The 'inspection', or a perfect example of how technical words masked the reality of the world mages lived in, was the part that Arthur despised the most about Helix Arcaneus's handling of mages. She nodded at the clerk as he recovered ever-so-quickly from Arthur's intimidation, though she uttered a mental curse word as he led the two down another hallway and towards a metal door.
She recalled how one of her former companions, who brought her along to one of the outposts of Helix Arcaneus for this very thing. It was her first time to one of the buildings that day, and she recalled the strange sensations her entire body felt when the mage they bought stripped off.
The two lies she lived crashed down upon her in that instant. Arthur lived the life of a man, and never liked anything that made her realise the contrary. And as a mage pretending to be a 'normal human being', the imagination of herself in the same scenario drove her to bits. She was given the name 'Red-Face' when she came to.
6 years of handling that, on and off, made Arthur a bit more resistant to that sort of feeling.
But when she saw Mishka remove her clothing, the warm blood rushing to Arthur's face made her avert her gaze. Mishka had a beautiful, feminine and unblemished body. The curves on her were perfect, and her breasts were sized plumply upon her chest. She had left nothing to the blemish of human touch, whether by piercings, tattoos or blades.
All that would be what Arthur would have realised if she wasn't looking at the ceiling for the past half a minute.
"Errr... do some magic," mumbled Arthur, still looking upwards.
How hard was it to pull off her current look if she looked like Mishka, wondered Arthur.
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Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
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Arthur watched the little performance Mishka put on. The best word for it was performance, as like the bluster of the actors playing Emperor Louis XI playing general against the Ayyubids, a lot of it washed over her with no change in Arthur's expression.
Arthur turned to face the clerk, who whimpered as her gaze fell upon his helpless self.
"Cut the price down to 8500 gold dragons."
The clerk froze. The look upon his face said it all. He wasn't going to just let the mercenary in front of him walk off with a sorceress at that price, but the words to protest that was not backed up by any resolve he could muster.
It took him about 15 seconds to say something. "Her listing price is 12000 gold and 52 silver dragons..." he murmured, twiddling his fingers as he leaned back further on his chair.
Arthur slapped down her metal gauntlet gently on the ledgers that piled up on the clerk's table, leaning forward to stare down the clerk. The shadows that formed over her eyes from the short brown bangs in front of her eyes formed an unmentionable darkness across the entirety of her eyes and forehead.
"I have fought along the sides of mages worth 5 times more than the price they were claimed to be worth. And you try to sell me this neophyte who barely fits into her adult smallclothes for the price I would pay just to have her out of my face?"
The darkness that shadowed her face lit up with a glint of light from her white teeth. She smiled at the clerk, but the smile felt like an army of ogres standing in front of Helix Arcaneus's gates. Her eyebrows furrowed. Arthur was bad at smiling, and she knew it.
"By my simple honesty as a mercenary and a male of the blade, I would not—"
The clerk clenched his eyes shut and turned aside, sobbing. "10%! 10% discount! That's all I can offer!" he screamed and begged.
Arthur blinked. That was fast, she thought. She smiled again, but this smile looked like a normal human being's smile. She was bad at smiling on purpose.
Pushing herself off the table, Arthur looked at Mishka. "10800 gold dragons. And 46 silver dragons. And 800 bronze dragons. I can accept that."
In all honesty, she had intended to pay for Mishka at the start, discount or no discount.
Arthur turned to face the clerk, who whimpered as her gaze fell upon his helpless self.
"Cut the price down to 8500 gold dragons."
The clerk froze. The look upon his face said it all. He wasn't going to just let the mercenary in front of him walk off with a sorceress at that price, but the words to protest that was not backed up by any resolve he could muster.
It took him about 15 seconds to say something. "Her listing price is 12000 gold and 52 silver dragons..." he murmured, twiddling his fingers as he leaned back further on his chair.
Arthur slapped down her metal gauntlet gently on the ledgers that piled up on the clerk's table, leaning forward to stare down the clerk. The shadows that formed over her eyes from the short brown bangs in front of her eyes formed an unmentionable darkness across the entirety of her eyes and forehead.
"I have fought along the sides of mages worth 5 times more than the price they were claimed to be worth. And you try to sell me this neophyte who barely fits into her adult smallclothes for the price I would pay just to have her out of my face?"
The darkness that shadowed her face lit up with a glint of light from her white teeth. She smiled at the clerk, but the smile felt like an army of ogres standing in front of Helix Arcaneus's gates. Her eyebrows furrowed. Arthur was bad at smiling, and she knew it.
"By my simple honesty as a mercenary and a male of the blade, I would not—"
The clerk clenched his eyes shut and turned aside, sobbing. "10%! 10% discount! That's all I can offer!" he screamed and begged.
Arthur blinked. That was fast, she thought. She smiled again, but this smile looked like a normal human being's smile. She was bad at smiling on purpose.
Pushing herself off the table, Arthur looked at Mishka. "10800 gold dragons. And 46 silver dragons. And 800 bronze dragons. I can accept that."
In all honesty, she had intended to pay for Mishka at the start, discount or no discount.
Arthur extended her gauntlet-wrapped hand to shake Mishka's. Her glare went up and down Mishka's body.
The sorceress that stood almost a head shorter than Arthur wore an blue silk hood woven with gold thread. The centre of her hood had an additional, decorative triangular flap. Mishka's hair, coloured a soft silky white, was braided in pig-tails that curved around the sides of her head and touched each other below her chin. A metal brooch tied her braids together.
The rest of her clothing was in the same shade of blue dyed silk, It covered her chest and all the decent bits, though the sides of her hips, her shoulders, her thighs and her navel were uncovered by the cloth. She wore a pair of small metal shoulder-pads, and her forearms were clothed in the same blue silk as the rest of her body. Her footsteps clicked with the wooden sound of her blue heels.
Mishka also held a bronze staff gingerly in one of her hands. A small metal representation of a serpent-like winged dragon wrapped itself around the tip of the staff, where a lustrous blue orb also sat securely.
The girl's face itself was stoic, though much more femininely built as compared to Arthur's own. Mishka's small blue eyes met Arthur's red gaze, and they wavered for a bit. Arthur had the advantage in looking intimidating. The mercenary cultivated that image. No one would suspect a 1.75 tall, scary-looking soldier to be a woman. And no one ever suspected a man of being magically talented.
"What can you do as a mage?" asked Arthur.
The receptionist cleared his throat, as if to answer the question, though a glare from Arthur made him cower back into his chair. Arthur's look implied everything she needed to say to him, and what she needed to say was: "I'll hear you speak when I need to."
After all, the men of Helix Arcaneus were not known for their honesty. Mages lied less.
The sorceress that stood almost a head shorter than Arthur wore an blue silk hood woven with gold thread. The centre of her hood had an additional, decorative triangular flap. Mishka's hair, coloured a soft silky white, was braided in pig-tails that curved around the sides of her head and touched each other below her chin. A metal brooch tied her braids together.
The rest of her clothing was in the same shade of blue dyed silk, It covered her chest and all the decent bits, though the sides of her hips, her shoulders, her thighs and her navel were uncovered by the cloth. She wore a pair of small metal shoulder-pads, and her forearms were clothed in the same blue silk as the rest of her body. Her footsteps clicked with the wooden sound of her blue heels.
Mishka also held a bronze staff gingerly in one of her hands. A small metal representation of a serpent-like winged dragon wrapped itself around the tip of the staff, where a lustrous blue orb also sat securely.
The girl's face itself was stoic, though much more femininely built as compared to Arthur's own. Mishka's small blue eyes met Arthur's red gaze, and they wavered for a bit. Arthur had the advantage in looking intimidating. The mercenary cultivated that image. No one would suspect a 1.75 tall, scary-looking soldier to be a woman. And no one ever suspected a man of being magically talented.
"What can you do as a mage?" asked Arthur.
The receptionist cleared his throat, as if to answer the question, though a glare from Arthur made him cower back into his chair. Arthur's look implied everything she needed to say to him, and what she needed to say was: "I'll hear you speak when I need to."
After all, the men of Helix Arcaneus were not known for their honesty. Mages lied less.
It seems like your IRC has issues. You should reconnect.
Dalen held Terra's injured arm gently, lifting it up slowly and towards his eyes.
"Hmm...." murmured Dalen. The little noise Dalen made, though not loud enough to be heard outside the infirmary, elicited a weak, sleepy groan from Adell. The old man looked behind for a moment to smile at the demon, then turned back to face Terra with a straight face.
"A day or so will let you start using that arm again. But it'll probably only be able to do things like hold a cup of tea and such. Real combat might take almost a week of rest."
Dalen placed Terra's arm back in its original position. He frowned as he leaned forward on his chair, looking Terra in the eyes. "Healing you was a difficult thing to do. I'd have asked you for your assistance for a couple of... difficult things, except that I owed your guardian demon some favours."
His gaze softened, but his tone remained the same. "You don't get to my age without give and take, and you don't get to his age without some sort of cruel streak. I'm not sure what he—"
Adell groaned loudly, and rolled over in his bed to face Dalen and Terra. His blank eyes opened up, and he pouted at the two. "Don't gossip about me when I'm trying to sleep here, Dalen."
The demon's pout changed into a smile. "Besides, you still need some assistance in some things, right?"
Dalen nodded. "The issue that I talked to you about 2 years ago still hasn't improved. It has gotten worse, in fact."
"Damned Enders. Sp̷iĺl͠ ̷the͜ir̨ blood f̷or̕e̷v̕er̶.̨" The strange thing about demonhood was that they came with their own sayings. Adell had no context to how they formed, but they came to his mind naturally when he turned.
"Hmm...." murmured Dalen. The little noise Dalen made, though not loud enough to be heard outside the infirmary, elicited a weak, sleepy groan from Adell. The old man looked behind for a moment to smile at the demon, then turned back to face Terra with a straight face.
"A day or so will let you start using that arm again. But it'll probably only be able to do things like hold a cup of tea and such. Real combat might take almost a week of rest."
Dalen placed Terra's arm back in its original position. He frowned as he leaned forward on his chair, looking Terra in the eyes. "Healing you was a difficult thing to do. I'd have asked you for your assistance for a couple of... difficult things, except that I owed your guardian demon some favours."
His gaze softened, but his tone remained the same. "You don't get to my age without give and take, and you don't get to his age without some sort of cruel streak. I'm not sure what he—"
Adell groaned loudly, and rolled over in his bed to face Dalen and Terra. His blank eyes opened up, and he pouted at the two. "Don't gossip about me when I'm trying to sleep here, Dalen."
The demon's pout changed into a smile. "Besides, you still need some assistance in some things, right?"
Dalen nodded. "The issue that I talked to you about 2 years ago still hasn't improved. It has gotten worse, in fact."
"Damned Enders. Sp̷iĺl͠ ̷the͜ir̨ blood f̷or̕e̷v̕er̶.̨" The strange thing about demonhood was that they came with their own sayings. Adell had no context to how they formed, but they came to his mind naturally when he turned.
I might have to consider dropping it. I don't have the inspiration to GM.
If someone wants to carry this idea to fruition, go ahead.
If someone wants to carry this idea to fruition, go ahead.
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