The Otter

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

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@Octo

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"Do you always badmouth every last thing that doesn't fit your exact expectations?"

It almost seemed like she did. It must be a sad life, but he didn't have the time to really dig into it; indeed, as she had asked, it was time for him to come up with a 'stupid' plan to try and see things through. Neverminding that it couldn't be stupid if it worked—something she'd no doubt say about her own plans if the situation were reversed.

At least they were getting better at communicating with each other, not just fighting. "Aye, if you can save your coping for after we're done!" he confirmed. Luckily, even in the darkness, Thrinax's scales caught the starlight and whatever other illumination there was and reflected it nicely enough that he remained well visible. Even when the light was blocked, the mass was unmistakable. It would make Gertrude's piloting easier, certainly, something he'd be relying on.

"The others are going to be aiming for his eyes, undoubtedly. We'll want to be careful around the head if we want to avoid friendly fire, not to mention his own. See if you can make some passes at his wings, close enough I can stab down at them—and if he rears his head up high enough, take us in for his neck. I leave it to you to keep us from getting skewered by a knife or a crossbow bolt."

Whether Gertrude said anything in the affirmative or not, Fionn couldn't hear it over the sudden rush of wind as the broom picked up speed, diving downwards and coming up along Thrinax's side rapidly. There was the unmistakable site of one of the knights below trying to climb up the dragon—something to keep in mind for a second pass—but he barely had a second to register that before his spoken target was nearly upon him.

Another breath, and he thrust hard downward, the tip of his weapon seeking the softer membrane of Thrinax's left wing—not just to puncture, but to let the broom carry them along and rend a gaping hole in the limb if they were successful.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

...Ayo? We putting our pinkies into people's meat pies now...? Oh man, the euphemisms...

At least it was gloved... There's some protection there at least...

New guy Callum's on a bad luck streak.

@Irradiant

The E-rank luck stat is real.

First the guy training him dies, then he finds out the next people that were gonna take him on got murdered, and then some dude almost twice his age shows up and starts trying to chat him up and sticks a finger right in his pie...

Callum Prosser needs a trustworthy adult and he's starting to think there aren't any in the entire kingdom.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Callum Prosser

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@Estylwen

---

As Raiden started speaking again, Callum had a thought for a moment to point out that he hadn't been speaking to the man when he continued along. Whoever he was, doubtless he didn't have the chance to actually know Callum's eldest brother, unlike Lady Furino. The Baroness Furino, who was...

"...Exceedingly polite, perhaps," he murmured to himself as the pair fell right back into their back-and-forth sniping at each other. If they were friends, it would be comical...but he was too smart not to notice that the only thing keeping them from each other's throats was, ultimately, decorum. Nobles and their servants killing each other in the streets was never good for appearances, after all, no matter how much it may simplify certain things.

Fortunately for Callum, they managed to maintain that sense of decorum long enough to part...though not without Raiden leaving one more comment about the pie. He glanced over towards the inn that Anabel had directed him towards with a new sinking feeling in his stomach. If he chose not to take up that offer, it would be viewed as an obvious sign of disfavour. At which point he would be reliant on whatever protection mister Asher could provide, which seemed dubious at best.

Taking it, instead, would put him right in the Furino's home court, and could easily be construed as favouring her side. Something he already did, if only because Raiden's self-introduction hadn't exactly fostered feelings of warmth in Callum's heart...but such an outward appearance might spur the man on to more direct measures. Of course, there was little doubt that the inn would be watched over by Anabel's guards, so there was some guarantee of more immediate safety there.

And at the same time, a guarantee that he couldn't just cut and run. Both had their eyes on him, both knew that there was some connection he had with the late Duke Nathan, and both sought to use it—him—in some manner. One for the queen, one clearly against the queen. He sat there a moment longer, looking down at his pie...utterly disinterested in eating it further after some man riding a giant wolf so casually stuck his glove down inside it.

"Well. It can't be helped, can it?" he muttered to himself after a moment, straightening his back and standing up. He spotted a dog nearby, waiting dilligently by the home of its master, and tossed the remnants of the pie over to it. The cur shamelessly began to devour the discarded pastry with gusto. "But, really. The Sparrows? What sort of fool reads a second-rate story and decides to name their organization something like that..."

Leading his horse, he walked on down the street. As adequately as he'd managed to walk himself into their little trap, there was nothing to do now but await whatever came of it.

---

Later that evening, Callum left the room that had been provided to him, walking down to the tavern. Sure enough, it all had matched with what Anabel had told him to expect; the rushes covering the tavern floor were themselves clean and fresh. Undoubtedly changed daily, if not more often should any patrons get messy or sick. His eyes scanned the room quickly, looking for wherever his pursuers had placed themselves...He'd come down intentionally on the later side of dinner, both to claw back some semblance of agency in the proceedings by making them wait for a moment, and to avoid getting surprised by Raiden Asher deciding to soil his food a second time.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen and Ranbu no Izayoi

---

”Are you recovered?” Were the first words that came out of Izayoi’s mouth as she approached Esben in the safehouse’s halls. ”The desert evidently did not agree with you, even before the battle.” She turned a critical eye over Esben. ”It seems your heatstroke has passed.”

”Regardless, I have inquiries. You are the one most equipped to answer them.”

Esben blinked.

”Good morning to you too, Izayoi.”

She motioned for Esben to follow her, and they stepped into the sitting room. Izayoi started heating a pot of tea in the fireplace, and the two sat at the low table.

”Presuming that you are a Seed, which seems more likely than when we first met, I have questions in that regard. To preface this, I knew nothing of my master’s past life before he found me in the ruins of a bandit raid. And I found nothing after his death. Evidently, he valued his privacy.”

The tea kettle continued to boil in the background.

”My working theory for the better part of a decade was that he was a Seed at some point. I can think of few better explanations. The man was not Osprean, by all appearances. Tell me, have you ever heard of any blond men nearing eight feet tall that specialized in the katana within your ranks?”

Seed may have been a secretive organization of spies and mercenaries, but her master had been distinctive.

Esben dutifully followed, taking a seat as Izayoi began to work through her question. He was slightly shocked that she still harboured doubts as to what he’d told them all at the outset of the journey, but, given that they seemed to be diminishing...chose not to make an issue of it. Better to focus on the task at hand. Even if that meant more questions about people, and looking for people, than he’d expected—he’d already spent the prior night drafting up whatever plans he could to search for Miina’s brother.

One half of the question, at least, was easily answered: ”Izayoi, it’s Skael. Eight foot tall blond men aren’t particularly noteworthy. Seven feet is nearly common, I’m plenty over six myself.” Notwithstanding that such would certainly be present in any student records, something he didn’t bother to mention as she’d be well aware of that herself by mere supposition. Certainly, anyone of that height would stand out quite a bit, especially in a crowd, which would limit their possible uses as Seeds...but there always seemed to be an outlier or two in every part of the country, even if some of them were relying on their shoes to see above the rest.

”I can’t say I remember stories of any one such that went through the Garden, but we’re always more likely to tell about what someone did than just how they were. Éliane, for example, is still a topic they like to talk about. I think our last instructor that specialized in Ospreyan styles of swordsmanship died...oh, somewhere between five years and a decade ago. Before either of our time at the Garden. But he may have some students still kicking around that I could ask.”

Izayoi frowned, rising to take the boiling tea and pour a cup each for herself and Esben. She set the kettle down in the middle of the table, nodding.

”I see. Certainly not him. And I never actually knew his name.” Once more, the realization she’d never had in her youth that she spent ten years in the giant’s company without knowing if he actually had a name sank in. Why hadn’t she realized that?

Ah, right. Because she’d been a stupid slip of a girl.

”He only ever used obvious aliases when others asked him for one. Nanashi was his favored. ‘No Name’, in our old tongue.”

”Ah. The old ‘My name is Nobody’ joke.”

”As you say,” She shrugged. ”Regardless, if Seed considers merit to be the greatest indicator of noteworthiness, I struggle to believe that he would not have been remembered even, say, two decades past his absence. You saw his deeds in the desert. He trained me. For most of our final duel, he was still my better. Unless the Garden has an exceedingly short memory, someone with seniority in the organization would have remembered a swordsman of such skill.”

Esben nodded. ”You’re quite right.” He took a sip of the tea, thinking for a quiet moment. ”Your method isn’t entirely typical of Ospreyan fighters, is it? I suppose I haven’t paid enough attention to recognize that, tales of your skills aside.”

”Correct.” Izayoi hid her surprise by raising her tea cup to her lips, taking a sip of her own. ”My own, unnamed style emphasizes fighting with a one-handed grip far more than typical Osprean bladework, as well as differences in footwork. Foreign bladesmen tend not to notice past the obvious commonalities with all katana fighting. I’d not realized how different the style was until I’d fought more samurai in my adulthood, merely thinking it was how my master’s teaching differentiated itself.”

”Rather like a sabre, isn’t it? Mixed with some more idiosyncratic techniques, due to the differing nature of the blades. You might hide it more easily if you’d learned to fight with the smaller blade in your offhand as your standard.”

Izayoi nodded along, considering Eliane’s fighting style in her mind’s eye. Given that she was the only example of Skaelan saber fencing that the samurai had seen, it was the only reference point available. And what she saw…wasn’t too dissimilar. Hm.

”Perhaps, yes. Though I am just as capable in direct combat with the more traditional Osprean dual-wielding style. There has simply not been a situation that has necessitated such a radical shift thus far. That, and wielding two blades restricts my ability to use battojutsu. Regardless, we are getting off-topic.”

Esben shook his head, taking another sip. As direct as her thought process was, he wasn’t entirely surprised she wasn’t following along with his own line of inquiry. ”This is the topic. I said that some of that former instructor’s students would still be around, didn’t I? Some of them are instructors now themselves. Even old Villamont’s style was less about replicating Ospreyan swordsmanship and more how to confuse the samurai and beat them at their own game.”

He drained the cup, setting it down back on the table.

”To that end, he incorporated techniques that are nearly unheard of this far north, some of which are even rare in our own various methods. Purely horizontal attacks, leaving someone wide open to any reprisal, but if done quickly enough, and taking advantage of the distance that only needing one hand can provide...a moulinet into another, not losing momentum at all and maintaining the pressure, something we all do but most Ospreyans never demonstrate. The most typical thing of Osprey that your master’s corpse did to me was tackling me after I defended myself from the first two. I’m sure from there you can start to figure out many other peculiarities that match what I’m saying, no? It’s just that using two blades, even with more southern-standard techniques, would hide it better.”

”Fair points.” Izayoi sat her cup down, crossing her arms in thought. ”He never cared for using two blades. As a matter of fact, he seemed to regard imparting dual-wielding during training as something more of a chore than anything else.”

”T’would be shameful if you did not excel in ALL uses of the blade, long and short. Now draw your second blade, girl. And be quick about it. My patience wears thin.”

The memory flashed in her eyes, and Izayoi forced herself to continue on.

”Seed possesses a concerning breadth of knowledge regarding how we Ospreans fight. Am I to assume that you have the same for the other two nations?”

”Of course. We usually don’t expand beyond generalities unless someone has reason to dive into all the various schools of fighting to be found in any given place, but we always keep a few available who can give good instruction in such matters.” He turned his head, one ear in the direction of the courtyard that the home surrounded.

”The yard should be relatively free, ja? I’d like to test my theory a bit.”

”Very well.” Izayoi nodded, rising to her feet. The fact that Esben had only just recovered from a concussion didn’t seem to concern her overmuch.

”You would prefer me to use two-blade style, then? Practice swords, or live steel?”

”No, your standard. Yes to live steel—I doubt they have anything here to match my blade, and I trust our abilities not to kill each other anyways.” He gestured to the cups and kettle, bidding Izayoi to sit back down. ”But, let’s finish this first. I doubt it’ll still be warm by the time we’re done.”

---

Before long the tea was drunk down to the leaves, and Esben returned to his room just long enough to gather up his sword and buckler. Izayoi, as he’d expected, was waiting for him out in the courtyard, likely ready to proceed as soon as he arrived. It was as much a matter of pride for him as it was anything about analyzing her fighting style—had he not been as incapacitated by the desert climate as he was, he doubted he would have fared so poorly against her old master. Even if Rudolf had made a point to tell him to get over himself and that it was testament enough to his skill that he’d avoided anything lethal and only been taken out by a tackle.

More politely than that, but still.

”Well. Let’s begin, shall we?” he asked after a moment, giving a small salute with his blade, before settling into a typical guard position—buckler out, sword high and point forward as though he’d just drawn it in front of her.

Izayoi nodded, her sword already drawn. Iai strikes weren’t to be risked against foes she didn’t wish to kill, so it would fall to raw swordplay.

She dashed straight for Esben, her katana clutched in only a single hand as she whipped it out in a quick horizontal slash, aiming to make a score across the Skaelan’s unshielded side. It clattered harmlessly against his buckler, the small shield punching the blade aside with unexpected force as stepped to his left, flicking his blade forwards and down in a small sniping cut as he moved to a new stance.

Izayoi leaned back, the tip of the blade barely missing her nose; intercepted a second cut from Esben as he straightened his arm back out, and without missing a step twisted her own over and lunged forwards herself. Esben brought his blade in and up to match, her thrust sliding harmlessly off to the side as he broke away. Over the course of barely more than a second their blades had rang out thrice, and the only thing to show for it was that they’d returned to the same positions they’d started from.

After a moment of breath, each dashed for the other once more.

---

Several rounds of back-and-forth later, Izayoi clicked her tongue in irritation as Esben disengaged from her assault once more. She’d no doubt wear him down eventually, but a victory in that manner was akin to giving up in terms of effort.

Of course, she was still holding a large portion of her arsenal back. No battojutsu. No explicitly lethal techniques. Trickery and footwork it was, then.

Izayoi set herself in a low stance, legs bent and center of gravity closer to the ground. She dashed forward, telegraphing a strike towards Esben’s less-guarded legs. The instant he moved to respond, however, she sprang up from her bent legs and outright leapt over the Skaelan duelist in a somersault, landing behind him with one hand stabilizing her on the ground and the other pointing her blade at his back.

”Are you satisfied now?”

As Izayoi lunged forwards for his legs, Esben barely dropped the point of his sword to maintain an obvious threat, his reach beating her own without even the need to draw back. He’d been expecting some trick, of course, although for her to bodily leap over him wasn’t the tactic he thought she’d take.

For a heartbeat, he’d thought about raising his sword in a cut to follow her momentum, twisting alongside her...had it been an actual duel, he would have. But just as there were techniques she was refusing to use for fear that she might actually harm him, he was feeling the same way, and such reprisal in the face of so wild an attack would nearly guarantee someone was injured beyond what was acceptable for mere sparring. Even if it didn’t, prolonging the exchange would only push them both towards fatigue rather than helping sharpen any of their skills.

Instead he crouched, raising his buckler up overhead to guard from any sudden strike—only for Izayoi’s landing to sound behind him. Of course, from where she was crouched, she’d see a pair of gun barrels pointing her way from the buckler he still had raised up. Esben was still full of tricks himself, even if he’d never bothered to actually hide them. One squeeze and they’d have fired; enough to shock her and make her pull back, perhaps, or it wouldn’t have, and they’d both be dead had it been an actual fight.

Hopefully they wouldn’t need to find out.

”You’re breathing hard,” Esben observed. He was too, and between the Ospreyan heat and the exertion covered in enough sweat he’d need to bathe again before the end of the day. ”Yes. You’ve your own unique touches, obviously, but the core of it is familiar enough to me.” He paused for another moment, trying to imagine what she must have been like at the height of her skill, with all the stories that had managed to proliferate about her—

”I think Edren is lucky you’re unique as you are. I certainly don’t want to consider what fighting you on a battlefield may have been like if you felt the need to use that special technique of yours.”

Izayoi narrowed her eyes. Stalemate. She wasn’t quite sure if her reflexes were still up to par in deflecting gunfire from this close a range, else this wouldn’t be as much of a detriment. Regardless, it had been a good spar. Each she had gone through was experience she needed to relearn her muscle memory, to come even remotely close to being where she should be.

The mystrel drew herself up, sheathing her blade as she spoke.

”That technique was what won the day in the first battle upon the central plains. If I’d not slaughtered an entire cavalry charge in an instant, Edren would have won the war in one push.” She took a moment to catch her breath, fixing her hat back atop her head.

”Edren is fortunate that fewer samurai were trained since childhood by a maniac obsessed with the sword and only the sword, yes. I was Lord Hien’s sword instructor once, but the rigors I demanded, as I was trained, were too intensive and time-consuming for the son of a daimyo that required a broader education.” The row she and Lord Kaien had gotten into regarding the subject hadn’t left the castle servants’ lips for months after the fact.

”That, and my position as captain of Lord Kaien’s guard were such that I did not have the time to take on a student unless otherwise ordered, as with the boy.”

Esben nodded, sliding his sword back into its sheath and hanging the buckler on his belt. ”All that in mind, I think Osprey is fortunate that its leaders knew that more was needed than just that single-mindedness as well. Hopefully, after we’re done with this mess with Valheim, such regrettable circumstances as were behind all of that...won’t resume.” He glanced skyward, where the sun was directly overhead; he hadn’t expected they’d be out long enough for noon to come upon them, but evidently they had been.

”Well. Shall we find something to eat?”

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen and Miina Malina

---

Two weeks. If she had just gotten looking sooner, or picked up the pace… she had been so close to finishing her journey, or maybe with everything else going on she could have gotten her brother to help them? No point thinking about it, though she hadn't done much else tonight. Go shopping with Rudolf, talk with Izayoi, get something to drink…

There must be someone who could help, right? Oh, they were going back to Drana Asnaeu soon so she could pick up the trail there, but then it might already be cold, especially if they were going to go through the forests… and she obviously knew a few people by the coasts who might be able to keep an eye out, but could she possibly get a message to them? And "hey, someone's in this entire country" wasn't a good way to look, they'd gotten so lucky being close this time.

So… right, that meant asking Esben after all? Something about him was a bit scary, so she'd avoided it earlier, but that shouldn't be a problem now, and that might be needed… and he was prooooobably fine despite the head injury. It wasn't like this would involve having to go anywhere or do anything tonight, just… listen?

Now, she'd memorised what rooms various people had to not wander into the wrong one, which meant… this one!

"H-Hello? I need some help with f-finding someone," Miina said, gesturing with a bottle in the vague direction of outdoors. Probably not illustrative.

"That's probably the most words I've heard you say to me at once since the day we met." Esben turned back towards the sliding door of the room, frowning slightly at the short Mystrel girl that had stumbled in. "Are you feeling alright, Miina?" he asked after a moment, keenly aware of the incongruity behind him being the one to ask her that question, given recent events.

"Y-Yeah?" she wondered, scratching her head. Was something wrong…? Well, she'd left her boots and everything in her room… but they were inside, so that shouldn't seem all that weird even up here? Oh, maybe he thought that she wanted to go looking now! "I d-don't mean l-looking here, um… my b-brother's in D-Drana Asnaeu again and I d-don't want to miss him again…"

She took a swig from the bottle, still standing awkwardly in the door.

Esben resisted the urge to sigh. "Not how I meant that," he muttered, half to himself, before pointing at the mattress on the floor where he'd been about to lay down. "Sit down and tell me whatever you want to tell me, and drink some water. We don't need you making yourself sick."

Miina dropped bonelessly onto the mattress, propping herself back up into a seated position and ignoring the suggestion of water. Or maybe she had simply discarded the thought of it after not immediately spotting any.

"So… my b-brother had b-been in Osprey for m-m-months, and I'd gone t-to ask around with Rudolf earlier," she started, now frowning over how unfortunate the timing had been. "Some p-p-people didn't really want t-to talk about him even if they knew, since t-that meant g-getting all tangled up in organised c-c-crime, b-but we found someone and…"

It was definitely the loudest Miina had ever been. "He's j-j-just left! He was heard t-talking about it a few weeks ago, b-b-but this… uh, Mizutane T-Tine? Tane? She's only b-been looking a few d-days!"

She took another drink, grumpily.

Esben listened closely, letting the fact that Miina still held her drink be for the moment. They'd barely missed her brother, evidently, as he'd left not long before they'd started their trek back from the deep desert. He'd put the matter of her brother further back in his list of priorities given the amount that was happening as soon as they arrived in Kugane, but given that half of their work now would be a search, likely avoiding any further rebellions, there was no better time than the present to start thinking on that matter again.

And those thoughts weren't entirely hope-inducing. Organized crime was no laughing matter, even for some of the top Seeds to come out of the Garden. Usually they were recommended to stay as far away from such things as possible. Of course, usually they weren't sent off entirely alone, or find themselves embroiled in a rebellion against an invading force; he'd already moved somewhat far outside the realm of normal Seed operations by any metric.

So, names: Mizutani Tine (or Tane) was the one she gave him, the local crime lord of some sort. Hopefully her brother hadn't gotten embroiled with her in all the possible ways he may have, as the entanglement there could prove almost impossible to untie. Rudolf had been involved in their first investigation, so he may have more details and be far more sober...and whoever had finally spoken to them, he would at least need a description to get working.

But first...

"Miina." Esben's voice was uncharacteristically stern, his expression as flat as when he'd been discussing murdering Chisaki casually enough to make the others look back at him in surprise, or outlining his plan to rescue Hien. He reached out, plucking the bottle from her hands with a speed that was utterly belied by his prior performance out in the desert, sticking it high on a shelf—and then passing the pitcher of water that had been set just past him over with an empty cup. "Water. You've had enough of whatever that is for now. Did you get a name from the one that finally spoke to you?"

The immediate response was a defeated mewl and a vain attempt at pawing at the bottle that would have been out of reach even if she had attempted to stand up first, followed by an equally plaintive, "My shōchū…"

Even though she was definitely sulking now, she hadn't forgotten why she was here, so she had better answer the question… even if she was stubbornly ignoring the water. "Uh… Hiroshi or s-something?

"A-Ask Rudi! He was with m-me, he ought to r-remember better!" she added, waving at the door as a reminder of where to go to start looking for the other member of their group.

Esben supposed he should have expected that. Between her general social struggles and the fact that she was certainly drunk by now, there wasn't going to be much useful on that front out of Miina...at least not through any direct questioning like that. "Never mind that for now, then," he mused, pouring water into the empty cup he'd set beside her.

He set the pitcher back down, before turning just as suddenly as before, pushing the girl's bangs back and laying his palm flat against her forehead, gazing critically down. As flushed as he'd expect from a small, drunk Mystrel girl; and the heat he could feel matched the redness in her face, that seemed to rapidly be trying to match that of her hair. Of course, his hand—damp with condensation off the pitcher and generally quite a bit colder—would contrast all of that heavily, though whether she'd find the coolness comforting or bothersome remained to be seen as he pushed her head back, his gaze meeting her eyes again. "Is that all you've had to drink?"

The redness only intensified, although the reason for that wasn't readily apparent… internally, of course, Miina was panicking at being shown this sort of attention, although the question snapped her back to attention (and away from a vain attempt to back away into… well, with their current positions, a wall. "Y-Yeah? It's strong."

Did he think this was her first time drinking or something? It wasn't even the first time she'd come across anything distilled! Although, undoubtedly, it was far less sweet or fruity than anything that she'd been offered in Costa del Sol. That was actually pretty useful, it made it harder to overindulge.

Not that Miina's definition of "overindulging" was probably matched with Esben's.

"Good. I'd hate to have to interrogate you about everything else you've had, and can instead get back to the first thought—water." He held the cup out to her. "Now. I'll find you something to eat soon, too. After you drain that glass you can start telling me more details about your brother and what you've found out he was involved with."

It was a good thing that Miina hadn't drained the bottle at the same speed as the cup was drained, though she was quick to point out after that the food wasn't necessary. She hadn't started drinking on an empty stomach, what was the rush? She could just sleep the rest of it off later.

As for her brother… well, she rambled. He was her teacher, her friend, and an annoyingly tall beanpole that had liked to pick her up just because he could and there had been such a massive height gap between them (and she couldn't say that it had honestly closed massively, even if he was the same height as their last meeting). He'd not been in Drana Asnaeu by the time she'd gone out looking, and finding the trail had been a long, slow one, and she'd not had a clue what sort of people she should even be talking to or where she should be talking to them.

And she'd had to get more clothes! And a proper sword, her knife was good, but the thing she'd lifted off a bandit just wasn't. So that meant she had to do more working and less asking people questions, but it worked out in the end, since Miina had met a lot of people she would never have considered approaching if it hadn't been for accidentally running jobs for them, and then shutting the worst of them down afterwards.

Anyway, they'd been able to give her some vague pointers, and she'd been able to sort of… bounce around asking, and she didn't know what her brother was doing because nobody ever seemed to want to tell her? And most of them seemed astonished to find out that he was actually a pretty good mage, as far as she knew, or a spellcaster at all. But then there were the people that weren't shady, and always did seem particularly annoyed that Zeke wasn't around to ask questions… or interested that she was trying to track him down. She even had some letters to deliver, for some reason.

Esben listened intently as Miina started to ramble her way through an explanation on her brother and his known activities; he was reasonably impressed at how smoothly she managed to get through it. Except for the spot where, under the weight of his gaze, she got stuck on the word 'brother' for nearly ten seconds...but she managed to get over it without help. Thus far, it seemed that brushes with criminal elements must run in the family—though Zeke seemed far more adept at dealing with it than his sister, the way it sounded her own adventures had gone.

"So. Your brother is made to leave home, and over the course of his travels he seems to have earned the mixed ire and begrudging respect of no less than fourteen different criminal groups, from low-level gangs up to decently sized organizations, not to mention the more legitimate types he's dealt with. All with a history of never revealing his full capabilities to them, and generally disappearing after picking up some odd jobs or getting whatever he may have intended out of them otherwise. Skipping out as soon as the entanglement started looking like it might be firmer than he expected." He almost sounded slightly impressed, though when he was getting focused on another aspect of what amounted to work in his thoughts, much of his expressiveness drained away...the perils of such single-mindedness, perhaps.

Impressed or not, though, that would make Zeke difficult for them, in more ways than one. "Forgive me, Miina, but your brother sounds like a confident con artist who seems to be biting off more and more every time, and it won't be too long before he takes on more than he can handle. But I imagine that's part of what has you worried enough to come to me, ja?" She'd not spoken to him much at all, other than when he'd been wounded or when he passed lord Hien off to her, after all.

A pity. He generally tried not to intimidate the more timid types...except for when intimidating them was useful.

"If we're lucky, we'll find him before anyone else does, and hopefully be able to avoid them in the process. I don't much want us to have to add those types to our list of enemies, they are useful sometimes..." Neverminding that Miina had managed to entirely ruin her own reputation with one such group, as she was small enough to keep hidden within the rest of them if necessary. "How well do you think you can draw him for me?"

Miina waited until Esben was finished… and then started laughing, giving a small grin. "Oh, I'm sure he'll b-b-be fine, if he's n-not even having to show he has magic, and he g-gave me th-this before he had to leave for good…"

It took her a moment of fishing around to actually produce it, but that… well, it was a materia, there was that much to say about it for sure, but it was stuffed away much more quickly. "… he s-said he has two, so I'm s-sure he can escape if things g-get really bad. I j-just… don't think I can go looking if we're g-going to protect crystals? And you're g-good at that, right?"

"I see you do have a share of his confidence," Esben replied drily, utterly unperturbed about the materia.

She paused for a second, looking at her hands, and said, "M-Maybe tomorrow…? I'm not sure I can d-draw… umm… isn't 'redheaded M-Mystrel, v-very tall, n-never opens his eyes' enough? It worked so far…"

Esben shook his head. "However uncommon that combination of traits may be, there's undoubtedly going to be some others that match that description. There's a possibility that some of what you've learned has simply been due to others such muddying the waters, unless you've managed to go into further details with them and just don't remember such conversations in deep detail. If I'm going to be looking for him, I need something more distinct, especially if I end up putting anyone else to work for it on my behalf."

He refilled her glass with water, with a clear expectation that she should drink more of it. "If you can't manage a good sketch tomorrow morning, get ahold of me then and I'll see what I can manage to draw up. We may need to go through a few drafts but it shouldn't take too long. Otherwise, keep sipping on the water, and before long you ought to go to bed."

"R-Right, it is late…" Miina said, gaze drawn inevitably up to where the bottle of shōchū sat on the shelf. Esben probably wasn't going to give it back, was he? Maybe she could get it tomorrow, it'd be such a waste if she didn't get to finish it…

Nonetheless, Miina got to her feet, unsteady but seemingly no more in danger of collapsing before she got back to her room than when she arrived, and wished Esben goodnight. At least she still had the glass of water? He'd probably want to get another, though.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

as soon as callum's in the thick of things you know it's gonna go down

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

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@Octo

---

As Fleuri began speaking up, Fionn left Gertrude's side for a moment, back towards the root he had used to climb up. Pushed as it had been, it had sent a fresh shoot up near the top of the hill, that might—someday—have made for a second trunk, given time to grow, paired with the one further down the cliff face. However, given the enemy they had to face, Fionn possessed a different idea. He reached down, taking the shoot in hand, muttering another word at it—"Aletou." At his urging, the shoot grew further, its shape being defined by his intention; straight, smooth, without any branches growing off of it that would need dealt with.

Once it reached just shy of four feet in length, he had it cut itself off at the root. Then he flipped it over, held his sword to the root end, and it grew over the hilt of the blade, wrapping itself around the crossguard to be fully secure. For dealing with dragons, longer weapons would be useful, especially after the minor enchantment granted by Merilia. In lieue of a butt spike for counterweight, the end opposite his blade flared out through the last foot, widening out like a club and helping pull the balance back. Inspecting his handiwork for a moment, Fionn nodded, satisfied—stepped back to the rest just in time to hear the air moving under Thrinax's beating wings.

Lacking any better options—short of dropping back down the side of the cliff and sliding down the root he'd grown—Fionn grabbed onto Gertrude's broom as she set aboard it. "I'll make sure to do that!" he replied as she commanded him to hold on, lifting off before he'd even pulled himself up to a proper position.

Oh. I don't know that I like dangling in the air like this.

With a white-knuckled grip on both his weapon and Gertrude's broom, Fionn was sped off away from the hilltop at a breakneck speed. "Bint!" he growled down at his weapon, a weightless, ephemeral chain linking it to his wrist almost instantly. One of the spells he'd learned from Erich, much like his pseudo-greatsword before—utilitarian, possibly embarrassing to say in front of the rest due to how they sounded like little more than simple and archaic Thalnish (which, he supposed, they just were), but invaluable in circumstances such as these. Bigger swords, something to keep you from losing your weapon...both quite helpful when fighting beasts and monsters far larger than oneself, whether demon or dragon.

Confident that he now wouldn't lose his blade, he brought his other hand up to the broom, before heaving his weight up and over it to resume a somewhat-comfortably seated posture. His left hand maintaind its grip, and he yanked his weapon back up into his right, holding it as if it were a lance on horseback.

Oh, there's a fun idea. Couch this in my armpit and charge Thrinax in the air...maybe Gertrude will agree to that.

But not for a while yet, as the dragon would likely be far too prepared for any such exceptionally-bold attacks. They'd have to wear him down first, no doubt. "Thanks for the help!" he said brightly to the girl piloting the broom. "You've got me starting to think you're not so difficult after all!"

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Callum Prosser

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@Estylwen

---

Not my pie, come on!

Callum looked blankly on at the talking man as he licked his finger clean of the gravy he'd so brazenly helped himself to. His expression was intentionally so; being so suddenly accosted, his horse shying back from the wolf almost instantly, and with the roguish man almost immediately talking about the late duke and his family...Something about it all added up to an assumption that he'd been watched and followed, at least as soon as he'd arrived at the estate. Perhaps even earlier.

Regardless, this 'Raiden' didn't talk like an aristocrat. Not entirely like a peasant either. Some high ranking servant, maybe—and if one to the Corrin family, then there was a decent chance that he'd been expecting Callum the entire time. Friendly or not had yet to be determined.

But why not meet me just outside the estate, then? Worried more than the guards?

I can't believe he just dipped that glove right into my pie. I have no idea where that thing's been, and he just stick it straight into the middle without a thought.

What's with the whole pretty-boy act, anyways? Going to flutter your eyelashes at me next?

Down three copper pieces for the pie—too generous but the baker was nice—so I've got nine left. Easy if I run straight back home, but if I take the long way, I'm going to have to visit a money changer for any of the better coins, and I know I'll lose out on that deal...

Wait, did that gravy drip on my trousers? I hope it's just some dirt, or a drip from my water. I'll lose my mind if that's a stain from this pie...

Whether there was anybody present that might want to pry inside his head or not, he wasn't going to take any chances after being so suddenly confronted. Even without working his bit of magic the constant flow of thoughts would make it hard to pick up on anything useful—let them come as they would, he was more than practiced enough to actually keep his focus on what was important even while letting his mind wander so.

He glanced over as the wolf growled, his horse shying back further yet, as another person joined what was turning out to be a more eventful lunch than he'd planned. Clearly the pair knew each other—their mutual disdain was palpable enough he could about pluck it out of the air and wear it like a scarf—and the girl didn't shy away from bandying insults about with abandon. Clearly someone of the gentry from the outset, and Raiden's own recognition cemented the assumption.

Lady Furino. He knew of that one, even though he'd never met her; one of the youngest enfeoffed nobles in the province, bar some few titular lords, children of knights who held their own manors who perished in the new queen's ascension. The sole member of her family who had abandoned pride in favour of life, his eldest brother had said at one point. Likely, they had met, and even if they hadn't, the Dinbevin Viscountcy wasn't exactly an unknown factor in local politics, even if the reputation was rarely a great one.

"You both seem to have me at a disadvantage," he said coolly, after the pair had finished their own sparring and Baroness Furino turned to address him directly once again. "But, my lady, if you know who I am, then I'm sure you know better than to call me lord." Had he been his eldest brother, they would have been of the same rank—the eldest son of a viscount stood shoulder to shoulder with a baron, after all. But Callum was the fifth child, a squire whose education in that realm was incomplete, foiled twice over by sudden death.

She was being even more generous calling him lord than he'd been with the baker.

The danger sense that had been prickling the back of his neck the second Raiden arrived was only growing stronger with every passing moment in the company of these two obvious enemies, with himself the least prepared for any such politics as he was now forced to engage with under their gazes. One, another noble, close to the royal court, and obviously experienced at this whole game...groomed by the queen herself, if he had to guess. The other, a commoner, yet one known to a member of the royal court, willing to stand toe to toe against her. Less composed for an instant, but she followed suit.

Nobility always had to be careful with each other. Commoners, too; they were oftentimes even more important to court than your peers. Dangerous in numbers at all times. But here, these two...exceptionally dangerous, and both alone. Not for the first time he began to wish he'd accepted his eldest brother's offer to accompany him to Tarin and see him off. 'For safety,' he'd said; it was known that there was little love lost between Duke Nathan's family and the queen, second only to the dukes of Odonfield and Nordor, the latter of whom had recently been taken prisoner, as he'd heard said in the city square.

"...But, maybe, you mistake me for Allan? My father's heir and I are of a height, while our other brothers seemed to have inherited more of our grandfather's size. He's only recently started growing out his beard, without it we do look remarkably alike." Yet another reason that their father had hoped he would take the path of merchant and advisor for his eldest brother—unlike the rest, he could always operate as a stand-in and leave most people none the wiser. He gave the girl a smile, shrugging off Raiden's hand on his shoulder.

Leaning too obviously to one or the other would be worse than if he messed up a negotiation with any adept traders. Those would lead to a metaphorical knife in the coinpurse, perhaps a literal one if they were affiliated with any of the criminals that always followed the flow of money. Choosing either of these two too quickly...he doubted he'd survive the week. "I'd hate to cut this friendly reunion short by agreeing to anything too soon, something I'm sure you both understand. I need some time to get my wits about me, anyways—finding out the fate of those who were to bear my charge was quite a shock. Maybe we can all discuss it further through the day...or, perhaps, over dinner, once I satisfy my need of lodging?"

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen and Eve “Grayscale”

---

The trip back to Kugane passed rather uneventfully—almost pleasantly, if it weren’t for the amount that some of the Kirins were worrying over Esben along the way. There was something comforting about it, knowing that the motley assortment could come together so easily...but it was more than a little annoying as well. Enough so to surpass any bother over his nose, which he’d have to have properly set and fixed in the city.

For a man that prided himself on his capabilities, coming from being the one to devise the plan that freed Lord Hien only to find himself utterly disarmed by the climate and almost immediately knocked out of a fight was a shame that was nearly unbearable. No matter how much any of them had reminded him how close to death they all had come, and that the fact he didn’t find himself cleaved in half on the first strike despite being so incapacitated by the desert was a strong mark in his favour.

His nose twitched in annoyance, and he immediately brought a hand up to it; while the swelling may have subsided fairly quickly, it was still very recognizably broken. Hopefully it hadn’t begun healing enough that he’d have to have it re-broken just to get anything done.

”Terrible,” he mumbled to himself, taking a sip of water and looking up at the stars over the central courtyard. Many of them were beginning to fade, with sunrise not far away—the growing hint of light off to the east made that obvious enough. Still, it was early enough that none of the others were awake yet, only the various servants that had followed Ciradyl and Hien into rebellion as they quietly prepared breakfast for the estate and its guests.

Quietly enough—alongside the silence of the still-sleeping city—that the soft footfalls behind him didn’t manage to escape his notice: ”I hope you’re not trying to sneak up on me back there.”

As per usual, Eve was awake, she had always been awake outside of those rare occasions where she depleted her ether reserves, and taking night walks was one of her ways to pass the late evenings, or sit down and brood, but tonight, she was partial to the former.

As such, it was simply pure coincidence that her path crossed with the group's espionage specialist, though he made it seem like she was deliberately following him, flattering, but unfortunately untrue, this was a different situation than Atsu's, back there, she did tail Izayoi to her family's grave.

Although...

"You caught me." The Pseudolon uttered with such stoicism, it would indeed take someone as keen as Esben to discern whether she was being sarcastic or not, "I suppose this means you won't be my dinner tonight, shame, it has been a while since I hunted a Sollan."

Her red eyes then scanned over the Skaeler's visage, particularly the spot between his cheeks, "I find it difficult to believe that Miina hasn't fully healed your face yet." She was no healer though, maybe some things just couldn't be healed magically...?

”Mmm. Not as nice to look at now, am I?” Esben joked, one eyebrow raised as Eve studied his nasal fracture so intensely. He stoppered the bottle he’d been drinking from, setting it on the paving stones by his feet. The journal he’d been writing in snapped shut around his pencil, set next to him on the bench he’d pulled out into the courtyard.

"Wounded body parts are never as nice to behold as healthy ones." Eve spoke matter-of-factly, an objective statement based on practical knowledge and peer-reviewed scientific research no doubt.

After a moment to shrug at her reply he moved over slightly, making some room for Eve if she decided to sit. ”Bit late to be looking for dinner, though—if you’re looking for food as a novelty, you ought to start thinking about breakfast instead.” He glanced back at the slowly-brightening east. There was an hour left before sunrise and the morning meal, if he had to guess. ”One of the servants said they might have me try something called nattō, but wouldn’t actually explain what it is.” By his tone and his expression, he seemed mildly worried about that lack of information.

The scaled black mage simply stood beside the bench for the moment, up until Esben scooted over, a gesture of invitation she discerned, one that she took as Eve quietly sat down, her tail looping over to rest on her lap.

"Heh, maybe I will." She quipped back, following his gaze toward the dawning sun, "I don't know what that is either, Esben." It'd either be a pleasant surprise or a nasty prank, she supposed.

A momentary silence fell as the two enjoyed the slowly rising sun...

"I've decided..." Until Eve's soft voice gently shattered it, "...that I want to live." She paused, her words hanging in the air, "It's what mama sacrificed herself for."

That explained at least part of why she’d been even quieter than usual since they’d started on their ride back. Esben had had some inkling that she didn’t intend to survive her own private war against Valheim, even if she wasn’t quite as straightforward about it as Izayoi was with her particular death wish...the confirmation that he’d been right, and that she’d decided to change her goal from that, gave him a moment of pause.

Before his left hand rose, landing softly atop Eve’s head and ruffling her hair.

"Nnngh..." A soft groan that was somewhere between unamusement and annoyance left the dragoness' throat, she was being treated like an infant again, first by Galahad and now Esben. How uncouth, she was at least the same age or even older than he. Hmph.

”Good to hear!” he replied quietly. ”I was almost worried that wrangling the both of you would be too much, given everything that’s been going on lately.”

"Both..." She murmured as her mind referenced a certain Mystrel, "I see..." She pondered, "It appears that deathwishing is a core aspect of Ospreyan culture."

Speaking about culture, the black mage found her curiosity piqued, "Tell me about Skael, Esben."

”Mostly, it’s cold,” came the quick reply.

A silent pause afterwards; Esben was sure that wasn’t the answer Eve was looking for, but he was still happy to leave a moment for the bland statement to sink in. ”It depends a bit on where you are. Most of the places everybody knows about...they’re far enough south, and far enough inland, that the winter never really lets up. But the weather is harsh wherever you go. Thanks to it all, we spend most of our time inside, and are usually fairly...” He paused again, glancing meaningfully in the direction of Éliane’s room.

”Soft-spoken.”

The horned girl listened attentively to the spy's reminiscence of his homeland, confirming that Skael stayed true to its reputation as the place of eternal winter.

"..." The glance toward the salmon-haired military officer's abode was noted. Eliane was an exception that proves the rule indeed.

The words hung for a moment before he continued; ”Of course, Skaellers usually don’t talk so much in general. We’re both outliers, I suppose.” This time his silence lasted longer, his fingers—rather than continuing to test how long he could get away with messing with Eve’s hair—drumming softly on her head for a moment. He’d been away from home for quite a while, whether one took that to mean Skael in general or the specific place he hailed from.

Blank as his expression was, it was clear he was still thinking about something...before he yawned, and spoke again. ”But that’s based on a generalisation, anyways. It’s not all Solitude and the Garden, after all. That would be like assuming all of Osprey is just like Kugane.”

The fact these two were travelers of an otherwise isolationist society already hinted at them being the odds one out. Although, on another note, she noticed that Esben seemed content to use her scalp as an armrest. It was... peculiar, usually most people wouldn't like to be near, let alone touch her. But at this point, it was obvious that the Kirins weren't most people.

"That's fair." She concluded, then turned her gaze back at the rising sun, content to simply enjoy the quiet for now.

”What do you intend to do once we’re all done with this, with the new willingness to survive?” Esben asked, breaking the quiet once again. ”Travel around, or find some place to stay?”

The Faux Bahamut stayed silent for a few long seconds, out of a lack of a good answer more than anything. "I haven't thought about it yet, all I know is that I won't go out of my way to end myself once this is all over anymore." She paused once more, "I guess travelling around would be nice, helping good people and exterminating bad people as I go, like Robin.”

”Alone?”

"We’ll see. We’re not even sure if the world won’t end yet."

Esben sighed, his arm dropping back down. ”A little optimism doesn’t hurt,” he chided. ”Sometimes I worry I may never get to do anything but travel, even knowing that someday I won’t have a choice whether or not I go home.” Whether he had anything more to say about that topic, nothing more came out, replaced by another yawn instead.

And a jump from one topic to another.

”Do you ever actually sleep?” he asked, glancing back down towards Eve. ”Not just when you spend too much aether, and I know you don’t have to otherwise—but just slipping into a deeper rest, like when any of us take a nap beyond our normal sleep.”

She glanced in return toward Esben as well, mostly wondering just what kind of 'sleep' he meant here, because the easy answer would be yes, she had slept before. Fortunately, he clarified the exact definition he was hinting at, "I meditate sometimes, deeply enough that time seems to flow faster, that should count as a 'nap' I suppose."

Although speaking of sleep, "You've been yawning frequently, didn't sleep properly last night?" Might be due to all the injuries.

”Not whatsoever,” Esben replied. Unsurprising; with a broken nose obstructing his breathing, sleep would be coming less readily than usual. Though whether that was just due to the breathing or the brand new sound of light snoring, who could say? ”Do you dream?”

"During the few times where I exhausted myself enough to fall unconscious, I suppose..." Then her voice trailed off at the end, as if she had just recalled a crucial piece of information, but one she wasn't particularly fond of remembering, "...and during those times when they sealed me like a pickle in a jar."

”What sorts of dreams, then?”

"Wishful dreams for the most part, to be accepted, to be loved, to be... human." Eve murmured with the same wishfulness as those dreams. Her gaze descended down to stare at her knees, "...but I feel like two of those are being fulfilled, by all of you, including by someone whose life's work involves slaying dragons."

She sighed pleasantly and curled a small smile, "Then, what about you, Esben? Don't tell me you scheme and plan in your dreams too?"

...no answer.

She turned her gaze at him, finding the Skaeller agent sitting still with his eyes closed, prompting Eve to cast a little cantrip, conjuring a weak breeze to prod against his cheek... and like a rotten dead tree, the blonde's upper half fell sideways... and right onto her lap.

Asleep... She concurred, good, he needed the rest. Though she wished her talents included restorative magic to heal him as he slumbered, she supposed this would do instead of nothing. With a small, calm smile, Eve’s hand began methodically caressing his pale golden locks while her eyes closed as she fell into a meditative state, her 'nap'.