf of fresh bread, and a few other things I would definitely totally recommend, promise.”

E-Eh?! The psychic was taken a little aback as she was snapped out of her thoughts by Beryl stepping a bit closer and grinning at her. Reminded her of Valarie back in the airport, and...ahhhhhabababababa...that was not something that was a fun memory right now at least. However, it was not nearly as disruptive as the crowded airport had been for her nerves if nothing else. Didn't feel as...'intrusive' either? That felt like the right word. Still, Beryl was enough to lightly rustle the psychic trainer for a brief moment before she returned to her usual re-asserted level of calm once more. This time at least without another nervous stu-

"T-Thank you, Miss Beryl, for your generosity. I'd be interested in the special for today, a-actually."

-never mind. Dangit.

Yet on a more famliar note, her family had been to the harbor before back in Orre and had some food there once in a while at the restaurant there. In that vein seafood wasn't a common thing for her, but it had been special to go out as a family in those days when they could spend time together. Her father was gone for long periods of time back when they lived in Orre, and it had been a bit lonely to say the least sometimes. Enough to get them to visit the lab and such every so often to see him, maybe talk a bit, before having to make the trip back home again. Sometimes he'd invite them along if he had to go to the port to oversee another import of Pokemon to the region on behalf of the lab. So the idea of a good stew with fresh bread and such was....a bit nostalgic to her as it had been described, really, if nothing else.

@Rune_Alchemist@Bartimaeus

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

@Lugubrious (See the above post. Apologies for forgetting your tag, and @Tortoise I will not be doing this mini tag-post again in the IC, please forgive me. T_T)

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Knossos Dreamwalker

At the mention of Ilgirian Red, Gru perked up slightly, stroking his whiskers as he cracked an intrigued smile that showed just the faintest hint of his crooked teeth. “An infusion, hmm? Well, you’ve come to the right place Mr. Dreamwalker. For a cheesemaker of my caliber, it’s certainly possible…” His eyes narrowed slightly as he pursed his lips, a hint of his general annoyance allowed to seep through in a way that invited sympathy.

Good old Gru certainly had his way about things, but despite many things about his person that scared some potential buyers from the man the occultist knew Gru's business sense and product quality were of a solid quality. But it was this part about the wine that he had figured would entice the cheesemaker most, at least based on his own gut instincts and observations of the rat-loving man thus far. A rare fine wine of appropriate value and cost that might tantalize the senses of a savvy businessman like a rat to cheese, and help make him more pliable for such a request in turn of course, no?

But that side, it seemed the interest was piqued well enough to get Gru thinking. Pondering. Schemeing? Whatever the case, the older occultist smiled back a little more for a moment.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid there’s a little…snag. For the chemical processes to proceed as they must, the wine infusion must occur in the curd stage, before the cheese is brined, introduced to mold, and aged. I’m sure I need not spell it out for someone as keen as yourself, but with no fresh milk for over a week now, my entire cheesemaking enterprise has tragically stopped dead.”

“Rest assured, however, that once I obtain fresh ingredients, I will be able to do all you’ve asked and more. And since you’re supplying the wine, why, I’ll even infuse it at no additional cost. A custom ‘Ubriaco Ilgirio’, how does that sound?” Gru tempted his fingers, peering at Knossos. “If you like, I can take the bottle off your hands so that it’s on hand the moment I’m able to begin. Rest assured it will be safe and secure in my rack–and that I’d never dream of appropriating any for myself, of course.”

Hmmm. That was certainly a bit of a sore spot for getting such a cheese made. It certainly wouldn't do for getting his request fulfilled sooner rather than later, but alas it was the way of the world that (in more areas than one) a lack of resources brought on complications and other problems as a result. Poor Gru was simply devastated he couldn't being work as soon as he could on this....haha. Ah, he held no ill-will to the miserly man, truly, but the man knew how to do business well. Albeit something about the man in a minor sense reminded him of some of thoser he'd met in the old cults still, perhaps in the sense of business-oriented charisma and shrewdness in business dealings some of them had engaged in prior to get what they wanted.

"I can certainly get the bottle to you this evening, after I help deal with the current problems Athulwin has summoned me for. Perhaps I could even find a couple small glasses in my things before then, that we could perhaps get but a small taste before I hand you the rest, hmm?. Ah, but ultimately I naturally do trust your judgement and rack to keep the bottle safe of course. You are a superb businessman, one whose product quality and integrity speaks volumes."

It was also this sort of thing Knossos had felt was one of the factors that kept the caravan's constant traveling fresh and exciting, running into those with differing skills and enigma about them. Getting to comission and try new things. See new places. Etc. Well, all of these among a number of other factors or such things of course. But as long as they were all peaceable and no harm was done, all was well. Good business was also its own reward, and even he could understand that logic in his own field.

"A fine large wheel of 'Ubriaco Ilgirio' should frankly be quite an exquisite product, no? Though once the final product is finished and handed over proper...well, I've no use for 'leftovers' of the wine at that stage of things, yes? But there'd be no sense letting such go to waste either.

But until then, I shall see you later! I do not wish to arrive too late to the business at hand. Espeically with regards to our more 'exciteable' members as it were..."

One could call it a 'small bonus' if anything, perhaps, a small token gift to the cheesemaker for him to enjoy. Or, well, if the rats bothered to drink at all either for that matter. Perhaps they'd even wear fancy tiny hats when doing so? Haha! But yes, it would do nicely.

In that vein the occultist would give a polite farewell wave to the cheesemaker before he would begin walking along once more, hoping to move along and get to the front of the caravan before it was too late. He wasn't lying as his tone has slightly shifted when mentioning the 'exciteable' members of their company. Good people for the most part at least, but if he had to stop a certain someone from animating ANOTHER wooden wagon or bail someone out of a occult situation after being late to the party....yeah. It wasn't always the most pretty sort of thing to have to deal with. Likely wouldn't be the last time for something like that really. That and they had the forest to worry about as well!

Hmm, perhaps he'd give Athulwin a message to pass around via messengers, so hopefully the others could be careful enough to not anger the living being surrounding them in the literal sense. That seemed like a goo-

_{Sometime Later}

-...nope.

All Knossos had managed was a passing mention to Athulwin about 'tell them to not hack down a bunch of living limbs or trees' and he'd had to hit the road in a hurry to catch up. In particular, he had to catch up with a party of people seeking to just run in and fight the undead. Yes, because attacking first and asking questions later worked for just everything! Well, in some cases it was the best really. Just was not the best in every situation, and in this case if the information he'd gotten from Athulwin was right then the undead were seemingly just trying to scare off or talk to others for the moment being. Hopefully. Key word being hopefully.

Yet the eventually palpable presence of dark energies in the distane did catch his more megically-inclined senses, however, and was at least one way to find a 'tomb filled with undead' yes. the closer the Dreamwalker came to the destination, though, the more nuances he felt somewhat coming from it as well as he felt its energies from afar somewhat. A sort of 'oldness', more like 'ancient-ness' really, and the bustling of negative emotions that were such a swirling and winding cluster overall it made them harder to pick out individually. It differed rather starkly from how the presence of the forest itself, and the thrum of life and magic that seemed to course through it like lifeblood in one way or another.

Likewise, though, the atmosphere of things as he began to get within a certain distance of the tombs began to palpably change to him. Denser. Grosser. Fouler. 'Ickier', even, were among the terms he could apply to it from his own perspective. So too could he describe it as feeling 'warped' and 'twisted' in the magical sense. All of this more so the deeper he got in! Like a sort of anger or ill-intent was in the air, perhaps on the part of the still pulsing-with-life forest, which was focused on the tombs the closer one got to them? Maybe it was something stemming from the tombs. Or perhaps it was something else, like a malignant curse, pechance? The sort born from areas where mass deaths had occured, or where a great deal of intense emotions infused into an area or place amalgamated into something of or like unto a curse naturally. Yet this too was simply a guess to the occultist, as all he knew for sure was that he didn't like what he was feeling.

However, familiar figures would eventually come into view as the older man ran over, waving at the group in a sligtly exasperated manner as he jogged over to them with a final burst of energy.

The tomb loomed ahead, a shadowy edifice standing in stark contrast to the surrounding forest. It was a place of foreboding darkness and chilling silence. The once-green canopy of trees gave way to gnarled, skeletal branches that clawed at the sky, casting elongated, eerie shadows that seemed to reach out towards any intruders.

The entrance to the tomb was an imposing archway, its stone facade weathered and cracked with age. The carvings that adorned the entrance had long lost their intricate details, leaving only ominous, indistinct shapes. The air around the tomb was unnaturally cold, as though it sapped the warmth from anyone who dared approach.

The tomb's entrance yawned open, like a hungry maw, inviting others into its dark depths and a spooky mist hung around the entrance, enhancing the dreadful feeling. The very walls seemed to whisper with a mournful, spectral wind that sent shivers down their spines.

Still didn't make the location any more pleasant, especially as the swirling of dark energies and magic hit its climax as he approached the primary entrance to the tombs proper. It was disgusting, it was horrible, and yet it was something he almost felt oddly comfortable in at the same time. It was both reminiscent of the final place he'd joined a cult, really, after the...disaster had occured. Ahem. Yes. Now that memory wasn't a pleasant one, sending a small shiver down his spine. Luckily, though, it was not as overwhemlingly potent in this aura by far as that 'other' place had been to him back then.

And if they were lucky, they'd never travel by that place ever. Ever. Never ever, even.

"Thank goodness you three haven't gone in yet," Knossos said, his breaths still trying to catch up from his sprint to catch up with them from a little ways behind admittedly, as he tried to address the group, "There's no telling what kind of undead lurk here, but the information Athulwin got noted that something talked to the other people who came by here. If there's any chance the same thing approached us, we could at least try to see if-"

Clack Clack Clatter

"Hmm?"

The occultist's eyes were drawn toward the entrance to the tombs, mostly as a sound began to faintly emanate from it.

Clatter Clatter Clack

A rustling sound, like many pieces of wod clacking and clattering together in the wind after being suspended by rope or string. It didn't sound very hasty, for what it was worth, more like it was casually-moving in some sense. Ah, akin to a gentle breeze if he went back to the wood example he'd made in his mind there. Yet all the same, the noise was getting louder and closer as it seemingly came closer to them. So too, as it got closer, would the light rapping of metal against metal be audible in turn. Even the sound of something dragging a bit, really...

...perhaps he was getting his wish to see what those who had talked to Athulwin had seen. Maybe. Right? If it was, perhaps they'd get a change to at least hear it speak or something. In that vein, the occultist would reach quickly into his the bag attached to his hip to try to fish out the right tome. He didn't much have normal magic to work with, and so he hoped to grab something to help him 'translate' potentially.

Albeit he had no idea how the others would react to all of this. Galaxor was a fight-happy height-challenged giant in what little time he'd tried to talk with or been around the man. Ivraan seemed to be the adventerous and optimistic sort, and he'd been able to get more of a read on the younger half-elf in at least the past three years. And Nemeia had been at least peaceful and such on the average seemingly, he'd come to respect that, but he'd also seen a fair share if not more so of foreign clerics and paladins who went 'SMITE SMITE SMITE' first and asked questions later and always worried about that. Far from 'all' of the ones he'd seen having been like that most definitely, but that had been a sort of thing he'd seen among such professions before in some places at least and did worry about yes.

"Here's to hoping whatever is coming wants to also just talk to us first..."

Or it would all fall apart in less than ten seconds of whatever it was becoming visible to the group. Either way, right? But at least whatever was coming wasn't moving fast by any means for the time being.

@twannyman@Timemaster@Abstract Proxy

The New Marvels: An Avengers Academy RP

Alcides

Location: Queens, New York; Avengers Academy

---

To fly at the speed of Mach 1 was something he had become accustomed enough to by this point in time, and yet he attempted to imagine how it would be for a 'normal person'. Hmm. Terrifying? Exciting? He could only take a swing and a guess at this point as the Aegis zoomed along through the air, moving along with what seemed like all the wanton speed of a reckless teenager but was really the piloting of a most skilled operator. It was cheaper and frankly more efficient if he flew himself to the Academy, though admittedly SHIELD had wanted to transport the suit and him separately to get to a designated airport beforehand. From there he'd gotten permission to fly to the Academy proper from ah....well, a ways from outside of New York at least. Either way he could cross the distance in record time, and he'd chosen to breifly test hitting Mach 1 for the time being on his way over.

The urban landscape was certainly something to behold as he zoomed in, even if Jason couldn't fully stop his brain from observing vantage points and taking mental notes of potential places to take up cover. All the same, he could notice the occasional turned head as he streaked by. This was the home turf of one "Iron Man", though....ahem. Yes, he hoped there wouldn't be any confusion in this particular situation with the locals residents. It would be a bit awkward to have to tell people Iron Man wasn't suddenly flying in the skies again right now. Er....would it be that awkward at least? He hadn't a single idea, but it wasn't enough to frazzle him one bit as the red-suited pilot directed himself toward the Academy as his sensors gave him constant data and updates along the way (among other things).

Yet as he neared his visible destination, sensors giving him a picture of the courtyard statue to see ahead of time-

'Superhuman vital signs detected in concentration. Analyzing...

Courtyard: Eight vital signs.

Nearby Street: Three vital signs.

Perform threat analysis?'

No, no he didn't need a threat analysis at this point in time. Not that he was going into a hostile location though, at least in theory, but while he had already browsed the address and GPS location prior it simply helped further confirm things to a perhaps 'excessive' degree. Whatever the case, the frontal thrusters began to kick in as 'Alcidies' sought to slow down in a calculated hurry. Didn't want to overshoot his destination, nor did he really want to just land in the courtyard too directly perhaps either. Hmm. Property damage was not something cheap, from what he'd learned of things, even if the ones funding the Academy were certianly on the wealthier side.

Even so, as he began his landing the younger man would leave a last message over the comms to the airport team who had brought him in.

'Arriving at the destination and proceeding to land, over.

Is anything else needed on your end?'

'Roger that, Alcides. Field team will be cutting the channel and returning to base. Over and out.'

Streetside, close enough to the parents and 'Uncle' of the 'Crimson Angel' herself, a suit of armor would seem to almost fall out of the sky as it came to a stop and tried to make a landing. Albeit the pilot inside of said suit had seen where they were and adjusted his landing accordingly during his descent, using thrusters to slow himself to some extent. Though rather than a gentle landing-

'SLAM!!!'

-...he had always wanted to do one of those 'heroic landings' really. Taking a knee with a fist hitting the ground below to help stop him. Call it a 'guilty pleasure' the armored Jason had wanted to indulge for but a moment of breif unprofessionalism, as it were, though at least the impact hadn't been enough to break the sidewalk beyond a good many 'milder' cracks now visioble all over the surface of said segments of sidewalk admittedly. With a smooth motion the armored future-hero would stand back up, looking at the damage with a mild sigh of self-dissapointment audible from his helmet before looking back at the three older heroes behind him.

"Apologies for the sudden landing. Was a narrow landing window on my end, and I slightly miscalculated the thrust to slow my decent."

With an attempt at a small nod to the three, the red armored suit walked forward to go into the courtyard. Had anyone else heard that? Er, someone had likely heard it from inside...yes. But maybe it'd make his method of arrival a little less startling? Hmm. Either way Jason would try to shake it off as he walked inside, his breathing steady and his stride both disciplined and professional. He didn't want to come off as a reckless child, but all the same he would make a proper introduction while he had the chance. Not that he was the first to arrive here anyways, or had been aiming to be such at that.

As he walked into the courtyard, the visage of the obvvious statue itself loomed overhead above Jason like a towering monument. Which is, well, perhaps just what it was really. His suit's sensors could make out the faces of those depicted on it rapidly, though it made the child soldier wonder how much they had to pay to make such a piece. Mostly given how many were, well, depicted by the statue itself! There had been quite a lot of Avengers before, hadn't there? However, he had to compliment the structural integrity of the piece based on initial analysis of its composition. A good structure and artistic piece, but ill-suited to hiding behind in combat.

"It's not about where you were born, or what powers you have, or what you wear in your chest; it's about what you do."

Yet as his vision caught the plaque at the bottom, he couldn't hlep but stop for a moment and take a breif pause of (continued) silence. A message directed to try to encourage the newcoming 'students', no doubt, and yet it felt like a small chord was struck within his brain all the same. 'It's about what you do'. Wasn't the first time he'd heard that, albeit the first time had been in a conversation, but it was also a gopd reminder that perhaps Mr. Wilson would be already on the premises here somewhere as well. At least, whenever he ran into the man again or the like.

Giving another small, but respectuflly-intended, nod at the statue, he would walk further into the courtyard of the Academy. Walking toward the jolly green giant he could see even without the suit on, Jason would in turn walk somewhat up toward Professor Hulk and the seeming ensemble of fellow students forming around him. The helmet on the suit would then retract, as while he wasn't walking up to shake his hadn or anything he did want to get close enough to give a proper greeting at least.

"Greetings, Headmaster. Jason Smith, reporting in. I'll rest a short bit before moving my suit to the garage as I was instructed prior to my arrival."

With that, and another brief yet small nod to his new Headmaster, Jason would begin walking to the side and away from the crowd to find a spot to sit on the grass. Somewhere out of the path, but not too far away from another younger man who seemed to be sitting on a stone bench close to where the armored soon-to-be hero decided to sit down gently on the grass. Even so, Jason left his helmet down. pulling one leg close as he tilted his head back to look up at the blue sky above him. He then closed his eyes, took in a slow but deep breath, and let it out just as slowly.

It was the second-ever 'first day of school' he'd ever had, technically speaking, but at least this time it was a more pleasant one entirely than the previous instance. He was already thankful for that much.

Pokemon: Dream

Clarissa Ryte

Wailord's Rest Cafe, Industrial District, Byjerfal City

(Urban Exploration)

So far Ripley seemed to be going along for the ride, in a sense, rather than differ much for the time being. Hmm. Well, if the boy wanted to interject with someting she'd at least listen. Otherwise, for now it seemed, they would head on to the cafe to get a look at things. Perhaps they could find some good information here, or if nothing else a battle or so to train their existing Pokemon some if nothing else. But more so the psychic wanted to see if there was anything that could lead them to those dark bird Pokemon. What had Ripley called them again? 'Murkrow'? Seemed curious enough a creature if nothing else, so catching one felt like something she herself wanted to do. Ripley seemed well enough to catching one himself, perhaps, at that. That much was a small relief.

Yet as they entered the cafe proper-

“Gooood afternoon people! Welcome to Wailords rest! I’m your server this evening.”

“Wobbuffet!” A salute and a friendly greeting from a Wobbuffet standing next to her echoed her friendly greeting.

“Technically, also the only server! And chef! First time here? You don’t look like our usual clientele. We’ve got everything you could want! From hearty fresh sea-food, luscious fresh never frozen greens and I can make you any cake you want! The names Beryl, by the way!”

Beryl - The Sweetest Chef in Byjerfal

Clarissa nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden surprise, having been looking to the side as they walked in for a moment, even if Sir Lopsalot wasn't quite as surprised as her perhaps. This before letting out a small but quiet sigh as she regained her composure once more. In and out. Breathe. Whew. The woman seemed at least happy and cheery, and the peculiar blue Pokemon with her was certianly a sight of its own. It did make sense to note the two of them weren't exactly 'local' or 'standard' clientele perhaps, but a warm welcome was certinaly not a bad thing either in this case perhaps.

Either way, she didn't want to get overly sidetracked before moving in on their quarry. In that vein the psychic would extend her powers out some, simply seeking to get a read of emotions in the room. Just in case anything suspicious or pertinent might come up if they had to ask around a bit for potential information. Likewise Clarissa raised up her, might as well call it a Pokedex, device to get information on the Pokemon Beryl had with her. Might as well, right? No harm no foul.

"It's good to meet you, Miss Beryl. We're actually a couple of new trainers who are trying to track down some Murkrow we followed in this direction, and are curious if you or anyone you might know here would know where they could be hiding really."

The woman had also mentioned quite a bit of food though. Sure she didn't have big jet lag or such, it was a rather local flight she'd taken to get to Byjerfal City after all, but she hadn't eaten since before the flight either. At the same time, though, she didn't want to spend too much money to start off with! She had to battle other trainers to get some change, and as it was they only had five Pokeballs and not many potions each. Had to think of supplies as well, and-

*rumble grumble*

"Bun. Bun bun bun bun!"

Sir Lopsalot lightly tapped the back of her head, even as the psychic breifly put a hand to her own loudly rumbling stomach. Yes...she hadn't quite had too much food as of yet. Had to eat something before they left, perhaps? Maybe. Ugh. Perhaps she should have packed those food bars her mom had wanted to send her with, weight of them she would ahve to carry be damned. The bunny himself was oft to comment on suich things, given her own propensity to...e-er...sometimes get too absorbed into what she was doing r-really.

"A-Also I'm curious if you have anything on the cheaper end of things on the menu, perhaps? Or some kind of special maybe?"

The psychic's tone was slightly defeated sounding by nature, even as she tried to stay courdial and professional in her manner.

Clarissa had heard cafes or such might have such a thing as a 'special', right? Or at least the few restaurants she'd ever been to seemed to have one back in Orre. But this wasn't Orre anymore, even if the presence of the Sailors was certainly one she was more accustomed to, it was Eidda and she was trying to find some Pokemon to catch! Then they could go wherever Ripley wanted next, hopefully after trying to bag a Murkrow and doing so. Mostly she wanted to get back out there more than not, but all the same she couldn't go hungry without hurting herself in the process. And Sir Lopsalot going hungry....no. She wasn't going to let that happen ever again if she could help it.

Her head turned back toward Ripley and his own little Pokemon in turn, hoping to get their thoughts on maybe a small bite to eat as they sought after information here before heading back out there.

@Bartimaeus@Rune_Alchemist

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

<Snipped quote by Expendable>

The Half-and-Half Club.

I'd call you halflings but that name is taken.

@Tortoise

"Halvers" can't be choosers, Tort. :P

Ba Dum Tiss!

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Knossos Dreamwalker

It had been a splendid morning, in the mind of the Dreamwalker, despite the sour mood of the animals. The verdantly beautiful scenery of the forest simply called "Emerald" was certainly a more unique sight than the ones he'd seen in the past few years, the air was warm with a bright and sunny warmth, and the fact the forest hadn't decided to swarm them in Feral Lionbears was certainly something he was glad for as well. One could feel how 'alive' this place was, both metaphorically and in the literal sense, and a Living Forest wasn't exactly something he was going to see every day either! It was fascinating, though he hoped the forest would let them through long enough to get to the other side. A druid he was not, but....eh, if it came down to it he could try to communicate? Maybe? He'd have to maybe thumb again through a particular tome he had finished reading through a few nights ago after some weeks on the road. Well, said tome was more like a journal that had been used to compile someone's notes on native occult art and practices in some peculiar jungle far away at least.

Though after having gone so far to pull the carts and pieces of the caravan along, he also felt like he couldn't blame the animals for needing to rest at least. Except for that slug wagon. It was kept near the rear of the company for a reason, given the slippery trails it left on the path that could make some other animals slip and trip! Last thing they needed was that to happen to anyone, especially when the other animals were getting tired. Though according to said beast's driver, the creature could move quite fast when it wanted to and especially fast if it one held a rotting carrot on a stick in front of its face. Hmm. Still, he did want to go back one day and talk to the driver he'd seen a couple of days ago being pulled along by that pair of titanic centipedes if he got the chance....and preferrablly after those things were fed already to boot. Sure they helped ward off some predators from that part of the caravan, but if anyone got eaten that was not going to help the driver's case!

Still, as he was pondering things while his mostly mundane-looking and well-covered (wooden walls and a nice little roof to boot) wagon pulled itself along on its own he felt some means of thanks to the Vilkyn for that much at least. The rest of the things they'd done to others? Ah, no thanks he was fine with that. Making a mana-gem-powered self-driving-and-stopping traveling wagon though? It had taken a few years to get and make the components for it, but it was so very worth it compared to what he'd had before. Pfft. Having to conjure some wiggling monstrosities to pull it was simple and all, but having to get permits or temporarily dismiss them or coming up with some excuse every time a paladin or war cleric or such came over his direction when they stopped in the larger cities eventually became a bit of a constant headache for him there.

"Knossos, O Walker of Dreams. What do you know of undead and old tombs? More than I would like, I imagine. We are very near to some of both. Ready your occult knowledge close at hand to protect us. But, please, spare my sensibilities the details."

Athulwin was not a bad navigator, he had to give him credit, but the man was as lazy as anything sometimes. Not that magic didn't make it easy to send some quick messages about the Caravan, so perhaps his passing thought there was a bit moot. But if it came to chopping wood or other such hard labors? That was where he felt most correct in that thought about the other man, really, and more secure in it. Still, he didn't mean Athulwin any bad or ill-intent, nor would be speak about the man like that behind his back. His personal thoughts were just that, personal and private and subject to change. Besides, he hadn't a clue about the other man's past or history for that matter....but he knew one thing for sure since he'd first seen him:

Dark magic clung to the monk-like man like parasite, the aura feeling to the occultist as if it was leeching and drinking from Athluwin like some kind of horrid cup of living wine. A horrible curse likely cast on a horrible night, if trends for such things lent themselves to taking a guess, and placed on one who seemed to be a sort of monk of all things. He could sense it, feel it even, from the other man. Likewise the other man had been watching him for some time, as if wary somehow about him since that they had shaken hands the night he'd introduced himself to Athulwin. Was it a case of 'had bad experiences with dark magic' or perhaps a case of 'it takes one to know one' though? In the end, it mostly didn't matter if they kept things peaceable between them. He'd tried to only ever be genuine and friendly in return, and even shared some meals with the other man over the past several years to boot. No issues. Not trying to get rid of him. None of it. And if Athluwin wasn't prying into him, he wasn't going to do it in return either out of mutual respect and precaution.

Not that he was the only other one there with some kind of dark magic palpable on them, even if Athluwin was the most perceptible to him thus far. Everyone had secrets to hide, it seemed, after all. He'd only pry or do his thing with more 'cloak and dagger' type discreetness if they made themselves a danger to them all or the caravan as a whole.

"Alright, Athulwin, I'll come up there to see what's going on."

Speaking in a pleasant, yet calm, matter-of fact tone to the airy magical messenger, the occult expert of the caravan would sit up from his spot at the covered driver's seat of the wagon as it pulled over to the side where he had his own little spot. From here the magic-user would lightly hope off of the wagon, before stretching his arms and legs. He didn't need to worry about anything trying to steal from the wagon at least, if nothing else. A few well-placed wards and the like generally kept it secure, really, just as they had before the wagon was turned into csone animated construct. Albeit occasionaly pests would still try to get into the wooden wagon for his rations or such, and the magical wards and such would of course kill them, but he didn't want to hurt anything innocent. In that vein he'd been up-front with the local cheese-maker of the company to make sure his rats were careful, as he had warded his wagon for very good reasons. The magical bag he had attachedto his left hip currently held much, if not his most precious and dangerous, things. The wagon though? It contained and had a lot of things locked up in there for safety's sake and containment, ranging from harmless supplies to a small hanful of things which had also been repurposed for helping in defending or making the magically-moved wagon by this point in time.

Beginning his walk to the front of the caravan, however, the older man glanced at anyone else along the way who seemed to be heading the same direction as he was or at least looked like they were preparing to. Along the way his nose, however, picked up a familiar and yet pleasant aroma. Ah. He knew whose wagon was coming up along the way.

"Good day to you, Gru."

Knossos gave a polite nod to the peculiar and portly little cheese-maker, whose wagon was pulled by rats. Tight with the money, always a bit of a miser, and yet someone who made rather high-quality product and cared more for his rats than perhaps many would ever take the tie to notice. Had seemed to always peddle his wares and goods, but from what he'd seen and heard nothing bad had come from it all. For one thing, the cheese wasn't turning into a monster and eating people or the sort, nor did it seem to be tainted by dark magic. Hold the traces of it here and there? Yes, he could percieve that much, but a trace of something was definitely still different than being imbued or infused with something. From the start he could feel something lingering on the man and that wagon of his, but had kept his mouth shut and minded his own business to see how Gru would conduct himself in those initial weeks.

Safe to say, the cheese-maker seemed to be doing that and just that: Making cheese and caring for his rats. And he was glad for it!

In that vein he'd always tried to treat the other man kindly and fairly in turn as well, even purchasing different cheeses here and there at more spread-out times. Not that he was as perhaps prolific a customer as he felt Athulwin was, really, but if the monk was part-rat and loved his cheese then so be it! No judgement there. Meanwhile he only tried to appoach to try particular things at times, maybe look into a particular delicacy he'd been curious about. Maybe offering part of the supplies to try to help the-, oh!

Knossos took pause for a moment near Gru, turning his head back to him with a small smile on his face.

"Apologies, but I did want to also tell you I've finally found that bottle of fine but rather rare vintage Ilgirian Coast Red Wine I mentioned that I got back three months ago from one of my more 'affluent' clients. Apparently I kept it in my magical bag at the time, but after digging it out I've put it back in my wagon in its proper storage place. I was still curious if you could infuse it into a fine cheese for me, perhaps?"

A fine wine-infused cheese. Not something Knossos could at least remember seeing often at all, save for a few choice places in the last few years. He had been curious about it, but blast it all he'd forgotten where the bottle was initially! Still, he hoped it wouldn't be too much of a bother to ask the cheese-maker. He was providing the rare wine for it at least, if nothing else, so maybe it'd help the price a little bit?

Whatever the case, he wanted to check with Gru about the small matter of that before he would finish making his way to where Althuwin and anyone else the man had summoned would likely be.

@Lugubrious@Tortoise

Pokemon: Dream

Clarissa Ryte

Industrial District, Byjerfal City

(Urban Exploration)

"Hmmm."

"Chasing Murkrow seems like fun! I'm cool with whichever choice, but I reckon you're more excited to follow them birds more than anything, huh? If that is the case, let's do it!"

Had she seemed that excited? Maybe. Clarissa peronsally had no idea, but as they moved on to enter the Industrial District on the tail of the flying bird Pokemon proper.

Heading away from the Commercial district, towards the docks, and following the seaside to the Industrial district would be the easiest way to get there. Eventually the noise of the loud ads, the cacophony of different voices from tourists would be a distant noise replaced by the sound of silently humming machines, bird song and the sound of an occasional worker or vehicle moving by. Skyscrapers instead gave way to warehouses, row upon row of them along with other industrial buildings for shipping, manufacturing.

A gloomy serenity would fill the area left behind by Bjyerlfals commercial district. Even the people here were more rough and tumble looking compared to the commercial district's more glamorous and shiny exterior.

Despite their efforts, however, the flock would disappear from sight despite it all. they would soon find they had...ah...

"Bun..."

Yes. They had lost the trail of the flock. And the scenery was becoming more and more sketchy by the moment frankly. Dark, gloomy, and yet where some more nocturnal Pokemon like those birds might be hiding out really during the day. At the same time, though, it was becoming more and more familiar to her in some distant sense all the same. Though if those birds were perhaps nocturnal, what had made them come out in the day in such a case? Hmm. Either way, the psychic trainer did not want to think too hard on things in that sense.

They could hear a few Murkrow cries coming from further in, down some alleys but the place didn’t exactly seem the safest place to go poking about in. Still, even this place had a few things of note.

A small chain of shops, and even a small cafe named ‘Wailords Rest’ was visible lining the walls. Seemed fairly cozy and well traveled. It faced the sea and a number of sailors from the SS calliope, the recently docked liner could be seen here. Looked like there was some commotion within.

They had for now, though, lost the trail of the Murkrow. They might need to either ask around or find some way to look for the pokemon.

Sir Lopsalot's ears perked up at the sound as well, turning in the general direction as he poked his trainer to get her attention. He then looked over at Ripley as well, before he gestured down the general direction he'd heard the cries in. Why these trainers wanted to go down into such a place was beyond him, but he was stciking by his trainer no matter what! Or at least that was what the bunny might've said if he had the ability to speak to humans. What was he, some strange foreign Meowth from afar who was talking to humans and trying to steal from a mere child for over two decades? Pfft.

"Well, certainly the alleys could be hiding some Pokemon. Sir Lopsalot seems to agree as well. Not that it would be very safe perhaps, but we could find something hiding or sleeping amidst the trash and such in the alleys perhaps. Hmm..."

Clarissa's right hand came up to her chin in mild thought. Indeed it would be those alleys where some Pokemon might be found in particular. No risk no reward, yes? Or that was how the saying went. She'd been around some sketchy enough areas to at least understand how to navigate such things in a rough sense perhaps, though she'd never been in this particular city before either. Either way she seemed almost at a certain neutral ease, perhaps, keeping aware and yet seemingly adjusted well enough to such an area as the Indistrial District. At least, so told her body language of all things. Facially she remained ever the usual stoic, as it were, her eyes flickering about the sights to try to help think of something.

Ultimately, however, Clarissa's gaze would fall squarely upon the cafe called "Wailord's Rest".

"Should we see if the local cafe here knows anything? It seems well-used, and perhaps the staff might have seen these Pokekmon fly by or heard rumors or the like before about where they hang out? Something of the sort.

Do you have any suggestions?"

Her tone was formal enough about it, but the matter at hand was certianly one that the psychic wanted to have them both weigh-in on at least. If Ripley had no qualms she head with him to the Wailord's Rest Cafe and see if anyone in there had some idea. Worst case she got to ask some sailor hopping in these if he or she knew anything about Pokemon in the area here, perhaps, or a member of staff could point them in another direction within the district to look for clues? If nothing else, it was a start.

But if Ripley had a partiular idea, she'd not want to jump the gun if he had his own suggestions as well. No sense being in a group without getting an opinion, right? Besides, it wasn't as if some Pokemon was literally going to jump out at them from the trash as she learned to simply peer a little curiously into the closest alley to them in the meantime. She was still looking back to Ripley, after all, to listen to him as well and let him know she wa still paying attention to whatever he had to say if nothing else.

@Bartimaeus@Rune_Alchemist

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Will post tomorrow or Friday here! Have to...well, catch up elsewhere as well as do some irl things. (@_@)