Before we continue, just to be sure, did @Psyker Landshark sign off on Iraleth's dialogue/choice in @ERode's post? Just wanna make sure we're all on the same page.
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@AThousandCurses
The Decay is the term used to refer to the world’s essence loss following the Five Year Apocalypse. Most people would have heard of it in some capacity as a disaster affecting the world and destroying it. It’s also the reason for many essence shortages, as essence lost doesn’t return.
The Decay is the term used to refer to the world’s essence loss following the Five Year Apocalypse. Most people would have heard of it in some capacity as a disaster affecting the world and destroying it. It’s also the reason for many essence shortages, as essence lost doesn’t return.
@AThousandCurses
"Asleep?! Khhhhh..."
Chloe stomped over to the door, back hunched over and face a storm of negative emotions. A strong gust of wind shook around her, pressure increasing with each step as she drew closer. Chunji's clothes would flutter as she approached, as if a wild autumn breeze were breaking out in the middle of a grassy field. "Some teacher, waking up later than his students. I'll go give him a first day wakeup that'll change his life!"
Right as a clenched hand was about to plunge through the middle of the door, however, Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened a moment, breath stopped; with Chunji's eyes, he could tell that her heart rate had spiked out of nowhere, her breath caught in her throat as her lungs struggled to push through some kind of shock. Nothing appeared wrong with her physically, but the recognition of something passed through her eyes, and then closed as if in comprehension of something in her head. A sigh escaped her, and all at once, the intense wind around her had dissipated. Her faculties had returned to her, and her body language had returned to a more neutral state.
"Ahem. As I was saying..."
The pink half-elf had seemingly shrugged off both her wrathful persona and her holier-than-thou posturing, shuffling ahead to open the door slowly, her focus looking anywhere but Chunji. Perhaps if she simply moved past it, he wouldn't realize anything even happened? Surely that was the correct play here.
Chloe entered into the dim shed, briefly glancing around before finding the latch with a ladder leading down to the basement. Were Chunji to continue viewing the scene with his Ethos, he would see Chloe descend and approach the sleeping teacher, nearly on the tips of her toes. Rather than the enraged display she spoke of upstairs, the frill-elf decided instead to meekly poke at the man's shoulder and cheek until he stirred. What followed was minutes of them speaking to one another, the man slowly coming to while Chloe appeared to give apology bow after apology bow. Finally, the alchemist would scoop all of his loose papers into a folder and set it within one of his nearby filing cabinets, before beginning his ascent back towards Chunji alongside the now quiet half-elf.
The pair would arrive outside, Chloe slowly shuffling away from the man and closer towards Chunji, looking back at the alchemist. What Chunji would see would be a pale, haggard man slouching his way into the sunlight, the dark bags under his eyes almost seeming to meld into his flesh as permanent scars on his face.
"Dear me, dear me, it appears I dozed the night away. If not for your salient friend here, I fear I may have slept until the turn of the year. A teacher I wouldn't be, were I to laze until 1527. Heheheh..."
The man's chuckle caused his pointed, platinum-esque teeth to chatter, and his voice was a raspy monotone that gave off the air of one who was exhausted and yet tireless at the same time. His eyes burrowed into Chunji's, his thin black orbs staring miles into the boy as he cracked his own bony fingers and neck. They echoed like the snapping of dry bark and dead grass in the woods, and yet the alchemist didn't so much as wince at the sounds his body was making as he relieved himself of his stiffness.
"Arthritis flaring up, too... ah, but where are my manners? I am Lumyr, and in the years to come, I'll teach alchemy, herbology and research on The Decay. Ms. Steeler has already introduced herself, but I trust I'm able to have your name as well, mister...?"
One of those cold, concrete grey hands extended slowly towards Chunji. A grotesque grin formed on Lumyr's face as he continued to stare, unblinkingly, at the boy.
@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode
The doll paced back and forth, staff slung over one shoulder as it hobbled back and forth through Iraleth's rejection, expression unclear. It made various 'hmmm', 'heee' and 'hawww' noises as it took in the Astran knight's words. For Ciara's part, as she gazed upon the pair, she would see two things that contrasted heavily: the doll's radiant light that stood out like a campfire in the woods, and the bucket boy's absolute lack of any light at all. The doll had the light of a pure and true saint, while the bucket boy didn't even possess the mundane grey light of the commonfolk, but well and truly nothing at all.
"Alright, very well, I hath decided! You, Iraleth Kyrios, shall be an honorary member. You need not go through trial nor tribulation nor test of mettle, but may stand proud as an unofficial retainer to the Re'Gale family line regardless!"
As this declaration was made, the bucket boy began silently breakdancing in the background in celebration, drawing a small crowd of mildly impressed students golf clapping at the whelming display. A few would make remarks such as, "It's pretty good," or, "Respectable," and for a moment it almost felt as if the world had turned on its head. Even Bronsteel, from a distance at his own table, leaned over visibly to witness the bucket's head-spinning breakdance and gave a sizable, understanding "Huh," before returning to his food on his lonesome.
It was at that moment that the perfectly average display was interrupted by the sudden arrival of two more individuals. Davil crashed into the ground near Iraleth's feet, startling the doll backwards and causing the small crowd to disperse in surprise. The winged boy looked up at the ceiling while breathing like a hunted animal, having seen the pearly gates seconds prior before returning to this side of reality. Or had he? It might've been a stress induced hallucination, but he'd probably never know for sure.
"I'm alive? I'm alive! Woooo!"
Davil jolted to his feet as Otis spoke, and quickly his joy turned into a blushing heap scrambling against the Strigidae's coat to 'shhh' him - but all too late, as the words had already escaped in that ever so stabbing matter-of-fact tone. Turning to Ciara with tomato cheeks, the crimson klutz would shrug and smile, and promptly shake his head defiantly. "Don't even worry about what the ol' chum's saying there, Ciara. He's probably crazy, or drunk, or something. You know how he is, I think."
The stone doll would proceed to slowly walk over and deliver a small kick to Davil's shin, which while not painful, did cause the boy to shamble to the side a few steps from the surprise. Davil would shout, "Heeeey! Someone's lost their familiar or their golem or something, someone restrain that thing."
"Oi. Shove off, you. His Majesty, me, was just finishing up the royal proceedings for the day," the doll would retort with a biting tone that was not present previously. "You are excused, Iraleth Kyrios."
Davil would simply turn to the rest of the group in confusion, shrugging once again as he backed away from the doll.
APOTHECARY
"Asleep?! Khhhhh..."
Chloe stomped over to the door, back hunched over and face a storm of negative emotions. A strong gust of wind shook around her, pressure increasing with each step as she drew closer. Chunji's clothes would flutter as she approached, as if a wild autumn breeze were breaking out in the middle of a grassy field. "Some teacher, waking up later than his students. I'll go give him a first day wakeup that'll change his life!"
Right as a clenched hand was about to plunge through the middle of the door, however, Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened a moment, breath stopped; with Chunji's eyes, he could tell that her heart rate had spiked out of nowhere, her breath caught in her throat as her lungs struggled to push through some kind of shock. Nothing appeared wrong with her physically, but the recognition of something passed through her eyes, and then closed as if in comprehension of something in her head. A sigh escaped her, and all at once, the intense wind around her had dissipated. Her faculties had returned to her, and her body language had returned to a more neutral state.
"Ahem. As I was saying..."
The pink half-elf had seemingly shrugged off both her wrathful persona and her holier-than-thou posturing, shuffling ahead to open the door slowly, her focus looking anywhere but Chunji. Perhaps if she simply moved past it, he wouldn't realize anything even happened? Surely that was the correct play here.
Chloe entered into the dim shed, briefly glancing around before finding the latch with a ladder leading down to the basement. Were Chunji to continue viewing the scene with his Ethos, he would see Chloe descend and approach the sleeping teacher, nearly on the tips of her toes. Rather than the enraged display she spoke of upstairs, the frill-elf decided instead to meekly poke at the man's shoulder and cheek until he stirred. What followed was minutes of them speaking to one another, the man slowly coming to while Chloe appeared to give apology bow after apology bow. Finally, the alchemist would scoop all of his loose papers into a folder and set it within one of his nearby filing cabinets, before beginning his ascent back towards Chunji alongside the now quiet half-elf.
The pair would arrive outside, Chloe slowly shuffling away from the man and closer towards Chunji, looking back at the alchemist. What Chunji would see would be a pale, haggard man slouching his way into the sunlight, the dark bags under his eyes almost seeming to meld into his flesh as permanent scars on his face.
"Dear me, dear me, it appears I dozed the night away. If not for your salient friend here, I fear I may have slept until the turn of the year. A teacher I wouldn't be, were I to laze until 1527. Heheheh..."
The man's chuckle caused his pointed, platinum-esque teeth to chatter, and his voice was a raspy monotone that gave off the air of one who was exhausted and yet tireless at the same time. His eyes burrowed into Chunji's, his thin black orbs staring miles into the boy as he cracked his own bony fingers and neck. They echoed like the snapping of dry bark and dead grass in the woods, and yet the alchemist didn't so much as wince at the sounds his body was making as he relieved himself of his stiffness.
"Arthritis flaring up, too... ah, but where are my manners? I am Lumyr, and in the years to come, I'll teach alchemy, herbology and research on The Decay. Ms. Steeler has already introduced herself, but I trust I'm able to have your name as well, mister...?"
One of those cold, concrete grey hands extended slowly towards Chunji. A grotesque grin formed on Lumyr's face as he continued to stare, unblinkingly, at the boy.
@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode
CAFETERIA
The doll paced back and forth, staff slung over one shoulder as it hobbled back and forth through Iraleth's rejection, expression unclear. It made various 'hmmm', 'heee' and 'hawww' noises as it took in the Astran knight's words. For Ciara's part, as she gazed upon the pair, she would see two things that contrasted heavily: the doll's radiant light that stood out like a campfire in the woods, and the bucket boy's absolute lack of any light at all. The doll had the light of a pure and true saint, while the bucket boy didn't even possess the mundane grey light of the commonfolk, but well and truly nothing at all.
"Alright, very well, I hath decided! You, Iraleth Kyrios, shall be an honorary member. You need not go through trial nor tribulation nor test of mettle, but may stand proud as an unofficial retainer to the Re'Gale family line regardless!"
As this declaration was made, the bucket boy began silently breakdancing in the background in celebration, drawing a small crowd of mildly impressed students golf clapping at the whelming display. A few would make remarks such as, "It's pretty good," or, "Respectable," and for a moment it almost felt as if the world had turned on its head. Even Bronsteel, from a distance at his own table, leaned over visibly to witness the bucket's head-spinning breakdance and gave a sizable, understanding "Huh," before returning to his food on his lonesome.
It was at that moment that the perfectly average display was interrupted by the sudden arrival of two more individuals. Davil crashed into the ground near Iraleth's feet, startling the doll backwards and causing the small crowd to disperse in surprise. The winged boy looked up at the ceiling while breathing like a hunted animal, having seen the pearly gates seconds prior before returning to this side of reality. Or had he? It might've been a stress induced hallucination, but he'd probably never know for sure.
"I'm alive? I'm alive! Woooo!"
Davil jolted to his feet as Otis spoke, and quickly his joy turned into a blushing heap scrambling against the Strigidae's coat to 'shhh' him - but all too late, as the words had already escaped in that ever so stabbing matter-of-fact tone. Turning to Ciara with tomato cheeks, the crimson klutz would shrug and smile, and promptly shake his head defiantly. "Don't even worry about what the ol' chum's saying there, Ciara. He's probably crazy, or drunk, or something. You know how he is, I think."
The stone doll would proceed to slowly walk over and deliver a small kick to Davil's shin, which while not painful, did cause the boy to shamble to the side a few steps from the surprise. Davil would shout, "Heeeey! Someone's lost their familiar or their golem or something, someone restrain that thing."
"Oi. Shove off, you. His Majesty, me, was just finishing up the royal proceedings for the day," the doll would retort with a biting tone that was not present previously. "You are excused, Iraleth Kyrios."
Davil would simply turn to the rest of the group in confusion, shrugging once again as he backed away from the doll.
Hildegunde would technically still be the furthest ahead in the timeline, so I'll continue to assume skipping until at least the classroom unless I'm told otherwise.
Next round coming soon!
Next round coming soon!
@ERode
Davil gulped down the tea without hesitation, as if a traveler wandering days without supplies in the summer heat. The boy was quick to tire, but also quick to recuperate, savoring his liquid reward to its every last drop with the same passion as earlier. Whether it was short term memory loss, an unbreakable will, or simple naivete, it never took much to get him back on his feet after a painful experience.
"Well, see, I normally imagine the starting gun - like the kind you'd see in foot races - to help me visualize the starting process. I used to be an ace runner back in elementary, so it's my closest frame of reference, I guess."
Ruffling a hand through his hair, he pondered something a moment, as if something unexpected had entered his thought process. A bead of sweat traced down the side of his face, uncertainty painted clear as day. "But this time, channeling into my hands, it felt different. Sounds. Someone was..."
Pondering, for a longer period than the crimson klutz had ever displayed before, took place. As if he were to speak his next word or words carefully, unsure of how to phrase it, his eyes darted about as if paranoid of something. Finally, he met Otis' eyes once more. "...Crying. Someone was crying, but I dunno where. And once I heard that, it was like every blip of emotional essence in my body rebelled all at once and shut it down. Some weird shit, chum."
After being pulled up and having time to calm down while listening to briefing on the final test of the day, the tester's face squirmed in anxiety. "If you're sure, chum, then I guess. As long as you've got a plan for helping me with the landing, 'cuz I won't even have time left to steer," Davil would accept skeptically, shrugging as he withdrew back to the center of the courtyard to prepare.
Otis would receive a nod and a knowing look from his test subject once he had taken the time for a deep breath in and out. "If I don't make it back, uh... tell that Ciara girl I thought it would've been cool if we got coffee and donuts some time, but that it sucks we couldn't. And maybe tell Leuvalt that his massive throne is surely compensating for something equally tiny in another area of his life."
For the final time that day, Davil took up his position, heels dug into the ground and teeth grit in anticipation. He closed his eyes as he visualized that same racetrack, that same distant road in front of him - impossibly far, intentionally unreachable. It was the same sight he had long grown accustomed to, the same feeling he had long since grown numb to. It was all fine, the odds shown to be against him like this even in his own mind. It was what was needed, after all.
"Linearic Liner!"
The starting gun fired, and seconds passed. Other phantasmal runners took off down the track in his mind, and yet he knew it was fine to wait; with time and patience, he'd surpass them all. He just needed the time to focus. Seconds passed, and wind began gathering around him. This time, however, it was more like an aura enveloping him fully, rather than in a controlled area. He seemed fully at peace, and his prime essence reflected this: raindrops, almost, in a downpour towards his feet. A puddle of energy would slowly form on the ground around him, and at the end of the ten seconds of charging before ascension, it had risen to his ankles. His prime essence was growing dimmer, and by this point, it drained at a rapid rate.
All at once, the entirety of the gathered essence erupted like a volcano. As if shot out of a cannon, Davil rocketed upwards, cracking the ground beneath him as he rapidly ascended further and further into the air. Regardless of its limitations, the speed of this flight surpassed what the Fly spell, or other similar spells granting flight, would accomplish. With the eight seconds that remained after charging, the boy had risen high enough that he could see the entirety of the campus apart from the Iris Record, which still shadowed over him as a looming reminder.
Upon reaching the last second of his Ethos, an unusual shift would occur. An Ethos deactivation would normally consist of the gradual winding down of one's prime essence over multiple seconds, but in the case of Davil, it was as if everything shut off the very moment that the arbitrary time limit had been reached. There wasn't even the potential for the flier to accidentally push himself into rebound - his prime essence had gone from active to dark the very moment he had reached his thirtieth second.
Davil wouldn't notice such intricacies, however; what he instead noticed was that he was now falling, and very quickly at that. His screams echoed across the campus for all outside to hear as he plummeted towards the ground like a brick. He had said his prayers, but the eager beaver of a boy still closed his eyes in prayer regardless - a prayer to Astra that Otis really did have some kind of plan to ensure he didn't unceremoniously paint Wingram's floors and walls with his body.
A coffee date did, well and truly, sound like salvation right about now.
@AThousandCurses
"What I'm researching is an answer, I guess. An answer to a question from childhood, though I'm not sure what the right way to go about figuring it out would be. Alchemy is just the next attempt to help him, really. I've no strong passion for the subject on my own."
Chloe looked up at the sky as she spoke, watching clouds roll by with her hands on her hips. She was holding back her words, though her sincerity was direct and clear. She'd allow herself to say nothing else on the matter when asked by a stranger, and appeared all too glad to move onto a different topic when it was presented.
"I don't actually know who the alchemy teacher is, though. All I know is that he's some big shot from Golem's Rock up in the NNT. Strigari alumnus too, from what I hear. As for where he is, I can't say I'd know. At this hour, I wouldn't blame him if he were still sleeping. Janitor would definitely have the keys, but I've no idea where he'd be in this place."
Within the vision of Chunji's Ethos, he wouldn't find any notable faculty nearby. Looking towards the workshop, he would see an alchemy lab fit for even commercial use inside, undoubtedly fit for any practice an aspiring alchemist could need. Deeper within, however, he would note a lower floor underground - a basement of sorts, in which he would see a man. The man would be hunched over, passed out with his face pressed firmly against a wooden desk, papers scattered about. If there were ever an individual who fit the stereotype of an exhausted scientist, it'd be this man, asleep seemingly mid-study.
"You're looking... with intent," Chloe would blurt out, walking in front of Chunji's line of sight, her furrowed gaze staring straight at him. "Is that what you do? Your Ethos, I mean?"
@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark
"Appreciate it. Best be gettin' on, kid, there's a whole day ahead for ya," Michael said, retrieving his toolbox from the freshly polished floor as he waved Ciara off with a smile before walking in the opposite direction towards his next tasks for the day. Other students passed by her in the halls, seeming to be in much the same situation as her. Some could even be heard arguing with one another, stressing about whether they were assigned to a 'compact' or 'standard' class. Beyond that, though, there was something even more pressing as Ciara neared room 103: the sound of a rapidly approaching rumbling footsteps from behind, closer to a stampede in many ways.
Should she look behind or acknowledge the movement as it passed, Ciara would bear witness to the sight of a bucket-wearing boy charging full sprint ahead, with an animated doll of stone and clay perched atop his head. The doll was making 'woo' and 'wee' noises, cheering and screaming in a childlike voice as it waved its wooden branch wand - though closer to a staff for its size - around as if commanding the boy.
"Onward, onward, onward! We move, we move, Stallion. The knight awaits ahead, yes?!" With a few well-placed bonks to the bucket boy's head with its stick, the bucket would nod enthusiastically up and down. "Aye, m'lord, the knight awaits in the cafeteria. They will abide your request without delay - this, as is known, has been foretold." The bucket's voice, in contrast, was rough and gravelly as if he were a hardened veteran.
They wouldn't acknowledge Ciara as they passed, apart from the doll looking towards her and giving her a nod as they moved by, and turned a corner in the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria. Room 103, as it turned out, was rather close to the cafeteria - within sight at this point, in fact. The pair would disappear down a sharp turn, though they would be heard long after leaving sight.
As Iraleth began to leave the cafeteria, she would hear the thunderous sound of the western side's double doors nearly rattling off their hinges, accompanied by deep asthmatic breathing and triumphant 'wahahahaha' laughter. "Iraleth Kyriooooooos," a child's voice would echo through the entire cafeteria, the sound of a stampeding animal approaching as the bucket boy continued his voiceless charge. "You have been seen and heard, and found acceptable!"
Upon declaring this, the doll would use the momentum of the loyal bucket boy's sprint to flip forward, tumbling many meters in the air before landing on its feet in front of Iraleth. Raising its tree branch wand to point up at the knight, there would be sunny joy and a kingly presence in the doll's expressionless and unchanging face. "As per your performance yesterday, I, King Vassago Re'Gale, have deemed you an ideal candidate for knighthood in my growing party of heroes. As per tradition, you will need to prove yourself in a sanctioned duel against my right hand, Stallion, at a time agreed upon by both parties."
At this, the bucket boy would slowly and silently shuffle his way into frame, giving a half-hearted wave to Iraleth. Vassago would continue, once more waving his wand. "And so the great Stone Monarch comes to you in earnest: will you, the shining knight of angelic wings, join the holy lineage to save our world from evil?! Your light, wings and deeds have indeed dazzled this humble yet demigodly king, you understand, and so the Re'Gale family heir has called upon you, Iraleth Kyrios."
Slamming the end of his twig down on the ground as if passing judgment, the child-voiced doll would continue to stare up at Iraleth as if waiting for a response.
COURTYARD
Davil gulped down the tea without hesitation, as if a traveler wandering days without supplies in the summer heat. The boy was quick to tire, but also quick to recuperate, savoring his liquid reward to its every last drop with the same passion as earlier. Whether it was short term memory loss, an unbreakable will, or simple naivete, it never took much to get him back on his feet after a painful experience.
"Well, see, I normally imagine the starting gun - like the kind you'd see in foot races - to help me visualize the starting process. I used to be an ace runner back in elementary, so it's my closest frame of reference, I guess."
Ruffling a hand through his hair, he pondered something a moment, as if something unexpected had entered his thought process. A bead of sweat traced down the side of his face, uncertainty painted clear as day. "But this time, channeling into my hands, it felt different. Sounds. Someone was..."
Pondering, for a longer period than the crimson klutz had ever displayed before, took place. As if he were to speak his next word or words carefully, unsure of how to phrase it, his eyes darted about as if paranoid of something. Finally, he met Otis' eyes once more. "...Crying. Someone was crying, but I dunno where. And once I heard that, it was like every blip of emotional essence in my body rebelled all at once and shut it down. Some weird shit, chum."
After being pulled up and having time to calm down while listening to briefing on the final test of the day, the tester's face squirmed in anxiety. "If you're sure, chum, then I guess. As long as you've got a plan for helping me with the landing, 'cuz I won't even have time left to steer," Davil would accept skeptically, shrugging as he withdrew back to the center of the courtyard to prepare.
Otis would receive a nod and a knowing look from his test subject once he had taken the time for a deep breath in and out. "If I don't make it back, uh... tell that Ciara girl I thought it would've been cool if we got coffee and donuts some time, but that it sucks we couldn't. And maybe tell Leuvalt that his massive throne is surely compensating for something equally tiny in another area of his life."
For the final time that day, Davil took up his position, heels dug into the ground and teeth grit in anticipation. He closed his eyes as he visualized that same racetrack, that same distant road in front of him - impossibly far, intentionally unreachable. It was the same sight he had long grown accustomed to, the same feeling he had long since grown numb to. It was all fine, the odds shown to be against him like this even in his own mind. It was what was needed, after all.
"Linearic Liner!"
The starting gun fired, and seconds passed. Other phantasmal runners took off down the track in his mind, and yet he knew it was fine to wait; with time and patience, he'd surpass them all. He just needed the time to focus. Seconds passed, and wind began gathering around him. This time, however, it was more like an aura enveloping him fully, rather than in a controlled area. He seemed fully at peace, and his prime essence reflected this: raindrops, almost, in a downpour towards his feet. A puddle of energy would slowly form on the ground around him, and at the end of the ten seconds of charging before ascension, it had risen to his ankles. His prime essence was growing dimmer, and by this point, it drained at a rapid rate.
All at once, the entirety of the gathered essence erupted like a volcano. As if shot out of a cannon, Davil rocketed upwards, cracking the ground beneath him as he rapidly ascended further and further into the air. Regardless of its limitations, the speed of this flight surpassed what the Fly spell, or other similar spells granting flight, would accomplish. With the eight seconds that remained after charging, the boy had risen high enough that he could see the entirety of the campus apart from the Iris Record, which still shadowed over him as a looming reminder.
Upon reaching the last second of his Ethos, an unusual shift would occur. An Ethos deactivation would normally consist of the gradual winding down of one's prime essence over multiple seconds, but in the case of Davil, it was as if everything shut off the very moment that the arbitrary time limit had been reached. There wasn't even the potential for the flier to accidentally push himself into rebound - his prime essence had gone from active to dark the very moment he had reached his thirtieth second.
Davil wouldn't notice such intricacies, however; what he instead noticed was that he was now falling, and very quickly at that. His screams echoed across the campus for all outside to hear as he plummeted towards the ground like a brick. He had said his prayers, but the eager beaver of a boy still closed his eyes in prayer regardless - a prayer to Astra that Otis really did have some kind of plan to ensure he didn't unceremoniously paint Wingram's floors and walls with his body.
A coffee date did, well and truly, sound like salvation right about now.
@AThousandCurses
APOTHECARY
"What I'm researching is an answer, I guess. An answer to a question from childhood, though I'm not sure what the right way to go about figuring it out would be. Alchemy is just the next attempt to help him, really. I've no strong passion for the subject on my own."
Chloe looked up at the sky as she spoke, watching clouds roll by with her hands on her hips. She was holding back her words, though her sincerity was direct and clear. She'd allow herself to say nothing else on the matter when asked by a stranger, and appeared all too glad to move onto a different topic when it was presented.
"I don't actually know who the alchemy teacher is, though. All I know is that he's some big shot from Golem's Rock up in the NNT. Strigari alumnus too, from what I hear. As for where he is, I can't say I'd know. At this hour, I wouldn't blame him if he were still sleeping. Janitor would definitely have the keys, but I've no idea where he'd be in this place."
Within the vision of Chunji's Ethos, he wouldn't find any notable faculty nearby. Looking towards the workshop, he would see an alchemy lab fit for even commercial use inside, undoubtedly fit for any practice an aspiring alchemist could need. Deeper within, however, he would note a lower floor underground - a basement of sorts, in which he would see a man. The man would be hunched over, passed out with his face pressed firmly against a wooden desk, papers scattered about. If there were ever an individual who fit the stereotype of an exhausted scientist, it'd be this man, asleep seemingly mid-study.
"You're looking... with intent," Chloe would blurt out, walking in front of Chunji's line of sight, her furrowed gaze staring straight at him. "Is that what you do? Your Ethos, I mean?"
@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark
MAIN BUILDING/CAFETERIA
"Appreciate it. Best be gettin' on, kid, there's a whole day ahead for ya," Michael said, retrieving his toolbox from the freshly polished floor as he waved Ciara off with a smile before walking in the opposite direction towards his next tasks for the day. Other students passed by her in the halls, seeming to be in much the same situation as her. Some could even be heard arguing with one another, stressing about whether they were assigned to a 'compact' or 'standard' class. Beyond that, though, there was something even more pressing as Ciara neared room 103: the sound of a rapidly approaching rumbling footsteps from behind, closer to a stampede in many ways.
Should she look behind or acknowledge the movement as it passed, Ciara would bear witness to the sight of a bucket-wearing boy charging full sprint ahead, with an animated doll of stone and clay perched atop his head. The doll was making 'woo' and 'wee' noises, cheering and screaming in a childlike voice as it waved its wooden branch wand - though closer to a staff for its size - around as if commanding the boy.
"Onward, onward, onward! We move, we move, Stallion. The knight awaits ahead, yes?!" With a few well-placed bonks to the bucket boy's head with its stick, the bucket would nod enthusiastically up and down. "Aye, m'lord, the knight awaits in the cafeteria. They will abide your request without delay - this, as is known, has been foretold." The bucket's voice, in contrast, was rough and gravelly as if he were a hardened veteran.
They wouldn't acknowledge Ciara as they passed, apart from the doll looking towards her and giving her a nod as they moved by, and turned a corner in the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria. Room 103, as it turned out, was rather close to the cafeteria - within sight at this point, in fact. The pair would disappear down a sharp turn, though they would be heard long after leaving sight.
As Iraleth began to leave the cafeteria, she would hear the thunderous sound of the western side's double doors nearly rattling off their hinges, accompanied by deep asthmatic breathing and triumphant 'wahahahaha' laughter. "Iraleth Kyriooooooos," a child's voice would echo through the entire cafeteria, the sound of a stampeding animal approaching as the bucket boy continued his voiceless charge. "You have been seen and heard, and found acceptable!"
Upon declaring this, the doll would use the momentum of the loyal bucket boy's sprint to flip forward, tumbling many meters in the air before landing on its feet in front of Iraleth. Raising its tree branch wand to point up at the knight, there would be sunny joy and a kingly presence in the doll's expressionless and unchanging face. "As per your performance yesterday, I, King Vassago Re'Gale, have deemed you an ideal candidate for knighthood in my growing party of heroes. As per tradition, you will need to prove yourself in a sanctioned duel against my right hand, Stallion, at a time agreed upon by both parties."
At this, the bucket boy would slowly and silently shuffle his way into frame, giving a half-hearted wave to Iraleth. Vassago would continue, once more waving his wand. "And so the great Stone Monarch comes to you in earnest: will you, the shining knight of angelic wings, join the holy lineage to save our world from evil?! Your light, wings and deeds have indeed dazzled this humble yet demigodly king, you understand, and so the Re'Gale family heir has called upon you, Iraleth Kyrios."
Slamming the end of his twig down on the ground as if passing judgment, the child-voiced doll would continue to stare up at Iraleth as if waiting for a response.
Busy day today, but next round will be coming in the evening.
Posted! I think this is the most split the party has been so far, lol.
Gotcha! And just so you know OOC, the fight between Iraleth and Ciara won't be starting until 6:00 PM IC. I wasn't sure if that was just Hildegunde being sleepy/groggy, but I wanted to clarify just in case!
@Nanaya I can get one down, sorry everything has been so much forever.
EDIT: I've set the post close to when class would start, so if you wanna do shenanigans before class time, that can happen, and you can also reasonably skip me until class starts without asking. Felt like this was the most responsible way of going about it with my schedule being what it is right now.
Gotcha! And just so you know OOC, the fight between Iraleth and Ciara won't be starting until 6:00 PM IC. I wasn't sure if that was just Hildegunde being sleepy/groggy, but I wanted to clarify just in case!
@ERode
Steam once more flowed out of Davil's ears in concern while trying to process the extent of the analysis he was given. The boy hadn't given such thought to his own Ethos before, let alone something like what his prime essence's codeword might be. He knew himself as a one trick pony with limited use, and quite frankly, he'd always been content with that. The mere idea that Linearic Liner had other applications broke him, his eyes becoming swirls as his vision was consumed by the cosmos. "Propulsion? Gearvein? Capacity? Gr-graaaaah..." Trailing off, the winged boy spasmed and foamed at the mouth for multiple beats, his mind reeling at the unknown and terrifying words and concepts thrust into his solid block of a brain.
Davil returned to his feet with Otis' assistance, dusting himself off and nodding as his eyes returned to the hazel orbs they typically were. Fire had also returned to him, his gaze ignited with the need to prove his worth. "...But none of those words matter! They can't affect me, chum, because I'm immune to words! Strixan stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."
None the wiser, the boy would slip on his custom gloves and stretch them out, flexing them with the full extent of his fingers to 'wear them in', all the while taking care to take deep breaths in and out to prepare himself for another test that he had never before attempted. All the same, the look on his face gave away that he had full confidence in Otis' methods, and nodded in acknowledgement at his requests. Slowly, his hands extended outward, palms facing forward. Once more, Davil's face drooped to a state of serious focus, again visualizing himself at the beginning of a hundred meter dash, the starting gun raised to fire.
"Linearic... Liner!"
Once again, with those words and the blasting of the starting gun in Davil's head, the regular process had begun, but quickly deviated from there. The five second charging period had progressed, only... different. His prime essence did not shine so readily as it did before, and Davil almost seemed to wince in pain as two fist-sized chunks of his prime essence broke off and jolted into his palms, leaving very little left in his chest at all. It was as if nearly the entirety of his prime essence had all at once jammed itself into his waiting hands, which drastically went against the grain of what a prime essence should do. In smaller chunks it would be negligible, but for such a dim fragment of prime essence to remain in its rightful place in his chest while ninety percent jammed itself into his hands would begin to cut off blood flow to the heart.
A small wind would gather in the palms of the boy's hands, but it was so faint that it wouldn't even be able to push a leaf. One thing was clear, though: his prime essence, in this position, was not attempting to deviate upwards as it had before. Should it be released, it would indeed shoot forth straight ahead. In Davil's eyes, the Wund boy would find some recognition and appear to realize something. All at once, the remaining prime essence in his chest would pulse outwards throughout his body, and all at once, the two condensed shards would rip themselves away from his hands and back towards his chest, once more reuniting the entirety of the winged warrior's being around his heart. All at once the wind had dissipated, and rather than being pushed back, Davil simply fell to his knees on reflex.
"Grrrhhh..."
With the gargling of phlegm in his throat and the grinding of teeth, Davil's gaze was turned to the soil beneath him, doing his best to avoid hyperventilating at the shock of feeling something wrong with what he had just attempted. As he knelt there, his gloves would appear, on closer notice, to each have suffered a small slash across the palms. A small trickle of blood would seep out of each of these openings, revealing similar cuts on Davil's palms as well. Davil's prime essence, in its current state, still appeared vibrant and pulsing - a sign that, at the very least, rebound was likely not the reason.
"T-That's test two, chum. Eighteen seconds left in the tank, if you know what I mean. Can't say I've felt that one before. Whew..."
@AThousandCurses
"Clover? CLOVER?!"
Steel toe met doorknob as the blossom haired half-elf slowly and jaggedly turned to fully face Chunji. The doorknob to the alchemy workshop was slightly unhinged now, much like Chloe herself, as her eyes ignited with fury towards a new target. Rolling up her sleeves, she would stomp towards him, stopping a few paces away with balled fists. All of Chunji's words had seemed to slowly strike at her nerves, but it was the pointed finish of an incorrect name that seemed to finally ignite her. "I will have you know that it is my winds-given right to be here, right now, studying to get ahead on my alchemical research," she spat, stomping once more towards him. "And good to know, doubly so, that you're someone so willing to adhere to the rules - rules that don't benefit you in the slightest - just to hinder the potential of a star as beautiful as I! Hmph."
Puffing out her chest, arms crossed, a pout visible. All these things served to tell the tale, perhaps, of a noblewoman who had not yet grown accustomed to a life of rejection and dissonance. A strange, alien land in which power was no longer solely in her hands, her word no longer one that held the sway to make others bow. With her eyes drawn back towards the cracked doorknob, she sighed. Her expression cooled, and her posture lowered.
"My name is Chloe Steeler - not Clover - and I'm quite fine, thank you. I'll have my stupid little hamster transfer over repair funds to the school later, so you don't need to worry about reporting in. It's just..."
Uncrossing her arms, one of her hands cupped her chin as if in thought as she stared towards the nearly broken door of the workshop shed. "It's just really important that I be allowed as much time in the workshop as possible, okay? The principal even gave approval after being told how important it is, so in the confusion and with how much work I have to do, I snapped. Um..."
Finally, Chloe once more turned towards Chunji with a regretful look. "Sorry."
@Psyker Landshark
A small chuckle would be heard from behind Iraleth as she turned to leave, the lightbulb girl finding amusement in something the knight had said. It wasn't sinister, but rather that she had found something genuinely funny about the interaction. "The struggles of Strixans far outweigh anything a Neroite has gone through since the days of the Unity War. Your ancestors lost Nero and the Wings, but we of the Thornlands suffer an erasure of history on a national level to this day. Well 'n truly, Miss, we ain't the same."
Were Iraleth to look back, she would simply see the lightbulb girl wistfully tracing patterns in ridges along the handle of her cane, a bright smile on her face. She would continue to idle in the mailroom after that, not responding if she were to receive a rebuttal and instead keeping to herself with no further acknowledgement. She wasn't in a trance or lost in thoughts, but seemed to no longer desire conversation whatsoever.
On the Astran paladin's journey to the cafeteria, she would see many others with the same plan. The lines were long, but students were tended to rather quickly to compensate. Vending machines stood at the ready, and behind different counters were various apron-wearing mannekin standing devoted and ready for the culinary demands of the student body. Grand breakfasts of pancakes, eggs and sausages, or the fabled "Twiggy's Special" consisting of pancake towers layered by sausages and eggs and topped with maple syrup and hot sauce, all stood at the ready. Each breakfast cost a single silver coin, apart from the Twiggy's Special which appeared to demand a two silver tithe instead. Sides also consisted of various hot pastries, freshly baked and ready to consume with fervor, costing two copper per. Comparatively, the vending machine pastries and candies didn't go over a single copper coin, for those wishing to save.
Among students present within, she would see familiar faces, but only one who she would recognize to any degree worth mentioning: the visage of Gulliver Bronsteel, bruises and cuts still visible peeking out from under his bandages as he claimed an entire table for himself and various mannekin that appeared to be under his exclusive control. This was noted for the white capes each of them wore, bearing similarities to his own.
@Estylwen
As Ciara moved about the main building in search of a directory, the first that she came across would be occupied by a familiar face. Michael stood by one of the previously empty directories, hammering in a nail to keep it firm and posted. Sweat creased his brow, and frustration painted his eyes. "Little shit," was all he'd mutter, off in his own world. That was until he noticed Ciara, upon which his expression somewhat brightened as he waved towards her.
"Lookin' for directions? Well, I'm here to let ya know, we just got done puttin' the sons 'o bitches back up. And by 'we', I mean 'me'."
Dropping his hammer into the toolbox at his feet without another glance at it, the loud clank of a sea of nails inside allowing the hammer to nestle into its steel bed, he turned towards Ciara with an inquisitive look. He pointed a finger at her with an amused expression slowly creeping onto him, mixing with curiosity to become mischief.
"You didn't back down, did'ja? You had all 'o last night after ya took off, and yet, here you are with a look that betrays intent. Makin' enemies ain't gonna get you anywhere good 'n proper, y'hear? Heh."
Digging a hand into his hood to rustle his dusty blond hair around, he pondered for a moment as he chuckled to himself - reminiscing, or maybe just finding joy in the small things in life that would inevitably cross his path. The mischief would leave his eyes as he smiled towards Ciara, nodding in acknowledgement of something that could only have been discussed in his own head.
"I'll come watch your match if I'm all caught up on work, alright? Iunno what's goin' through Nikki's head to escalate this far, but at the very least, I'm not gonna be able to sleep right if I know that kids're killin' each other without me around to see the drama," Michael would say with a shrug, before catching himself on his own words and stopping to correct himself. "Oh, and uh, I guess to make sure ya don't kill each other too. Guess that's important, eh?"
The scraggly janitor would extend his hand, as if to shake on it. Regardless of her responses, Ciara would see clear directions to room 103 on this floor if she were to read the directory.
COURTYARD
Steam once more flowed out of Davil's ears in concern while trying to process the extent of the analysis he was given. The boy hadn't given such thought to his own Ethos before, let alone something like what his prime essence's codeword might be. He knew himself as a one trick pony with limited use, and quite frankly, he'd always been content with that. The mere idea that Linearic Liner had other applications broke him, his eyes becoming swirls as his vision was consumed by the cosmos. "Propulsion? Gearvein? Capacity? Gr-graaaaah..." Trailing off, the winged boy spasmed and foamed at the mouth for multiple beats, his mind reeling at the unknown and terrifying words and concepts thrust into his solid block of a brain.
Davil returned to his feet with Otis' assistance, dusting himself off and nodding as his eyes returned to the hazel orbs they typically were. Fire had also returned to him, his gaze ignited with the need to prove his worth. "...But none of those words matter! They can't affect me, chum, because I'm immune to words! Strixan stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."
None the wiser, the boy would slip on his custom gloves and stretch them out, flexing them with the full extent of his fingers to 'wear them in', all the while taking care to take deep breaths in and out to prepare himself for another test that he had never before attempted. All the same, the look on his face gave away that he had full confidence in Otis' methods, and nodded in acknowledgement at his requests. Slowly, his hands extended outward, palms facing forward. Once more, Davil's face drooped to a state of serious focus, again visualizing himself at the beginning of a hundred meter dash, the starting gun raised to fire.
"Linearic... Liner!"
Once again, with those words and the blasting of the starting gun in Davil's head, the regular process had begun, but quickly deviated from there. The five second charging period had progressed, only... different. His prime essence did not shine so readily as it did before, and Davil almost seemed to wince in pain as two fist-sized chunks of his prime essence broke off and jolted into his palms, leaving very little left in his chest at all. It was as if nearly the entirety of his prime essence had all at once jammed itself into his waiting hands, which drastically went against the grain of what a prime essence should do. In smaller chunks it would be negligible, but for such a dim fragment of prime essence to remain in its rightful place in his chest while ninety percent jammed itself into his hands would begin to cut off blood flow to the heart.
A small wind would gather in the palms of the boy's hands, but it was so faint that it wouldn't even be able to push a leaf. One thing was clear, though: his prime essence, in this position, was not attempting to deviate upwards as it had before. Should it be released, it would indeed shoot forth straight ahead. In Davil's eyes, the Wund boy would find some recognition and appear to realize something. All at once, the remaining prime essence in his chest would pulse outwards throughout his body, and all at once, the two condensed shards would rip themselves away from his hands and back towards his chest, once more reuniting the entirety of the winged warrior's being around his heart. All at once the wind had dissipated, and rather than being pushed back, Davil simply fell to his knees on reflex.
"Grrrhhh..."
With the gargling of phlegm in his throat and the grinding of teeth, Davil's gaze was turned to the soil beneath him, doing his best to avoid hyperventilating at the shock of feeling something wrong with what he had just attempted. As he knelt there, his gloves would appear, on closer notice, to each have suffered a small slash across the palms. A small trickle of blood would seep out of each of these openings, revealing similar cuts on Davil's palms as well. Davil's prime essence, in its current state, still appeared vibrant and pulsing - a sign that, at the very least, rebound was likely not the reason.
"T-That's test two, chum. Eighteen seconds left in the tank, if you know what I mean. Can't say I've felt that one before. Whew..."
@AThousandCurses
APOTHECARY
"Clover? CLOVER?!"
Steel toe met doorknob as the blossom haired half-elf slowly and jaggedly turned to fully face Chunji. The doorknob to the alchemy workshop was slightly unhinged now, much like Chloe herself, as her eyes ignited with fury towards a new target. Rolling up her sleeves, she would stomp towards him, stopping a few paces away with balled fists. All of Chunji's words had seemed to slowly strike at her nerves, but it was the pointed finish of an incorrect name that seemed to finally ignite her. "I will have you know that it is my winds-given right to be here, right now, studying to get ahead on my alchemical research," she spat, stomping once more towards him. "And good to know, doubly so, that you're someone so willing to adhere to the rules - rules that don't benefit you in the slightest - just to hinder the potential of a star as beautiful as I! Hmph."
Puffing out her chest, arms crossed, a pout visible. All these things served to tell the tale, perhaps, of a noblewoman who had not yet grown accustomed to a life of rejection and dissonance. A strange, alien land in which power was no longer solely in her hands, her word no longer one that held the sway to make others bow. With her eyes drawn back towards the cracked doorknob, she sighed. Her expression cooled, and her posture lowered.
"My name is Chloe Steeler - not Clover - and I'm quite fine, thank you. I'll have my stupid little hamster transfer over repair funds to the school later, so you don't need to worry about reporting in. It's just..."
Uncrossing her arms, one of her hands cupped her chin as if in thought as she stared towards the nearly broken door of the workshop shed. "It's just really important that I be allowed as much time in the workshop as possible, okay? The principal even gave approval after being told how important it is, so in the confusion and with how much work I have to do, I snapped. Um..."
Finally, Chloe once more turned towards Chunji with a regretful look. "Sorry."
@Psyker Landshark
GIRLS' DORM/CAFETERIA
A small chuckle would be heard from behind Iraleth as she turned to leave, the lightbulb girl finding amusement in something the knight had said. It wasn't sinister, but rather that she had found something genuinely funny about the interaction. "The struggles of Strixans far outweigh anything a Neroite has gone through since the days of the Unity War. Your ancestors lost Nero and the Wings, but we of the Thornlands suffer an erasure of history on a national level to this day. Well 'n truly, Miss, we ain't the same."
Were Iraleth to look back, she would simply see the lightbulb girl wistfully tracing patterns in ridges along the handle of her cane, a bright smile on her face. She would continue to idle in the mailroom after that, not responding if she were to receive a rebuttal and instead keeping to herself with no further acknowledgement. She wasn't in a trance or lost in thoughts, but seemed to no longer desire conversation whatsoever.
On the Astran paladin's journey to the cafeteria, she would see many others with the same plan. The lines were long, but students were tended to rather quickly to compensate. Vending machines stood at the ready, and behind different counters were various apron-wearing mannekin standing devoted and ready for the culinary demands of the student body. Grand breakfasts of pancakes, eggs and sausages, or the fabled "Twiggy's Special" consisting of pancake towers layered by sausages and eggs and topped with maple syrup and hot sauce, all stood at the ready. Each breakfast cost a single silver coin, apart from the Twiggy's Special which appeared to demand a two silver tithe instead. Sides also consisted of various hot pastries, freshly baked and ready to consume with fervor, costing two copper per. Comparatively, the vending machine pastries and candies didn't go over a single copper coin, for those wishing to save.
Among students present within, she would see familiar faces, but only one who she would recognize to any degree worth mentioning: the visage of Gulliver Bronsteel, bruises and cuts still visible peeking out from under his bandages as he claimed an entire table for himself and various mannekin that appeared to be under his exclusive control. This was noted for the white capes each of them wore, bearing similarities to his own.
@Estylwen
MAIN BUILDING
As Ciara moved about the main building in search of a directory, the first that she came across would be occupied by a familiar face. Michael stood by one of the previously empty directories, hammering in a nail to keep it firm and posted. Sweat creased his brow, and frustration painted his eyes. "Little shit," was all he'd mutter, off in his own world. That was until he noticed Ciara, upon which his expression somewhat brightened as he waved towards her.
"Lookin' for directions? Well, I'm here to let ya know, we just got done puttin' the sons 'o bitches back up. And by 'we', I mean 'me'."
Dropping his hammer into the toolbox at his feet without another glance at it, the loud clank of a sea of nails inside allowing the hammer to nestle into its steel bed, he turned towards Ciara with an inquisitive look. He pointed a finger at her with an amused expression slowly creeping onto him, mixing with curiosity to become mischief.
"You didn't back down, did'ja? You had all 'o last night after ya took off, and yet, here you are with a look that betrays intent. Makin' enemies ain't gonna get you anywhere good 'n proper, y'hear? Heh."
Digging a hand into his hood to rustle his dusty blond hair around, he pondered for a moment as he chuckled to himself - reminiscing, or maybe just finding joy in the small things in life that would inevitably cross his path. The mischief would leave his eyes as he smiled towards Ciara, nodding in acknowledgement of something that could only have been discussed in his own head.
"I'll come watch your match if I'm all caught up on work, alright? Iunno what's goin' through Nikki's head to escalate this far, but at the very least, I'm not gonna be able to sleep right if I know that kids're killin' each other without me around to see the drama," Michael would say with a shrug, before catching himself on his own words and stopping to correct himself. "Oh, and uh, I guess to make sure ya don't kill each other too. Guess that's important, eh?"
The scraggly janitor would extend his hand, as if to shake on it. Regardless of her responses, Ciara would see clear directions to room 103 on this floor if she were to read the directory.
If there’s no response by the time I get home, I’ll be going ahead with the next round!
It wasn't the default assumption for me, but I guess that depends. @Sifr, would you be good for this round or would you be skipping this one?
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