Scribe of Thoth

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

<Snipped quote by stone>

@TGM

Join the soccer team and exclusively refer to it as soccer.

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

Can't relate, everything I write is pure gold. Also I'm handsome. And charming. And funny.

PERSONA RP WITH A BOAT

Memes aside, I was considering Jason as he is my favorite G(r)eek and also fits the themes of this RP pretty well.

@Cu Chulainn

Ngl when you said Jason I was thinking hockey mask slasher villain and assumed the lake qualified as water-themed

PERSONA RP WITH A BOAT

Wanna steal Charon but making the death arcana work thematically without making a contrived as fuck tragic backstory is a pain.

PERSONA RP WITH A BOAT

Question, do the personas need to be vaguely nautical/ocean-themed? Y'know, for 𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬

PERSONA RP WITH A BOAT

Oh no, my weakness, boats.

The Shattering of Aegis

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So, they'd lost the elf and gained the timid Tainted. No real loss there, they'd both be equally useless the moment a highwayman locked eyes on their cart. Though, Ceolfric couldn't help but be a bit curious as to what changed Freckles' mind. Had Lilann convinced him to come along with grandiose tales of chivalry and adventure, or did Soft Haven simply have no need for Tainted laborers?

The girl's composure predictably cracked the moment everyone's eyes laid upon her, though Cerric tried to keep up a strange facade of professionalism and nonchalance despite that. There was no way Ceolfric could dig up the source of the caravaneers' woes in under a day while the House's moneykeeper himself was blissfully unaware of the state of the roads. Either he wanted to see how the group handled surprises as part of the evaluation, or he didn't want to alarm the poor girl. If she was that fragile, she'd probably turn the whole caravan over to him the moment he took a knife to one of her guards' necks. It would be so easy to operate down here. It was almost sad.

On Esvelee's invitation to join her behind the wagon, Ceolfric meandered toward the unexpected member of their travelling band as he followed. "Have a fence to mend in Wilree, do you?" He questioned humorlessly, not even pausing to await a response. Demanding answers while their client was waiting for him would probably reflect poorly on them, and while he no longer cared about the Buckman girl's opinion in the slightest, Cerric would most certainly take her satisfaction into account for the evaluation. Upon rejoining the girl, Ceolfric leveled a flat stare in her direction, though his eyes maintained a hint of mischief. She must've heard something as well. The real question was whether she should be told, or if an accurate appraisal of the risks of this trip would only lead to her whining her way down the road and jumping at every wayward shadow.

Actually, the real question was whether or not Ceolfric cared. Cerric seemed intent on keeping the danger from her - or them, maybe - but given that he seemed keen on lounging for the entire journey while they did all the work, the brigand wasn't exactly inclined to follow his plan. It's not like he could be punished for doing his research.

"I think the numbers are simply a result of you getting lucky, not a precautionary measure," Ceolfric explained in a bored monotone as he slung his pack off and hoisted it into the cart, slinging his shield across his back in its place, "But yes, there is something harrying the roads and it isn't a hungry bear. While I'm sure Cerric is up to the task himself, you should consider yourself fortunate for the extra security. Assuming we even encounter the creature." While it would be far more convenient not to, the bandit couldn't say he wasn't a little eager to slay the beast and drop its head on that hag's rug just to shut her up. "Just listen to what we say and you'll be fine. And don't let it bite you, its venom is fatal."

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@Obscene Symphony

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

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The heathen's words glanced off Auberon's armor as surely as his pitiful strikes would, preoccupied as the blond was with the rest of the battle raging around him. At this rate, they'd be overrun in no time. Another wyvern had swooped in, and there was no guarantee there weren't more on their way. Worse, any thoughts of a tactical withdrawal - Auberon Casimir Galatea did not retreat, after all - were stopped dead in their tracks by a hauntingly familiar voice requesting backup for the rear unit. Was that Kellen? They'd been utterly outmaneuvered on all fronts. If they tried to regroup now, they'd likely just end up surrounded.

"Kel-" Auberon started to ask, only to be cut off by the whoosh of an axe sundering the air before him. He had no idea how his Housemate had gotten here so fast, but he had no time to dwell on that as the bandit wound up another powerful swing. Jorah's warning went unacknowledged but not unheeded, with Auberon circling away from the eyepatched man's onslaught far away from the Luin lookalike. Such grander musings could be left for later; Auberon wasn't in command here and he needn't concern himself with the entire battle, only cut down the foe before him as he was expected to.

Distractions abated, he waited for the man to overswing in the midst of his reckless attacks and cut an angle with a wide sidestep in stark contrast from the wary backpedalling he'd done previously. With the man's left flank now exposed, Auberon thrust the pointed tip of his weapon toward the man's side. The pike found purchase in the man's tattered armor, briefly convincing the boy he'd scored a fatal hit. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd greatly underestimated his opponent's speed and tenacity. The bandit's axe surged back to slam into Auberon's own, nearly knocking it right from his grip. He spun with his weapon in an attempt to keep it within his grasp, ending with it firmly lodged in the dirt beside him. With no time to rip it free in the face of a second swing coming for him, he regretfully abandoned his axe and ducked to recklessly grasp for the bandit's haft to try and wrestle the weapon away from him.

Expectedly, it ended poorly. His wrist jammed at an awkward angle as the wood slammed into his palm, leading to his elbow buckling as the force transfered and the axe blade continued on a partially-diverted path right into Auberon's pauldron. Thankfully, the armor held, though his shoulder felt as though it had been cleaved through all the same. He could only hope the swing had been the last death throes of a man skewered, and another swipe wasn't poised to send him to the Goddess as he crumpled under the injury. Whatever had occurred, the whistle of arrow through air gave Auberon's assailant pause and the blond didn't squander his chance. Staggering back, he tugged his axe free from its earthy constraints with his uninjured arm and circled back toward the arrow's path, assuming that to be Jorah's position.

"Apologies," He hissed through gritted teeth back toward his incidental savior, "I grew careless."

The visor over his face, though he dared not take it off with one wound to nurse already, was beginning to become more hinderance than help. With so many enemies to contend with and his peripheral vision compromised as it was, Jorah's earlier chatter felt almost welcome in retrospect. His breaths echoed inside the steel case, heavy and forceful in the face of the pain radiating from his shoulder but still measured. The last thing he needed to do was run out of breath so early into the confrontation. Though he felt less a stone wall and more a crumpling wooden palisade, his resolution to stand between his allies and the men before him remained unwavering. He'd just have to stall until Jorah picked them off, as shameful as it felt to simply deflect and evade rather than part these heretics' heads from their necks.

At least, that was the plan until Auberon heard the Deer's fearless leader squawking at the other soldiers from a position decidedly not where he'd thought the man was. A quick tilt of his head in that direction revealed Jorah had moved from supporting Auberon to Derec and Isolde, and Euphemia was still with the other professors, which meant-

Saints above, his safety was in the hands of Kellen of all people.

The Goddess protects, of course, but She certainly did it in inscrutable ways. Though if he was being told to have faith in his friend, Auberon supposed he had no choice but to oblige. That, or hold the line until someone else untangled themselves from the conflict and aided him.

"I'll keep him off you," The blond avowed as he replaced his wounded arm on his weapon, "Shut this bastard up for me, will you?" The limb throbbed but wasn't entirely compromised yet - the flesh might be weak but his spirit was still willing, he'd manage. Hopefully.

His arm protested when he went to hold his weapon as he normally would, so Auberon instead inched forward with his axe held out like a spear, peppering the eyepatched bandit with hounding jabs, generating force mostly with his rear arm and delegating the injured one to aiming. He stayed light on his feet, retreating after every few strikes to draw the man in a new direction like a wolf nipping at its prey. And because he was just as likely to eat an arrow from Kellen as the bandit was, and he wasn't too keen on staying nearby.

---

@ThatCharacter@Obscene Symphony

Decibitus [Moved to a new thread]

Mateo Galović

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~3PM | OCEAN SPRINGS | MILO’S POINT

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The crisp sea air was a welcome respite from the afternoon heat, especially a few hundred feet above the shore, where a boy stood invisibly to the world with his feet planted firmly upon thin air. He stood in silent vigil over the town as the parameters of his mission were chattered helpfully from the star-shaped sticker affixed childishly upon his right cheek. Why did he have to be part of Team Boring Old People? Did they just need someone that wasn't woefully out of place in a vacation town? Well, Mateo wouldn't exactly call anywhere in Missisippi a true vacation town, but the little place seemed lively enough, judging by the figures scurrying about far below his feet. Unfortunately, their first stop seemed to be a lame ass art museum of all places, which probably explained why old man Pluto got invited - he dressed like he belonged in one half the time.

Looking out across the town, none of the buildings struck him as particularly museum-y. In fact, he was pretty sure most of the big buildings were either churches or grocery stores. It looked like he'd have to stoop to street-level investigations. With the living. Which meant he needed a cover story for his curiosity, and that'd be hard to do if he knew absolutely nothing about this Dakotah person. Maybe he could pass himself off as a reporter or something. Ugh, someone smarter could come up with an alibi for him - and speaking of, the pink-haired teen realized he probably needed to regroup with his team. He was too high up to peruse signs for a museum anyway.

The solidity beneath Mateo's feet disappeared the moment he willed for his descent, sending him into a brief freefall that slowed to a gentle glide as he neared the sand below. A moment too late, he realized his landing would definitely cause a scene, and upon touching the ground, the boy's head swiveled rapidly to check for anyone that happened to notice the phantom skidmarks he'd just gouged into the sand.

"Oops..." Mateo murmured, his cheeks reddening slightly in response to the astounded shouting of a nearby beachgoer trying to get his oblivious friend's attention. Unable to walk away without leaving more footprints and thus more evidence of his passage, Mateo opted to simply bound off to sail toward the nearest sidewalk in embarrassment.

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The Shattering of Aegis

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Ceolfric lurked the streets with little of the determined haste he'd possessed the day before, fur-lined cloak drawn about him as though he trudged through a Draniran blizzard rather than a misty autumn morning. The buzz of aether around him still laid relatively dormant, with most yet to stir from their homes. He doubted the respite would continue for very long, but he also supposed it wouldn't be his problem for much longer either. Good riddance. This town certainly emphasized the Soft in Soft Haven, but at least he learned Finnagund could barely afford to keep its roads safe. If this job fell through, he might have a career in these lands yet.

The north gate came into sight, and beyond it, a cart he assumed held the red fern shipment. Filled to the brim with product and only a single horse; he'd have stolen such a prize with ease had he a mind to do it. Of course, that assumed the guards were mundane men. He could only hope any threats they encountered along the road would make the same fatal assumption. Cerric had arrived on the scene already, conversing with one Ceolfric could only assume was their client. It was confirmed when he caught a name on the approach - Esvelee - the Buckman girl Aleka mentioned. The Verazian had also made it sound like this was her first time managing the shipment. Whether she'd accompanied a trip before or not, Ceolfric didn't trust her judgement as far as he could spit, which also meant he'd have to be more vigilant than usual.

"I might take you up on that offer, Miss Buckman, if you'd permit me," Ceolfric chimed in as he approached, the usual bite in his voice dulled by the morning hour. He certainly wasn't going to haul anything he didn't need to with a cart right within arm's reach, especially when some Misophaes-blessed horror skulked around their projected path. "Ceolfric of Dranir," He introduced himself with a dip of his head, "Let me know which direction you'd like me to cover, though I fear the weather might be our first opponent." Though unpleasant, the bandit wouldn't be cowed by a bit of rain, but it'd be a different story if the cart ended up lodged in the mud. Had he intended to pillage the shipment in the rain, Ceolfric certainly would've picked the swampiest length of road to stage an ambush from, and he doubted he was the most uniquely creative brigand in the land. He'd probably find himself pointing out potential ambush spots quite a bit, if this girl was as green as she seemed.

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