Ithradine

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:@Psyker Landshark

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Reisa's shoulders slightly slumped as Izayoi's charge fell short but noticeably the imposing Captain had yet to draw upon her blade. Her attention shifting from staring down the mad Mystrel, to her lieutenant, and then to the foot soldiers that were directly engaged. Every order that came from her lips or from a hand signal was almost immediately obeyed. This was not the chaotic surprise attack that had been launched on the castle. These were well-drilled soldiers that had utter confidence in their leader. Despite the Valheimians numerical advantage, they refrained from going for any decisive action. Comrades fell but with each minute the battle raged on, Reisa would remain fresh while her foes grew ever more exhausted.

She paced back and forth like a large savannah cat as Izayoi regrouped with Arton and Eliane. Reisa gave another order that was drowned out by the sound of gunfire and a portion of the line that separated Izayoi from Reisa diverged to assist the lieutenant. Her blade slid from its scabbard the moment that Izayoi evacuated from cover and began her assault, though her stance was casual and loose. The captain's attention quickly shifted to the reinforcements that entered the battle on Izayoi's behalf and a couple had managed to flank their position. Her gaze flicked around the battlefield as one by one her troops began to fall. The battle was lost.

"That...will have to wait." Her voice projected, venomous frustration clear. Her sword returned to its scabbard in one fluid motion and her other hand retrieved a faint, sky-blue crystal wrapped in gold leaf. Without a second more delay, Reisa held crystal towards the sky and with a sharp, electrical crack a bright ball of light emitted from the crystal. The light faded quickly and Reisa was nowhere to be seen, the ground lightly scorched where she had stood.

Mentions:@Psyker Landshark@Raineh Daze

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This was the moment. The situation was quickly turning against them against this assailant. A pure butcher. Izayoi's suffering made manifest. He wasn't surprised at the pure, wild rage that burned in her throat when facing the one responsible for losing her family. Arton was certain he would show no mercy to the ones who took his family away from him. This was something they shared. It came as a shock as Izayoi delayed her revenge to duck behind cover next to them. The potion rolled into his hands and it was in that moment that Izayoi fully earned his admiration and trust.

"On your signal." He slightly struggled to say before lifting the flash to his lips and drank. The wounds scattered around his body began to seal and close, but it wasn't enough. Adrenaline had kept him unaware of the multitude of other injuries that he had sustained, the materia in his possession pushing him further than what most could handle.

His attention immediately shifted towards the red Mystrel that seemingly appeared out of nowhere and was, out of everything, running towards him. Tension briefly rose in his legs and arms but as she drew closer he understood she was here on their side. There were other voices that joined the fray, calling to Izayoi as she rushed towards the enemy commander. He desperately wanted to join her and Galahad in the assault, but the potion hadn't managed to fully heal the gunshot wound in his leg. Mixed between surprise and relief, Arton nodded towards the Mystrel knowing that he would only get in Izayoi's way in this state.

"Thank you." He uttered simply, grunting a little as he shifted so she could have better access to his leg where blood still trickled out. There was a certain amount of embarrassment and shame he felt as Eliane, Izayoi, and Galahad continued to fight while he sat here. The loud crack and bright light that followed captured his attention, though he couldn't see over the cover he was behind.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:@Psyker Landshark

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"I am pleased you still consider it your home. It seems leaving it intact was a sound investment." Satisfaction lined her words and there was not doubt there was a smirk hidden under her metal visage. The assault from her troops continued amidst their conversation as she gave out orders with precise hands movements.

Reisa didn't make a move after hearing Izayoi's question, pacing a few steps before responding "It is difficult to trust others to get the job done, isn't that right?" She turned to the lieutenant and clearly said something to them before she raised a finger in the air and made a circular motion. The frontline of the Valheimians began to gradually spread out to cut off the flanks of Team Kirin.

Eliane's salvo whizzed towards Reisa who stepped out of the way of the first two shots, letting the bullets fly past her right then left side. Her shield was brought up in a flash of movement and the rest of barrage was deflected off its surface. Her attention shifted towards Eliane as if taking notice of her for the first time and with a swift order a pair of sharpshooters shifted position and began to engage the Skaellan markswoman.

Mentions:

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The battle at the King's palace had been a chaotic endeavor that was spread out across the entire compound but this was Arton's first time facing an organized and coordinated force. There was only so much that training could prepare for. Bullets whizzed all around him as he closed the distance, footmen coming at him again and again. Swords slammed into the his thick armor, unable to pierce but hard enough to leave a bruise later. Arton was barely holing his position and seemed to be trading blows more than he was delivering them. The hard truth was that he was the weak link in their party's frontline fighters...and the captain was prepared to exploit it.

Arton's blade cut down his latest attacker, pulling it loose just in time to raise his shield to stop the volley of gunfire...most of it. A single bullet punctured his thigh and at first he hadn't even realized it had happened. He tried to push off the leg but it just wouldn't give him the power he needed. Ice shards peppered Arton's armor, the shield unable to cover him completely from the attack. The blast of ice knocked him off his already weakened leg, rolling a couple times until he ended on his stomach. Blood oozed from his right leg and dripped from his nose but he was not on the ground for long. Arton propped himself up and threw him behind cover close to Eliane just as another volley struck his previous position.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:

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As the sounds of battle echoed throughout the small town, the door to Izayoi's door slammed open from the inside which slightly cracked the exterior wall with its force. The armored and decorated figure that emerged from the house ducked slightly to avoid hitting their head against the top of the doorframe "Fall in on me!" Their stern voice was somewhat distorted, whether through their helmet or some kind of magic. The Valheimian soldiers not currently engaged with Team Kirin quickly regrouped around the regal-looking figure, taking up a much more organized formation.

A large shield matching their armor was strapped to their right arm, a sword sheathed on the same side, and dual pistols completed the officer's armaments. Their attention seemed to immediately lock on to Izayoi "I am suprised you can still show your face around here, Izayoi of the Wild Wind. It is time to join the rest of your family." The tall figure boasted, raising a hand which triggered the remaining gunners to take aim and ready for a volley while their frontline warriors took up a defensive position around their leaders and the gunners. Her hand lowered quickly and a crackle of gunfire rippled across the line towards Team Kirin.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:

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Arton had narrowly skirted around Eliane's mention of their homeland that morning, finding the truth harder to speak then he realized.

He spent much of the trip towards Osprey taking in the sights alongside Neve, idly chatting about particular scenery or thoughts that popped in their heads. There came a point when the Izayoi's expressions told him without a word that they were drawing closer to the border and by extension Valheimian held territory. The checkpoint was his first insight into the occupation. If this was how oppressive a simple checkpoint was....he couldn't fathom what life what like under their heel.

Arton had started to say something before he bit his tongue and simply nodded in reply. He could only hope that their luck in remaining unnoticed would continue.

A tightness gripped his chest as they reached the outskirts of the village. This was where it happened. Where Izayoi's suicidal vendetta began after Valheim took everything. The sight brought a visceral understanding to her history. It all proved distracting as he barely noticed the Valheimian soldiers and definitely not fast enough to prevent Izayoi from charging ahead if that was even possible. A spark of the fury that possessed the samurai drifted into him and so he followed suit after Eliane

"Don't worry, I got you covered!" He said with fierce determination, taking up position just behind them.

One of the foot-soldiers that passed by them was immediately met with Arton's blade, which bounced off the soldier's shield. His opponent tried a slice of his open but Arton managed to side-step. He brought his sword slightly back and, with a movement that crudely mimicked Izayoi's form, sliced through the offending arm.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions: @Click This

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Arton hovered around the lobby of the lodge, shield on his back, as he waited for the conversation upstairs to get heated. His growing attachment to the samurai had blinded him initially to the feelings of Galahad. It was on trip over to the lodge where he grasped his new friend's perspective. If Izayoi had been responsible for Furi's or his parents' deaths, he doubt he would be able to let it go. It was a shadow cast over his heart and soul. Eventually, he figured since neither had come crashing through the roof that they had come to some kind of understanding. Arton retreated into the room he had claimed for himself, stripping off most of his armor.

What a stressful and confusing day it had been. The Skaellan settled down on a rug in front of the bed with his legs spread out in a butterfly position. It had been ages since he taken the time to stop and meditate. His hand slipped into a pouch inside his pack, retrieving a small bar of metal and a mallet. His master, Cyth, would strike the metal bar softly to focus his mind on the quite chime it produced. Arton had copied the habit and as he began to let the mallet bounce gently on the mental bar, he could feel the tension in his muscles gradually relax.

He had been out of line at the dinner and let his frustration affect others. A factor of himself that he was not yet ready to reveal let alone confront. The rhythmic chime of the metal flowed in an out through his thoughts, keeping himself centered as he processed his emotions. Despite what Cyth said, Arton was not ready to give up on Furi. To return home and assume his mantle of responsibility would be destroy any hope, however slight, of seeing her again. His eyelids slowly began to increase in weight as the chime slowed and slowed. One final strike sounded off in the room as the effort of blinking had stopped being effective in warding off sleep. Arton climbed into bed with a clearer mind and questions still left to answer.

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Arton had risen a little early that morning and helped Goug prepare their caravan with whatever assistance he needed. The swordsman approached Eliane with a freshly made cup of black coffee as she made her way into the room, holding a cup of his own but with a dash of milk and a pinch of sugar "Mornin'. Hope I didn't get it wrong." He spoke with a faint smile. Arton hoped the small gesture would help ease the distance he had been putting between them since they were assigned to the same team. It would be childish of him to avoid her like the plague the entire journey.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions: N/A

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Arton listened closely to Eliane's response to Lord Caradoc's question, trying to discern if she was being truthful. Fundamental with a side of mischief. It was a intriguing combination and was one more reason to keep his eye one his fellow Skaelan. He was not sure that he would be able to withstand a series of questions if she began to investigate his background. Hearing each one of them unified in their mission was a relief to hear and he could feel the bonds of the party tighten ever so slightly. The retort by Galahad's father stung like a small splash of boiling water on the skin. It hurt for a split-second but it quickly washed over him. This vitriol from Gal's father had him dumbfounded and his fantasy image of a parental figure insulted.

His hunger that he had at the start of the meal extinguished as the conversation between the two Caradocs began to explode. When Galahad expressed reservations about returning home, Arton had figured that there was some sort of tension or bad blood with his family. Nothing could have prepared him for how deeply the cracks in their relationship went. The Skaellan rose from his seat after Galahad, ready to spring into action the moment the situation completely broke down. The intensity in his face broke upon hearing Artorias's accusation and his son's reaction. Truth or not the claws of doubt visibly sank into his friend's mind.

The venom left by the echoes of war ran deep in people's blood. Arton was beginning to understand. He could feel a drop of that venom seeping into his veins and for a brief moment his lips parted as it nearly took control of him. Instead, the earlier conversation with Cyth echoed in his mind.

"Lord Caradoc, did you turn us away at the gate? No, you graciously invited our humble party for a shared meal thanks to the wise counsel of Lady Caradoc." Arton turned briefly to the woman in question "A meal that was most welcome after a long journey." His voice adapted to a refined cadence, shedding his countryside mannerisms.

"The moment we sat down at the same table under your roof we became your guests. I can't begin to imagine the scandal that executing four honored guests would bring upon you. I'm truly worried that your legitimacy would be called into question for the killing of your one and only legitimate heir." He twisted the threat with fabricated concern.

"I must humbly concede that you are right. We have taken enough of your generous hospitality and can now set forth properly on our quest now that we have the prestigious Lord Caradoc's blessing. What a beautiful moment of reconciliation between father and son to spread amongst the people." He straightened himself out and took a breath.

Arton was about to leave it at that, but he felt the urge for a final act of insolence "Oh, and if you would be so kind as to pass the gravy to my friend before we leave."

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Mentions: N/A

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"~He could not take from the forest, what was never meant to leave...~" The instruments faded into the background as her voice carried the final note softly into the aether. Applause erupted from the familiar audience as her lips closed and curled into a warm smile. Her light green eyes scanned the crowd and noticed a new batch of Valheimians amidst her regulars. No doubt that they were fresh from their homeland and wanted to visit the only theatre in Osprey that welcome their kind. Excellent. Her current sources were getting cold and it had been sometime since she heard any juicy information form Valheim.

Ciradyl bowed and curtsied to the crowd as the large, velvet curtain closed and she shifted from one mask to another. She mimicked a sigh "That was a wonderful performance...all of you. I will be in my changing room if anyone should need me." One act ends and the next begins. That was how it was under the brutal and watchful eye of their Valheim oppressors. Ciradyl exchanged smiles and small-talk with the other members of her troupe as she entered her personal room. The cheer in her eyes dropped with her smile as she gazed a mirrored version of herself and sat in the cushioned chair. She cast a few glances around the room and listened carefully for disturbances in the silence before she turned back to the countertop.

Her hand slid underneath and hummed gently with magic and was rewarded with a faint click as a secret compartment slide open. A small envelope fell into her hands. Ciradyl gave it a look over before she sliced the colorful string that bound it. Her fingers flicked it open and eyes darted from line to line. The moment she finished the last word she held it over a lit candle and watched it be consumed by flames before letting it fall to ashes in a small, gold tray. The king of Edren was finally making a move against the blight, going as far to recruit any abled man and woman for his naive hope of finding a magical solution to his problem. Ciradyl scoffed as she sat back in her chair, long nails tapping thoughtfully against her chin. This, perhaps, was an opportunity. There was not a doubt in her minds that one of the parties of adventurers would make their way into Osprey. They could hopefully be convinced to lend a hand here and there in exhcange for some information and protection. Forces were beginning to make their moves and Ciradyl was fully intent on staying ahead of it all.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions: N/A

There was a strong, subconscious pull on Arton's mind towards the idea of a dinner between family and friends. Despite his friendliness, Arton was a loner for the majority of life. There was people that popped briefly into his life but none who had established a strong connection to. He yearned for camaraderie but the potential loss of it kept him at arms length. The power in the differing views of the two Caradocs did not come across as irreconcilable issues but what he saw as familial banter.

"See? No reason to turn down a hearty, warm meal, right?" Arton exclaimed after Gal's mother.

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Arton started off the small feast eating as what would be expected of a common adventurer. After a glare from Artorias, Arton seamlessly transitioned to the proper decorum expected of such a dinner. The last impression he wanted to give Gal's parents was that he was some incompetent barbarian. As trays of various seafood arrived, he listened to Artorias's inquiry and Izayoi's reply. It was equal parts fascinating and terrifying to hear how personal their rivalry and animosity went.

"I have seen how the Blight has ravaged the war-torn outer territories of the kingdom. Arton took a short sip of his drink "Each week was tougher than the last. It was clear that nothing I did was going to stop it. Striking out on this quest, I believe, will save more people that I could on my own." It was wistful, naive thinking to believe that everything would go smoothly and all work out in the end, but he had to believe it "Hopefully, we'll find the answers as to why Valheim invaded just as the Blight dugs its claws in." His answer was not the whole truth of it. Arton wanted his life to mean something in the end, perhaps a bit too willing to sacrifice his life for an end to this calamity.

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Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions: N/A

Arton's mind was on his former master's words as they journeyed to their companion's home. It had already been some years ago when he set out on his own, to experience the world and understand the struggle of lands foreign to him. There was never an intent to return to his birthplace and the promise made to Cyth was an empty one. There was nothing left for him. No gilded estate of marble. No family arms passed down from generation to the next. No inheritance of any kind. Cyth had imposed it was his responsibility and duty to return. The instability in Skael had risen drastically in the past few months and from Cyth's words it was clear it was soon coming to boiling point.

The wandering swordsman did his best to straighten his back and present himself somewhat properly. His armor lacked the polish and art of the guards around him, but at least he managed to get it clean before they had set out. The more the walked through the estate the more Arton began to understand more of Galahad's upbringing and his own responsibility.

It was impossible to ignore the weight of the air between the two Caradocs, this was unlikely the first time Galahad had butted heads with his father. Arton remained silent, knowing it was not his place to speak out of turn. However, the vitriol in which Artorias spoke of Izayoi had his muscles tense. How little he knew of their history. Arton was surprised in Galahad's bold riposte, bending the decree of the king against his father's wishes. It seemed politics took place even amidst family for those in higher standing.

Arton simply nodded when Galahad had referenced him. He had fully expected this reunion to blow up in smoke when a older woman emerged from behind the commotion. It was not hard to assume her relationship to the two Caradocs. As uncomfortable as it may be, a free meal would be a shame to pass up and his stomach guided his next words "What do you say, Gal?" There was a slight hopeful tone in his voice. Uncomfortable or not, Arton would do anything to share one meal with his parents.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions: N/A

"I'll be sure to try it." Arton replied, not entirely sure what this flan looked or tasted like. The name itself was not all that appealing to him but he trusted Galahad's word. He courteously held the door for the entirety of their party but a man approached him just Arton was about to enter himself. The expression that appeared on Arton's face made it clear that it was someone he recognized. They exchanged a brief conversation, the words muffled between the noise from the street. The man soon left and Arton turned to the rest of the party inside the cafe "I'll..have to try the coffee some other time. See you at the lodge." He then walked after the elderly man with a brisk pace.

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Arton arrived at the lodge just in time to see someone running off in the opposite direction. His ears caught the tail-end of Eliane speaking as he rejoined the party. The brief look of confusion faded as he surmised what must have happened "I can't imagine this is going to be pleasant..." His voice sounded drained and devoid of the usual enthusiasm he had. The conversation with Cyth had taken a greater toll on his mentality than he hoped it would. It seemed Skael was facing an increase in civil unrest combined with nobles disputing a patch of contested land.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

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Arton shared a sentiment to a certain city in Skael, one which he luckily hadn't travelled through in sometime. He expected their reasons for such feelings were drastically different. What caught his attention more than coffee was the mention of repairing equipment. He wondered if there was a local smithy that would allow him to use their forge. The rest of the group seemed intent on travelling to a cafe and the idea did seem appealing with the coming storm. A warm drink tasted better with the sounds of rainfall he believed. Arton had to agree with Leifur on the timeframe they were to spend here. Every day that they wasted was lives lost to the blight. However, he understood that they were still relative strangers that would soon depend on each other to finish their quest. This was a chance to forge bonds that would carry them through the darkest of nights.

He looked over to the shop that Neve had been drawing attention to. The atmosphere was inviting and it was not as though they were going anywhere immediately "Well I did say that I'd buy somethin' for the capt'n and that place over there seems like a good start to our tour of Midgar." He suggested strongly to the party. The distant crackle of thunder boomed in the skies above them "Come on, I'll go grab us a table on the second floor." Arton enthusiastically waved for them to follow, walking ahead to the building so that he could hold the door open for the party. Arton's eyes scanned all over the street as he made his way over, taking in the vibrant appearance of the city. He felt and looked completely out of place, more so than he had back in Balmung.

The wandering swordsman had spent the better part of five years camping out and fighting fighting blight-beasts in the countryside of Edren and along the border of Osprey. There were rare nights where a generous family let him sleep in a spare room but those were far and few between. His company most days were farmers and local artisans, imparting a bit of their culture on him little by little. The sights, smells, and sounds of the city came nearly to overloading his senses. He hadn't made his mind up yet whether he found the crowded streets oppressive or exciting.