AThousandCurses
TokyoPewPew
Estylwen
Alby47
Dion
Lexisheeps
Fish of Oblivion
Shin Ghost Note
Foster@AThousandCurses
"Certainly," the receptionist would respond to Chunji's declaration of interest, a genuine smile on his face - perhaps the first of the day. "It's always good for the youth to know about basic medical practices. In the coming days, I'm sure you and your peers will get a lot of mileage out of even the most basic studies and procedures."
With that, he would allow the boy passage towards Davil's room. The smile remained on his face even as he returned to a mountain of paperwork, doing his best to stay optimistic even as the wave of injuries would undoubtedly come flooding in, in the coming days.
As Chunji knocked, the door would push open, the slightest bit of pressure seeming to be enough to allow entrance to the room. From the doorway, Chunji would see an empty infirmary bed directly in front of him, blankets cast aside, the curtain pulled aside. There were several empty vials strewn about on the nearby desk, uncharacteristically messy in comparison to the otherwise immaculate room, their corks rolled out onto the floor as if popped in a hurry. A small stream of liquid trickled out of one of the vials, crimson in color but too thick to be blood. Apart from this, the room appeared untouched, with no indications of any exit apart from the one singular entrance that Chunji took this in from.
@ERode
The goblin shook his head and waved his hands in front of him, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. "Slow down there, champ, I can only do so many things at once! This brain don't work like it used to, see."
He taps his foot against the wooden floorboards, arms crossed as one of his sunlight crocs tap, tap, and tap again on the floor, all cylinders firing to process the series of inquiries. "Fabrics are in the corner over there. Weaving tonics to allow for essence-enhanced clothing? We've got that, just gotta let me know and I'll grab it for ya - just know it'll cost a pretty sizable chunk extra," he'd state with a chuckle, rubbing his index finger and thumb together.
"...Wait a sec," he'd mutter, tracing a hand along the damaged dress, eyes darting about around as if to gauge its very existence. "This is made from vouivre leather. Softened, de-scaled, but unmistakable. Even in that state of luxury over practicality... even a dragon's flame wouldn't be capable of so much as sparking a dress woven from vouivre flesh. Either it was met with an extremely potent attack bordering on a war crime, or its weaver intentionally extracted the various durable essences of the vouivre, leaving it... mundane."
A vein was fit to burst on the little fashion criminal's head, looking up at Otis with secondhand rage. "Otis, my name is Scuzzy, and what I see before me is wasted potential. To a guy like me, this is akin to defiling a corpse, or cooking a marbled steak well-done. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen vouivre leather, and I've never seen it in such a sorry state. Its creator should be ashamed! Should end their own life, if able!"
The tapping foot turned into a stomp, Scuzzy pointing back to the corner from before in which he noted that fabrics could be found, and said, "I'm sorry to say you'll find nothing over there that can replace that fabric. Silk would be the closest in appearance and texture, though the quality difference would be notable regardless. We have replicas of several elven royalty gowns near the register, for some artistic inspiration, though this appears to be more human in make."
Before Otis might start moving around to inspect, Scuzzy would raise an arm out to stop him another moment. "...And for bringing me a work of art like this, so wasted in what it could've been, I'll cut you a discount. Half off on anything you might buy to repair it, champ."
The goblin's eyes shown with sincerity from under his sunglasses - almost apologetic, if given a deeper look.
@Estylwen
"Shadow witch..."
The words rolled off of Gulliver's tongue with venom, the boy placing a bookmark within his tome and setting it aside. For a moment, a runic circle began to appear near his palm, clearly intent on beginning to cast, when all of a sudden, it dissipated. The moment that Ciara had mentioned the notion of another 'him', aggression turned to anxiety in his eyes. His own head tilted to meet the same angle as hers, as if feigning curiosity, leaning back in his chair away from her.
"Two of me? Preposterous. In the best of cases, somebody is illegally shapeshifting without written legal consent, and in the worst?"
The silvery scholar would lean forward, closer to Ciara, regaining his composure somewhat despite the tension in his shoulders. His hands were clasped together as he slid his chair in again.
"In the worst case, perhaps your eyes need adjusting. Perhaps the madness has already taken you, and everything you say or do from here on is the delusion of a madwoman the world forgot to cull. Was too soft, perhaps, to cull."
With these words, and despite the tension, a small smirk teased its way around the corners of his mouth. He looked almost satisfied at being able to say such a thing, raising up the tome he was reading to show Ciara its cover, which read, 'Astra Bids Higher: Slayer of the Dark', with the cover art depicting soldiers raining arrows upon shadowy cloaked figures en masse.
@Psyker Landshark
The doors to the chapel would open, and in would walk Alto. A hand relaxed on the pommel of the sword at his hip as he sauntered in, scratching his head upon seeing Iraleth. It was a loud enough entrance that there was no way to simply flee now without an awkward encounter later, and so the professor ventured inside. As he moved closer to the altar, he would await the end of Iraleth's prayers before daring to say a word, simply looking about the room until such a time would arise.
"Hope I'm not interrupting," he would gingerly declare, setting his backpack down and kneeling by the altar. Looking over at Iraleth, he'd do his best to gauge her expression and general 'vibe' while maintaining the most civil smile he possibly could. "I tend to come on down to pray, when my head's full of bad nama. Back home, and now here, thankfully. Ponder on what could've been, and what couldn't."
With hands clasped and offered towards the altar, the smile would dissipate somewhat after completing a small, silent prayer. "I wanted to apologize for how class went earlier. I got carried away, and pushed things to a place where a simple training exercise shouldn't have gone. I owe these words to the rest of them, too, but you're the only one I could find right now, so..."
Alto would trail off with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "I also know you and Ciara are fighting later tonight. I won't be able to make it over to watch, but uh... try not to do what I did, alright? There are plenty here that would cheer if things 'accidentally' went too far and a girl suspected of Umbralist worship died, but..."
Rising to his feet, he would turn towards the paladin with a more stern expression, concern plain as day on his features.
"...It hasn't been confirmed beyond doubt that she is, indeed, Umbralist, or that she follows their ideals. I hope you fight while remembering this. To win, but not to kill. Understand?"
WINGRAM CLINIC
"Certainly," the receptionist would respond to Chunji's declaration of interest, a genuine smile on his face - perhaps the first of the day. "It's always good for the youth to know about basic medical practices. In the coming days, I'm sure you and your peers will get a lot of mileage out of even the most basic studies and procedures."
With that, he would allow the boy passage towards Davil's room. The smile remained on his face even as he returned to a mountain of paperwork, doing his best to stay optimistic even as the wave of injuries would undoubtedly come flooding in, in the coming days.
As Chunji knocked, the door would push open, the slightest bit of pressure seeming to be enough to allow entrance to the room. From the doorway, Chunji would see an empty infirmary bed directly in front of him, blankets cast aside, the curtain pulled aside. There were several empty vials strewn about on the nearby desk, uncharacteristically messy in comparison to the otherwise immaculate room, their corks rolled out onto the floor as if popped in a hurry. A small stream of liquid trickled out of one of the vials, crimson in color but too thick to be blood. Apart from this, the room appeared untouched, with no indications of any exit apart from the one singular entrance that Chunji took this in from.
@ERode
CLOTHIER DE HRUNTING
The goblin shook his head and waved his hands in front of him, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. "Slow down there, champ, I can only do so many things at once! This brain don't work like it used to, see."
He taps his foot against the wooden floorboards, arms crossed as one of his sunlight crocs tap, tap, and tap again on the floor, all cylinders firing to process the series of inquiries. "Fabrics are in the corner over there. Weaving tonics to allow for essence-enhanced clothing? We've got that, just gotta let me know and I'll grab it for ya - just know it'll cost a pretty sizable chunk extra," he'd state with a chuckle, rubbing his index finger and thumb together.
"...Wait a sec," he'd mutter, tracing a hand along the damaged dress, eyes darting about around as if to gauge its very existence. "This is made from vouivre leather. Softened, de-scaled, but unmistakable. Even in that state of luxury over practicality... even a dragon's flame wouldn't be capable of so much as sparking a dress woven from vouivre flesh. Either it was met with an extremely potent attack bordering on a war crime, or its weaver intentionally extracted the various durable essences of the vouivre, leaving it... mundane."
A vein was fit to burst on the little fashion criminal's head, looking up at Otis with secondhand rage. "Otis, my name is Scuzzy, and what I see before me is wasted potential. To a guy like me, this is akin to defiling a corpse, or cooking a marbled steak well-done. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen vouivre leather, and I've never seen it in such a sorry state. Its creator should be ashamed! Should end their own life, if able!"
The tapping foot turned into a stomp, Scuzzy pointing back to the corner from before in which he noted that fabrics could be found, and said, "I'm sorry to say you'll find nothing over there that can replace that fabric. Silk would be the closest in appearance and texture, though the quality difference would be notable regardless. We have replicas of several elven royalty gowns near the register, for some artistic inspiration, though this appears to be more human in make."
Before Otis might start moving around to inspect, Scuzzy would raise an arm out to stop him another moment. "...And for bringing me a work of art like this, so wasted in what it could've been, I'll cut you a discount. Half off on anything you might buy to repair it, champ."
The goblin's eyes shown with sincerity from under his sunglasses - almost apologetic, if given a deeper look.
@Estylwen
WINGRAM LIBRARY
"Shadow witch..."
The words rolled off of Gulliver's tongue with venom, the boy placing a bookmark within his tome and setting it aside. For a moment, a runic circle began to appear near his palm, clearly intent on beginning to cast, when all of a sudden, it dissipated. The moment that Ciara had mentioned the notion of another 'him', aggression turned to anxiety in his eyes. His own head tilted to meet the same angle as hers, as if feigning curiosity, leaning back in his chair away from her.
"Two of me? Preposterous. In the best of cases, somebody is illegally shapeshifting without written legal consent, and in the worst?"
The silvery scholar would lean forward, closer to Ciara, regaining his composure somewhat despite the tension in his shoulders. His hands were clasped together as he slid his chair in again.
"In the worst case, perhaps your eyes need adjusting. Perhaps the madness has already taken you, and everything you say or do from here on is the delusion of a madwoman the world forgot to cull. Was too soft, perhaps, to cull."
With these words, and despite the tension, a small smirk teased its way around the corners of his mouth. He looked almost satisfied at being able to say such a thing, raising up the tome he was reading to show Ciara its cover, which read, 'Astra Bids Higher: Slayer of the Dark', with the cover art depicting soldiers raining arrows upon shadowy cloaked figures en masse.
@Psyker Landshark
WINGRAM CHAPEL OF ASTRA
The doors to the chapel would open, and in would walk Alto. A hand relaxed on the pommel of the sword at his hip as he sauntered in, scratching his head upon seeing Iraleth. It was a loud enough entrance that there was no way to simply flee now without an awkward encounter later, and so the professor ventured inside. As he moved closer to the altar, he would await the end of Iraleth's prayers before daring to say a word, simply looking about the room until such a time would arise.
"Hope I'm not interrupting," he would gingerly declare, setting his backpack down and kneeling by the altar. Looking over at Iraleth, he'd do his best to gauge her expression and general 'vibe' while maintaining the most civil smile he possibly could. "I tend to come on down to pray, when my head's full of bad nama. Back home, and now here, thankfully. Ponder on what could've been, and what couldn't."
With hands clasped and offered towards the altar, the smile would dissipate somewhat after completing a small, silent prayer. "I wanted to apologize for how class went earlier. I got carried away, and pushed things to a place where a simple training exercise shouldn't have gone. I owe these words to the rest of them, too, but you're the only one I could find right now, so..."
Alto would trail off with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "I also know you and Ciara are fighting later tonight. I won't be able to make it over to watch, but uh... try not to do what I did, alright? There are plenty here that would cheer if things 'accidentally' went too far and a girl suspected of Umbralist worship died, but..."
Rising to his feet, he would turn towards the paladin with a more stern expression, concern plain as day on his features.
"...It hasn't been confirmed beyond doubt that she is, indeed, Umbralist, or that she follows their ideals. I hope you fight while remembering this. To win, but not to kill. Understand?"