Force and Fury

O R I F L A M M E

Act One: The Defense of Relouse____ __ _ _

Chapter One: A King's Call_________ __ __ _ _

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_{Art by Oliver Guiney}

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𝅘𝅥𝅮 Meldheim, Eskand: One Week Previous

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A seagull glided across the fjord, wheeling and bleating upon the cool evening wind. Each flap of its wings was measured as it rode the fast-cooling thermals. Beneath it were a great many humans standing by the water. These were of concern to the animal only insofar as their detritus provided an easy source of food before nightfall. Beyond that, it gave little care for the rituals of those strange land-bound animals.

They stood there in multitude, though, in a place called Meldheim. Before them stretched the cold grey waters of the Veldskyr. Yet, one could almost walk upon the sea for so many longships called it home. Behind them, a city roosted upon a hill where it rose to meet the walls of the fjord. Smoke spiraled into the darkening sky from a hundred chimneys and forges, black and wispy against a vast red sun. Finally, it sank from view and the glow of fires licked and flickered amid the burgeoning twilight.

It took a dozen strong men to set the longship going. The king could’ve done so himself, using the Gift, but he did not. This would be the last chance for these loyal warriors to act in service of their Jarl before they met again in Grønhalle. He would not deny it to them.

Without oarsmen, a vessel meant for them is directionless. Silently, King Hrothgar, a man many called ‘The Black’ for the armour he had earned slaying the legendary Mørkt Fjell, reached out with the immense power given to him by the Gods. The lone longship went still some ways from shore and there it sat in open water far from its brethren.

“Into the darkness, brother, you voyage," spoke the king solemnly. A rose of flame blossomed on the craft and spread quickly. "The journey from this land to the next is long, but we know that your deeds will go before you and guide you."

“It wasn't right that you fell in the Greenlands,” Hrothgar continued, “That unholy place with its crowded stinking cities, false gods, and greedy, grasping men, but you fell fighting in Bróðir’s presence, with bravery in your sword arm and the names of the gods on your lips.” He bowed his head.

“Though we will not see you arrive at Gestur's table, we know, one day, that we too will hear the call, and we will meet you there to drink and feast until the time of the Giving.”

“Let this fire of Faðir cleanse your vessel from this mortal plane,” the king said. “So that your spirit may voyage."

The longship was fully ablaze now. "Voyage well, my brother and my friend." He bowed his head and, from behind him rose a cry so loud as to shake the heavens, as to let Gestur know that a warrior worthy of a seat at the table was coming.

“Til Grønhalle!”
“Til Grønhalle!”
“Til Grønhalle!”

It echoed into the darkness, off of the cold stone walls of the fjord. The fires guttered and the stricken timbers smoked and steamed. Then the longship was gone and Einar, King of Juiskarn, with it. He had met his end bravely, overwhelmed by the superior numbers and treachery of the Greenlanders known as Parrench. It was those who were craftiest of all and as many as the pebbles on this beach. Always, Hrothgar knew, they were sending their art, their spices, and their music to the lands of the south. Most of all, they sent their priests to corrupt his people. Already, they had corrupted the kings of Kehreland and Feske and they would turn yet more of the Eskandr and their Drudgunzean kinsmen from the true gods. Less bloody than an axe but with the sureness of disease, they would destroy his people if he did nothing.

When the priests come to Hrothgar, however, he had welcomed them into his halls. He had given them bread and salt. He had allowed them to bathe in the hot springs that nestled at the foot of the Eldfjall and its liquid fire. Hrothgar had entertained an entire colony of these Somnians, Stresians, and Dordians and his people had begun to doubt him. When he had called a great feast and invited those noblemen who he knew were wavering, who had friends in the Greenlands, they were waiting upon him to betray his fathers’ faith. Instead, he’d had the priests seized and placed in chains. He and his most loyal of men had carved the blood eagle upon all twenty-five of them. Their screams had filled the night and he had staked out his position in no uncertain terms: his ways were his ways. Eskand was a place for Eskandr and not these northern fools.

Now, having made his statement, the King of Kings had called for his banners. Einar’s death had been as brave as it was tragic, but Horthgar would be remiss if he did not admit that its timing had been fortuitous. The Parrench and even some Drudgunzeans had begun to refer to the Eskandr as heathens. So be it. What Hrothgar had then gathered - what stood about and before him - was a Great Heathen Army. Tonight, they would feast and confer and celebrate the life of their brother. Three of his four children - two sons and a daughter - had made the journey and were among the army’s number. One would earn the crown, drenched in his enemy's blood, per Einar’s wishes. Tomorrow, they would set off. They would land upon the rugged shore near the rich walled town of Relouse and take it for their base camp. There, Hrothgar would make a king of one of his loyal Jarls, for he himself had no desire to wear a Greenlander crown.

The Great Heathen Army would march on from there and extinguish the grasping, spreading kraken that was Parrence while it was yet in its infancy. Eskandr would burn those people out of the fertile lands that they claimed. They would break the nascent kingdom, they would break its people's will, and they would crush the Greenlanders’ faith in their greedy-eyed gods that would not live peacefully alongside those of others. The Army would steal the treasures of the north for Eskand and push the borders of Hrothgar’s empire once more past the River Haskell and the River Mejn.

Yet, even as he stood there gazing out over his horde and glorying in their might, something came to him that he had felt only once before in his forty-odd years of life: a flicker of doubt.

Action Opportunities

For help with writing, here is a brief rundown of what comes next. Feel to engage with any number of these following:

1) There will be a night of feasting and celebrating before the army sets sail. Feel free to interact, to et hammered, to specifically eschew getting hammered, or to join Hrothgar in planning (he's going to drink, but not very much).

2) Feel free to have a quiet moment, pick up some equipment being made, visit a temple, pray to the Gods, or consult the Augurs.

3) The voyage by sea will mostly go as planned, but there will be one big rough patch. Maybe a chance to demonstrate some of your skills, your seasickness or lack thereof, or your massive (perhaps figurative) balls of steel?

4) You may write up to the point where you sight the Cape of Redame and prepare for battle. You may notice a small but not-insignificant force of mounted soldiers upon it (made up of Parrench PCs and NPCs) and they will harass your ships relentlessly with arrows and magic. Try to take some countermeasures, whether they be misdirection, escape, or counterattack.

5) Just around the cape is the bay and the beach where you'll make landfall. Waiting there is the massed might of the Grand Armee.

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_{Art by Camille Bachmann}

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𝅘𝅥𝅮 Luderrich, Kingdom of Lindermetz: Two Weeks Previous

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King Otto of Lindermetz, called the ‘Just’ by his people - it may have been intended as ironic; it may not have - was not necessarily an easy man to reach. Yet, Frida was an unusually persistent woman. Her quarrels with Folcher, the petty cloth merchant whose market stall was beside her husband’s, were the stuff of town legend at this point.

That grasping, beady-eyed schweinhund was always displaying his wares over a vast area in front of his stall and - more importantly - in front of Hermann’s! So it was that Frida had taken her concerns at this blatant disregard for neighbourly decorum to the local bailiff, but he was the cousin of Folcher’s wife and had dismissed her concerns with some false words and a laugh when he had thought she wasn’t listening. In truth, she hadn’t been, but one of her daughter’s friends worked as a servant in his house. She had heard everything and told Frida.

Next, she had gone to the magistrate and he had spoken sympathetic-sounding words. Yet, he had also refused to override the bailiff. He claimed that it was not his prerogative and that no good would come of such an action. For that, Frida had left three rotten eggs on his doorstep. The Quentic faith was supposed to be compassionate, or so she had been told time and again by those who were determined to convert her. Yet, Folcher kept the new gods and he was anything but. So had the King’s Justice, and he’d refused to act against a fellow Quentist in favour of a ‘pagan’. Where, Frida had thought, was the justice in that?

On up the chain she had gone until she was here, in Luderrich, awaiting her audience with the king. It had been two years. Folcher’s booth had since moved to another, more affluent area of the Großer Markt, but she had seen matters through this far and she was seeking damages. She had many witness statements. The local New Somnian chapter had even helped her. Perhaps, she admitted grudgingly, these Quentists were good for something. Though a part of Frida pushed back at the idea with the sort of stubbornness that had defined her life, she had even thought of converting. Pragmatically, she had prayed to both sets of gods for a resolution. She would see how matters settled and then decide. Certainly, it seemed ever more of her neighbours had been hanging those hourglass signs upon their lintels.

Yet, it appeared that, were it justice she sought, Frida would have to wait a bit longer. She was in the great hall now, where Otto of Lindermetz, a marginally plump little man with a stressed out pinkish face and chin-length blonde hair greased back beneath his crown, sat uncomfortably, shifting every so often on a great wooden chair.

The cheese merchant’s wife had gone so far as to buy a new dress - though never from Folcher - without patches. She had been practicing her bow and address for some days now. So, imagine her annoyance when a couple of guards stepped in front of her and barred her path - and, incidentally, those of everyone behind her - with their crossed halberds.

Men with fine robes and funny hats bustled about, then. They whispered in the king’s ear and Frida craned her neck to get a better look. “Bring in the musician, too, I suppose.” He shifted again on his throne, scratching at his bulbous little nose. “Time to give her a test run, no? See if she can keep us entertained.” The men in hats whispered some more, glancing down at the scrolls they held. The king heaved a much-put-upon sigh. “And the swamp witch.” He looked annoyed. “Bring in the swamp witch. Why not? What other manner of freaks shall we enjoy today?”

Frida caught a bit of the exchange as one of the scribes raised his voice a little. “It’ll move things along quicker, my lord.”

“Enough so I can enjoy my evening hunt?”

“In theory, my lord.”

“I want quail tonight, Humbert. I have been too long without it.”

“You’ve one more petition waiting in the hall.” Humbert’s eyes slid towards Frida and she straightened, trying to look dignified. “She’s been at it for quite some time.”

Otto sighed. “A lengthy issue?” The merchantwoman had excellent hearing, but she kept her expression neutral.

“No, something rather petty. We can fold her in with the others, after the lady knight. Give the woman her moment.”

Her expression slipped somewhat, but only briefly. Count on some powdered noble wanting to play knight to take up the king’s valuable time, and just when Frida was finally about to make good on two years of effort that had nearly made her a figure of fun. She saw the king nod, and then he waved for the guards at the side chamber to open the doors.

“Make way for Lady Hildr der Rote,” shouted the crier, “Slayer of the Vulkanischer Drache of Vigholm!”

Volcanic Dragon. Pfft! Frida nearly rolled her eyes. If the dragon was a volcano, it wasn’t particularly mobile, now was it? She did not find herself impressed. She had once fought off an entire pack of Smiling Dragons with nary but a broom, some gloves, and a sturdy pair of boots. Give her a sword, armour, and some training and she likely could’ve dealt with the problem herself. When the stout merchantwoman saw what marched in from a side chamber, she let out a snort. Some ridiculous lady knight in men’s clothes. To Frida’s eyes, she looked half a girl: far too pretty to be any sort of fighter.

Next came a strange pale girl in a dark robe. Her hair was… green as if covered in a slight film of moss, and Frida found herself making the signs of both the Family and the Pentad. Ungodly creature! To have a swamp witch in his very throne room, King Otto was either brave, strong, or courting disaster. Finally, came a bard, dressed in harlequin robes and carrying a lute. Pretty young thing, Frida mused, looking her up and down. Too lucky, lazy, or promiscuous to get a real job or a good husband.

The king stood, pushing off his throne’s armrests and stepping down so that he was near eye-level with the three new arrivals. He was a good deal taller than he had looked while seated, and not entirely without charm. He rubbed at his chin for a moment. “You will state your business: each of you,” he said briefly, pacing along in front of them. “You, I know, were caught trespassing on my land. You are but a girl and…” he paused and studied the young witch’s face for a moment, “and not fully human by the looks of you. Apologize, pay homage, and you may work off your owings. No punishment will be necessary. I have, perhaps, a task for which you could be of use, and we would consider your debt paid upon completion.”

He stopped in front of the lady knight next. “And you, Lady Hildr, your reputation certainly precedes you.” It does? thought Frida. “Yet…” he glanced down at his boots for a moment and, when he looked up, annoyance showed on his face. “I have heard disturbing reports that you still keep the old barbarian gods. That you have not found the light of the Pentad.” He furrowed his brow. “Truly, this is a shame. Why,” he continued, spreading his arms apart, “even now the Eskandr make preparations for war on Parrence. Our misguided brethren in Kressia join them, striking at our friends and trading partners from the south. Should I send you to that green land, how is it that I know you will not join your fellow pagans? Certainly, I have heard that you are very… close with some of them.”

He moved on, coming to a stop in front of the bard. “Tilda, is it? Of Ullmer?” He looked her up and down, glancing at her lute, and then he smiled. “I’ve heard you do not sing of heroes.” His voice warmed. “And it is just as well, for I have seen precious few in my lifetime.” He shook his head. “Better to sing of the shrewd businessmen who keep this country running, of the gatherings that give it light and life, of the fine hearty peasants who are salt of its earth. These are my thoughts and, I hope, yours." He paused and nodded. "Yet, I have heard that you have some martial skill to you. If this is true, then we may speak at length in the coming hours, for there is a task for which your king needs you and may compensate you handsomely.”

“All three of you may now address me,” he declared, after a moment of silence had passed. “State your cases, demonstrate your skill, and pledge your allegiance. Then I shall tell you what you are here for in earnest and provide for your travel.”

Frida had opened her mouth to call out to one of the robed men who fluttered about the throne room, but then the king’s guards barred her way once more. One of those very same men caught their eyes, shook his head, and the merchant was escorted out. “Tomorrow, ma’am,” said a guard brusquely. On the one hand, Frida was incensed. On the other, she had waited two years. What was one more day?

Action Opportunities

For help with writing, here is a brief rundown of what comes next. Feel to engage with any number of these following:

1) Share some background about what led you here, to King Otto's court. Are you here of your own free will, was your arm twisted into it, or did you not have a choice?

2) What do you see, hear, think, and feel? Lindermetz is a small but increasingly rich kingdom due to trade, and much of this is with the north. Old ways are still evident, but are fast fading.

3) Obviously, respond to the king's prompt. Spoiler: one way or another, this is your parachute into the story. You can take him up on his offer and you will be there for the start of the campaign at Relouse. Otherwise, you're kind of on your own and will have to write your way solo towards the other characters.

4) If you don't wish to be on the side of Parrence immediately, you can always betray Otto's trust. There will be some later consequences for this, of course, but if you go with the Eskandr, is he really going to be able to take his revenge on you while you're in the middle of an army of thousands of frickin' vikings?

5) If you choose to act in good faith upon his offer, you will move up in his trust and esteem. You will be at Relouse to deliver his message to Arcel that he will keep faith with Parrence but that he has to see to his own defense and cannot send much more than a token force. These will arrive a little bit later inn the story and include some... very interesting people.

6) For those who journey to Relouse, you will be there for the Parrench king's speech and may choose to participate in the conflict if you wish.

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_{Art by Florian Desaunay}

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𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 Relouse, Royaume de Parrence: The Present

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One Week Previous: The Yasoi Lady

“Talit. Yrash. Osmax.” Arcel threw his arms out and swept her off her foot. “Haha! You little shit, how I’ve missed you!” He swung her around as if she were a doll and Tali relaxed into the swing, just like she did when traveling by chainline through the forest. For a moment, she squeezed the Parrench king back, putting every bit of feeling from a year's worth of separation into it. He was big and warm, like he’d always been, but somehow even bigger than before. “Hey Arcel,” she teased, “Did you miss…” She pressed the back of her hand against the base of his neck. “This!” He visibly flinched and flung her away. With the help of force magic and some natural yasoi nimbleness, she landed gracefully in a crouch before springing up.

“How are your hands so cold?” her childhood friend cried, rubbing at the back of his neck. “How have they always been so cold. You’re using magic, aren’t you.”

Taking a few steps forward, Tali shook her head. “Just born that way, or you’re a wussy king.”

“Cold hands,” he retorted, “cold heart.”

She let out an appreciative sniff of laughter and smiled, coming to a stop a few feet away from him. “So,” she began, gesturing with her chin towards the great table in front of them. “This is the big kid game, huh?”

Arcel’s expression turned serious and he nodded, glancing down at the enormous map that covered most of it. Wooden models of soldiers, cities, cavalry, magery, and strongholds dotted its surface. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and furrowed his brow. “This is it. Hrothgar’s making his move and the Drudgunzeans are suddenly very quiet.”

“Never trust a Drudgunzean,” Talit replied, setting her crutch-canes against the table. “Oldest rule in the book.” She rested her stump on the tabletop and leaned forward, shaking her head.

“It would appear that way,” the king admitted, “but they’ve also plowed through any Drudgunzean lands that didn’t allow them free passage, so there has to be some tension there too: tension that we can exploit.”

The yasoi’s eyes scanned the scenario in front of her. A couple of costly childhood bobbles aside, she’d always had a good grasp of tactics, but she could not match Arcel’s strategic acumen. “How do you propose we do it?” she asked, looking up.

He pursed his lips pensively before replying. “Truth is, we don’t know how bad it is. Still got people putting together a picture, seeing how deep the resentment runs.” He faced her. “We need more spies: ones they won’t suspect of being Parrench.”

“Yasoi,” she stated simply, turning and meeting his gaze with arms crossed.

“They’d be ideal,” he admitted.

“I’ll go,” she offered, making her preferred course of action known in no uncertain terms, “and I’ll find people.”

“Tali, you can’t.” He shook his head with an implacable kind of regret, his eyes flicking ever so briefly to the empty side of her skirts.

“Is it this cursed thing?” she said, raising her stump momentarily, and he nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re just too distinctive and people know that you’re with me.”

She worked her jaw back and forth for a moment, annoyed, and shrugged, closing it. “I could just blast my way in,” she offered, only half-joking.

He smiled sadly and shook his head again. Tali sighed. “I’ll find you people,” she promised, “but I can’t just sit around a table with a bunch of old human guys, Arce. I’ll go nuts.” She turned back to face it, posting her hands on its surface. Her fingers drummed nervously, careful not to disturb any of the models. She glanced over at him in expectation.

“Well, for starters,” he began, “I need to know what’s going on in Loriindton and your people’s other holdings.”

“I’m not baroness,” she reminded him. “I don’t know everything.”

“You’re you,” he countered, with a hint of a snort. “You know enough. Can I expect any support? Is my rear flank secure?”

She thought for a moment, rocking back and forth on the ball of her foot, though she was already nearly certain of her answer. It would do well for Arcel not to take her people’s cooperation for granted. Much as she loved him, he was not her king and her people were not his subjects unless they chose to be. Humans were ever putting up borders, rules, and imposed expectations. “You’ve nothing to worry about from us.” She shook her head and offered a brief, reassuring smile. “But I don’t think many yasoi are keen to go and die in a human war, and the Eskandr have…” She considered the recent attack of a treasure convoy on its way to a Mette’stiroi in Vixandijiil and the anger it had caused. Not enough, she knew. “Mostly avoided attacking us,” she decided. “They know better.”

“I see,” the king said, his voice growing pensive, fingers rubbing at his chin.

“What are you so busy pensively stroking? You don’t have a beard, babyface.”

“More beard than you.”

“Oh, you like bearded ladies,” she shot back, “do you?”

“Only when they’re you,” he teased, and it brought about a rueful snort of laughter from the yasoi. She shook her head. “I really thought it would just go away.”

“Essence and Blood magics, was it?”

She nodded. “On a dare.”

“And it kept trying to grow back for…”

“Six months,” she squeaked, “before I figured out the hormones.”

“Made you look like a leader, Hopper.”

“More of a leader than you, beardless.” She stroked her chin. “Maybe I should regrow it.”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head. Their eyes met and each smiled.

“Anyhow.” Arcel let out a breath and it was back to business. “I had hoped our peoples could make common cause. You don’t think it’s likely?”

Tali shrugged. “Who’s to say with yasoi. I’m even-keeled these days by our standards.”

“And I’m excitable.”

“Truly, that’s how I’ve had to skew,” she insisted, shaking her head. Idly, she kicked at the table’s edge with her stump. She had to stop her fingers from fussing with the map. “Anyways, in perfect candor, I have neither the power nor the desire to compel them to ally. If the Eskandr keep going as they are…” She trailed off and shrugged. “We’ll see what the future holds. For now,” she assured him, “you have me.”

He nodded, meeting her gaze for a moment. “Thanks, Talit.”

“None required.”

And then there was a moment where the two of them just stood there: a grown man and a grown woman who had known each other as children, alone in a large tent. There was a map to keep their eyes on, but the conversation had ended. Tali was just reaching for her crutch-canes and opening her mouth to assure the king that she would get to work, when there was a flutter of heavy fabric and the queen brushed inside.

“Your highness.” The yasoi bowed her head respectfully.

“Tali,” nodded Eleanor. "Nice to see you."

“Love,” said Arcel, and the woman who had stolen him from Tali strode up to him and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. “As requested, the lords of Chamonix and Tourrare await your audience.”

“You shall entertain their wives?”

“That I shall, dear.” She winked. “Leave them to me.”

“Echeran spare them.”

She punched him on the shoulder while Tali stood there, trying not to watch but not wanting to be rude and outright avert her gaze. She’d learned that such things mattered to humans. She cleared her throat.

“Gods, Tali, I’m sorry.” Eleanor turned to face her. “Would you like to join us or has my dear husband given you some other impossible task?” She scowled playfully at Arcel.

“I don’t give impossible tasks,” he protested. “Merely… very difficult ones.”

“Nothing is impossible,” replied the yasoi. “Your highness.” She bowed to the king. “Your highness,” she bowed to the queen, already backing away.

Moments later, Talit’yrash’osmax found herself outside, amid the bustle of a vast army camp. Brightly coloured tents stretched out across the plain, their fabrics fluttering in a stiff breeze. Soldiers, craftsmen, and aides-de-camp milled about, seeing to one task or another or else doing what Tali found herself so often in the service of these days: looking busy. Underfoot, the ground was already more dirt than grass, but at least they had been spared rain and it was not a quagmire. To the north rose a forest - a place that some deep instinct in the yasoi automatically looked upon as home - and, at its edge lay the stables where her horse - Pishcar, or 'Shaggy' in human tongues - was kept.

People made way for her as she walked, distinctive sight that she was but, more than once, her path had to skew around some organized chaos of the camp. It was a log being hauled in from the forest for a catapult, a cart with soup and wooden bowls passing through, and the arrival of some lord from Solenne. Tali nodded but did not bow to him. By human reckoning, they were social equals. Then, she was through it and looking back. In the distance, past herds of sheep and goats that supplied the army, the grey stone walls of Relouse rose from the windswept green plains. Beyond them still was the sea and its bountiful stormy promise.

Two Days Previous: Regina Viridi Terras

Eleanor made her way about the camp, diligent as always, Queen of the Parrench always. Knights and soldiers doffed their hats in her presence, and she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. As a girl growing up in Viennes, she’d never dreamed of anything like this. So vast was the Parrench army that it covered the entire plain, right up to the gates of Relouse, a monastery town that had been of little note until around the time she had been born.

That they would finally stand up to the Eskandr with more than just words and offerings both frightened the young queen and appealed to something deep inside of her. Some people could not be reasoned with, bargained with, or bought. They would always be savage and inclined to warfare and raiding. They would always covet the rich farmlands and forests of her homeland for themselves, and so she would fight them. Arcel would fight them. Every man and woman in their country capable of doing so would fight with every fiber of his or her being, for such were the Parrench. Theirs was the proud heritage of the great empire and they would not bow meekly to outsiders any longer

And so it was that a mighty war machine, like none seen since the days that the legions of Avince had marched across this land, would be built. So it was that the Grand Armee, drawn from a thousand fiefs across the kingdom, armed and armoured by a thousand blacksmiths, would sally forth in its multitudes and crush those barbarians. They would rain fire and death upon the Eskandr so that Green Parrence might prosper ever more and be a light to the peoples of this continent as had been the empire once, long ago.

It pained Arcel, deep in his chest, in the place that he would show to no others but dearest Eleanor and faithful Talit, what circumstances had forced upon him. Yet, he would not flinch from his duty as king. For many years, the Eskandr and, occasionally, Drudgunzeans had harried his land and killed the people who Orpahe had charged him with protecting. Myriad had been the alliances, treaties, and shifts in power that had characterized the past two centuries. The Parrench were a peaceful folk by nature, and would that he could rule them as a peaceful king, but it was not in the offing. For as long as the Parrench kingdoms, duchies, and counties had stood on their own uncertain feet, Skandergeld had flown from their coffers into those of the paiens. They had sent priests to live and work among the Southern peoples and spread the light and salvation of the Quentic faith. At great cost, they had sent south great works of art and culture, finest silks and spices, truthful good will. Yet, still, the barbarians raided. Still, they menaced monasteries, convents, and villages. They remained intractable.

First, the Eskandr had murdered their kings when these had seen the light. That had brought the new kingdom to the brink of war with them but, then, they had savagely killed the holy men who had embraced them as brothers in a bloody pagan ritual. It was plain that there was no peace to be had now, and Parrence stood as a bulwark. If it was to be war, Arcel had decided, then he would hit them with the unified might of Parrence: greatest of northern nations and heir to the traditions and steel of empire. The Drudgunzeans would join him in the light and hope of Ipté, Chune and Oraphe or else be crushed under the boots and hammer of Echeran and Dami. Heartily, as he knelt down beside his wife each night, he prayed for it.

Now, they prayed not alone, however. The fifty-five banners of the Parrench people snapped and fluttered in the stiff maritime breeze. On the very rock where Sainte Defrois had invoked the power of Echeran and slain the Dawn Wyvern those many years ago - the stone still stained with its black blood - King Arcel stood before the Grand Armée. To one side stood his beloved, Eleanor. To the other was the newly-elevated Archbishop of Relouse. The King knelt and kissed the holy man’s hand. Beside him knelt the Queen. “Father,” they said as one, “I ask you for the blessing of the most holy Pentad.”

Monks rang their handheld bells and the smell of incense drifted on the wind. The archbishop spread his arms and addressed all of those present. “Ipté, Chune, Oraphe, Echeran, and Dami bless all those who would embrace them. The blessing is yours if you will speak the words.”

“I shall,” answered the king. “I shall,” replied the queen.

“Then let us pray,” said the holy man reverently.

They gathered beneath the grey walls on the bright green grass beneath the clear blue sky and they prayed. Some, with greater fervour than others, but pray they all did.

Thousands made the sign of the Pentad.

“Lover, Learner, Creator, Destroyer, Judge,” they began. “All magics and all of creation pay homage to the divine Pentad who brought them into being. Thy existence is beyond human understanding, thy ways both arcane and divine, and thy gifts the foundations of life itself. May thy will be done now and forever.”

“Amen,” declared the archbishop, his robes flapping in the wind, his aged face serene. Arcel stood, and Eleanor a moment later. The former placed a hand upon the holy man’s shoulder and thanked him quietly. He stepped to the edge of the promontory. “Today,” he announced, “we set out upon the holy endeavour most blessed by Echeran: that of war!” His voice carried across the plain, raised to the ears of those gathered through the work of the Gift. “It is a grim business that we have set ourselves to but, as you are all here, I am satisfied that each of you know how it has now become a necessary one: an inevitable one.” He bowed his head momentarily. “Look around you, now, at the brave men and women who stand upon this sacred ground where Sainte Defrois once slew the Dawn Wyvern that so menaced this country. You do not stand alone. Nor do you stand as Tourrares, Legalles, Vitrouennes, Chambroix, or Servignans! You stand, today, the fifty-five nations of Parrennce: a fighting force blessed by the five gods, a fighting force such as this world has never laid eyes upon!”

Arcel’s heart was pounding with the emotion of the moment. This was history being made. It would be retold for many hundreds of years and, for a flicker of time, the pressure of it chipped away at the edge of his resolve. “You know well the danger,” he proclaimed, pacing now. “Some of us will be called to the five heavens, to live in the grace and peace of the Pentad, far from these mortal concerns. That is an outcome that we were all aware of when we heeded the call to come to this place. You know well the enemy,” he continued, pausing and facing the army. “Their deeds go before them: their prowess in battle, their unholy, barbaric, and murderous ways!” Eleanor stood to the side, hands knitted in front of her, expression resolved and serene as she gazed out across the crowd: the nobles in front and the hommes-de-roi, the petty knights behind, and the soldiers behind them still. The king continued. “Yet, I tell you this, people of my nation: do not let doubt stay your action this day, for I have met them on the battlefield. I have crossed steel with their steel, and we are every bit their equal. Now, with our peoples combined and the Gods to lend us strength, I tell you further: by Chune’s light, by Echeran’s sword we shall carry the day!” He drew his greatsword from its scabbard and thrust it into the air. “Vive la Parrence!!!”

A sea of burnished steel glowing under the stresian sun, fifty thousand weapons rose. The five tribes and fifty-five nations of Parrence roared, then, their voices a fearsome cry echoing off the old stone walls of Relouse. When the volume had died down somewhat, the king raised a hand. “Now, once more, brothers and sisters in arms and in faith, let us raise our voices in prayer!” He collapsed to his knees, locks of golden hair spilling over his crown.

“Oh heavenly Pentad,” he proclaimed, “who hath crafted the heavens, the sea, and the earth beneath our feet, who hath brought life, love, learning, and laughter to us, who destroy so that we may be renewed, who give us choice, magic, and freedom, we beg this of thee:”

“First,” said Eleanor, kneeling beside him, “Of Ipté we beg love for our brothers and sisters in this nation and those under your protection, that we might always remember what we are fighting for and why it is worth so very much.”

“Second,” said the king, “of Chune we beg wisdom and keenness of mind, that we may outwit and outplay the enemy, that we might recognize dangers and opportunities more fully, that we might be strong in our tactics and our strategies.”

“Of Oraphe,” said the queen, her breastplate shimmering in the sun, “we humbly ask for light, life, and good health to our bodies and minds, that we may fight with vigour and bring the light of a lasting peace to this land once all is said and done.”

“Of Echeran, we ask for the blessings of war,” Arcel declared. “We ask for courage and strength in battle. We ask that our restraint be removed, that mercy not stay our hand when facing the enemy, that we should move across the field like a great scythe among the chaff.”

“Finally, we beg sound judgement of Dami,” concluded the queen, “that we will exercise it at all times and that it will serve us well. We humbly pray that he will look with favour upon our actions here today, and for evermore.”

The king bowed his head. The queen followed. “This we pray,” declared the former. “Amen,” finished the latter. They made the sign of the Pentad and rose to their feet. In the distance, beyond the town, the fields, and the rough, stony seawall that tumbled towards the water lay Cape Redame. Sometime soon, all of those gathered knew, in perhaps only a handful of hours, the thousand longships of a Great Heathen Army would round its headland. From the deep, cloudy waters of the Océan Venteux, the Eskandr would make their landfall on the beach just there. The soldiers of the Grand Armée would meet them and they would fight: the first battle of many for the survival of Parrence.

Action Opportunities

For help with writing, here is a brief rundown of what comes next. Feel to engage with any number of these following:

1) What were you doing before this? How did you come to be here? What are your motivations and how does this make you feel?

2) Feel free to interact with other characters. If you have an established relationship with any of them, it might be a good time to interact. What was camp life like?

3) Any yasoi present have likely been recruited by Lady Talit. She or one of her friends/agents would've probably appeared out of nowhere (she's good at that) and offered you the chance at adventure, advancement in Parrench eyes, and plunder.

4) What goes through your mind and body in the immediate preparation for battle? How about the king's speech and prayer?

5) Are you part of any scout or expeditionary force racing off to Cap Redame to harry the Eskandr longships? You may write up to the point of first contact and attack. Be ready for a quick mini-cycle if you do this, though. We'll have to play that interaction out quickly before the main engagement. No writing decisive outcomes that affect other (enemy) Player Characters, though.

6) For everyone else, you'll be mounting the defence of Relouse on the beach, trying to prevent the Eskandr making a successful landing and, failing that, keep the walled town from falling. Feel free to employ any skills that you have to set traps, prepare the battlefield, etc.

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O R I F L A M M E

@Siber Great to have you aboard. Any idea what sort of character you might be gravitating towards? Feel free to bounce any questions or ideas that you have off of me either here, by DM, or on discord. On that note, I'd recommend joining our discord if you're interested. You'll find a lot of help and additional resources there. Some people have been RPing within the world of Sipente for quite a while now and know its lore basically as well as I do.

@Force and Fury

I'm thinking of a Bard that specializes in Force. Planning for her to be a Drudgunzean. As far as details go... I don't have a lot, but I'm hoping to work a bit more tonight!

@Siber

Sounds good! Keep me posted. OOC is going up within half an hour.

O R I F L A M M E

@pantothenic,@Atalanta, and @YummyYummy: I'm loving the characters. For the first two, feel free to pop them straight into the Character tab once the OOC is launched tomorrow, as I've already reviewed them. For Yummy, you can stick Aheri in there once I've given you feedback. Was just too damned busy today! There isn't much, so don't worry.

@Siber Great to have you aboard. Any idea what sort of character you might be gravitating towards? Feel free to bounce any questions or ideas that you have off of me either here, by DM, or on discord. On that note, I'd recommend joining our discord if you're interested. You'll find a lot of help and additional resources there. Some people have been RPing within the world of Sipente for quite a while now and know its lore basically as well as I do.

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In more general news, the OOC will go live tomorrow and I'll finally be finishing poor Arcel's CS. He's been waiting for a while. I'm also hoping to have some info on flora and fauna up once we reach OOC. Stretch goals include having a more detailed map that doesn't suck. Those will realistically trickle in as they become ready. If there's still more that you want to know, you can always check out The Hourglass Order. Happy RPing and see you tomorrow!

⫸ New World Order ⫷

Hey dude! To say that I love this concept and would love to be a part of it is an understatement. I actually had an idea of my own in the same general ballpark that I have yet to actually try on here. Thing is, I thought I'd have a lot more free time after the contract ended on my second job. Instead, I've been even busier than before over the past week. I'm GMing two games and in another two and I just don't think that I could commit to the extent that I would want to or be able to do this awesome world justice. That means that I have to bow out. If I wasn't already in four RPGs, I'd be on board.

Anyways, I know that player drops happen because life is life and, if any of the games that I'm in conclude soon I'd be quite eager to return to this before looking for anything new. Basically: if you're looking for any replacements in the future, DM me. If I can find some bandwidth, I remain very interested. Just... currently unable to responsibly act on that interest. You deserve an engaged and committed playerbase.

The Hourglass Order

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B L A C K F L A G

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View a full, unedited transcript of the live battle even from discord here

Battle by the Docks

Scene One:There was no time wasted. Scarce had the two pieces of Wvysen's body hit the ground than two copies of each enemy appeared. One of them had already grabbed Onarr in a kinetic grasp before he even knew what was happening and the pint-sized mage found himself hurled to sea far out beyond the docks. That mage shot off like a bullet after him, determined to press her advantage.

The atomic mage wasn't finished with his mouth beam, either. He immediately turned it in Ingrid's direction, seeking to do the same to her that he had to poor Wvysen. His power was on an entirely different level and his allies quickly spread out away from him as a colossal burning energy field that caused the air to blur, crackle, and hum enveloped him. The heat rolling off of it was otherworldly, and the cobblestones began to crack and blacken beneath him.

That was when Desmond started to feel a pressure building in his head. His heart began to beat unnaturally fast. Ismette, too, found herself and Trypano under attack. The sky hummed with electric charge and a massive lightning bolt flashed down from above at them, and then a second and a third!

Nerio called immediately for his swords. He was unprepared for this, but the came flying out of The Doge's Breeches within moments, some shattering windows in the process. He would add it to his tab if he survived this. These, he focused on a small woman near the back of the enemy group: both versions of her. Yet... despite the energy signatures attached to both, his swords passed right through. He shook his head in disbelief and then found himself half-hurled to the side and half-leaping as a massive chemical explosion rocked the building next to him. When he looked up, the mage he'd been targeting was gone: completely gone, energy signature and all. These guys were good: very good. It was a blessing, perhaps, that they weren't targeting Desmond's unnamed companion. Nerio thought she may have been one of the girls from La Fleur. He wondered why.

Ingrid:Ingrid was shocked to see Wvysen's body in 2 on the floor, even more that the Atomic mage was turning towards her. She was about to grab Onarr and dip behind cover when but Onarr had already been taken away by another mage. Ingrid drew from the heat from the surroundings, then converting it to a blinding flash of light in front of the atomic mage as she dipped to hide herself and start preparing Protection of Oraff-Zept. She has only used it in a controlled environment but now was the time to test her practical skills.

Desmond: Desmond noticed everything kicking off, VVvysen's body getting cut in half by an atomic mage, new assailants and teammates arriving, and attacks already being pressed. Desmond began to shift the Princess, but he felt his body acting strange. Intense pressure in the head, heart palpitations, it made his teeth grit and jaw lock up. As he realized there was probably an Internal Chemist, and they are trying to kill Desmond without much fuss. He unlocked his jaw and breathed, as he polarizes himself, knowing they will need to control his internal chemistry for long enough to continue this, so a nice shock should give him the moment he needs to breath.

Trypano: Not only had several mages grouped together to halt them but they were already aware of each one of their presences. This wasn't good.

Responding to the immediate threat as lightning struck near them, something rather poorly aimed for someone who had the drop on them, Trypano dove into the tropical forest flanking both sides of the path before the lightning could correct it's course. Already she could hear her cover under assault as the tree was struck by the third shot. With one of their own already dead this was a concerning event to be certain.

Looking at where the roots joined the tree to the ground she began drawing away the earth, using the energy ripped from the solid matter to insert air between to better allow herself to slip further into the earth at a quicker pace. Only once she was fully submerged did she begin filling in earth behind her, helping to push her along as she traveled towards the scene of the battle, moving diagonally both forward and downward to afford her more protection from the more tangible attacks.

She was able to briefly see her attackers before they had set upon her. There were a number of them, five to be precise. What she needed to know however was what each one of her foes were capable of. Since they scattered to avoid the general area of attack by their atomic caster it made it easier to identify them apart from her own crew using her binding senses alone. The fact they all wore similar cloaks aided in that matter.

It was obvious to her that Desmond was experiencing a threat from either a binder or an internal chemist, that much her senses could pick up. Now it was simply a matter of finding the origin. The sooner she could pick out their binder the easier it would be for her to remove them and thus run un-countered in her efforts.

Scene Two: With preternatural speed, the Atomic mage drew from Ingrid's flash, dampening its impact. He still blinked and stopped firing, but he seemed otherwise unhindered. His reflexes were truly something else. But he was relentless! With a roar, he flew at her like a cannonball, leaving a blazing trail behind him from what could only be Infernal Majesty. The good news was that Ingrid's protection spell held and the radiation didn't melt her. The bad was that she had less than a second to look up before his fist met with her face.

Trypano dove through the ground. Much of it was limestone, and so much denser than loose dirt, making the going tough, but a least rather porous. Focusing on both burrowing with speed and trying to sense the other mages she found taxing and imperfect. There was no sign of Binding or blood magic being used... And then there was! She shot towards it but, after less than a second, a wide swath of ground in front of her disappeared and, suddenly, she was out in the open with significant momentum. A trio of wicked steel spines thrust up towards her face from in front and below!

With satisfaction, Desmond watched two of the mages reel from his attack. They were identical, which really meant that they were one. They staggered backwards for a moment and then he could feel the start of a massive arcane and chemical draw from the surrounding environment. "You think your parlour tricks will work on me!?" she howled.

It took Nerio a moment to recover. His ears were ringing and his vision blurred. It seemed that everyone was engaged with an enemy. That left him free, and you did not just leave Nerio Luchessi free and avoid any consequences! He called his swords back to him and whipped them into a spinning frenzy. At the Chemical mage lining up a shot on Desmond, he sent two and, as he expected, they were dodged quite easily. Still, it interrupted the mage's draw, buying his ally some time, and... well, this little attack was called Boomerang Blade for a reason.

Ingrid: Ingrid finished her protection spell and readied herself to face the enemy blasting towards her. Her family were nobles but they work their mines across Constantia. She has was taught more than enough to defend herself from this overly simple attack. Ingrid started to absorb some energy of his punch to then use it to slip to the outer side of his punch, grabbing his wrist as he started to go by. Ingrid quickly shifts her back to him, moving her other arm under his throwing arm. In a powerful show of self defense and magic, Ingrid attempts to flip him head first onto the cobblestone. Sending him rocketing down with the use of her own kinetic magic mixed with his.

Scene Two-and-a-Half: Amelia knew that there was an illusionist here: a good one. She swore there had been six mages initially. Now, there were only ten: two for each of five. She shook her head. They seemed to be leaving her alone. Right! One was with the dwarf, tangling out over the water. She could see the flashes of distant lightning. Then... why wasn't one of the enemies attacking? She seemed a ghost to the princess. She seemed -

Ingrid's quick counter was able to succeed. She drew the kinetic force from her enemy's attack and slammed him into the ground. He hit with bone-crushing force, but instead of crying out or going limp, he was laughing, maniacally. He was masked and she couldn't see his face, of course, but his jackal-like howls were clearly audible. He had her by the wrist. She could tell that he'd drawn most of the energy from her slam and used a precisely equal amount to counter it. "Gotcha now!" he sneered, and grappled her in a Kastang hold. "Time to turn up the heat!" He began to glow and the world began to hurt!

Amelia's attention was drawn from her pursuit by a massive crash. She dived out of the way, augmenting her motion with a kinetic burst, just as the pair hurtled past her. Then, the atomic mage had the Eskandish girl in a bearhug. The heat became intense and, as she reached out with her binding abilities, Amelia could literally feel her ally start to cook. Drawing from the ruined walls and floor, she pumped fresh matter into Ingrid's cells, preventing the damage. Closer, she stepped, and she noticed the atomic mage glance at her. The heat started to die down. That was it! They wanted to take her in unharmed.

Of course, Ingrid was not exactly making things easy for her opponent. She was a big girl with a big RAS. Amelia rushed in closer and Atomic mage burst free, rocketing out the roof of the building. "Now, you idiots!" he shouted. "NOW!"

Trypano: Perhaps it was due to some, maybe literal, tunnel vision as she worked her way forward and down into the field as she searched for the binder. Upon tracing their signature she worked forth but it seems they've been following her progress and had put a trap in her path.

There was little time to respond as metal spines seemed to jut out for her. Luckily she was still drawing from material directly in front of her so she used that to draw away the ends of the spines, attempting to smooth the edges before they could pierce/cut her. Instinctively she brought her arm up to block the (hopefully) blunted metal bits that her enemy loosed upon her.

Luckily her casting oft didn't depend on her needing both her hands, just the one with the scalpel, especially when it came to operating on others. Ceasing to draw on the materials ahead of her she quickly encased herself in a stone pocket in order to reduce the jostling the water ahead would create before reaching out to retaliate against this enemy binder.

With her scalpel aimed for the target she used her naturally potent & refined drawing skills to pick out the target's brain. She focused on their corpus callosum, drawing in a thin fine line along the surfaces in order to try and split their left and right hemispheres from one another. She had more up her sleeve but this drawing was what was contributing to the creation of her own protective cover for the time being.

Trypano might be a mage but she was also a surgeon. It was time for her to operate.

Desmond: Desmond saw the two mages recoil and a smirk came on his face knowing who he was going for now, there were two, meaning that one was an illusion. As she drew in energy she screamed to the Heavens and then to Desmond. And honestly Desmond laughed as he said in a cool voice, "Honestly baby, yeah". In truth Desmond was nervous, he was to go toe to toe with a mage who was clearly leagues above himself. But that same drawing and RAS that made her leagues above Desmond, also threw away her advantage, so drew his gun quickly and took aim.

He knew he had a lead shot in his gun, but he needed to get rid of it and still make an impact, yet the moment he pulled the trigger he saw 2 blades come flying in and forced the chemist to dodge. Making a perfect opening as Desmond smiled and fired his bullet. As once the bullet left his gun, he began to take control of it and make sure it was able to fly at the Mage he felt was the one that real one. The blades came at them and they had to purposefully dodge, meaning they were in motion, they'd need to exert an even greater amount of energy to just get away from his bullet now, if at all.

Scene Three: Trypano was just completing her shell, just pulling out her scalpel and reaching out to slice a brain in two, when a small section of the shell disintegrated and water began flooding in: cold dead water that had been underground for far too long.

In that moment, as she could feel the neural pathways of her opponent's mind start to sever, the relief of victory and safety was not hers to bask in. From high above the exposed top of the aquifer, she felt an enormous surge of energy and, with alarm, realized what it was. In less than a second, she would be cooked, and so she stared to take evasive action. The damage that she'd done to the other mage was profound if not fatal: a brain bleed that would kill him within minutes if not healed. Yet, he would heal it if given the chance.

Then, the world stopped making sense. The energy of a lightning bolt arced towards her, but it was so slow that she could sense its blinding path. Breaking free of her shell and leaping free of the water and its conductivity, she landed on solid ground. Everyone but for Ismette was moving in slow motion. The lanky yasoi girl was straining: eyes bugged out and veins popping. "Do the thing!" she hissed from behind clenched teeth, and it was clear that Trypano would have only a second or two to act. Temporal Magic!

Ingrid: Ingrid couldn't expect the Atomic man to also be a Kastang practitioner. She took a deep breath as he went and got her into a hold, She tried to struggle for freedom but she wasn't strong enough and before she knew it, he was cooking her. She held her breath knowing that if she let that go their would be no chance for escape. The burning suddenly stopped when a new girl appeared. Ingrid didn't know who she was exactly at the time but she seemed to get the atomic mage to back up.

The mysterious women also healed her wounds she sustained from the brawl with him. It didn't take long for Ingrid to piece together from the Atomic mage's actions that she was the princess. Whatever the case, the mage was above them and she needed to do something.

Ingrid grabbed the princess's arm and yelled at her to come on. She tossed 2 of her prepared explosives at support beams and one towards him to further cover there escape. She lit them with some of the remnant heat energy she had within her. Normally Ingrid would speed up the reaction to massively increase the destructive power but she knew that would be enough to collapse the building. Plus it would allow her to start building her energy for the show stopper she had planned.

Scene Three-and-a-Half: Desmond's bullet did not take the most direct, obvious path, but it headed for the Chemical mage just as sure as a massive fireball erupted from her hands headed for Desmond. His bullet would get there first but he would not have time to dodge out of the way if he spent all of his concentration on it.

As he had too many times in his brief life, the mercenary threw himself to the side. The fireball billowed past him, turning a shop where he had been a second ago into flaming wreckage. Sharp, hot bits of things stung at him as he scrabbled back to his feet. He had no idea if his bullet had actually struck too, but he saw the Chemical mage collapse. Moments later, a bloody sword came scything past and wound up in the hand of a roguishly handsome pirate who was - surprisingly - not himself. "Saw what happened," said Nerio, plucking a toasty apple from a fallen barrel. "Your shot hit 'er, but she had an illusion up that offset where she was standing by about a foot: too small to notice in the heat of battle. Anyways..." He paused to take a bite. "You winged her and that was enough to break her concentration. She was about to dodge my boomerang blades." He took another bite. "Hm, this is good," he enthused. "Want one? Anyways, I figure we can share the kill."

Trypano: She had been set up by the two of them for a counter attack when Ismette had, surprisingly, moved her far faster than what was conventionally possible from her shell out into the world. She would have guessed advanced kinetics if she wasn't already familiar with the signature of temporal magic at work. A fascinating reveal.

Her discovery would have to wait however as it seemed time for her to press the advantage. With one hand she focused on the binder, resuming her drawing as she surgically attempted to sever their corpus callosum and thus split their brain in two. With the other she sought out the magnetic mage that was targeting her. Grasping out for his hair she looked for where there was hair cells to latch onto, looking not with her eyes but with her binding. She would not allow the illusionist to baffle her by fooling such basic senses with false light images.

Seizing onto their hair she attempted to grow out strands of the magnetic mage's own hair as near to the roots as she could manage and proceeded to try and extend them into every orifice available on their head. Strands would grow in shaped contortions for their eyelids, ears, nostrils and mouth to try and enter their body and fill it with hair.

Scene Four: All at once, the illusions disappeared, and Trypano found her target laid plainly bare. The brain was severed and the binder collapsed, dead or as good as such. Time sped back up to normal just as she was beginning her attack on the Magnetic enemy. With him caught off-guard by the time-warped suddenness of her attack, she gained a momentary advantage before he was able to simply bind his own hair away and send a paid of hastily-bound blades scything in her direction.

Meanwhile, Ingrid was up against a whole other level of threat. The masked atomic mage was a truly terrifying spectacle. He howled with evil glee. "WAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!! NOW THIS IS PODRACING THE REAL DEAL!!!" He took a deep breath and a second mouth beam erupted forth, blinding orange, slicing through the explosive headed his way. It erupted in a great, bubbling ball of flame and then the entire thing disappeared back into the monster's mouth as if drawn in by a black hole. He turned his face, grinning, towards Ingrid's other explosives, as she and Amelia were still evacuating the area. The princess took off into the air with a grace that could only come from being skyborn.

That's when Ingrid felt it: The missing mage. It materialized out of nowhere: a blade straight through the back. Only a warning prickle of energy immediately behind her and Amelia's shouted, "Behind you!" saved her from what would've been a near-instantly fatal wound. As it was, the blade took her through the back of her ribcage, and pierced a lung. The pain was unreal! Unfathomable! The greyborn disappeared just as quickly as she or he had appeared and now Ingrid had her own survival to worry about.

Then, the Atomic mage made his move, hammering into the similarly airborne Amelia and filling her mind with a chemical burst that rendered her limp before she could do anything to counter him. Accelerating to an absurd speed, he took off with his prize, already almost out of range, leaving his remaining teammates behind.

Desmond: Once Desmond made it to his feet, he saw a roguish man make his way near Desmond as he plucked an apple and explain what happened. Desmond stood up and dusted himself off as he calmly loaded another bullet into his gun. As Desmond packed his gun with gun powder his next bullet a simple lead ball that had an almost indistinguishable line of lead seeming to connect 2 hemispheres, Death's Promise which holds a small steel ball within a small cage held within the lead bullet, it should have some promising results against these mages. Once Nerio made his way near Desmond with the apple Desmond extended his hand and tossed Nerio a smile and said, "Sure, I'm fine with sharing". Desmond began to look towards the princess, lngrid, and the Atomic Mage. As he sighs and begins to say, "Hey come on, we got a missing mage to find". As he saw a blinding light occur, an explosion then followed as Desmond realized, the Atomic mage is till kicking. Desmond ran as fast as he could as he realized where the last Mage was, right behind lngrid.

As Desmond saw the Mage dip in and out of view, Desmond immediately remembered something, it was the same thing that kid did in Paradigm's study. Able to be able to slip through things, what if they took it a step further and became nothing and slipped through everything, Desmond knew he couldn't hit them. Yet he saw the Atomic mage flying, and he knew what he had to do, he pulled his gun up and fired his shot. Boosting it forward as with the Gift he took hold of the steel ball within. Knowing this man had to have some level of kinetic power, he will try to stop the bullet. At that moment was this bullet was designed for, Desmond will make the steel ball rip itself out of the lead walls and swerve to hit the Atomic mage right in the head.

Trypano: One was down but it seemed the magnetic specialist was also in part a binder. Troublesome indeed.

With her off hand she reached out, aiming to draw apart the hastily constructed blades the magneticist launched at her. He should of stuck to magnetism if he really wanted to attack her.

With the hand clutching her scalpel she pointed over to Ingrid. She had briefly felt a presence pop into being, strangely similar to Zara who had revealed that feature to her, and it revealed the hidden sixth member's attack on their own atomic mage. With concentrated focus she weaved a cell graft together, mending the hole punctured both on the skin and lung, restoring any severed veins as well. She also used the energy the magneticist provided her to administer a special chemical concoction of poppy-seed extract designed to numb pain in the applied regions.

Ingrid: The sudden appearance of the greyborn had nearly killed Ingrid. She would have died instantly if it wasn't for the Princess intercepting the assassin. Now she had collapsed to the ground after being stabbed in the lung. She had barely seen the princess be knocked out.

Ingrid grunted realizing she was too close to the building to see their escape from her angle. But whatever, she was winded to begin with from the encounter and now missing a lung she could feel herself quickly getting light headed. She looked for Trypano only to see some dumbass harassing her. Even while fighting, Trypano still managed to heal Ingrid. Ingrid took a deep breath and smiled. It was only proper to return the favor and get rid of the mage bothering Trypano.

Ingrid moved away from the soon to be rubble of a store house and quickly drew form the inferno encasing the small store near by. The fire within the store nearly stopped to mere embers as she absorbed the energy. She simply looked at the preoccupied mage and ignited an intense inferno at his feet to incinerate him.

The rest of the energy she used to encircle herself with flame to keep that pesky assassin off of her.

Scene Five: It sook Ismette some time to recover from her temporal tampering and, while she was doing so, Trypano was forced to pull double duty fending off the Magneticist's attacks and healing the grievously wounded Ingrid. It taxed her focus, if not her capacity, to the very limit.

But then Ismette was recovered, and the ground beneath the increasingly panicked mage began to turn into corrosive sludge. He threw himself aside, breaking off his second attack on Trypano, his shoes dissolved and the bottoms of his feet an angry burnt red. That handed her the initiative, but she did not need to use it.

Fully healed in less than twenty seconds, Ingrid rose from the flames, drawing their power into herself like nothing so much as a phoenix. A blazing aura surrounded her and the sheer raw power of it was enough to make those with lesser capacities who stood nearby queasy. Still recovering, the magnetic mage hissed and cursed and yanked sharpened pieces from the nearby wreckage in a kinetic or magnetic grasp. It didn't matter. All that made it through the Eskandishwoman's guardian flames were cinders. She called down a pillar of fire that rose from the ground beneath him and there was nothing that her enemy could do by turn to ash. So hot were the flames that there was nothing left that one might recognize as having been part of a human being.

Meanwhile, that left Desmond to rescue Princess Amelia, who had stepped into the line of fire on repeated occasions. Her bravery had caught up with her and she was currently rocketing away, unconscious in the arms of the atomic mage. Yet, things did not quite go according to plan. Instead of the kinetic counter that the bullet was designed for, it was met with a magnetic repulsion that skewed it off course and, at such extreme range, Desmond lost control of it.

It was right about then that something rose from the vicinity of La Fleur Rouge at such velocity as to be almost invisible. It hammered into the atomic mage with sickening force. The princess, for her part, began to fall, from at least two hundred meters up.

From halfway across the city, people could hear the comet that was Benedetto streaking across the sky. It intercepted the Atomic mage and those who were able to follow visually might've seen two figures crash clean through the great stone bell tower of the church Sant'Agata della Marchese. With a distressed clang, the five-hundred-year-old structure's bells rang out and it collapsed in a shower of dust and rubble, flattening a nearby flophouse.

"TRY TO STEAL mY pRiNCeSs, WiLL yOu!!!!?" roared a deranged voice. "Think you're strong, you fucking impostor? You're NOTHING! Time to make you scream!"

Every punch was an explosion that shook the ground. By the time that people arrived on the scene, the only thing that they'd see would be Benedetto, covered in blood, and a desiccated corpse with its head and chest crushed to a pulp.

The enemy party had been annihilated, but for one member. Her name was Maria Carralucio, and she had perhaps another three to five years before she left this world for the other that all greyborn eventually went to. Seeing her husband and her peers die had put her in a mood to make her exit now and just leave the dream, but she wouldn't go with without taking one of these fuckers with her.

The Eskandishwoman was a monster. The... red-haired freak was even more so. The pirate and the yasoi girl were of no consequence, but the magusjaeger: now there was a target. With a dim sense of reality, she crept up beside him, unsheathed her blade, and drew it back. When she returned to the world it was striking towards his throat.

Desmond: As Desmond lost control of his bullet he clicked his tongue and was about ready to chase. Yet he saw a missle appear and sweep the atomic mage away. Leaving a falling princess, as Desmond saw Trypano start creating something to catch the Princess. As he took a breath of relief, his eyes sharpened as he was looking around and made himself look like he's wondering where the mage would appear. As he begins to hastily reload his gun as if trying to make sure he is ready for her.

As the moment Desmond felt his his spine almost itch from his body telling him something is wrong, he knew what he would do if he had such assassination powers.

He dropped his body back, letting his knees buckle as he lands on his empty hand away from the mage. As he sweeps his leg to hook hers, in an attempt to sweep her legs from under her and drop her on her ass. As he would get the moment he needs to put a bullet in her head.

Trypano: It was stressful, that was certain. Dividing her focus between breaking apart an enemy's attacks and performing a careful, albeit rushed, mending job had her multitasking like crazy. She was accustomed to this however, having been in stressful operations before where one errant move could mean the death of her patient. With measured breaths and controlled posture she lasted until Ingrid could eliminate this distraction for her.

It was a welcome gesture. Trypano quickly nodded in her direction before looking back out to the atomic mage. She was sure he wasn't sitting idle while they did all this. It seemed he had seen the writing on the wall and was trying to flee when, unexpectedly, he was hit by... Something. It only occured to her that it was Benedito when she heard the screaming from afar.

More of an immediate issue however was the princess. She was falling from a great height now and would surely die if no intervention took place. Stepping forward until she was able to get a clear view of the site where the princess would land she conjured forth a great spongy cushion of extreme resilience and equally extreme softness. One of the more unexpected boons to have learned from her short time at the blood magic classes.

Upon feeling the signature pop in of the greyborn's physical form upon her binding senses her eyes snapped over to Desmond. It seemed he too had noticed it as well. Almost too late but with just enough time to react luckily. The greyborn must of thought themself untouchable to be so forward in attacking them alone. She would prove her false as she reached out, gesturing to the greyborn with her scalpel. Focusing she attempt to draw upon the greyborn's optic nerves. If she could successfully sever them then this would effectively blind the mage. Their only choices would be to either remain solid and attempt to counter the severing with their own magic or go de-solid and risk re-appearing inside physical matter since she'd be unable to see where she was going. She wasn't sure if they were able to cast while intangible but this would be a solid way to find out.

If the enemy mage didn't die first.

Scene Six: The moment that Maria saw him dip, she knew she'd failed. So she would leave the dream without her revenge. It was just a dream, after all: something ever fainter and more distant. These idiots didn't understand: none of them did. Instead, as the magusjaeger - eager young killer that he was - started to turn, gun in hand, she tried something else. Seizing upon the Blood mage who had gone after dear Alberto with such ferocity, she pulled from the woman's little tool with all of her might. She felt a pinch from behind her eyes and the world went dark, but she didn't need these eyes anyway. The wretched thing dissolved. Soon, she would be walking through fields of green, where her loved ones laughed and sung and there was no need to hire her skills out to end other lives, where the air smelled of tangerine and lemon peel, where she could hear

The last thing was a gunshot. The arcanist went limp, a hole blown through her skull, and then her body, it.... just disappeared - faded away. That was the last of them, and Desmond tucked his pistol back into its holster. The last one hadn't even put up much of a fight. They were safe and free and, as he turned, the princess landed on a massive cushion. The group found her bruised and battered but otherwise uninjured. As for her abductor, the same could not be said.

Benedetto sauntered up beside them, his clothes spattered with blood. He grinned with far too many teeth. "That was a good one," he remarked, a snicker lurking just below the surface of his voice. "Guy was a fairy, though." He glanced in the direction he had come from and spat on the ground. There was a bit of blood in it, putting the lie to his bravado at least partially. "Anyways," he continued, sniffing and sticking his hands into his pockets. "Sorry I was late. Having some fun with a hooker. Looked like you eight..." He took in Wvysen. "Or nine," he amended with a snort, "had things under control. Now, don't we have an artifact or something to find?"

Onarr: In hindsight, wearing a metal helmet may not have been the best course of action when it came to physical protection.

The last thing Onarr remembered before he was sent flying across the ocean was a blur of red hair followed by a physical collision that made his stomach lurch. His vision faded in and out as he felt his back skid along the water. His body continued to skip along the tides at high speeds until he clenched his gut tightly. What little electrical activity was available in the area shored up along his skin, buoying him on the water’s surface.

“By the Light of Shune,” Onarr swore internally. He shook his head, still dizzy from the kinetic mage’s attack, before the back of his head tingled. He swerved to the left in an uncontrolled spin just for the space he was occupying to explode in a geyser of water. The kinetic mage had arrived and began racing towards him like a bullet, palms open. A sharp stab of pain erupted in Onarr’s elbow as he realised it was dislocated from the mage’s attack. Onarr’s mind strayed to the edge as he ducked, swerved and narrowly escape death from the embrace of the kinetic mage. Whilst they weren’t as terrifying as blood or chemical mages, Onarr remembered stories from his father of mercenary kinetic mages which played a role in Hawzumi’s conquest of Belzagg. Having his skull popped open like a grape was an experience he wasn’t use to.

However, he knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. The kinetic mage was learning with every dodge he made and getting closer inch by inch to his helmet. He had to end this fast. He looked down at the vast body of water beneath him churning. A sly idea began to form his head. He began concentrating magnetic magic in his feet as he made contact with the water, bubbles forming underneath. He continued to dodge, gas erupting from his feet as he poured every ounce of charge he had into the water around them.

“Ever wonder what my first thesis was?” Onarr panted as the kinetic mage paused in confusion.

He pointed downwards at the hissing bubbles under the kinetic mage’s feet and her eyes widened.

“This.” With crackling electricity in his palm, Onarr shoved it deep into the water and a large cacophonous explosion ruined his entire world.

The Battle by the Docks

The horror from Wvysen's grisly death hadn't come close to fading when the Atomic mage next launched himself at Ingrid and engaged her in a brutal, close-quarters, atomic brawl. Meanwhile, Nerio and Desmond found themselves momentarily on the back foot as Trypano and Ismette hurried to catch up with the others. They were too late to do much for Onarr, who was grabbed by the enemy kinetic mage and hurled out over the sea, colliding with its surface in a mighty splash. Meanwhile, Amelia - the putative Segonese Princess - noticed that nobody seemed to be targeting her with deadly strikes. She correctly surmised that the mysterious enemies were trying to capture her alive and intervened in the nick of time to save Ingrid from being melted by the sadistic Atomic Mage's Infernal Majesty.

Meanwhile, each of the others found themselves heavily engaged in combat. Recovering, Onarr found himself in a one on one duel and on the run: dodging, weaving, and making use of his small size to be an elusive target. Desmond, facing off against a Chemical Mage, used his years of experience as a mercenary, his intuition, and not a bit of luck to coordinate with Nerio and take the dangerous enemy down. Trypano, hard pressed by both the enemy Binder and a persistent Magnetic Mage, found herself cornered and facing her end at the hands of the latter just as she was about to deal a fatal blow of her own. Intervening with the fabled Temporal Magic of the yasoi as the last moment, Ismette was able to buy her partner time to escape, finish off the binder, and take the offensive against the Magnetic Mage with a grisly and creative attack.

Things were to take a turn for the worst, however, as the enemy Arcane illusionist, who'd remained hidden up to that point, chose that very moment to appear behind Ingrid as she prepared to launch a big counterattack on the Atomic Mage. Only Amelia's warning and quick reflexes saved the Eskandishwoman from a fatal wound, but she crumpled to the ground, stabbed and bleeding out. The enemy leader took advantage of the princess' distraction to grab her and knock her unconscious with a chemical spell before rocketing off to make his escape.

Left alone to die, the Magnetic attacker threw everything that he had at Trypano, who tried doing double duty both healing the badly wounded Ingrid as well as fighting him off. Meanwhile, drawing inspiration from the histories, Onarr hit upon a new tactic in his solo duel with the Kineticist, and he wasn't the only one. Desmond leapt into action against the fleeing Atomic Mage, attempting to knock him out of the sky with a trick bullet.

The group met with mixed success. As Ismette jumped back into the fight following her exhausting Temporal attack, she was able to turn the ground beneath the Magnetic attacker into corrosive sludge, forcing him to throw himself to the side. Trypano, free to heal Ingrid, got her up to peak health through the power of Binding Magic, and the Eskandishwoman proved the validity of that tactic by calling down the massive pillar of fire that she had originally been saving for the Atomic Mage onto the Magneticist instead. He ceased to exist. The same could not be said for the Atomic Mage, who was able to sense the unusual shape of and energy signature of Desmond's bullet and counter it. Meanwhile, Onarr, who'd been carefully gathering his energy and distracting his attacker with banter, prepared to unleash his final gambit.

It all came together in a final flurry, as Benedetto, who'd been missing up to this point for reasons unknown (apparently having a bit too much fun in a brothel), rocketed up out of nowhere and savagely attacked the team's escaping enemy. Having given no thought to the unconscious Amelia's safety, he delivered a brutal and ultimately fatal beating. Thankfully, with some quick thinking, Trypano was able to use Gift of the Frog to save he falling girl's life. She almost had to do the same for Desmond as the final enemy, the Arcanist, mounted a final, vengeful sneak attack against him. He was prepared for it, however, and using his experience with martial arts, was able to take her down and put a bullet through her head. Onarr's finale was more of a mixed bag as he used a powerful magnetic technique to cause a littoral explosion beneath his overconfident adversary. While it met with grisly success, he was severely impacted himself and there is every danger that he may not be able to make it back to the team without assistance.

Now returned and victorious, the sadistic Benedetto flaunts his win over the most powerful enemy and mocks Wvysen's death, flippantly inquiring as to what the group should do next. Indeed, there are many things calling to their attention but, as they have seen before, splitting up can be dangerous. Onarr is still missing following his battle and his whereabouts only roughly known. Penny, too, is missing, and her situation is yet another mystery hanging over the group's head. Finally, Princess Amelia has fallen onto a great, soft cushion and whether she is yet conscious and whether her former captors will make another play for her remains to be seen. Hers is the knowledge of the crew that has been harassing trade and perhaps the artifact that the team is there to recover. What should they do next and how should they do it?

Code Vein (Closed)

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_{Location: The Crows' Nest // Date: February 24, 2057 // Time: 22:00 // Interactions: Poppy @dreamingflowers, Erik @FunnyGuy, Akaia @Exit}

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Ugh, what a vibe shift. It her like a bitch. Lys tried not to look drunk. She had to be 'supplementary nurse lady' now. That was a hat she wore a good deal. But hats mess up my hair, she mused, almost instantly berating herself for the out-of-place thought. She needed to get up and move a bit, to make herself useful so, when Poppy recommended running some tests and Erik recommended blood for the soon-to-be revenant, Lys agreed with the first and humoured the second. "I can grab what we need," she chirped, trying to be Erik for a moment: all positive and stuff.

Upon being met with no disagreement, Lys set hands to wheels, rolling up to the doorway. "Pops, bloodwork kit's in the usual spot, right?" She half-twisted as she went, feeling the wooziness from four whiskey shots, and was met with a quick, distracted nod. People always assumed that the 'skinny Asian girl' couldn't drink but... Dammit, maybe they're right, actually, she realized, the alcohol hitting her unusually hard. Of course she was worried for Amelia - everyone was - but she couldn't quite keep a stray thought from entering her mind: You sure know how to pick your moment, Sleeping Beauty.

The door opened with a creak and there was Birdbrain, standing there on the other side, literally almost pressed up against it. For a moment, Lys was afraid that the other woman had been leaning on the door and would fall forward onto her, but that proved not to be a concern as the sidhe hopped aside, snapping out of what appeared to be some deep thought. Both sidhe had been unusually bouncy and spry today, come to think of it. Akaia immediately half bounced on the balls of her feet to get Lysandra's attention. "L-Lee-saw! The mistle?" she said, pale eyes the color of an excitement she didn't quite understand and with finger pointed toward the hall leading back to what had once been Ionna's room. "You fixed it?"

Lys blinked and closed the door behind herself, throwing up a cloud of swirling dust that sparkled in the light of the old stained-glass windows. "Well... I wouldn't say 'fixed' one hundred percent, but I think she's gonna make it." The human twisted and looked up at Akaia, brushing some hair from her face. She was a mess, to be honest. Maybe it was just a matter of not having the recovery time of a twenty-year-old anymore. "Now I've just gotta figure out how it works without hurting it." Brow momentarily furrowed, she inched forward with a little push. "You wouldn't have any special plant person knowledge on that... now wouldja?" Lys arched an eyebrow and smiled conspiratorially.

It was Akaia's turn to blink, and she shook her head. "I-... Y-you want me to eat it?"

You learn something new every day, thought Lysandra. Maybe she was just drunk. "If that can teach you things, then yes... eventually. I'd uh... like you to eat a small part. The plant's recovering... really well, actually, but it's still a bit too weak right now. I wouldn't want to risk harming it just yet." People inside were waiting for her to procure the bloodwork equipment. She had no time to linger, chatting, even if the chat was a potentially fruitful one. "We'll talk later, Flower Power, and don't worry. We won't let anything happen to Amelia." With a big push of her wheels and a small apologetic glance, Lys raced off to the storage room.

In hindsight, it should've probably been someone else who went. Despite its size, the room was absolutely packed: even more so since Ionna and Vincent had arrived. Ajax had been forced to sacrifice his training room and Lys her laboratory. The child revenant had lasted all of two days, and Ajax had simply moved his things partially to his spartan room and partially outdoors. The shift had still made for a lot of clutter, though, and would continue to do so until the Commune's scientist was finished moving everything back and reclaiming what had been hers anyway at the start of last week.

From almost the moment that she'd noticed it would be a problem, Lys had been adamant about people not just leaving their shit on the floor. She could sense that they found her insistence and constant carping pushy and overbearing, but it was something they could not hope to understand: If she wanted to be able to literally just be mobile like the rest of them, she needed a cleared path about two and a half feet wide, and 'just step(ping) over things' wasn't an option. Lysandra wound her way through the shelves, stacked barrels, and mountains of haphazardly-strewn junk, hissing in frustration more than once as she got stuck or had to bend over to sweep something out of the way. By the time that she rolled out of the room with the kit and two blood beads occupying her lap, she had taken about seven minutes and was in a thoroughly bad mood, the alcohol in her system only intensifying her emotions.

Upon seeing Akaia, she took a long breath, in and out. Life's frustrations were what they were and she couldn't change them right now. These people still cared about her and she cared about them. Lys gathered herself, pushed out a polite but perfunctory greeting for the sidhe and opened the door. There was somebody inside who needed her help, who was - hopefully - soon to awaken to a new life. It was her - and Poppy's - responsibility to ensure that happened safely. The blood beads, she handed to Erik. "Listen, I know you wanna help, chief, but I think we should hold off on these until we run our tests. Can't try to cure before the diagnosis, hmm?"

The kit, with its sampling needles and tubes, swabs, and ties, was placed on the sleeping revenant's end table. Lys glanced at Poppy. "Sorry for the wait. Someone else should've gone." She glanced down for a moment and swept some hair from her face. Looking back up, she was all business. "We should begin."

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O R I F L A M M E

For those who are wondering, BTW, it seems we've got a solid amount of interest and the interest check is already extensive enough that an OOC won't be much work. All considered, I'll open one by Thursday and I'll start reviewing Character Sheets on Monday and Tuesday.

O R I F L A M M E

@josephb@Atalanta@Inertia

Awesome. If you have any questions or would like to bounce some ideas off of me, feel free to ask away, to check out The Hourglass Order or, best of all, join the discord. It's pretty active and you'll get a quick response to any ideas you have. The community's pretty helpful!

Can't wait to see what you come up with.

O R I F L A M M E

@Fetzen Awesome! Feel free to fire off any questions you have here or in our discord!

O R I F L A M M E

interested, will try to have a character sheet made up soon—hoping to fill the role of either a warlock or an infiltrator.

@udonoodles

Sounds good! Those are both pretty fun callings. Feel free to bounce any questions off of me here or in the discord.