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2 yrs ago
I crave death
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Everything I learnt about NFTs have been non-consensual
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while(inDream=true) {otaku.salary()+=}
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I don't know who this Boltzmann fella is but he owes me a physics test and a whole lotta trouble
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Can someone please explain why my discords are on fire about this forum right now? I just woke up and I don't have enough coffee to read a bazillion status updates
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Bio



Most Recent Posts

Lein



Location: Route to Blacksmith's Forge
Interactions: @Raineh Daze



So one of those stone-faces, eh. The bluntness of her response was hardly surprising, but nonetheless informative. He could reasonably rule out her being sent by the witch or Hadrianus. Her brazen presence was here to intimidate, or perhaps whoever sent Rui didn't really care whether Rui made herself known. That left: rival houses from Ithillin, the royals from the Thalnese ball and someone targeting the Roses by proxy. Lein wasn't important enough to be specifically targeted by the latter two, and the former would not hire someone from foreign lands. Another possibility popped into Lein's head, though his ears twitched just thinking of it. That strange nightmare that Lein still couldn't clarify in his memory, and a dream that had similarly plagued many of his colleges. Something about an endless battle under the gaze of a voyeuristic woman. And the most knowledgeable one to ask about this weird dream magic would be...urgh.

"I'm honored, but instructed by who?" Lein said, apparently amused. Lein knew full well that the answer would probably be some species of 'I cannot say' or 'An interested party', but he also knew that these types also operated on the policy of never illuminating information unless directly asked. "C'mon, these are supposed to be at Ardor's by now, and I'm not letting him get cranky for me." He maneuvered the wheelbarrow past the leproine swordswoman and trundled along to the forge, inviting Rui to follow.
Lein



Location: Route to Blacksmith's Forge
Interactions: @Raineh Daze



Lein stayed his grip on the wheelbarrow containing a pile of broken weapons he took off an apprentice's hands, not letting his surprise at both the suddenness of the visitor's appearance and curious attire catch him out. Lein had heard of the leporine people before, though this was the first time Lein had met them in person. Far, far lands that spoke tongues and dreams utterly foreign yet grand in its own styles. Wild rumors of vulpine and winged peoples, spoken of both glowingly and with a seasoning of wariness by traders of endless speculations. Never had he so much denied the truthfulness of these rumors, but it was yet a little surreal to have such a confirmation dropped right in front of him, apparently materializing straight from the air. And even by those standards, this swords-woman yet distinguished herself with scars and weaponry holding tales of struggle, a missing arm matching Lein's.

Fascinating as she looked and dressed, it was hardly the first time that a complete stranger asked after him in ambush. The real crux here was the intent. Clearly, had she wanted him dead, she would have taken the chance to get the first strike. He dressed and was performing the work of an iron-working tyro, so she knew who she was speaking to. Speaks Velt but knows me by 'Lein' rather than 'Cashmere'. Been looking for me as a knight than as a courier or fixer. Pretty recent contact. The witch?

It was too early to jump to conclusions, so Lein gave the stranger the benefit of the doubt...actually, he did eye a sword with a broken cross-guard sticking out of the wheelbarrow just in case the stranger moved too funny. Lein returned the bow and spoke Velt back in a pleasant tone, exchanging her gaze with his own. "You've found the right one, fair warrior. And who is this I have the pleasure of meeting?"
Lein



Location: Aimlenn Streets, Steffen's Office
Interactions: @The Otter @Conscripts



"Many more have tried and failed." Lein shrugged, his gloating smile unchanged. "Best you don't disappoint me, hmm?" With a wave, the wayward Hundi hitched a ride on a passing carriage and melted into the stream of farmers.

What was that, just then? Some kind of esoteric magic? Lein was careful not to show any reaction, as it was rather clear that Fionn was simply trying to badger and intimidate than consider actually chasing through Lein through the crowd. No, what really ruffled Lein's feathers was that insidious look on Fionn. As far as Lein had tracked of Fionn's routine, there was nothing under the Veltian that prodded at suspicion. The man was refreshingly as simple as he presented himself - sometimes training, sometimes relaxing with Gerard and Renar. But having skipped out on checking in on his fellow knights' routines these past days, Fionn suddenly developing weird arcane conditions wasn't out of the question.

Whatever. There were too many headaches to consider, including the real one that just about blinded him with how insistently it clamored for his attention. First, a good drink.

---

"Records...arrivals...two years? No, three back." Lein murmured to himself, drinking tea out of what he assumed to be Steffen's tea cup, though in Lein's hands it was more akin to a mug. He was familiar enough with the Ingvarr's office layout and habits to know how to pick the entrance lock, that Steffen would be out of his office around about this time, and that Lein was to be careful not to pull on the door knob too hard lest its fragile hinges break again, but he had never paid quite so much attention to the tidy wall of records that had lined a side of the desk. Hilda. Grey Peaks. Hilda. Lein turned the name over on his mind, honing each syllable so as not to forget. A smaller but firm voice stalked each repetition. Or not.

Being several heads shorter than the intended user meant that Lein had to get a little creative with his approach. He tip-toed upon a precariously balanced stack of books, knocking off a heavy tome from the bookshelf. Leaning the tome against the bookcase, Lein started to browse quickly through the pages. Rows and rows of studiously recorded identification papers, each organized to time, associated requisitions and complete with cursive notes on incomplete entries. Lein was careful not to let his fingers smudge the disciplined line-work.

"Steffen, you twisted menace." Lein chortled, "This is why you're by your lonesome so much." The amusement did not linger, however, as even with the meticulous indices the elusive 'Hilda from the Grey Peaks' remained unrecorded. He tossed as many attributes he knew of the woman. Lein stared holes into the book, flying through the pages and de-scrambling each eloquent note. Check all blacksmiths. None. Check all iron-workers. None. Words blended into each other, ink beginning to take on its own mocking meanings. The precise factual notation became taunts and jeers. Check all blacksmiths. No. Arrivals from the Grey Mountains. No.

5 appendices and 4 encyclopedias later, Lein imagined tearing out the pages and throwing each and every insufferably silent entry fluttering through the window. Of course there would be many, many of the populace that would go unrecorded - Lein himself having a hand in facilitating the deception - but having dug through half the castle archives and found nothing of cause left nothing but a gnawing irritation. Lein decided to drown his disappointment with the last of the foul drink and slammed the archival book shut. He didn't have the luxury of a next time, but pushing this search was the only option available to him. Just curious. Nothing more. Lein told himself, completely spent on all his willpower. He was sure to have nightmares of reading cursive now.

His exit was just as methodical as his entry, working radially backwards out. Replace the books in their clerical order (thought it took a while for Lein to remember the proper order). Tidy up the sheaves of paper near the window. Dust floor and desk to clear footprints. Refill the inkwells and replacing the tea leaves. Oh, and let Steffen know that he really ought to get a quieter door frame.
Lein



Location: Aimlenn Streets
Interactions: @The Otter


"No scam. I know when to fold and when to cut. I'm on the home stretch, anyway." Fionn was too close. It was a throwaway comment by the hell-born hag that probably tipped him off. was too tired to spin another elaborate yarn about his past. It would be easy enough to cut loose and disappear, adopt a new name and sing a different tune as he had always done, but not yet. Not while Hadrianus was circling above his head, more than willing to uproot everything in Aimlenn to drag him back down. Lein just had to keep mum about it. Just for a couple more weeks to put everything in place.

As they came across a stream of farmers busily trafficking out into the fields, Lein abruptly dove into the crowd, leaving Fionn still grasping the tunic sleeve. With a swift and decisive tug, the seams of the tunic ripped off and left Fionn grasping the empty sleeve. Lein reappeared some paces away from the crowd and waving his newly freed prosthetic arm. "Looks like this will be where we'll be parting ways, Herr Fionn," Lein said, mockingly adopting the suave affectations of Lady Cteline with a curtsy. "Don't be pulling your hair out digging places that don't need digging. Promise I'll behave - why, I'll even try sleeping on those terrible castle mattresses, as thanks for your courtesy today."
Lein



Location: Graveyard
Interactions: @The Otter



So no. Fionn was here to bring him in. Figures. Lein sighed. "This won't stop me from slipping. But be my guest." Lein put a hand over his prosthetic shoulder, rolling it over and wincing as he felt the mechanisms click through the fabric of the tunic. He still had feeling in there, which was good enough.

As Lein led the pair out the graveyard and into the streets early into the awakening hours, a curious collection of scrappy children began to not-so silently saunter along them. As usual, he produced an absconded apple from nowhere, pressed a thumbnail into its unbroken skin, and tossed the apple at the crowd, distracting them momentarily. Still gotta tell them somehow, Lein thought grimly. No, Fionn first. Lein recounted his tale in a low voice. "Ran some lines for a seedy bunch back before signing unto the Knights, shuffling around some stuff behind the Church. They found a bunch of rivals to spill blood over, and soon those rivals were after me too. One of those dolts had the bright idea to bring in someone above their pay grade, and this hunter's been on my trails since."

"Took care of the guy, but shoot one cockroach and all its ugly spawnlings come crawling out. Been tying up loose ends from that. Besides," Lein smiled wryly. "Thought I ought to get a glow up. If we ever have to dance at a fancy ball, I can't be caught out without a proper weapon on hand. Last time I had to fight with flour and bricks."
Lein



Location: Graveyard
Interactions: @The Otter



"You think these are just for show, Fionn?" Lein smiled, revealing the oversized canines of the Hundi. "Cracked out sea biscuits is tougher than this." His bragging was soon accompanied by Lein hounding down the rest of the pie with a ravenous greed, rocks and all. No digging around with some knife or such.

"This is a pretty solid pie. Maybe should open a bakery with that cider business of yours." With something in his stomach, Lein could feel some of his mind returning. But however nice of a rest this was, but Lein was on a tight schedule. He still had to visit the smith for some modifications to his prosthetics, referring his contacts to each other in case... And he still needed to get to the bottom of the witch's disappearance. Already falling behind. Lein just needed to be a bit smart about this, however hard his head pounded just thinking about it.

"But really - gonna leash me this whole time?" Lein held up the sleeve Fionn retained custody over. "How un-knightly of you."
Lein



Location: Graveyard
Interactions: @The Otter



Lein staggered at Fionn's tug, nearly tumbling down the slant of the graveyard. A flash of temptation to vent his irritation flared, but Lein knew better to express it even as the fatigue dug its nails deeper under his eyes. Lein slid down the tree roots and rested his head against a knot in the trunk. He was oddly compliant, energy already leeched by the still entangled memories of his dream. It was clear that Fionn meant well, if that was anything. Best not be too petulant about it. Besides, it was clear that this, what was it now, Ball Knight? He was not going to leave. "Had a couple visitors. Entertained them for a bit. It's tiring being so popular, see." This time, his smile had a bit more effort into it as the duplicity of the bluff made itself clear to Lein.

He was careful to drift his eyes away from the tombstones as he ripped off a chunk off - and predictably nearly choked on the exact thing Fionn warned him about. But a week's worth of repressed hunger realized itself as soon as Lein tasted something resembling food. Without even a moment to compose himself after spitting out the inedible bits, he swallowed and went for another before remembering to check himself. "Isn't it early for you, too?" Lein croaked quickly, as if to distract Fionn from the embarrassing display.
Lein



Location: Graveyard
Interactions: @The Otter



Lein knew the whole job was a fake from the start. This cabin was just a couple twists outside of Aimlenn, this shipment of wheat was from a 'newcomer smuggler' and certainly did not need a specialized guard that took an entire bag of gold coins. Still, if there was someone that needed to meet Lein so badly, he'd have to oblige. The cover was obvious enough that it was a self-filtering process directed at anyone who would find it suspect and still take it up anyway. But he did not know how swiftly the mysterious benefactor would reveal himself.

The deep gravel filled voice grumbled at Lein, just past the treeline across from where Lein had stationed himself.. "Master Lenivicus."

The mention of the name instantly brought a scowl to Lein's face. Worse still, Lein didn't even need to see the towering silhouette to know who had invoked the title. Brilliant yellow eyes under a mismatched set of broken horns leaned over him, torchlight fleeing behind him as the giant approached. Each step measured and purposeful, the dim light and the plain dark garb did little to hide the gravitas that his sheer physique imposed. His face was chiseled silent, with a stillness that could convince anyone that the Ingvarr was a statue. No, this Ingvarr did not need distinction befitting his title as the Estouls retainer. All those who knew him knew to fear him regardless. Lein did not grace him with anything other than standing his ground, with a snarl devoid of anything other than scorn. "Half-horn."

The 'Half-horn's' grim stoicism did not react to the moniker. "I see the years have not whittled your tongue. Yet it has been unkind to the rest of you."

Lein tried not to move, but as if own its own his prosthetic arm slinked out of the Ingvarr's sight. "I wear my losses with pride, Hadrianus. Something that you should know better than most."

"To accept them is honor. To seek them is folly. A distinction lost on many."

"Get to the point. Your mug's put me in a foul mood and I'm not here to shuffle words. Take your shot or get in line." Lein braced himself, already seeking places to hide, places to strike. But the great retainer did not move.

"A mere greetings, little more, Master Lenivicus. I was passing through and simply wished to see how - "

"Great. Here I am. You've seen me. Casse-toi."

"I am grievously disheartened with your aloofness, Master, but it is far better that you waste your venom on this lowly servant than on your father." Hadrianus stepped across the treeline to turn his gaze up at the stars in the night sky. Distant. Indifferent. "The scenery is quite beautiful. I think I should venture a little longer in these delightful hills, and try out the Thalnese ale that I hear so much of. Perhaps next moon, we shall meet again. Master Lenivicus, if you shall excuse my restlessness, I shall take my dismissal."

Lein snarled as Hadrianus retreated back into the night, though the proceeding silence made the Hundi meek. His head pounded, his heart pounding in its afterthought of terror. The joint plate of his prosthetic gripped its teeth against his shoulder, old scars flaring up like a twisted love call to the sinking pit in his stomach. Yeah, he knew this was coming some day. He even asked after his contacts to try and make his amends in preparation. But to stand up against this...

Inevitability.

The word formed itself before any other. An advance warning, as a meager courtesy. The wayward Hundi knew it would not be enough.
---

I see you.

What is it that you want? Pride? Pain? Determination?

Do you wish me to triumph, perform all my tricks and counters, dissect my movements under the duress of this aimless torment? Do you wish to trample my bones and gouge yourself fat from the struggle of this mortal before you?

In my early stupor I obeyed my senses and danced for you. I strummed by bowstrings and pummeled, until at last a specter of a familiar face claimed my life.

Yet unsatiated, my shattered body did not suit your appetite. You chained the unwilling to the undying. And you set the game free once more, to see me kill for nought.

No.

I see your game. Your dominion will be futile. Your passivity will be your weakness.

Go ahead. Throw your legends and tormentors and the biggest names that your memory can afford you. No amount of sword or rapier or fire or poison shall make me dance to your tune. You will see nothing, receive nothing.

I play to win. And I will not play.


---

The Hundi did not understand the words that churned in his head for a while after he awoke. Primarily as he had awoken with his body being vigorously shaken loose from the grips of his nightmare. This new night terror had far less bite than his usual ones, but instead of filling him with an unfathomable melancholy, his nerves were still on fire with a spitefulness that was quickly losing sight of its prey.

It took a long few seconds for Lein to register who had aroused him. Fionn, in an apparent concern, somehow found Lein in the graveyard. That useless old grounds-keep must have neglected his job. Lein tried to muster the strength to throw a witty line or two, but he could only yield a tired and confused stare. Slowly, he sat up, dirt and dust cascading down from his hair and tail. Deep aches echoed in his joints as the week's worth of pains sought to reclaim Lein's attention. Lein did not let them. Instead, he looked over to Fionn. It wasn't great that someone from the Knights had found him here. And in the one site that he preferred not to allow. Still - out of all the possible discoverers Fionn was probably the least threatening. It would mean much worse if someone had tipped him off, somehow.

Not like it would matter soon enough.

"Heh." Lein curled his mouth mirthlessly. "Fancy seeing you here. Someone sent you? Sorry to disappoint, but..." Lein struggled to focus his thoughts, drowsiness uncharacteristically retaining its hold. It was only a couple skipped nights, was it that bad? "Thanks for the...greeting, but I'll make my way back." Lein staggered upright, hand flailing behind him before managing to catch the trunk as a support, and held up his tunic in Fionn's fist in an inquisitive look. Well, as inquisitive as a haggard face could ever be.
Lein



Location: The Cazt Mausoleum
Interactions: @VitaVitaAR



'He'? 'Never meant to go this way?' The witch's scattered mumbling narrowed down a few things and broadened some others. It would mean, much to Lein's chagrin, that the decision to send out an assassin on her lonesome was very much intended; whether or not her success was warranted was yet unclear. Whoever was calling the shots was either that vampire, the man with the amulet or the necromancer. One had seemingly vanished in place of a demon, another's broken body now lay stone dead just a few strides across. And if Serenity was telling the truth, this Damon vampire had retreated after Serenity's duel with him. There was still a few loose threads left, and this witch was yet a font of these uncertainties.

One fact remained: this plot was dead. Whether the mastermind was crushed by the meteoric charge of Gerard or chased away by Serenity, the players had all packed and left. There would be nothing more to gain from wheedling more from anyone, and the conspiracy was out of Lein's reach and Lein's care. All that remained was simply to pick up what few hours remained in the evening and return home...well, whatever that meant. Outside of these infested walls, anything would be preferable. Lein silently looked down at the witch, prostrating on the floor and whispering her regrets, and let the tension in his bowstring go with a sigh.

The enemy that he knew and was about to pierce with his arrow was gone, replaced with this stranger cradling a memento. The Barukstaedian, this witch - their way of mourning was foreign to him. He didn't even know what the owner of this axe was called. But the cold daze that twisted the face of the witch was easy enough to see. Lein knelt down onto one knee and mustered something from his hazy memories of Reonite chants. "We accept the gracious gift of our departed strength and uphold the burden and glory of his life as our own. May his deliverance be gentle and the guidance of the lamps ever clear." It was a recount unfamiliar to both the witch and Hundi. Hopefully, it would be enough to make his presence by her side known. Grief was the loneliest feeling known by everyone, after all, and innocence had little say in it.

And well, he didn't know how aware the witch was, but he'll have to tie the strand now, just in case. "Have your moment of grief, and cherish what you know of him - but if ever a day comes when you want to hunt the one that condemned your partner to his death, seek the castle in Aimlenn and ask after Lein of the Roses. I'll be ready." And for now, the Hundi remained, kneeling in parity against the mourning, listening for the judgement to arrive.
Lein



Location: The Cazt Mausoleum
Interactions: @VitaVitaAR


Lein had his last remaining arrow trained on the witch as the fight concluded, the bow giving the last bit of strength as the Hundi pulled the limbs to its breaking point. An arrow, point blank. Whatever strange arrow-bending trickery she had, Lein would just punch through it at this distance, barely a few paces away. Break something of mine and you'll pay with your eyeballs. He caught a snarled warning in his throat as the witch suddenly pivoted away and launched a bolt at the necromancer, shattering his barrier. A betrayal? Could be. That was one less lightning bolt Lein had to catch. Still, Lein remained unwavering in his caution, only shifting to let the undead drop their aggression towards him and rush past in a futile attempt to defend their master. A plenty of rats ate each other when cornered.

Only when the witch lowered her arms did Lein lower his aim, confident that the rest of the knights could finish off the exposed necromancer and sweep up whatever remained of Erich. And that should she decide to throw around careless threats like that again, he'd nail her scalp to the wall before she'd finish her breath. He didn't know much about the strange sorcery that caused her to glow like that, but it was clear she needed some time to wind up - a far slower draw time than his. Lein approached the witch cautiously, bow at his side and away to match the pretense of non-hostility.

"'Preciate the turn, but you'll have to show your hand a bit." Lein nodded to the soon-to-be pulverized necromancer. "Can't imagine a witch of your endeavor running around with his spindly ass like that for the company he keeps." Or for the demon. Or for the vampire. As far as he could tell, the witch and the Barukstaedian warrior was a pair, though that didn't explain much, and he'd gain nothing mentioning it and aggravating her.

"Besides, might be your only time to sing before those knights come crawling over to ferry you off, so - what kinda trick roped you into this?" Help or no, genuine or not, the witch was one of the conspirators' associates. Unless the Roses for some reason decided to risk an incident with Lady Cazt and refuse to hand the witch over or cover up the witch's tracks, Lein fully expected the Roses to jail her. He didn't trust the witch either, but something kept Lein on edge. A phantom itch that alluded to some shift of the hand that he didn't catch in the background, a sleeve that swallowed a coin and turned up blank. This witch could be the last remaining chances to dig it up. And Lein sure as hell wanted a good enough explanation that would assuage his annoyances.
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