The Darklight Project

PKing and TPKing

@Atrophy

Have had plenty of roleplays die that way. I refuse to have it happen again. Enough delay is enough at this point.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@drummer-danThat's fine, but Lyrena is one too many, so she's not going to be able to for this round. That is, unless you want Arvis to step out, but yeah.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@RaijinslayerThey exist a little in Jasi, but are not that much in use simply because airships are more of the focus due to how small and concentrated it is. So in summary, rest of the world doesn't really know about it because Jasi didn't spend time fully developing it.

Yes, that does mean Christopher clearly knows stuff he shouldn't, since that's what we're getting at.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Chiefs' Hall, The Arena of Gurata

To begin with, Cyril didn't seem to notice the Jasian who was speaking to him. His gaze remained focused on the forms of the disappearing Chief and her companions as they left the Hall. His hand remained on his sheated weapon, curling around the pommel before he blinked, mind seeming to return to the scene around him as he looked towards Drosil. Only tuning halfway through Drosil's rapid fire of words, the Prince seemed briefly confused before he finally caught in to what was being said to him. He was silent for just a moment after Drosil finished speaking, looking over the man carefully before he gave a nod.

"Alright, Drosil. Chief Yihira, Chief Kisarin, what about what he asked for?" The Prince looked over to the remaining Guratan Chiefs, hand finally dropping from his blade once again. Both seemed to go over the request, before Yihira shrugged slightly, giving a nod.

"Don't see why not. If the room doesn't work for you, we'll find a place to set up a tent. Is your brother keeping watch over the horses, or something?" Though she directed the question towards Drosil, Cyril was the one to answer as he rubbed the back of his head, before glancing over to the side.

"It's, uh... complicated. Drosil will make sure they're both good to go, like he said."

Cyril's gaze had been drawn over towards the back of the group, where Gortul stood with the man that they had saved and picked up. The Sentinel had been quiet while carrying the man even after he had woken up for two reasons; one, to keep track over everything else that was going on and being said, and two, to try and avoid talking to the new person in general. It wasn't out of being rude, or anything like that at all; no, Gortul was used to others introducing him and being his voice, with him only having to say a few words in general. Enough silence was enough though, and Gortul gave a heavy sigh. Briefly he pursed his lips, before slowly saying in his heavy accent, "Gortul is not a mute, no sir. He is just... a listener! Yes, he prefers to listen instead of talk. You are better, yes? Let us see if we can get you on your feet."

Not bothering to answer the question about being a "ladies' man," Gortul suddenly turned the former invalid in his arms, getting him upright. Though the movements were very suddenly and somewhat disorienting, the big man set the one he carried onto his feet, making sure to brush him off with heavy pats. "There! Good as new! Be sure to thank Lady Diane whenever you have a moment. She's the only reason why you can walk at all right now, you know. Just, uh... say it quickly." Before Gortul could explain with somewhat difficulty how he had become a Sentinel, he felt a pat on his arm from the Prince himself, who had approached after brushing off Yihira's question.

"Thank you, Gortul. And glad to see you on your feet." The latter sentence was, of course, directed to the man that they had found just a few feet from death's door. "Thankfully it's not every day we find some collapsed and wounded in the middle of the road, but you were lucky we happened to be passing by. Apologies if this happens to be an inconvenience, but we brought you to the Homestead of Gurata with us. We didn't exactly have time to just stop where we found you. Do you have a name, and why were you wounded in the middle of the road-"

Whatever the man would have to say would have to wait for a few moments as the Prince's eye was drawn away by movement from the Divine Paladin. He looked up to the much taller man who approached with heavy steps, and Cyril almost seemed to be anticipating something. Clearly, the Prince was expecting the Paladin to volunteer for the fight the next day, which would make their victory certain...

"Shit-!"

The Prince was not expecting how Christopher Nocte was sent tumbling forwards, down in front of the Prince with a sudden shove from the Paladin. Cyril also didn't expect what the man had to say next:

"The boy will be fighting with ye tomorrow. Put him to good use."

"Wait, what?!" Christopher snarled as he jumped back up, throwing his arms out to the side. "You ever heard of consent you massive walking catastrophe?! Don't I get a say in this matter?"

"Consider this yer next test, boy. I want to make sure ye haven't been a complete waste of my time." The Paladin hadn't blinked at the insults hurled by the young man, nor did he seem bothered when Christopher flipped him off with such a sudden and intense movement that sparks crackled along his gauntlet, before he just dropped his hand, looking up towards the ceiling with a drawn out groan.

"Gaaaaaah... Divinesdammit! Fuck it, alright! I don't want to walk anyway!" Christopher looked to the still very startled Prince of Barcea, even as Diane glared at the young man so fiercely it was almost amazing he didn't burst in flames, all as she kept Ayano's ears covered throughout the conversation. Christopher paid her no mind. "Fine, I'm in. I'll be a part of this train wreck." He didn't say another word as he instead turned, in order to push past the Paladin. Cyril blinked once, then twice, mouth opening slightly in yet another confused expression briefly.

"What the hell's a train...?" After a moment he quickly shook his head, looking back towards the rescued man. "Er, sorry about that. The latest business we're dealing with, you know. Where were we, again?"

The Prince had a feeling that, by the end of all this, he would have a unique kind of headache.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Hm, simply because this seems to be the way it's going, looks like we're waiting for everyone to jump up and down with their hand in the air in front of Cyril. XD Works for me, makes a definite ending point to the scene, before I move us to the stuff that happens that night.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@RaijinslayerNo, but if death happens, it happens. The general attitude is that if you don't have the sense to surrender when you're beaten, then whatever happens happens. If someone were to be knocked unconscious, however, then finishing them is off limits.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

So here's the current state of things: For those on the Barcean side, their opponents are going to be made up of two characters who will join the group, and six minor characters that I'm brainstorming up even now. Exactly how the fights will go will be explained later, but I just wanted to make the announcement that I'm doing what I see to be the bare minimum for these extremely minor characters that will be your opponents. Really just enough to be a snapshot, because a lot of them won't be coming back after this fight with like a 99% probability. Do forgive me for that, but I think it's best for everyone if I decide to get these done sooner rather than later.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@RaijinslayerNot too late at all. That's why it's gonna be eight versus eight, so we have some extra room for people who want to come in. I just wanted an initial estimate so I could make a better guess like that, rather that go too few or way too many.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Okay, so, long post done! Lotta stuff happened in this one, from carrying Dalious along to arriving at the Homestead to seeing a little about Guratan politics. Everyone has a little bit of "free" time as I prepared the rest of the foes the group will be facing during the fight. One important event will be happening that night though, one that we'll get to when it's time.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

The Road North to the Homestead

"Do as she says!" Cyril ordered, even as he rode beyond the wounded man and those gathering around him to go and look beyond. Diane's glance to Vesta was positively disdainful as she moved forwards, dropping from her horse to approach the man. Shooing Lora away, she checked the wound herself, before sniffing slightly.

"Hmph, barely an issue." She brought her staff around then, holding it over the man with both hands. She murmured something to herself and her staff began to glow with a white light. This gentle light slowly drifted from the staff down, as if affected by gravity, where it began to fill the wound on the man. A thin layer of flesh began to close the wound as the seconds passed.

Eventually she stopped, looking up as she stood back up on her feet. "Cyril, I can finish this as we ride. That is, if you want to."

The Prince looked back, and gave her a nod. "Good idea. Gortul, you carry him along for Diane as we ride." Not the most ideal of situations, but they needed to keep moving, not just for safety but to accomplish their goal as well.

"Yes, sir!" With that, Gortul practically sprung from his steed, lifting the man and carrying him back to it while Diane returned to her own horse. After everyone mounted back up, they began to move once more. Along the way, Diane continued to tend to the stranger as Gortul carried him along next to her, often grumbling to herself about one thing or another. It took her a little while, but soon enough she had done all she could, having shut the wound fully and wrapped it up afterwards. With that done, Gortul was able to more comfortably sit the unconscious stranger in the saddle.

The Homestead came into sight two hours before midday. It was a large, sprawling city with no real design, so haphazard that they were able to see it from their approach. Clearly, as time had passed, the Guratans that had chosen to settle down in the Homestead simply built in a free space, the city slowly but surely growing as more and more Guratans left the tribal lifestyle behind. Buildings went suddenly back and forth between short and tall, and were for the most part wooden. Though the streets may have been winding and confusing, the Guratans still clearly cared for their home, keeping it relatively clean... Well. As clean as could be, especially seeing as animals often freely roamed the streets, only to be chased down and caught later. Still, despite the chaos there was a homely feel to it, if a little rough around the edges.

The dominating feature was the Arena at the center, very clearly the first structure that had been built there, and probably the best built one as well. Rising high above everything else within the Homestead, the round structure was made of both stone and wood, with plenty of entrances all around. Clearly, from the openings to form windows all around, there were hallways stacked upon one another that ran around the entirety of the structure. Though the streets of the Homestead may have been chaos, they all eventually led to the Arena.

The Sentinels followed the street they entered by to the Arena, sometimes in their usual cluster or sometimes one at a time, all depending on the street. Their approach was noted, but not prevented or challenged; though the Homestead may have had no real walls, there was no question that the Guratans could have stopped their approached if they had decided to. Instead, they were only watched, discussion stopping as curious gazes were turned in their directions as they passed by, only coming to a stop as they reached the arena, where they dismounted, and had their steeds taken care of. Once more, Gortul was the one to carry the unconscious man.

No guide or guard came to them even as they entered the Arena, though the hallways were not nearly empty. The disorganization was foreign to those of Barcea and H'kela alike, but especially to the Prince. He seemed unsure very briefly as he looked back and forth, before sucking in a breath as he stepped forwards, towards his left. "Come on. At some point we have to find someone..." Perhaps it was a foolish plan...

But it worked, as soon enough someone came to a stop in front of them, crossing her arms. She was just a little shorter than Cyril, with deeply tanned skin and hair that was almost white, pulled back and out of the way. Her eyes were a bright green, and her eyebrow was raised in a quizzical manner as she looked the group over, her gaze eventually remaining up Cyril. She wore red armor in the form of a breastplate and armored skirt, carrying a large, unsheathed blade over her shoulder and a shield on her back.

"So my man wasn't just drunk after all! A party of Barceans, entering our Homestead and finding their way into our Arena. Not a sight you see every day in Gurata, and one I'd certainly like an explanation for."

Briefly, surprise flashed over Cyril's face, but he regained his composure quickly enough as he said, "I am Cyril Serio, the Prince of Barcea. I'm sorry for the intrusion into your Homestead, but we have urgent matters to discuss with your leaders. Who are you?"

"Oh, so the Prince himself? Well that's a development. And I-" At this, the woman brought her fist up, heavily pounding it against her own chest with two metallic thunks. "Am one of those leaders you're looking for. Chief Yihira of the East, and you could have been stuck with worse because I won't kick you out immediately." Cyril chose not to ask what she meant by that there, letting her continue on, "Heard you've been having problems with the borders lately. This have anything to do with that?"

Even as she spoke, the Prince's face darkened some, something the Chief took note of. Her expression in return became surprised as he said, "H'kela has attacked us in full force." She brought her hand up to her chin briefly, before she turned and began to walk.

"Come, quickly." Immediately after saying this she pointed to one of the Guratans standing nearby, commanding, "You there! Go find me Kisarin and Seryosa, now! Have them meet us in the Chiefs' Hall now!"

As she led the way along, Yihira took the time to fill them in with some information. Quite casually she explained how the Arena was more than just an arena; it was Gurata's one real governmental structure, so here issues of politics were settled along with fights (though more often than not with more fights). Where they were heading to was the usual meeting place of Chiefs. Up to the third floor they went, led through double doors into a large, massive room with high ceilings. There was no furniture in sight, and the floor, though stone, was surprisingly damaged, with plenty of pockmarks and holes spread throughout.

They waited only a few minutes for the next Chief to arrive, and when he did so Cyril actually staggered back in surprise. The man, like Yihira, was tanned, but he had short dark hair. He was extremely physically fit, covered in furs for the most part save for his arms, which were bared and showed how powerful and scared they were. Scars were over his face and neck as well, but one of the most impressive aspects about him was how he stood at an even seven feet. The next impressive fact was his weapon, which was on his back; it was a massive blade with one edge, as tall as he was and as wide as his torso, tilted to the side so that could be on his back. His voice was also impressive, with how loud it was.

"Yihira! Looks like you're finally making some new friends!"

"Very funny, Kisarin. These are-"

"I have some inkling to who they are and their problem." The man brought his hand up in a similar way to that which Yihira had done before, pounding it against his chest twice. "Chief Kisarin, nice to meet you. You there, with the blue mop; you're Prince Serio, right?" The Prince blinked at how he was suddenly addressed, but gave a nod.

"Yes, Chief Kisarin-" He didn't quite get to finish his sentence before Kisarin took the few steps he needed to reach the Prince, where he then brought his hand up to clap it down onto Cyril's back. The gesture was clearly friendly, but the force was more than enough to nearly send Cyril sprawling across the ground.

"Welcome to Gurata! Though I wish it was for better circumstances..."

"The Hell is going on in here?" Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the air, and Cyril looked in the direction of it, as did the Chief and several others. Five figures entered, three of them at the lead and two behind. The one who spoke was a woman who was decently tall and clearly very, very strong. She wore old grey armor that had clearly seen much battle, her dark grey hair streaming behind her from beneath her helmet that she wore even in that moment. At her side was a maul, and her skin was very pale. Kisarin was the one to speak to her initially.

"Ah, Seryosa. Good, you're here. As you can see, we have guests-"

"I'm not blind, you dunce. When the Hell have we taken in guests?"

Slightly behind Seryosa stood a woman in silence. A sandy skintone that was likely at one point much darker, athletic form garbed in rust-pink coloured scalemaille and chain links. Nearly white hair cascaded in messy waves down her back, held loosely in a ribbon at the base of her neck. The flawless emeralds she called eyes didn't seem to want to make contact with anyone, though they did wander to observe everyone in the room. If she had gone unnoticed to this point, presence would be known by the sound of a massive greatsword being placed tip-down rather heavily at her left side, and the soft scrape of her naturally armoured tail shifting against the floor, behind her.

Walking next to this woman behind Seryosa was the other nonhuman member of the party, though this one was certainly an animal. It was a massive white leopard, one that almost stood at Seryosa's height while on all fours. The beast looked around the room, growling lowly at the sight of all the people, but Cyril didn't pay attention to the creature, instead looking to the men who walked next to Seryosa.

The man who walked farthest from Seryosa was tall and held just as neutral an expression. He was dressed in varying shades of khaki, the only hint of color being the long blue and white scarf that was wrapped around his neck. He was smoking from a pipe and as he looked over the Sentinels, he gradually let out some smoke.

The other was a tall and thin man, just shorter than the Paladin Dubois, and he walked directly next to Seryosa. He had red hair of slight length, swept to the left side. His eyes were a sharp, icy blue, and something about his face was almost feral, even if his expression was calm. He wore armor on his forearms and legs, with cloth covering his torso. Both the armor and cloth were a sort of off-white, though the armor had a dull shine as well. At his side was a long blade, sheathed of course. The man calmly looked in Cyril's direction as the Prince stepped forwards.

"Takuma! Alsius!"

The red-haired man bowed slightly, mostly with his head in a very controlled movement. When he replied, his voice was quiet and smooth. "Prince Serio. It's been awhile." Very briefly he looked to the group, seeing who he recognized and who he didn't... And briefly, his eyes and the Wanderer's met. The moment was so quick that it would have been missed by all but the most perceptive of individuals, but in that instant the ice in Alsius' gaze became much colder as his eyes narrowed ever slightly, and the Wanderer bristled. Before anything happened, though, the Wanderer quickly looked away and stepped to the side, in order to fade into the group some, while Alsius relaxed some. This man was known as the Direwolf Argentum, and was recognized as one of the greatest knights that Barcea had to offer. In the days of Olain, he had been a fearsome warrior, and even while on more "peaceful" missions from Kori he was still a man to be reckoned with.

“It is good to see you are in good shape, Prince Cyril,” the other said with a bow. His full name was Takuma Nakamura. A close companion of Alsius, he had served the royal family for about as long as Alsius had. While Alsius may have been known for his ferocity, he was known for his own skill and extended knowledge of poisons and their antidotes. His knowledge earned him the name, Wolfsbane. As he came to stand straight, his gaze landed on the Paladin. A small smirk appeared on his face as he took hold of his pipe and blew a puff of smoke.

“The members you’ve brought are certainly the esteemed sort.”

"Is it finally happening, then?" Alsius asked, calm as ever.

Cyril nodded slightly, his expression once again going grim. Even before he had a chance to speak though, Seryosa once again spoke, snapping, "Well, get on with it!" Quickly Cyril looked to her, before taking a breath and then speaking.

"I'll be as brief as I can. The day before yesterday, King Gartian sent his soldiers across the border to raze several Barcean villages. For the most part, no survivors were left behind. There was no warning. We need assistance while we continue to prepare our armies for the combat that is sure to come. If Gartian destroys us, it'll only be a matter of time before he turns his gaze north. You need our help just as much as we need ours."

Clearly, Yihira and Kisarin thought about what the Prince had to say, the former nodding her head slightly while the latter crossed his arms. Yihira was the first to get on board, saying, "Makes sense to me. Gartian hasn't done the nation of H'kela any favors from what I've heard."

"Agreed." Kisarin spoke up, giving his own nod. "A lot of men are good to go, so-"

"No." When Seryosa suddenly spoke, Cyril actually physically started as he whirled towards her.

"What-?! Why-?!"

"If you can't handle your own problems, then your entire nation deserves the burning it'll get. We're done here." With that, she turned, beginning to walk away as her leopard turned with her. Looking to the other two Chiefs desperately, Cyril knew there was no hope of them stopping her, or circumventing her; for something like full scale war, the Prince knew that all three Chiefs had to be in agreement for anything to happen.

He also knew one more thing, which, after receiving a nod from the Direwolf as he glanced to the man, he decided to use.

The Prince stepped forwards, drawing his blade as he did so. Immediately, Yihira gave a slightly yell as she swung her own weapon around, pulling up her shield. Kisarin, meanwhile, reached back for his own blade, preparing to swing it around. Cyril paid the two Chiefs no mind however, as he was focused on the third. Seryosa, upon hearing the commotion behind her, also whirled as her hand reached for the maul, and the giant leopard snarled loudly.

The Prince stopped two yards away from Seryosa. He brought his blade up, and then stabbed it down into ground. He kept his hand gripped on the hilt as he, a little loudly, said, "I call for Decision by Combat!" Though Seryosa may have tied Yihira's and Kisarin's hands, the Prince could tie hers. He would have to fight no matter what, as the challenger, and Seryosa would have to find champions to represent her. Now, Seryosa had no choice but to accept or back down, which would then mean that the two Chiefs could proceed without her...

And she definitely knew this. She blinked once, and a scowl briefly flitted over her features... It then morphed into a grin as she stepped forwards to meet the Prince. She brought her mace up and around, swinging it once before smashing into the ground with such force that the stone floor crumbled, making a new crater. She leaned forwards towards Cyril, even as she continued to grin.

"Fine then, Prince, I'll play your game. Tomorrow at noon. Eight on your side, and eight representing mine. Pick wisely, or I'll make sure you won't be making it home upright." With that, she turned and began to walk away, putting her maul away as she did so. Her leopard turned to follow her, and as they both left silence briefly fell over the room...

And then Kisarin laughed suddenly and loudly, patting Cyril on the back heavily. "I like you, Cyril! We'll get this settled like true Guratans! It's been a while since I've seen a good, proper fight!"

Yihira, meanwhile, stepped forward as well. "Very surprising, Prince. We'll set up your party in the rooms for fighters on the second floor. Should be plenty of room for you all. Do you know already who is going to be fighting with you?"

The Prince shook his head slightly, slowly pulling his blade from the ground and sheathing it. "Not yet."

"Take your time, then. You have until tomorrow, and many of you seem like pretty good fighters."