@yoshua171Alright, so, pending the feedback that I gave via discord, this CS is approved. Feel free to post it over into the character tab! Welcome aboard.
Force and Fury Member
Actually kind of mellow
STATUS: Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/… 3 yrs ago
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Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Don't mind me. Just shilling a thread: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
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3 yrs ago
Nice to meet you, Bored. I'm interested!
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3 yrs ago
Ugh. Someone literally stole the wheels off of my car. Gonna have to work tirelessly for justice.
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Bio
Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?
Stay awesome, people.
Stay awesome, people.
Most Recent Posts
T H E S P A R L I N G S : T H E V E N U E
L I L A S P A R L I N G
Location: Mulberry Park --> The Gazebo
Timeframe Early Afternoon
The pitchfork had lasted about twenty seconds and as many yards. Lila had nearly tripped Jason and skewered Winnie, who still thought it was okay to walk right in front of people and just randomly stop moving. It was now in the eleven-year-old's hands, God help them all. Canvas bag full of pasta on her lap, Lila pushed her way across the grass, wheels threatening to sink into ground still spongy from a recent Spring rain.
"Shit, they all came," murmured Jason, and Lila, straining to keep up, pushed a bit harder, popping a hint of a wheelie to keep her front castors out of the mud. "You say it like it's a bad thing," she grunted in reply, but she could tell that he was nervous. He'd started something and now wasn't sure if he was the man for the job. "The fact that they're here means they feel the same way, or at least close," she tried. He was putting on airs of confidence with his swords and his 'tough guy' walk, but he didn't know what to do with his hands and that told her what she needed to know about her little brother's emotional state. "Yeah," he agreed belatedly. "I guess they wouldn't be here otherwise, right?"
"Right," Lila replied, straining against a tuft in the lawn.
"Right!" echoed Winnie, taking a momentary break from swinging her arms loosely from side to side and twisting to look at her older siblings.
The gazebo was just ahead and the grass was treacherous. There was a wood chip pathway nearby and it was, if possible, even worse... for reasons beyond the readily apparent as well. Bless their little hearts, they wonder why I left. In grade eight, when they'd had a petition assignment, Lila had written up a particularly eloquent one to the local council, researching online, finding links and recommendations, and double-checking her formatting with her mom's secretary in the hope that they would install a ramp and an accessible path to the Mulberry Park gazebo. The news station over in Rochester had even run a little feature when her petition had been selected. Then, after a couple of locals had complained that the ramp 'disturbed the historical character' of the gazebo, it had been torn down and rebuilt on the 'less attractive' far side, doubling the cost and not leaving enough funds for the paved path. She'd gotten 'levelling' and wood chips instead and, when the cameras had circled back for the conclusion of their feel-good story, it had ended up being one of the many, 'it's the thought that counts' moments in Lila's life, except, well... it hadn't. Good intentions don't magically make inaccessible things accessible. She'd made the mistake of smiling through the fiasco and playing along because she'd been a needy fourteen-year-old under social pressure, afraid of being left out or seen as ungrateful or not worth the trouble.
The nearer that she drew, arms and shoulders straining, the more that her mood began to sour. If the... zombies - the word was still surreal to say or even think in a serious context - showed up, she would be dead, full stop, all because some pointedly anonymous HOA-esque asshole almost a decade ago had been so certain that their right to a 'historic' vista outweighed hers to not have to be dependent on her fast-evaporating friends. For an extended moment, she glared at the path: utterly useless in its intended purpose. Then, Jason twisted. "If it's any consolation," he joked, "Fucker's probably zombie chow."
"Or a zombie," Lila snorted, shaking her head. "Now get outta my brain or at least pay me rent!"
He grinned.
"If I kill one, Jason, this whole fucking time, let it serendipitously be that piece of shit." She rolled her eyes and smirked. "Then my life will be complete." Jason slowed up until he was beside her. "Shake on it." He held out his hand and she took it. "Shake on it!" agreed Winnie, skipping up on her other side. Lila reached out with both hands and simultaneously shook, but her siblings didn't let go. "Now that we have her..." her brother teased, "I say we fling the cripple."
"Jason, I swear, if you do it -"
"The only question is 'how far'?" chirped her sister, malevolently Cheshire.
"Okay, seriously, the ground is muddy. I'll literally just faceplant!" Meanwhile, they were pulling her along, all three of them holding hands, until she reached the small paved area around the antique gazebo. Others stood around as they released her, some conversing, waiting for them or for some poorly-defined starting point. "Next time," Jason warned, as Lila let out a small, appreciative "thank you".
"She gonna fffflllllyyyy!" teased Winnie, twirling away, "But I get a ride, okay? That's what you owe me." She half-pivoted and struck a pose, as if she were about to stick her tongue out, before thinking better of it in front of the teens and twenties. Lila stuck her tongue out instead, giving Winnie social permission to respond in kind. "But then how am I gonna fly without a push from your big strong arms, Win-win?" Winnie bunched up her face, let out a little "Hmph!" and turned on her heel, bounding up the wooden steps with a series of loud thumps and leaning against a pillar. She faced her elders from a safe corner, eyes darting warily between them, trying not to be too intimidated.
"Up or down?" Jason asked, and Lila didn't want to be any more trouble. She crafted a smile and shook her head. "I'm fine here." She held up her fists and winked. "Besides, you need a perimeter guard who actually watches your six." Jason snorted. "Then she should have a weapon." He pulled his wakizashi from his belt, sheath and all, and handed it to her. Growing up around him and not knowing what the midsized sword that a Sengoku or Edo period samurai would carry was simply an impossibility, as was not looking like a complete dork in the current context. Somewhere between grateful and cringing, she thanked him and placed the sword across her lap as he swept some hair from his face and thumped up after Winnie. Lila rolled over to the foot of the steps so she could crane her neck and at least kind of participate. She already had her suspicions about how this was going to go, but she'd also given herself a job. She could only hope it wouldn't be required.
J A S O N S P A R L I N G
Location: Mulberry Park --> The Gazebo
Timeframe: Early Afternoon
Jason wasn't smart. A comparative dearth of smiley faces on his tests and homework growing up had taught him that. Disapproving looks from adults, 'evaluations' for learning disabilities, and the sneering disdain of self-appointed smart people like Lee had taught him that.
Thing was... he wasn't dumb either, and he knew it. Maybe he wasn't book smart - all the books they'd read in school were for girls anyway - but he doubted anyone else here had his sense of spatial awareness or his intuitive understanding of angles, positioning, force, and motion. Maybe he didn't know all of the formulas, but he could tell where a ball was going to go as soon as it left someone's hands. He could guess, with near-certainty, whether he'd be able to make it somehwere before being caught.
The other part of that was knowing people, and reading them. He hadn't been good at that as a kid, but he'd worked at it, and his carefully-honed skills in that regard now told him that he'd messed up. He hadn't even wanted to be some kind of leader - merely get the ball rolling because it had been a couple of weeks and this was the new normal and nobody else had - yet now he was supposed to stand in front of a bunch of people - him: the class clown, the not-jock, the weeb - and deliver some kind of speech?
Jason sucked at speeches.
He gripped the hilt of his katana with one hand, finding sensory solace in its intricate surface. Bless Lila; she'd taken his mind off of the anxiety before, but now she was down there and he was up here and there were so many eyes and expressions and...
Fuck it. YEET.
"So, uhh, I'd like to thank you all for coming here, but, uh, first, I'd like to take a moment to recognize our security team for this event." He gestured in Lila's direction. "And our caterers." He took in those who had brought food for Holly and cleared his throat. "Finally, of course, how could we forget..." It was the quickest pause but it was a pause and he regretted it. Fuck! What were your names again? "Carson and, umm, Alena - for booking this venue ahead of time for us. We all know what a hot property it can be."
Jason grinned, impish and nervous in equal measures, and spread his hands. "So, listen, guys: I have some ideas, but I have no clue how to like... be a boss or whatever." He let out a snort. "I just saw that nothing was actually getting done and people were starting to run out of stuff, and the power's probably gonna go out soon, so I was juss like, 'we should probably all get together and figure shit out,' you know?" The middle Sparling glanced about, spurring himself to continue. "And I know the old people will probably find out, but I wanted it to be just us first so we actually get to talk without, I dunno, just being told what to do like we always are." He shrugged and walked over, leaning against one of the picnic tables under the shelter and crossing his arms. "That's the idea anyway. If anyone has a plan, I'm all ears." He paused and furrowed his brow. "Oh wait, and yeah, we should probably have like... a speaker's stick or like, you know, the conch from that book, like they had. Uhmm..." he trailed off.
"Lord of the Flies!" interjected Winnie, finding her voice.
"Yeah, that!" He'd ceded the floor. Now it was time to listen instead of speak... unless someone pissed him off. Someone would probably piss him off, or say something really dumb. Probably.
T E N E B R O U S T O W E R S || ♫
The Castle Mandelein stood before Edyta in all of its aged vainglory, tenebrous towers rising into the moonlit sky in some echo of her homeland, spires reaching through a mourning haze of clouds to skewer the frosty white sphere of Juni and impale the blood red orb of Larus. There came, then, a soft rain, pitter-pattering on the aged stones and plinking against the copper-coated shingles. The smell of damp pine and muddy Stresian puddles mingled with the cold of the air and she paused to thank Ipte for the haunting beauty of the scene before her. These were her hours, after all.
A blanket of clouds blotted out the stars as the young nun paused and knelt off-path some thirty yards from the outer guardhouse. She made the sign of the Pentad, closed her eyes, and let herself be vulnerable, trusting the Gods - as always - to either protect or to claim her.
Ipte, to whom the world owes its beauty and love, I humbly ask for thy blessing, that I might remember what it is that I fight for and what it is that I forsake in the name of a grander good.
She pressed her right hand to her left shoulder.
Shune, from whom all knowledge and magic rings forth, I humbly ask for thy blessing, that I might act with wisdom, prudence, and keenness of mind in pursuit of the flourishing of all.
She pressed her left hand to her right shoulder.
Oraff, giver and guardian of life, I humbly ask for thy blessing, that I might act in the sacred interest of life's preservation wherever possible, even to the point of laying down mine own.
She pressed her left hand to her right hip.
Eshiran, bringer of war and destruction, I beseech thee to look upon thy humble servant and bestow upon her the tripartite blessings of courage, conviction, and power which are thine alone to govern. I ask this of thee so that she might act as your instrument in ridding the world of pestilence, wickedness, and cruelty.
She pressed her right hand to her left hip.
Dami, who sits upon the thrones of choice and judgment, I humbly ask for thy blessing, that I might know more truly good from evil and walk always in the light to deliver thy justice.
She brought her hands together, bowed her head, and opened her eyes.
It was a simple matter to slip by the guards. Such was the Gift that Edyta Laska had been given. Dorothea Hohnstein was neither so blessed or cursed. The two of them had agreed that each would find her own way inside. They would try, as stalwartly as possible, to stay within sensing range of each other, at least as long as the Rezaindian occupied the same plane as her counterpart.
T H E R O T T E N H E A R T || ♫
Sister Laska materialized inside of the great hall, where greyed ancient timbers one hundred feet across held up a roof that she could scarce make out and frayed banners and tapestries hung along the walls. Upon crossbeams, corbels, and rafters clung long ghostlike tendrils of cobweb, stirring, half-animated, by the persistent draft in the cavernous room. What grabbed her attention most was none of these things, however. Beneath a faded portrait of some former Graf Kapperstel, the hearth was cold. Even in the dead of night, in no grand castle such as this would the fire that was the beating heart of any occupied structure be allowed to go dark. Something was not right and she did not remain there long.
Curiosity piqued, she ventured next through the hallways, reaching out with her magic ahead of any encounters as she explored. There were... perhaps three people in the entire vast structure and, when she sensed the only one awake busy walking up the stairs, she ducked around a corner, waited, and followed the woman up from a discreet distance. Up they both went, into the second-highest tower, and there were the lord's chambers. Edyta faded into greyborn space and appeared only once the servant was gone.
She knew even before she returned to reality: it was all a lie. There was no lord - nobody to govern Mandelein. The nun's heart beat a good deal faster and there was scant little she could do to calm it. A rot, she decided, Deep and deceptive, at the very heart of this town!
Edyta was relentless after that. Like some sort of frantic, vengeful shade, she picked through the room and found yet more. Scratches on the wall! Powerful enough to carve right into stone!? Is that... evidence of a burn in the corner of the ceiling!?
She slithered and slunk, then, about the castle grounds, investigating the library next and its records of the House Kapperstel, up until shortly after the accession of the young Graf Anselm, some century or more previous. There, they abruptly ended. There were other bedrooms, similarly maintained in a semi-living state, but none yielded such treasures as the first. The exterior gardens were maintained in a state of shabby grandeur, at least, but those of the interior had gone wild and thorny. A façade! Sister Laska realized, They're maintaining a façade! The greater question now became, 'why', and the one that logically followed it was, 'what in the five hells are they hiding!?'
The answers to these questions were ones that she did not know, however. It was with this notion squarely in mind that she gazed out from the parapets as the glow on the horizon began to build toward an inevitable grey and dreary Stresian sunrise. Edyta fixed upon the dungeon. Surely, a place like this had one. She would find what she was looking for there, and so she set off once again, into the depths of Castle Mandelein, sensing Dorothea within her range.
The other two servants had risen and, much as she'd been careful not to leave any traces, worry nibbled at the edges of her confidence nonetheless. Such a grand ruse, this was! Surely, they would be cautious. Surely, they would be protective!
Such things mean little against a greyborn.
This, then, was a deserted place in truth: dark and dank and utterly without hope. It had gone so long disused that one could not even call the present stench one of death and decay. There was only mould and lime eating away at the castle's foundations, a fitting metaphor, perhaps, the nun considered. That was when she came upon the first cell. Dory was drawing near and, suddenly, Edyta would welcome her presence. She did not want to be alone. There were scrawlings on the wall - csaudecep? - but they were not what had shaken her so. It was the bones. They were not those of a dragon. They were not human bones either, but they... had once been.
It was the skeleton of a wildblood.
M A R C E L I N E || ♫
Present: Yalen Castel @pantothenic, Ayla Arslan @Ti, Evander Fino Synesti @RezonanceV, Tku Pictor @dragonpiece, Fiske Flachstrauch @jasbraq, and Zarina Al-Nader @YummyYummy, Desmond Catulus @Th3King0fChaos
The chamber was pristine, unlike the hazardous ruins they had just come from. Marceline staggered in and half-collapsed into a seated position, chest heaving and clothes shredded. She began to draw upon whatever magics and matter she could to help her bind both herself and Ayla back to good health. The walls, ceiling, and floors fairly hummed with energies that were a familiar variety of 'strange' at this point: Dark and Temporal. Somehow, those had blocked Jocasta from saving them all in one fell swoop. Somehow, others had made it here nonetheless.
Fiske and Desmond were both burned but alive. Tku was tending to Zarina and himself and that was one less worry for Marceline. Why every single person here wasn't a binder already was somewhat beyond her. As she looked, a door that had not been there moments before slid open, and a ruffled-looking Benedetto followed Evander in. "Where's the bitch?" he announced, casting about, but Jocasta and Yalen were the only two not to be present and more than one bristled at his words. Still, who was there to stand up to Benny without Jocasta present? Marci could only avoid looking directly at his punchable face while she bit her tongue. "Wasn't it her who brought us all here!?" he demanded.
"We only followed the arrows." Marci found her voice. "They could've been anyone's work." She looked about hopefully, a knot starting to twist itself ever tighter in her stomach.
J O C A S T A
Jocasta loved Yalen. He'd saved her: him and Zarina and Ayla had saved her and there was no question about it. They shared a home and sometimes a bed, though nothing unchaste had yet taken place. Sometimes, she felt that they shared a mind, so much did they complete each other's sentences or she might glance over at him from the corner of her eye during those relaxed moments to find that he was doing the same.
Yet, for the first time since they had committed to a life together, she felt a sense of... unease around him. She had even welcomed his entrance to the Dark Somnian order and a somewhat more evolved view of morality, or so she'd thought. Yet, if anything, he'd grown even more determined in his beliefs, if somewhat less dogmatic.
Now, he had used... There can be no doubt, she told herself, That was Command magic. His reasons had been the very best, of course, and he hadn't kept his studies a deeply buried secret either, even if they hadn't exactly been a common topic of conversation. Yet... he had taken her manas and shared them. It should have been a moment of trust, but it was not. This was Yalen. Jocasta loved Yalen. Yalen had overpowered her. He had done it without asking. He had done it to save them both. She wouldn't have resisted anyhow. Resistance would've been futile. She banished the intrusive thought, hammering it down as if hadn't even really happened. Resistance would've gotten both of us killed, she pointedly rethought. You are to be married to him, you stupid girl! You do not always have to be the strong one anymore! Yet, something inside of Jocasta recoiled at the notion: vociferously rebelled at it. Certainly, she had accepted that the world could be a good and beautiful place, but there was ugliness and danger as well and the best defense against it was, had always been, and would always remain raw power. It was an absolute guarantee: the only one, in fact. That, and not being tied to people. People can betray you. She'd had enough of this. Jocasta reached into her own mind with Chemical magic and erased not only the thought but the memory of it. Vaguely, as those faded, she wondered if she had erased similar things before...
If she had seemed to be at full strain, it was only because of her distraction. The older of the pair held them both aloft and, now, with a handle on this chamber's obstacles, her entire focus, and nothing to catch her or Yalen by surprise, the two of them made sport of the final stretch. Such were the benefits of power. Jocasta set herself and her beloved back on the ground, just outside of the door and the glowing arrow. "Yalen..." she began softly, "Might you... let me go now?" She referred to the magic he had used to distribute power between them, even as she healed the small cut on his cheek. She had one more request, and she hoped that it would not be refused, though she suspected it might: Might you teach me how to use that magic?
T H E S I L E N T R A N G E R || ♫
Yalen and Jocasta emerged from a door which had not existed moments before, utterly unscathed, as one might expect from such a power couple. "Here I was thinking you'd finally bit it," Benedetto sniped, crossing his arms and spitting to the side. "Happy to see you too, BenBen." Jocasta rolled her eyes and Marceline rushed over. "Don't you fucking scare me like that again, okay?" the fifteen-year-old insisted. Jocasta hugged her back. "Gotta keep you on your toes, now that you've got 'em again," the elder tethered joked. Then, just like that, they were gathered once more in a room and wondering what to do next.
The architecture was... not like anything they had seen before. For Zarina, Ayla, Jocasta, and Desmond, there were hints of their escapade in Old Zaqhoria present. The half-serpentine beings they knew as sirrahi appeared as a common motif, and... the power of the magics and the general... feel seemed to match. Yet, the similarities more or less ended there. The patterns were large and bold - distinctly not human - but their style and the general construction too primitive to be that of the reclusive reptilians, with the exception of the disappearing doors. Then, Marci had an observation and... a question. "Is anyone else sensing all this Temporal magic?" More than one nodded or responded in the affirmative. "Really strong stuff," Benny admitted. Jocasta took a moment, brow furrowed in concentration, and glanced up at Yalen for a moment. "That," she began, "and Dark. There's a lot of Dark magic here."
"How'd you get those arrows through it?" Marceline asked, but Jocasta shook her head tightly. "Wasn't me. I assumed it was part of this place."
The ten youths' unease rose in their voice as they tried to figure out what to do next; how to approach this. Jocasta, in particular, rolled into the center of the room, trying to get the others' attention, and then, unbidden...
There was a sirrahi.
He 'stood' in that snakey way that they did, only a few feet from the tethered, and the strange tube on her lap let out a soft hum and a glow. "Evenin', friendsss." he tipped his wide-brimmed hat and smiled from beneath it, his eyes mostly hidden. "I sss'pose I owe y'all an apology 'fore we git started for the way you was brought here." He snorted faintly. "So umm... sssorry 'bout that, huh?" There was a smirk now, and it crept up his cheeks, opening his mouth wider in the way of his people. "I ain't about to tell no lies, though. I knew y'all would make it. Didn't jusss reckon. I knew. Can't tell ya how, but that hell yuh juss been through wasn't no random occurrence. That there was a test only the lot o' yuh could've passed, t'keep out the innerlopers, y'know."
"Yeah, no problem," growled Benny. "Piece of fuckin' cake."
"Good to hear it," replied the sirrahi, seemingly oblivious to the obvious sarcasm.
"Only almost got us killed a half-dozen times."
"Huh," snorted the mysterious figure thoughtfully, "Sorry to hear it, boy-o. Reckoned you was ssstronger than that."
Benny bolted forward, gathering energies, nostrils flaring. "Are you mocking-"
"He's not really here, Benny." Jocasta cut in. "Take a moment to sense before you lose your cool, huh?"
"You're the ranger, then, aren't you?" concluded Marci, sensing for herself. It was... some sort of illusion, only she couldn't sense any magic.
He nodded, tapping the brim of his hat. "You'd be... correct to asssume that."
"And we're here why? Benedetto challenged, tilting his head to one side and jutting his chin out. "'Cause, so far, all you've done is try to kill us and spent two minutes saying you'll tell us why." He crossed his arms, unimpressed, and waited.
"Hah haaah! Hold your horses there, buckaroo," the ranger teased. "I was gettin' to that." He appeared to wipe his nose with the back of his wrist offhandedly. "Truth is that the world needs the sssirrahi - that's my people - and, well, they need you so they can stop ssstickin' their heads in the sand." He shook his head. "There's a whole lotta bad out there: the sssort that don't give one lick about your freedom and Dami-given right to live as you please. I swear it on muh hatch-brothers n' sisters: the sirrahi can help yuh out with that like nothin' you ever seen before, but y'all gotta help free us first from the box we find ourselves in." He paused, studying their faces. "'N if it'sss reward you're lookin' for, well, rest assured you'll find plenty. I ain't gonna hold the desires of a hired gun againssst him."
"But..." interjected Marci, "Why us?"
The ranger shrugged. "Y'all were the best for the job. Simple as."
"Us ten, specifically?" Jocasta prodded, and here, his expression changed. The ranger looked up and met her eyes. He offered a quick, tight shake of his head. "Not you," he said simply, before pointing to Yalen, "And not him." He regarded the priest. "He has somewhere else to be and he'd bessst be gettin' there. As for you, misssy, I'd ask you to come along with me in jussa moment. Need to have a word." The sirrahi regarded the others. "Imma be right on over and, if yuh choose to come along n' save the whole dang world, or at least us people, Imma need one last thing from y'all to make sure I ain't fouled this up."
Marci fairly bled anxiety into the air around herself. "But why? Don't you already know?"
He'd already turned, starting to lead Jocasta off some ways away, but he twisted back to regard her. "Juss gotta check. Thasss all," he assured the girl. He regarded the others. "Simple as this: imma need you to use yer instincts, sssee if they're right." He nodded. "Name five colours, twice each, in whatever order comes to you as a group." He tipped his hat. "I'll be back for your answer shortly. Bess 'o luck."
TBH, couldn't think of a better term at the time. I feel like renaissance and Victorian are the way to go.
<Snipped quote by Force and Fury>
We have a historical tag but I do agree that maybe it'd be worth expanding upon since we have "medieval" and "modern" already as tags. Personally, though, I'd keep any new historical tags focused on major periods of history, such as but not limited to:
- Napoleonic
- Victorian
- World Wars
- Cold War
I'd say those are weighted a bit towards the modern side. There's a massive gap between medieval and Napoleonic. I'd probably stick with Renaissance or Baroque and Victorian or Twentieth Century, personally.
Present: Yalen Castel @pantothenic, Maura Mercador @Ti, Trypano Somia @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid Penderson @dragonpiece, Niallus Saberhagen @McKennaJ71, and Abdel Varga @YummyYummy
Captain Zhao was in his later forties, stiff and stern and not much for pageantry. That appeared to be the purview of one of his lieutenants, a woman named Zihan, who had orchestrated the squadron's entire entrance. The group members were introduced only to those two, the remaining lieutenant - a tall, thin, quiet man designated 'Ming' - and the 'Speaker' of the squad, a small, mousy orderly named 'Shuyuan' who seemed like nothing so much as an alternative version of Xiulan, but drained of all verve and personality.
"Zere are more," Xiulan assured the students, translating the juicier bits for those who could not follow, which was most of them. "Zese White Guads have ze sree extra people in ze group zey not to let us see." Her voice was almost a conspiratorial whisper, and Kaureerah found herself both amused and subtly impressed with the translator's subversive shift. "At ze top is ze Ghost, who is hide somewhere and have a special magic. Zey are even above ze Captain Zhao if zey meet some emergency."
Meanwhile, two hooded women had dismounted from the horses, their feet not touching the ground as they floated about the wreckage. Four of the eight basic guards accompanied them.
"Zey are Watchfurl Eye," Xiulan continued, lowering her voice and glancing about warily. "Zey are... I sink you say 'tezered'. Zey to see all sings, from close to far."
Red Menders and Orange Caps swirled about by now, paying the group of foreigners little heed beyond the occasional curious stolen glance. They talked, though, as they worked: they talked amongst themselves, and it was no stretch to imagine that a lot of people were talking and that the story of what had happened here would spread rapidly.
"Ze ozer two are Dragon and Clown," Xiulan was concluding. "First one is the most strong for when zey need it. Second is ze magic trickster and he can to..." she trailed off, uncertain of the word for a moment. "Inter-Oh-gat? Inter-Oh-gate?" She blushed with embarrassment. 'Or ze torture." That word, she was sure and certain on, lips pressed together grimly for a moment.
Horse-drawn wagons and pushcarts were now all about the plaza, as the moons hung in the sky at various stages and heights, and construction teams eagerly set to work, orange-robed mages present to muffle the sounds so that people nearby could sleep. Lieutenants Zihan and Ming moved about the group of students, employing Xiulan and Shuyuan, respectively, in taking statements from the women and the men... respectively. Though the White Knights addressed him with respect and deference, those who paid attention may have noticed that even the Exemplar of Creation and Destruction, Wu Long, was required to provide a report. The process was, in a word, thorough. By the time that it was finished, it was well into the Hours of Dami, by Constantian reckoning and Wu Long had disappeared.
Captain Zhu did not accompany his charges back to their inn immediately. He was stoic throughout the process, and mostly quiet, hovering close to his men, especially young Peng, who'd very nearly lost his life in the encounter. The Goldcloaks were to first report to the constabulatory for inspection and re-equipping before heading back later.
Xiulan, as well, was quiet when they made it back. She claimed exhaustion and was almost immediately in her room. She tiredly reminded them that she was always ready to help and to call upon her if they needed anything. Yin and her father had laundered any spare clothes, changed the bedsheets, and left pitchers of water and cups on each of the students' nightstands. The former was waiting for them as they arrived, asking Xiulan after Captain Zhu's whereabouts. She bowed softly and led them inside, offering to provide for whatever they might need.
The eight young foreigners - four boys and four girls - were then left, more or less, to their own devices. There was no guard posted, the city slumbered, and Mr. Wei was nowhere to be seen. Yin was a ghost moving about the halls, sweeping and cleaning and preparing for the day to come. It appeared that they had free rein for the time being. If the question was 'what to do with it?' Kaureerah was the first to answer. She yawned a stretched and paced. "Eye heve noo hoope auf sleep," she admitted with a snort, "end eye mess the wauter soo." She had already begun walking and politely excused herself. "Eye thenk eye shell goo faur e waulk by the daucks."
Rikard was next. "Ditto," he agreed, "but I think I'm going the opposite way: up." He crossed his arms, tucking his hands under his elbows, and let out a sigh that lingered in the courtyard. He looked a bit agitated. "Yeah," he confirmed. "There's that pagoda from yesterday I wanna check out, just for the view." He suited words to action and began walking. That left seven behind - a lucky number in some cultures - and very much to discuss.
Well said. Hopefully you find a space to really enjoy here!
Spoilsport moment: you are not bad at introductions. :P
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