Force and Fury

Code Vein (Closed)

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_{Location: En Route to the Dying Mistle @ The Ruined City // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 11:00 // Interactions: Akaia @Exit, Poppy @dreamingflowers,Cerise @Medili, Ajax @DClassified}

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This is a haunted place, Lysandra couldn't help but think so as she wheeled along. Of course, she did not believe in ghosts in the literal sense, but it was haunted in other ways, and palpably so.

Ensconced snugly in her gloves, her palms made intermittent contact with the hand-rims of her wheelchair, and the Rear Team's lone female member pushed herself warily along. Finding a patch of blessedly even ground, she took a moment to flex her fingers. The soreness was nothing unusual; such was her life on these long sojourns and she was well used to it. They were cold, though, like it was leeching up from the ground and into her through her wheels. The sun beat dully on a thin, sickly veil of clouds and a dead-smelling wind filled her nostrils. Lys blinked as a gust blew up, reaching out to shield her eyes with a forearm. Unlike the others, save Desmond, she could taste the dust and the death. It lingered in the back of her mouth, dry and scratchy, like the cold lingered in her hands. She coasted until she couldn't any longer, easing herself over an unavoidable crack in the pavement and into the vast, enveloping shadow of a leaning skyscraper.

Lysandra glanced down and watched the stark line of darkness work its way up her legs, over her hands and chest. Then it was behind her. The final few members of the rear team entered the deep, cool land of unnatural darkness. Up ahead, she could see the lead party leaving it and she longed to be one of them. Tall buildings filled her with unease. They loomed, dead and hulking. They could fall. At any moment, they could plummet, and she would be trapped.

Then there was the quiet. Unnecessary conversation was noise. Noise brought Lost, so Lys' only comfort was the thump of footsteps on pavement and the quiet hum of Iron Horse. Below and behind her, latched onto the dead axle of her wheelchair, he was in 'energy neutral' mode. He wasn't pushing her - thankfully, she had barely needed him for that so far - but neither was he deadweight, having to be pulled.

She continued, pushing a little faster, wanting to be out in the sun. Bleak as it was, any warmth and light were welcome. She was gaining on Desmond, though, and eased off as she passed into the sunlight. It would not do to stretch the defensive diamond that Ajax had insisted on. Half an hour ago, she'd had Sage up and he'd spotted a group of Lost in the area. Truth be told, they could be anywhere now. Their trajectory had had them crossing paths with the Commune's route at some point, and the best course of action would've been to wait them out or detour around them. The first option put pressure on the Sidhe's limited supply of oxygen, though, and that was a dangerous game to play. The second was equally untenable. There was no nearby alternative route that Lysandra could hope to traverse, and going further afield would reproduce the issues of the first.

So the meatheads had asked her for a figure as if it were that simple, just like everybody who had no understanding of probability did: "Predict for us, science lady!" There were too many variables. For all that Lysandra knew, those Lost might veer off and never arrive, but just as likely, they could arrive well ahead of schedule. The Lost mind was poorly understood, but she had catalogued as many of the different types as she could. She had made an assiduous list of stimuli that seemed to affect them beyond simple prey drive. One or two small changes and they could gallivant off in a different direction. A single alteration and, instead of the Commune's path crossing theirs at a right angle, the Lost could decide to cut across the hypotenuse and could be upon them...

Assuming they maintain their speed of 7.5 km/h... she did some mental math and consulted the map of the city in her mind's eye. A deviation of forty-five degrees... She accounted for the fact that they'd be unable to take a perfectly straight course given the grid layout of the city. Average walking pace of 5 km/h for a healthy human in their twenties or thirties... Lys felt a warning prickle on the back of her neck. Over her objections, they'd squeezed an estimate of 'close to half an hour' out of her, but the Lost could be here as soon as...

Cerise held up an arm. She closed her hand into a fist and the lead group stopped dead in its tracks Now.

The commune leapt into action, Poppy rising into the air laden with opium bombs, Cerise scrambling up a nearby building with a faded billboard. The Forward Team took their positions and then Lysandra saw the enemy. Thralls, Tentacles, and... Shit! Infernals.

They couldn't allow the two Teams to be cut off from each other. Ajax was already barking out orders to that effect, mostly for the newer members' benefit. "Horsie, push!" Lys commanded. "Terrain following: friendlies, and avoid non-friendlies - ten meters!" Her hands were already off of her wheels as a fantastic boost propelled her from behind. She reached into her bag and out came Sage, a controller, and her headset. Unceremoniously, she tossed him into the air and his rotors screamed to life. Hurtling towards a vastly physically superior enemy at a breakneck pace, Lys' pulse filled her eardrums. Every time that she did this, it genuinely occurred to her that she might be insane, that her life expectancy was unlikely to be more than a couple of years. Twisting as much as she could, she heaved Princess out of her bag, flicked a switch, and hefted her up into the air. With a stuttered roar, six propellors thrummed to life and Lys flipped the headset down. "All systems active: battery 100%, ammunition 100%," a readout displayed. "Sage, orbit and defend mode," she called out, and could dimly register a high-pitched wail as he took off to catch up with his 'sister', but it was a distant thing.

Lysandra Tran's world faded away and she was no longer a thing chained to her own broken body. She rocketed ahead of the others at over a hundred kilometers per hour, dancing nimbly around obstacles, the world flashing by through Sky Princess' cameras. She saw Poppy's bombs land. She saw the chain come for her friend. She saw Cerise tangling with the infernal who was unnervingly like her. Poppy was being reeled in. Lys' fingers twitched the controls with savant-like speed and precision. She flipped a switch. A glowing box appeared around the Infernal's head. "Target Locked," read a readout in appropriately blood red letters. "Fire?"

She had a dozen rockets and one full reload. There were three thralls headed straight for Akaia. Time to thin those numbers out, Lys decided. She added a second target. "2 Targets Locked. Fire?"

She pressed the button. "Kaboom, Bitches."

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Code Vein (Closed)

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_{Location: The Telescope Room @ The Crows' Nest // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 10:02 // Interactions: Erik @FunnyGuy, everybody}

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Lysandra's hands were already on her wheels as Erik began wrapping up his little strategy speech. She nodded along with most of his tactical decisions, thoroughly ready to go. A dedicated scouting party meant saving Sage and Princess' batteries. In fact, she was starting to consider reworking her RC team now that they'd picked up so many new people. It wasn't like the old days with just her and some combination of Erik, Ajax, Cerise, Poppy, and Akaia minus whoever stayed back. Sage could do with some more offensive oomph, or maybe she'd retire the Immortals-themed team, finally, once she'd finished work on The Federation. Enterprise, Voyager, Discovery, Defiant.

Then, everything changed in the blink of a cliched eye. Erik turned that whiteboard around and Lysandra Tran beheld the greatest work of art to see light of day since the cataclysm of the Great Collapse. She made a face that looked just a little bit like this:

She glanced back and forth at a couple of the others, trying to gauge if they were even half as amused as she was. Almost involuntarily, her hands migrated from her wheels to her backpack, where she kept an old Polaroid camera for field observations. Without shame, she pulled it out and took a picture of the masterpiece, grinning like a magpie. At one or two quizzical looks, she merely shrugged and arched an eyebrow. "Are any of you seriously gonna tell me that didn't deserve to be preserved for posterity?"

The photo was finished. She pulled it out, grinned, and set it and the camera on her lap, glancing down momentarily in admiration. Her hands settled back on her wheels. They released her brakes. "Anyways, I'm more than ready to go. Anyone feel free to lead the way."

Code Vein (Closed)

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_{Location: The Telescope Room @ The Crows' Nest // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 09:56 // Interactions: Akaia @Exit, Erik @FunnyGuy,Cerise @Medili}

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"Flower Power," Lysandra replied, improvising a new term of endearment as she rolled up to Akaia, "Shhhhhh." She held a finger up to her lips in the universal gesture for quiet, but softened it with a conspiratorial smirk. "I think you know very well what we're doing. I think even Licorice knows." She glanced over at Cerise, who was examining her nails in an only marginally less universal gesture for, "I'm staying out of this one, hun. You made this bed and you're gonna sleep in it." The only thing that would've made it more complete was if the revenant had been whistling mock-idly.

Lysandra reached for Akaia's hands and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "And it was about Vincent. I'd say both of those qualities are a bit hard to miss, though maybe I'm being a bit harsh with the second. He's just broken so much of my stuff already. Speaking of stuff," she pivoted, "You're all kitted out." She looked the petite sidhe up and down and leaned in a bit more. "Bring back anything cool for me?"

Then a sudden entrance, marked by a familiar ecstatic voice.

“Alright! I think you ladies earned a few extra points for being early. You all look ready. Good!” He stood in the doorway of the strategy room and nodded in approval before joining the three around the table. It was then that he noticed the odd silence between them all as if he had walked in on a conversation he was not meant to be privy to. A curious look of narrowed darting eyes crossed Erik’s face as if searching for an answer. However, as usual, it was only a brief break in his usual demeanor. His eyebrows perked up when his eyes landed on Akaia.

“Switching up the style, huh? It looks nice on you!” Erik stepped towards his favorite Sidhe to get a closer look at her outfit while also minding Licorice perched on her shoulder. He’d feel quite awful if he unintentionally startled the crow… something he had a history of accomplishing. After visually scanning Akaia, Erik nodded once more in approval. He had the feeling that someone else might have assisted with Akaia’s current attire but did not find the detail all that important as he complimented her. Erik was simply spreading around his feel-good energy.

Lys was feeling it. A giddy kind of excitement made war with her nerves and it won out. There were nine of them going into the field (for it had already been decided that Ionna would be staying back): a veritable army. It reminded her of those superhero teamups from the comics she’d read as a kid. “Yes, totally, hun. You look legit amazing.”

There was a short pause of silence as Akaia looked down at herself in surprise. She hadn’t expected to get any comments on her changed appearance, but hearing the both of them comment on the attire stoked a prideful flame in her. She beamed them both a smile and nodded a small ”Thank you” in return before turning to her crow.

A click of her tongue alerted the bird and it hopped off her shoulder and landed gently on the table, skipping to a spot on the map and tapping its beak on it repeatedly. ”For Lee-Saw. Too big.” She said, opening the satchel on her shoulder to demonstrate the limited width of its opening.

The location in question was not terribly far from where the mission had to take place and had been visited briefly by the Sidhe early on in her travels.

“Well geez, now you have me intrigued.” Lys looked up, brow furrowed. Her travel bag was sizable, but she might have to choose between filling it with things that she needed and things that she found. Anything that large was likely to be a substantial piece of useful salvage. She knew that Akaia was generally much better at identifying than articulating what she’d found, but Lys was curious and would have to trust that, not being a cat, she would survive the explanation and maybe even make something of it. She thought of how best to put things. “What sort of thing is it? Will it take up most of my bag?” she inquired.

Akaia placed her satchel flat on the table, coaxing the worn leather into a vague and very imperfect shape of a rectangle. She then held her hand a foot and a half above the pressed bag and turned to Lysandra. Pale eyes searched hers for an image of an object that was not in the room.

”Box.” She stated simply. Her other hand found an invisible spot in front of this box and from her mouth was the perfectly recreated sound of a button’s click. She repeated this a number of times to drive the point.

So, it’s a box with a button: a computer? That’d certainly be welcome. Whatever it was, she was not about to play a lengthy game of charades to find out precisely. It was enough to know that the find was mechanical in nature and worth picking up. She remembered to smile. “Thanks, Kai,” she began. “I’ll make room for it.” Turning back to the table and rolling up to it, she twisted for a moment. “You’re a treasure.”

People were filtering in now and hopefully they’d be off and away soon. The anxious anticipation building up in her was of the species that made you curl and uncurl your fingers, pace, and tap your foot as you waited. Lysandra settled for drumming on the tabletop and thinking, mind skimming through potential scenarios, obstacles, and opportunities at a breakneck pace, but she found herself distracted. In the background, Akaia continued clicking away with two fingers, thoroughly amused with herself, and Lys imagined the little routine as the sentient version of an ‘Error 404’. She groaned inwardly and hoped that Birdbrain wouldn’t keep it up for the entire ride. She’d have to stop for a drink at some point… right?

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The Hourglass Order

I think Agrarian is like super rural slang.

Like you have French, then Cajun French. It's similar enough to its roots, but you will struggle if you don't know either one very well.

@Th3King0fChaos

Gotcha. I like it. With your permission, I kind of like the idea of it being the informal name for a series of related dialects common from southern Perrence, through Crisia, Enth, Eastern Kerremand, and Northern Helbahn: maybe a sort of creole language spoken in rural areas (hence the name).

Like, Enthish and Crisian people have distant Eskandish roots (as to Holmanians and Kerremans), but they're culturally closer to Perrence at this point.

Code Vein (Closed)

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_{Location: Outside the Storage Room >> the Telescope Room @ The Crows' Nest // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 09:52 // Interactions: Cerise @Medili, Akaia @Exit, Vincent, Ajax (mentioned)}

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Lysandra felt a twinge in her arm and that was it. She'd loaded all of her stuff, done all of her prep, and now she was just helping out of the goodness of her heart and maybe a slight sense of inadequacy. Her body was telling her that it had had enough and she needed to listen to it. Goddamned lucky revenants, she grumbled inwardly, never aging. She was on the wrong side of thirty now and the notion that she would start declining physically often nibbled away at the edges of her confidence. She finished with the bag she was loading and backed gingerly away from the van, rubbing at her bicep and grimacing slightly.

That's about when she noticed Cerise: another less-than-super-physical specimen also pitching in. They caught each other's eyes for a moment.

Cerise had already finished all her personal prep as well. Upon noticing Lysandra, she unsurprisingly immediately greeted her with her usual big warm smile on her face. "Oh, hi Lys! Are you done with your preparations? Do you need any help? I'm done, so I can give you some hands if you want!"

God, girl, how are so cheerful all the time? Lys arched an eyebrow. "I dunno, can you get rid of the lactic acid in my arms? 'Cause that'd be nice." She snorted, but paired it with a faint smile. "Nah, I'm good, sis, and as done with this as you are." She rolled her shoulder a bit. It was nothing. She was fine. Thank God. the last thing that she needed was a pull or a sprain. "Wanna head over to the scope room? Get the best seats?" she joked.

Cerise giggled lightly in response to Lysandra's remark. "If only I could. Unfortunately, all I can do is reduce the amount of iron in your body instead~" She stuck her tongue out slightly at that, feeling a little bit mischievous. "Anyways, sounds like a good idea to me! I think the general preparations are already done and everyone just need to finish their personal preps now. So let's go~" Finishing her words with a nod, Cerise then started walking to head to their destination.

Lysandra grinned. Cerise was not without wit, and there wasn't a barb there like there usually was with Ajax. She rolled alongside her friend, not bothering to avoid the tiles this time. It was a goofy habit, like a kid avoiding cracks in the sidewalk or purposely jumping from puddle to puddle, not that Cerise would ever be critical. It was nice to have people like that, who were just reliably... nice. A part of Lys wished that she could be that way. "Well, even if they're not," she tossed out there, "that new guy will handle things..." she knew his name, of course, but didn't want to make like she cared too much. That could be embarrassing. She lowered her voice. "If he doesn't break all our gear somehow."

Cerise walked beside Lysandra as they talked, a bag of supplies carried on her left shoulder while her rifle hung on her right shoulder. "'That new guy'?" Cerise contemplated it briefly, before she quickly realized who Lysandra meant. "Oh, you must be talking about Vincent then." She giggled again as she was also aware of how careless Vincent could be with things despite only knowing him for a few days. "True, I suppose. Still, he definitely seems nice enough!"

Lys nibbled her bottom lip for a second, trying to gauge Cerise's tone. That was the problem when someone was so damned nice all of the time. "Oh, he's definitely... nice," she replied lightly, keeping her tone neutral enough that she could maintain plausible deniability. Eyes quick as a wisp, she spared a glace in her friend's direction before flicking some hair over her shoulder and continuing on.

Being especially empathic, Cerise noticed the nuance of how Lysandra spoke her words. She glanced at Lysandra in return, still with a smile on her face. "You sound like you wanted to say something, Lys. Anything on your mind? You know I'm always up to listen if you have some worries or such that you want to let out!"

What Cerise had just said effectively translated to, "hehe, we can totally talk about him," just... in Cerise language. Lys kept her voice low. AB revenants had good hearing. "Okay, like... am I wrong in thinking that he's hot? I mean... those arms. That jawline. Sis..." Blushing and smirking at the same time, she made a chef's kiss gesture. She reached down for her wheels after a moment and sighed, deflating a little bit. "But such an idiot." She rolled her eyes.

Soon enough, they arrived at the Telescope & Strategy Room, entering as they kept on their gossip-y conversation. "Hmmmm. Well, to be honest-" Cerise started saying while also keeping her voice low like Lysandra "-I kind of get what you're saying. He is handsome, huh? But yes. Umm, it seems like he's more the physical type than the thinking type, hehe." She then sat down on a chair before continuing with her words. "Then again, I suppose that's also a part of his character; what's making him unique? Ahaha."

Lys pulled to a stop beside Cerise and a bit forward of her, clicking her brakes into place. "Girl, someday I'm gonna get you to say something not incredibly nice." She grinned. "Not today, though, looks like." She leaned forward, resting her elbows and forearms on the map table's cool stone surface and her chin, in turn, on them. "So hot," she murmured to herself. "So dumb." It was right about then that she noticed Akaia at the opposite end of the table, dressed and ready to go, and she realized that the latter part of her statement may just have served as a self-description. She'd been so in her own head. That wasn't like her at all. Lysandra sat right back up, unlocking her brakes and half-turning. "Oh, hey there, Akaia." She tried to suppress a blush, but it was hopeless. "You sure got here early!"

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The Hourglass Order

I'm going to say that Desmond is approved. Feel free to pop him in the character tab.

As an aside, I am heartily curious as to what 'Agrarian' is as a language.

The Hourglass Order

This RPG has been around long enough now that we've passed the honeymoon stage and our droppers have dropped. A couple of new people have joined as well, but we do have room for one or two more if anyone is interested. Should you have any questions, don't hesitate to DM me.

The Hourglass Order

Chapter Six: Flight by Night

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Pandes, Vardes 29, Dami-Zept 54, 1:30 HD - 3:30 HD

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Location: Campus (The Laughing Hyena, outside Arc-en-Ciel Hall, various bars and beer halls)

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_{Interactions: Onarr Yidlob @Bork Lazer, Leon Solaire @Jumbus, Manfred Hohenfelter, Mayu Iovina [@Bel], Linah Aranda @SilverPaw, Selio Tavares @Bastian}

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For most of the student body, the fallout from the Conclave was not immediate. It was a subject of gossip that evening. Letters were sent home to family members. The Perrench and Eskandish were fired up. The Jorubans were uneasy and the Kerremans were proud. Yet, the majority of students continued about their business, settling into the beginnings of a routine.

The same could not be said for those with real power. Horik was fuming. The Zenos of Ersand'Enise scarce had time to offer him an honour guard before he stormed out of the city, galloping north towards what had been a safe port in Revidia when he'd first arrived. The Zenos had given him an honour guard that included many young Eskandish from well-known families, such as Anesin of Bjelke and Marlijn and Owen of Vaanse, in addition to foreign escorts from friendly nations such as Paggon and Rettan.

Scarce had the last refrain of 'Green Perrence' finished echoing through the cavernous Arc-en-Ciel Hall than Rouis was off into the night, stepping into his coach and being whisked away south, towards the friendly territory of Perrence. One did not get the sense that he was angry so much as stunned. An honour guard of ten Perrench students and two Zenos rode with him, the strongest - Penny Pellegrin and Jean Lascand - in his very coach.

Jobanzaggah had cut some sort of Eshiran's bargain to not be toppled himself and his displeasure was clear. Prudently, he had paid the onerous port fees of Ersand'Enise to have his personal ship moored at the city's docks. He made for it immediately following the night's proceedings, accompanied by a small guard notable for the presence of Jomurr III of House Ikon.

Meanwhile, the city's small community of Jorubans gathered at the Hyena's Laugh - the only Joruban-owned tavern in the city - both celebrating and discussing over drinks the move that had just been made, their country's new status, and President Yibozo's personal boldness. The rational revolution was to spread and this was good news for most, though some had their misgivings. These, they discussed with varying degrees of openness. The president's personal friends and allies were among them, after all. They would not want to offend. Yet, there were some, who strolled out into the night and made their way towards the Arboretum, who were more openly worried and, within this group, they spoke candidly of their discomfort, the seeds of rebellion fomenting in their minds and slogans forming on their lips. It seemed, from their rhetoric, that one was either with them or against them.

The Kerremans, however, did not share their northern allies' restraint. They gathered in bierhauses around the city in raucous debauchery. It was noted that the kronprinz was in attendance at one. Prinzessin Lina was at another. Their celebrations lasted well into the night, ample quantities of beer - both cheap and fine - being consumed in the process. There were - at most - only a handful among their number who did not join in. Manfred Hohenfelter was not one of these. He knew that appearances needed to be kept up, but he had grave misgivings which he smothered with a beer stein, a false smile, and a forced laugh.

For others, the takeaway was more nuanced. Leon Solaire, a young performer beloved across much of the twin continents but with known ties to the Doge of Revidia, found himself facing the interesting choice of whether to party or not to party and, if so, who to party with. Some Revidians were celebrating their coup, but not all that many. It was simply politics and they were more interested in business. The Perrench were sullen and hostile. The Jorubans were excited in their oft-intellectual way, but the sounds of Ziggurat-spitting competitions and Joruban folk songs could nonetheless be heard sporadically. Not all seemed jubilant, however, a sentiment certainly shared by the many Belzaggic students who gathered to confer and conspire in hushed tones. They stood in solidarity with their Perrench allies.

The Torragonese, in true Torragonese fashion, did not personally gloat, but many of them liked to let loose and had joined the most raucous party of all: the Kerremans were utterly out of control. Drink flowed freely, copious amounts of pretzels, sausages, and sauerkraut were consumed, fußball games occupied the plazas, parks, and streets, and music pumped out into the night. There were impromptu dancing circles, arm wrestling competitions, and fisticuffs. Magusjaegers held increasingly convoluted target-shooting contests. There were dozens of beer pong tables and one beer hall had even set up a teufelsrad. People coupled up. Youths ran around wearing flags like capes, shouting patriotic slogans, and singing traditional Kerreman songs, for their nation was on the rise. It had earned its place in the sun and they were certain that great things lay ahead.

The same could be said for Torragon, yet their king had sent a subtle message through his speech and body language today that celebrations were to be somewhat muted. One did not bait the bull unless he was certain that he could slay it. Evidently, King Sancho was not. Yet, he had taken personal steps, and two students, in particular, Selio Taraves and Linah Aranda, had received personal summons from him. To what end, they did not yet know.

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Penny Pellegrin

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Location: Near the southern border of Ersand'Enise

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_{Interactions: Seung Eun-Ji @Medili, Carmillia Carbonneau @Animus, Penny Pellegrin}

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Father was a master actor and the trick to it, Penny supposed, was that he had only partially been acting. Perrence had been removed from that meaningless council and all it had done was make a mockery of the notion that the Five Thrones indeed went to the five greatest nations in the land. Everybody knew it, too. In truth, King Rouis had not been blindsided. He had planned for this moment for years and, by warning Horik of the Doge's treachery last night, had revealed himself to the Eskandish Emperor as a good-faith actor. Their enmity had been only half-falsified; the two did not like each other, but they now found themselves in the same position and how unexpected it would be for two ancient rivals like Perrence and Eskand to ally.

Penny, seated across from father and Jean Lascand, as was only proper for the only woman in the carriage, leaned over and peered out the window. Jean could be trusted, she had been told, but he did not know the truth of her relationship to the king and matters were still best kept that way. It was awkward enough that Carmille, Yvette, and Madeleine were along. Carmille, in particular, was ever so sweet, but she was sharp too: she noticed things. Penny had made a joke of it: that eight-plus RAS level of hers was paying dividends! She could practically feel them wondering, though, and she had honestly begun to wonder - herself - how long she could keep this up. She could see them outside. She practiced her royal wave when one caught her eyes, stifling a giggle, but it was all an act. Gods, even that Tan-Keoulean girl is here, and she hates me, Penny thought, I know it.

"Your majesty," Jean began, and Penny's attention was pulled in his direction. "I hope it is not imprudent of me, but I had thought to ask -"

She didn't even feel the buildup of energy, but the gunshot was starkly audible. "Your highness, get down!" the girl shouted, but the bullet was not meant for him. It took a moment, but the carriage lurched to the side precipitously. Horses squealed and reared up. Immediately, Jean threw open the carriage door and Penny could feel him draw energy to himself. A split second later, and he leapt over to where the coachman sat. To Penny's shock, a dead body rolled off of it and was immediately trampled by the carriage as Jean struggled to get control. From the forest came more gunshots: Magusjaegers, the girl thought, but there were dark-clad figures as well: leaping out of trees, emerging from the roadside brush, and... With a crackling groan, a massive tree fell across the road up ahead.

Jean struggled to deflect the two shots aimed for him as they arced and curved around his barriers. "You!" he shouted at the trio of Carmille, Yvette, and Madeleine, "One of you take the reins. I'm needed in the fight!"

Then, Penny felt it: father drawing energy to himself. "Papa, no! You're too valuable!" But he leapt out of the coach and into the action. Father was a leadvein, she knew, and he was using those abilities presently. He slammed into a black-clad figure with fantastic force and absolutely shattered it. Shots came for him, but he was already on the move. Not all were so skilled or so fortunate. She saw two guards go down. Jean took a bullet in the shoulder and let out a yelp, struggling with the reins. The carriage was still going quickly. The horses were spooked. It was going to crash!

Penny gathered her crutch and dove out, softening her landing with a kinetic self-draw. Sellswords poured out of the woods and one came straight for her. She put all of the kinetic energy she had drawn into a shove and sent him reeling, fighting down panic all the way. There were still the assassins, she knew. They hid their energy so well. They were quick. She grabbed a sword from the roadside and flung it at one in a kinetic grasp, certain she'd scored a hit, but it seemed to go right through him. She blinked, nonplussed, but another volley of shots rang out. Penny drew in every ounce of energy that she could from her surroundings. She filled herself with it and let out a colossal burst. Trees swayed violently. Some cracked and fell. A maelstrom of rocks, sticks, and debris hurtled into the forest. This was unreal! She could die! Father could die! Yvette, Carmille, and Madeleine could die!

When she looked again, however, she saw the Tan Keoulean girl. She saw her at work and she realized that her own skills paled in comparison. "Sons and daughters of Perrence!" She shouted, "around your king!" If they could protect Rouis, then Eun-Ji, Jean's uncle (Zeno Lascand), and the trained soldiers would be free to attack. The next thirty seconds could decide everything.

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Marlijn Vaanse

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Location: The northern border of Ersand'Enise

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_{Interactions: Karim Nazeri @Theyra, Pan Yimu @TheMushroomLord, Anesin Bjelke @Noxious}

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A day that had started with meeting Leon Solaire could very end up being Marlijn's last day alive. It had happened so quickly: they'd been riding along in the warm glow of camaraderie - the Eskandish, at least - singing war songs and talking in indignant, excited voices. Aside from the presence of some foreign allies among their escorts (she recognized Yimu in the baggage train and Karim on horseback), it had felt like those stories of the old days, and Marlijn - for all that she was no warrior, had grown up on them nonetheless. Lady Anesin rode beside the King and, though he was not Marlijn's king, she was nonetheless awed in his presence. A mountain of a man, he had sat astride a mighty thunderhoof, belting out choruses under the light of four moons.

Then, the first bullet had struck and Kejser Horik had been thrown from his mount. A half-dozen others had been either struck or thrown. With a splitting crack and a tortured groan, a great tree had plunged to the ground ahead, blocking the Godsroad. Cobalt was a well-trained horse, though, and he did not panic like some of the others. Marlijn brought him around and scanned the trees. Shouts of alarm and anger went up from the group and one runaway carriage seemed beyond help. One of the foreigners had pulled a weapon and was ready for what came next, as was Owain and Marlijn's heart pounded with relief that her brother was alright. As for the king... He rose and dusted his clothes off. From across his back, he pulled a pair of mighty broadswords, each meant to be two-handed but wielded one to a hand by the massive figure. Lady Anesin, too, dismounted, and Marlijn could feel a colossal intake of energy from her direction... or was it the king's!? Black-clad figures poured out of the trees.

King Horik launched himself at the enemy with a truly ferocious speed that caught even Marlijn off guard. "Death for the Death God!" he roared, and behind him rose a chorus of battles cries from the sons and daughters of Eskand.

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Code Vein (Closed)

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_{Location: Outside the Storage Room @ The Crows' Nest // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 09:47 // Interactions: Vincent, (Ionna, Dallas)}

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Lysandra had noticed a great many things over the past couple of minutes: the cheerfulness of Akaia even with that 'soup' to eat, the way that Dallas marshaled the others, how strong Ionna was and how... very truly childlike. Then Vincent was smiling at her and she was arching an eyebrow: not hostile but also less-than-won-over. She was about to move on when she noticed him freeze. It would've been comical were he not carrying her solar panel charger, extra headset, and spare batteries in the crate under his arm and also were his face not genuinely terrified.

It was a spider.

Lys stopped, turned, and rolled right up to it. "Oh nooo," she chirped in something like the 'baby voice', "my little eight-legged friend: this is certainly not the place for you. Tsk tsk." She reached up with one hand, delicately holding a finger out, and let the scared little arachnid settle gently onto it. She'd always had a soft spot for spiders, ever since she was a girl, and perhaps that was why so many of her creations superficially resembled them.

The critter clung there to her fingertip and Lysandra was glad that she had mastered the art of one-handed wheeling. She shifted her body weight, leaned judiciously, and rolled over to the edge of the garden. "Here you go, little miss or mister." She rested her finger gently on a broad, rough-skinned leaf and the eight-legged friend scampered off with a bit of coaxing. Lys brought her hands back to her wheels, turned, and rejoined the group. "You okay?" she asked Vincent, eyes darting pointedly to her crate of valuables. "I can take that if you need a moment." She patted her lap. "Got a spot right here." Lys didn't mock him, fun as that would've been. To be honest, she wasn't quite sure why she was being so nice or what had come over her. Was this how Cerise felt every moment of every day? It was one helluva drug...

She blinked and regarded the others. A couple had turned her way. "What are you looking at, galoots!? Don't you have a van to be loading?"

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Code Vein (Closed)

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_{Location: The Telescope Room @ The Crows' Nest // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 09:40 // Interactions: Erik, Ajax}

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Lysandra did not answer the questions put to her right away. Sometimes it was more important to know where they were coming from first. As Erik stepped up to the telescope and occupied himself with peering through it momentarily, she glanced up at Ajax and narrowed her eyes in concern. "You seem even more brooding than usual, Trenchcoat. Something up with the Cerbs?" She paused. "You think they're using us as cannon fodder or are they trying to lure you back in?" Furrowing her brow, Lys glanced Erik's way for a split second. Even he seemed a little bit... more concerned than usual.

“Perhaps," Ajax replied, "Or they come to us to do a job that they couldn’t, and would rather not spend more resources...” He paused, eyeing the ground momentarily. “Or lose anymore; feeding the city.”

Lys pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow. "So, option one, basically." She backed up a couple of pushes from the table and grinned impishly. "Don't worry, big guy, I got your back." She winked and let the smile fade. "But as for the threats..." she settled her hands in her lap for a moment, not sure what to do with them. She shrugged. "There's lots. Mostly thralls - the usual assortment of melee weapons, but a couple have guns." She twisted to glance over her shoulder at Erik. "Only saw a couple of grimes, but they're usually in the dark or enclosed spaces. You know the drill with those by now."

Truth be told, Lysandra had spent a good amount of time focused on the terrain, mostly just seeing if it was something she could reasonably traverse. She'd identified three tough spots and that meant Iron Horse but, in practice, there always ended up being a couple of unseen ones. She was just grateful that people here didn't huff and puff and make a big deal of it. If she needed a boost once or twice, she could get one. She blinked once and found Ajax's eyes. There was more. "Thing is," she admitted, "I saw a big steel cylinder... right near the mistle. At least... I think that's what it was." She tucked some hair behind an ear. "I hope, because it if isn't..." she trailed off, wondering if Ajax might come to the same conclusion that she had.

The phrasing of her words clearly caught Ajax’s attention outright. “…If it isn’t, we must be ready… In a dream scenario, we lure it away. Since we don’t have the luxury of dreaming, it should be our quickest members taking the sample...Suppose we might see how your failsafes for my mask stand under pressure…” Were his words of reply before starting off, presumably to his armory.

"Ha. Ha. Ajax," she called after his retreating back. "Better go sharpen your edge some more." She rolled her eyes. Seriously, who says 'must' that much, she thought, secretly appreciating his ripostes nonetheless. Pivoting on the spot, Lys took a few pushes toward Erik, letting herself coast to a stop. "How 'bout you, Gramps? Notice anything?"

He paused and looked up, twisting to regard her, and he was smiling, of course, like he always was. When Lys smiled that much, the muscles in her face got tired. “Just saw most of the regulars. The Provisional Government is giving us a freebie for once.”

She forced a smile back for him, tempted to ask for another look, but she was worried that'd come across as paranoid. Even in the off chance that the cylinder was what she feared it was, she told herself that Ajax was on it. He'd have it covered, and they had numbers now: literally four more people since the last time she'd gone into the field. "Almost sounds too good to be true," she replied, keeping her tone skeptical but light. She drew in a breath and exhaled. They were the only ones left in the room. "I'll catch you soon. Don't get fossilized there, hmm?" Lys turned and wheeled out the door.

The cracked and battered floor tiles caused her casters to shudder as she rolled over them, and Lys made almost a game out of dodging them and sticking to the exposed concrete below. Agility was something she'd worked on extensively last summer and fall and, on top of some mean-looking biceps, it had started to pay dividends. It wasn't in any way comparable to how she'd been before and never would be, so she'd forced herself to finally let go of those unproductive comparisons to a Lysandra who was both irrelevant and not coming back. She darted and slewed from side to side, hair flicking back and forth, fingers light on her wheels, ready to dodge those hated spots of roughly tiled floor.

She kept this up, a grown child and totally unself-conscious, all the way into her room. Lys was a quick packer, mostly because she kept her space organized. Two pre-prepped bundles of clothing, two headsets, four walkie-talkies, her battery bag, portable toolkit... she paused and rolled across the room: Journal. She opened a crate: Dried, dehydrated food. She pulled a drawer out of a shelf: Two cheap little quadcopters for scouting. Soldering iron, pistol... She took a moment to secure her quiver to her wheelchair's leg frame. She twisted around and felt like a contortionist as she looped, tied, and velcroed the straps that held her bow to her backrest. It wasn't much of a backrest, to be honest, but a taller one would get in the way of her elbows while pushing.

It would also get in the way of dressing, which Lys presently did. She kept the black leggings but swapped her loose cutoff t-shirt for something a bit warmer and more form-fitting. And not the boobs-popping-out shirt. She considered the motorcycle armour, but it was heavy and sweaty and she'd need to be mobile, so it went into her duffel for now and she threw her favourite brown leather jacket on instead. Knee pads? she pondered. Yup, knee pads. You can never have enough storage. She also anticipated being de-chaired at least a couple of times, as usually happened, and it'd be nice not to smack her knees, feeling or not. Reaching down, Lysandra picked up one of her legs and slid the knee pad up its length, settling it around her knee, before doing the same for the other one. They weighed next to nothing and she tried not to scowl. So fucking skinny now. Her thighs were like deflated balloons, her calves like twigs. As much as she'd grown used to the atrophy, there were still moments where the dissonance between reality and a slow-to-change mental self-image was overwhelming. She shook her head to clear the thought and slipped on some leg warmers for more pseudo-pocket space. After stuffing her feet into a pair of ankle boots, she clipped her choker around her neck, pocketed her medallion, and grabbed a beanie and settled it atop her head. She took a second to look in the mirror and adjust her hair beneath the hat. She looked better without bangs, she decided, trying to distract herself. Nope, stop, she scolded. Deep breath. Nothing to be scared of. Nothing you haven't done dozens of times before. You've got this. She gathered her bags and the Lysandra who emerged from her room was a much-encumbered one: dressed for a mission but carefully balancing a duffel bag on her lap as she made her way towards the van.

It was sitting in its usual place, doors open, bags and equipment piled around it. She admired the lift kit, bumper guard, and skid plate that she'd fashioned for it with Erik: a job well done. After a couple of seconds, however, she noticed that there was nobody actually there, loading it. "Where are my galoots?" she muttered to herself, half-audible under her breath. Annoyed, Lys cast about for them, but there was only a distant Akaia being attended to by Poppy and consoled by Cerise for having to ingest that abominable thing that Pops termed 'soup'. The human made a point of avoiding that area, lest she be forced into 'caloric intake'. Pulling up to the open rear doors, Lys clicked her brakes on, hefted the bag, and tossed it inside. She couldn't be bothered with anything else. It bugged her. Her instinct was to assiduously organize every aspect of the interior of the van, but that was a lot of work, she'd need her energy today, and she still had the Immortals to go and load up and her specialty arrows - recently crafted - to retrieve. Lysandra backed away and made for the nearby storage room, where all of the goodies were kept and where she could already hear voices coming from.

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