The Otter

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen

---

When Izayoi glanced his way near the rear of the group, he gaze passed right through where Esben had been expected to be standing, catching sight of Ciradyl making her approach to the front of the manse. Esben himself had disappeared as quickly and quietly as SEED's reputation might have led the others to expect the moment he'd seen the opportunity; not long after he'd split from the party he'd seen the tall Faye himself, confirming the suspicions he'd been harboring since she'd left their 'planning' session for her own business.

Deeming it pointless to confront her over it before the work was done, he'd continued along, making a quick and stealthy circuit of the mansion's grounds. The front entrance through the walls was obviously out of consideration; even with the reduced presence of Valheimer soldiers in the city, it would still be far too obvious and noisy to take. Forcing their way in through one of the side entrances would still prove difficult, but with a little helpful timing...

Esben scaled a building across an alley from the walls. While in decades past the mansion may well have been a veritable castle on its own, urban expansion had since brought shops and homes pressing in closer and closer to the walls than would be truly defensible from a military perspective, short of demolition to clear the space again; it had been more expedient to abandon it entirely and allow it to be bought up by the wealthy, who had less to worry about such considerations. Indeed, no high-profile crime lord would be stupid enough to so outwardly refortify, making their position all the more obvious.

The wall's peak was five more feet up; he ran along the roof of the building he'd scaled, leaping off and grasping at any handholds he could find and pulling his eyes just over the top of the wall. Down below, he could see guards making their circuits through the garden; slowly, and not particularly alertly, by his estimation. Between whatever deals they'd made with Valheim and double dealing with Ciradyl's cell, they seemed to have lost any real caution they may have had in years past.

Not that it mattered much, as the real professionals would be the ones deeper inside, closer to their boss.

He heaved himself up entirely onto the wall, and moved quickly back to where the others had been set to prepare their infiltration. It didn't take long, the most delay he had being timing his movements with the patrols going about, and once having to drop back down and climb hand-over-hand past one of the side gates, another time taking a moment to note Ciradyl's entrance to the mansion proper.

Then, he came back into view, first a sudden shadow among the starlight before his golden hair was revealed as his hood was thrown back. "Guards are slow about their rotations," he reported, utterly heedless of the planning the rest of the team were just making. "There's a side gate just west of here that's about to be completely unwatched except for the guards standing right at it in another minute. Better to take that than waste time ferrying people up and over into the gardens. And I'd be careful trying to jump right onto the central building—walls are thin here and we shouldn't risk too much noise."

He pulled his hood back over his head, the dark fabric of his cloak once again blending in with the low light. "I'll have it open for you. Be quick." Then the quiet sound of his light, urgent footfalls was the last they heard from him as he took off westward along the wall. He crouched low as he approached the gate; a pair of patrolling guards had just passed, walking deeper into the gardens, leaving the pair inside the walls standing bored. With deft, practiced movements he sent his daggers flying, and both struck true, one into a guard's eye and the other in the other's throat. Both slumped against the wall, heavy clothing dampening the sound of whatever concealed armour they may have worn.

With one last glance to be sure the patrolling guards hadn't heard anything, Esben jumped down, unbarring and opening the gate to look outside for the rest of Team Kirin, at least whoever did elect to take the side entrance. "Quickly, inside, inside—two of you, drag these bodies outside and try to make them somewhat hidden. Izayoi—" He turned quickly to the one Ospreyan of the group, pointing a thumb back at the mansion proper. "Your educated guess is better than any of ours, since you're the one that has experience with where the important people might stay in places like this. High or low?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

<Snipped quote by The Otter>

Possibly. I mean..I can...show the conversation that was had with Vita.

@Taka

are you sure that will end well for you

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

chat is this a bit

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

...trying to introduce a lot of world building elements into an established setting without having asked any of the GMs first.

@Raineh Daze

migratory harpies flashback moment

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher and Gertrude Jäger

---

Fionn cursed as Thrinax’s wing flicked slightly, on of the fingers knocking his blade aside with nary a scratch; it was all he could do in the moment after to draw it back in as Gertrude pulled up sharply, the both of them immediately buffeted by a hefty gust as Thrinax twisted in place. She dove again as soon as it was clear they wouldn’t lose control, throwing the broom into a tight, spinning turn, up and under the dragon’s jaw.

Even feeling his heart trying to rise into his throat from what felt like a free fall, Fionn still swung up as they passed under the dragon’s head, as much to harass him as anything else—maybe enough to force him to change his angle, and not directly bathe Renar in flames trying to climb upon him. In another moment he was upside down, clenched legs and hand keeping him held to the broom for dear life—and right side up again just as quickly, his teeth as clenched as everything else.

”Póg mo thóin!” he growled. ”Good flying, I think, but I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it. I feel...chomh ciotach le muc i sciamhlann!” He nodded to himself, seemingly entirely unconcerned that Gertrude wouldn’t have the faintest clue what he’d just said. As always with the northern Veltish knight, sometimes nothing was better to express himself than his native tongue, listeners be damned.

Gertrude snorted, though less in derision and more in a facsimile of amusement. Of course she had no idea what that dullard had said, but she understood it. She’d nearly forgotten how it felt to train on her broom for the first time. If Fionn was anything like her, she’d get the opportunity to see him vomit his guts out when they hit the ground.

Gross, yes, but also funny.

“Not to your taste?” Gertrude taunted, the usual bratty sneer on her lips, “Well, I can’t blame you. It takes a certain caliber of mage to handle something like this, especially while casting and observing.”

Gertrude would frankly take any opportunity for self-aggrandizement, though she left out that soul partitioning made every aspect of her borderline insane feats that much easier.

They were safe for a moment, rounding around to face the great beast a second time as the others, saving themselves from the immediate reprisal, started to resume their assault. Valour. Thrinax said he wanted to see their valour, was that it?

Fionn’s fingers flexed along the haft of his weapon. ”Gertrude...you’re not worried about a little fire, are you? Someone as strong as you certainly knows wards to keep even dragonsflame at bay.”

Gertrude couldn’t help but look back at Fionn. Dragonsflame? From one of the most powerful creatures in recorded history? Where the hell would she even get context for that? He had to be joking. His expression, however, told her that he was not.

That manic grin on his face might have been chilling enough to keep those flames at bay, if dragonsflame cared about metaphor. Gertrude returned his insane grin with her own.

“Are you daft? You’re mad as a March hare! How the hell would I have the opportunity to know that?” she laughed uproariously, “Still… maybe if I started a chant right now and put as much magic as I could into a flame ward. But why would I risk that?”

Even as Gertrude said this, however, Gretchen had changed the chant into a defensive spell. If Thrinax wanted valor, then he likely wouldn’t be running away with his tail between his legs.

”There’s the confidence I was looking for!” Fionn exclaimed, his grin growing wider. It was nearly past the point that it could be likened to a normal human expression at all—a row of white shining in the starlight like a dog baring its teeth before a strike, or a shark smelling blood in the water. Whatever he’d come up with, he certainly seemed quite pleased with it.

Or, perhaps, he saw a shot at some sort of glory and he was ready to take it heedless of the consequences.

“Confidence? Out-and-out madness, more like,” Gertrude snorted. He hadn’t answered why she’d possibly risk this, especially with how selfish she’d acted all along, but at this point he didn’t need to. They both understood what they were doing. They’d implicitly agreed on that much.

Fionn had his reasons, and Gertrude had hers. She hadn’t been able to make as good a showing as she would have liked so far, but her pride would not go quietly into the night. She was just aggravated, seething, young, and crazy enough to take that gamble.

He glanced over towards Thrinax just as the unmistakable, quiet snap of Rolan’s crossbow sounded down below. ”Strong a shield as you can, Gertrude, and if you could get as low over this thing as you can that would help even more. Push it as fast as you can, too.” He hefted up his makeshift polearm, couching the butt end of it just under his armpit.

Like Renar had shown him to use larger Thalnish lances, not the light sort he was used to whenever he had to ride a horse in battle before joining the Iron Roses. Tightening his grip, he uttered—”Grandesce!”—and the sword at the end of the staff once again became suffused with light, a spectral blade growing larger and past his sword’s actual blade, twice as large and wide as it was before, glowing like a new star in the sky. Back to the first spell he’d used in this entire test; Sometimes, all you need is a bigger blade.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Gertrude growled, swinging a leg over the broom. Side saddle was more comfortable, but if she wanted speed, she’d have to cut all the wind resistance she could. She clinched, and hung horizontal over the broom.

”Try to come at his head from the side first, and do it fast enough that he’d rather try to burn us out than just twist away—then just aim right for his mouth. I’ll keep this as steady as I can, but if I have to rest it on your shoulder to keep my aim, well, you’re strong enough that shouldn’t throw you off, aye?”

“Don’t get shy now, schweinehund. You’ve put those stupid paws on my shoulders enough that they might as well be a second home. Do what you have to, just make sure we win.”

Gertrude didn’t tell him that she wasn’t strong at all. That she needed magical enhancement just to get around like a normal person. But being strong or not didn’t matter, as long as they got it done. If she braced as hard as she could against the broom, she could support the weight.

Gertrde got Thrinax’s head in her sights, and went at him at full speed from the side. Fionn leaned down as well, bringing his feet up behind him to brace against where the bristles lashed to the broomstick, his blade still held high as they started to gain speed. As much as he didn't expect that the two of them would walk away from this charge, it still felt better to brace himself for the impact than to not.

”We'll put a hole in your hide yet, dragon,” he uttered grimly, the grin not leaving his face. They accelerated rapidly to a break-neck speed, far faster than any horse Fionn had ever rode upon. He lowered his glowing blade towards Thrinax, the fore end of the haft resting against Gertrude's shoulder as the committed to their fate as a giant missile.

As they streaked across the sky like a shooting star aimed at the dragon, he couldn't resist roaring out in challenge: ”Bás! Buaidh nó bás! BÁS AGUS BUAIDH!”

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

save me from this madness little magic girl

wait what do you mean you want to introduce me to your mom and sister and cousins

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

based and consumptionpilled underpromise and overdeliver

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Octo

---

"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

---

@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.