Character Castle 2.5
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Hey guys, sorry for the silence, but my job got a little busy (which btw I have ended) and schools getting harder.
Con:
A pillow came flying out of nowhere. Having decided that using the force at the moment might be a bad idea, he acted surprised and let it hit him.
“My brother,” The guy who had led him to this room said. “Pardon me, I think you dropped this,” he said holding out Cons lightsaber…which he had purposefully kept the fact that he knew it had been stolen a secret.
Con took it, not at all keeping a straight face under his helmet. “Thank you sir.” Was all he said as he took it and clipped it back onto his belt. “Now where are we sleeping?” He asked as a pillow came out of nowhere and hit Arsene. Con chuckled as he began yelling at the guy who threw it…
Settling down near the wall, Con lay still…but wide awake. So he noticed when Alessio fell out of bed and grumbled “you take the bed”
Almost Instantly Hades got up, yanked Alessio up, bashed his head, and growled “Get in bed and go to sleep. This isn’t a request.”
Without even getting up, Con fired his harpoon at Hades. It wrapped around his legs and tied them together. Con then yanked, pulling him off of the bed. Con then got up himself.
“what’s going on, boys” he said, stepping over to Hades and standing over him.
MILES
Miles watched as Caleb dug a hole with his axe in the ceiling. Soon he broke through and slid into a sewer. After a few minutes of searching he came back to help them up.
As usual, Miles remained until last. He helped push the others up into the hole and when the last one was up, he tossed his shield up, sheathed his sword, and clambered up after them.
They then proceeded down the tunnel till they reached a ladder. Climbing up it, they came above ground and into—heavy rain.
Covering himself with his shield, they went to a nearby building. Which turned out to be a tavern of sorts. Stepping up to the bar, Miles ordered a beer and stepped into a corner. He wanted to think. Pulling a cloak out and wrapping it around himself, he drank his beer and thought. What is going on? Where am I, what is this place, how did I get here, who are these people…???
But the woman only said, voice tight, “Don’t feel. It will only hurt in the end.” Leana’s smile faded a bit.
0.0
(THAT WAS IN HER HEAD, @kimlikesart!!! SHE DIDN’T SAY THAT OUTLOUD!!! Me: I’m sure I’ve explained before that italicized words were thoughts.)
You can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
SHE DIDN’T SAY THAT OUTLOUD!!! Me: I’m sure I’ve explained before that italicized words were thoughts.)
PFSHAW THAT’S FOR MAKING ALESSIO SAY SNARKY RETORTS HE WAS THINKING OUTLOUD!!!! 😜✌️
Mwahahahahaha taste thy own medicine🥰🥰🥰
To be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
He was seriously standing over him. Is this guy honest?
Granted, Alessio falling on him didn’t feel great, but that didn’t hinder him. Pulling the trigger on his sheath, Hades launched the Muramasa into the man. The pommel hit him in the groin, but didn’t do enough damage. The armor absorbed it. But Hades followed this attack with a kick in the same location. This time, there was visible damage. Not enough to penetrate, but a few more blows would certainly pierce it. By now, the man pulled out a weapon. One that Hades hadn’t seen before.
Satisfied with what he learned, Hades commented. “Your armor may be resistant to the energy of my sword, but how many physical blows can it take?”
Also, if he could get these stupid handcuffs off, it would be nice.
You can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
“Hey Ax-Punk. Which of these coins will buy me whatever Snake-Punk’s having?”
I get two responses – namely: “I’ll share mine if you ask nicely.” And Ax-Punk jabbering with the bartender over my coins.
“Don’t look at me like that. I ain’t gotta clue. That last fellow left something odd as well.”
Well, they’re stamped with the images of the consuls – or so I have been told. Actually, Grimm said they are very crappy likenesses, but people still love smashing their mark on coinage even thousands of years later.
“Later than what?” was my question. She told me to not be smart mouthed. Heh. Like I didn’t learn from her.
Okay, I’m pretty sure I’ve always been smart mouthed.
“It tasted like copper.” Ax-Punk announces.
Soooo, anyone want to talk about the fact that someone put my coins in their Abyss-bound mouth? No?
“They are a little larger than a denar. Should be worth the same.” says Barkeep. “Your friend left enough for you to drink as well.”
“Thanks Snake-Punk but apparently I’m good on your coin.” I say in the vague direction of my other companion.
I hear the glass thunk on the table and vaguely feel around for it. I’m keeping an ‘eye’ on the entire room: a drink isn’t worth the effort to split my focus.
Hm. Wonder if I’m legal for drinking here. Well, technically, we don’t know if I’m legal back home. Amnesia kinda makes it difficult to keep track of your age. (That being said, I’m probably legal by now, even if I wasn’t when I started.)
I scratch under my blindfold – the scars ache and pull in all the bad ways.
“The name is Caleb by the way. Caleb Leckie.”
“If ya say so.” I’ll have forgotten it in five minutes even if I want to remember it. “I go by Burn.”
Don’t expect ya to remember it – just call me something other than ‘the blind guy’ please. I am so much more than my affliction.
“Hey, is anyone keeping tabs on Metal-Punk? He’s skulking in a corner like he thinks I can’t hear that non-stop clanking. If we’re gonna do revenge, I bet a hitter would be useful.”
When life knocks you down, wait 'til it passes over you and then attack it from behind.
(btw I love how Leana flopped on the bed like Alessio lol @kimlikesart X)
Alessio tensed the moment something hooked along Sir Scary’s ankles and yanked him down – tugging Alessio with it. He sprang with the pull and dropped in a crouch on the other side of Sir Scary.
“What’s going on boys?”
“He started it.” Alessio accused with exaggerated sass.
Almost immediately, Sir Scary swung the pommel of his sword into the man -! With a growl, Alessio kicked Sir Scary in the face, using the momentum of the handcuffs to hold his balance before he spun in the opposite direction, kicking his feet from under him – or distracting him with the effort. Fire hissed between Con and Sir Scary protectively, sparking through Alessio as if it might dissolve him.
Sir Scary retaliated with a blow aimed at his stomach. He dodged to the side – but slowed his normal reflexes to let it hit him, just not at full force. Pain exploded through his ribs, hard enough he gave a little cry through gritted teeth.
“It’s a stupid devil-cursed mattress you little psychopath!! You want to kill someone of that!?!?!?” He snapped at Sir Scary, clutching his side, almost unconsciously trying to look smaller and not worth the attention.
To be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
Before mentally unstable group one could blow each other up, Arsene threw flash powder between them. “Hey now, break it up you three beacons of chaotic energy!”
White flash powder lit up in the air, catching everyone off guard. When the micro-explosion settled, Arsene grinned at them. “There, now that I have you attention, I would like someone to explain to me what glorious anarchy I missed?”
No answer. They were all too awestruck (confused) at his sudden and unexpected actions.
“Oh come now, surely someone can tell me what just happened?” Really, no response?
“I will throw you out a window, Arsene!” Ah yes, his loving brother, Sherlock.
“Being thrown out a window would be a thrilling experience, I’m sure. Could I get some popcorn and a soda before you do inevitably launch me out a window.”
The look on Alessio’s face was so amusing. Arsene wished he had a camera for this. “Don’t worry, he’s just kidding.”
“No, I’m not Arsene!”
Arsene smirked, laughing under his breath. “He could have become a nice comedian if he hadn’t become a detective.”
Apparently Alessio didn’t find his remark that funny. “Now that we’ve all made death threats and sent menacing looks at each other, could we get some sleep?”
You can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
“Thanks Snake-Punk but apparently I’m good on your coin.” Was that blind guy laughing at him? He was, wasn’t he? He seemed to scratch the scars under his blindfold when he was nervous. Oh well.
“Of course. I’m incredibly generous.” Nathair smirked as if he’d totally planned that. He took a sip of his drink and it burned all down his throat – the bartender really meant it when he said something ‘stronger’. Not strong enough to make this insane situation go away, but pretty strong nonetheless.
“The name is Caleb by the way. Caleb Leckie.” Ax Guy attempted. Nathair might remember to call him that – if it was worth the effort. ‘Ax Guy’ might just annoy him so why change?
“If ya say so.” Blind Guy said “I go by Burn.”
Now this one might be worth remembering because he was tired of ‘Snake-Punk’. Very. Tired of it.
“And I’m Nathair.” Please stop calling me Snake, ok!?!
“Hey, is anyone keeping tabs on Metal-Punk? He’s skulking in a corner like he thinks I can’t hear that non-stop clanking. If we’re gonna do revenge, I bet a hitter would be useful.”
“Indeed. Does anyone here actually have a plan for exacting revenge?” Nathair said.
@ethan-leonard, @hannahrenner, @rusted-knightBefore Sir Scary could try to kill him again, something flashed searing white through them and Alessio sprung back, bracing for an attack.
“Hey now, break it up you three beacons of chaotic energy!”
The first thing he saw was Arsene’s annoying grin, a little blurred as Alessio kept blinking as his eyes frantically tried to adjust. Did he just…seriously call them beacons of chaotic energy? If they were beacons, he must be an atomic bomb.
“There, now that I have your attention, I would like someone to explain to me what glorious anarchy I missed?”
Alessio glanced about for someone else to answer first, he figured he’d get in trouble what ever he said so now was the time to just disappear. Devils, his head and his side still blasted with pain. That was…normal but it still hurt!
“Oh come now, surely someone can tell me what just happened?”
I just want to go to sleep without being murdered…
Did Arsene really want to help? Alessio honestly couldn’t figure it out, maybe he’d try but Alessio would face all the repercussions. That’s what happened whenever someone tries to call out an abuser, they never seem to realize that just made it worse for the victim.
Maybe Arsene meant well but –
“I will throw you out a window, Arsene!” Evil Twin shouted and Alessio glared murderously at him. He’d kill him before he touched Arse –
“Being thrown out a window would be a thrilling experience, I’m sure. Could I get some popcorn and a soda before you do inevitably launch me out a window.” Arsene chirped (Maybe that’s where his obsession with threatening to defenestrate himself came from…)
It was hard to express what he felt at that. Everyone had hurt him, but his brother had at least tried to be there. He really couldn’t believe they actually hated each other…?
No one was going to hurt Arsene.
“Don’t worry, he’s just kidding.” Arsene said
“No, I’m not Arsene!”
Brothers didn’t hate each other/everyone, everyone hated and hurt each other. This was irrational, just stop!
“He could have become a nice comedian if he hadn’t become a detective.” Arsene laughed under his breath.
Why was Arsene like this!? He was so cocky and insecure at the same time, he was…Alessio didn’t even know! Well-meaning though, Arsene was always well-meaning.
No I don’t want to like Arsene, he’s going to get me killed!
“Can I get to bed now?” Alessio said
To be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
“If ya say so. I go by Burn.”
Burn took a sip of the whiskey.
“Hey, is anyone keeping tabs on Metal-Punk? He’s skulking in a corner like he thinks I can’t hear that non-stop clanking. If we’re gonna do revenge, I bet a hitter would be useful.”
“Revenge? Revenge on…”
The loud whine of aircraft engines filled the saloon of the trading post. Caleb instinctively looked up. Judging by the changes in pitch, he guessed six planes. The bartender quickly set out a dozen glasses. Regulars opened the space between them and the bar. Caleb suddenly felt isolated by everyone else. Before he could think about it any further, the doors swung open to boisterous laughter. Eleven men in heavy jumpsuits sauntered into the bar. Two shouldered very long drake rifles, weapons meant to punch through the scales of dragons.
Caleb now understood. Drakers were often reckless sailors who were quite frankly crazy. Fighting the king of the skies in his own domain on a daily basis couldn’t be called anything else. The crews who did choose such a life were a different breed from everyone else, not that many cared. Those who got good at it could make a small fortune off of each kill.
“What’ll it be?” asked the bartender.
“Rum and a shot of the Dragon’s Breath for the rookie.”
A bear beastman put a great hand on a lad not much older than Caleb. The boy held up great claw still red with draconic blood. The rest of the crew patted him on the back.
“First kill!” Yelled the boy.
The others cheered. The bartender set about mixing the drink.
“Couldn’t have been a better shot.”
“Up came the monster. The harpoon had him fast but he would stop fighting.” the speaker tried to gesticulate the fight. “Set on blood, he snapped left and right chasing us out of range. Bart here flew right up to the beast, spinning like a madman to dodge ‘im. Boom! One shot in the eye and it was over.”
The bartender returned with the glass. Striking a match, he lit the top on fire. Bart looked at the drink obviously stumped by last ingredient.
“Drink up lad.”
“Drink it, Drink it, Drink it.” began the chant.
Grasping the drink, the lad looked at the dancing fire. Then the upper layer burned off. Suddenly reassured, he quickly gulped it. Caleb watch from the side. He would NEVER drink anything that had been on fire. That guy was braver or crazier than him for sure.
“So, um, Burn, you were talking about some kind of revenge on something?” Caleb said trying to divert his attention from the drakers.
The Devil saw me with my head down and got excited. Then I said Amen
Hades was about to attack again, when a white explosion erupted between them. In the chaos, he saw a grin on Arsene’s face, with the fox mask he often wore (he had it on again).
“Hey now, break it up you three beacons of chaotic energy!”
…What?
“There, now that I have you attention,” Arsene continued in a challenging voice, “I would like someone to explain to me what glorious anarchy I missed?”
Okay, what the heck? Seth was nowhere near as troublesome as this. The thief didn’t even give Hades a chance to answer.
“Oh come now, surely someone can tell me what just happened?”
“I will throw you out a window, Arsene!” …What?
Hades would have probably drawn the Muramasa in self-defense by now, but Arsene said the last thing Hades expected to hear.
“Being thrown out a window would be a thrilling experience, I’m sure. Could I get some popcorn and a soda before you do inevitably launch me out a window.”
… … …Hades was very bewildered. Even Alessio pulled a face at this remark. “Don’t worry, he’s just kidding.”
“No, I’m not Arsene!”
Did Arsene even grasp the possible danger in this situation.
He obviously didn’t, because he smirked at everyone without any fear. “He could have become a nice comedian if he hadn’t become a detective.”
It was official. Arsene was either crazy or really stupid.
“Now that we’ve all made death threats and sent menacing looks at each other, could we get some sleep?”
Alessio finally managed to speak without being interrupted. “I just want to go to bed without being murdered.”
You can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
Alessio was done.
He quietly piled the bed sheets on the floor into a cozy nest and dropped on top of them like a nonverbal ‘kiss-my-sass’.
“I want sleep. Or death. Whichever comes first.” He mumbled, sardonically waiting for Sir Scary to stop standing where Alessio was forced to sit up for be dragged upright by the handcuffs.
@ragnarok, @ethan-leonardTo be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
“Revenge? Revenge on…”
Ax-Punk is drowned out by a hideous noise. As I resist the urge to cover my ears, Barkeep sets out a string of glasses. If there was a little less noise, I could have counted them.
As is, I wait for whoever is heralded by that noise.
The regulars here – and punk I can promise, you know who is a regular in a location if ya just stay aware – all clear room to the bar.
I stay where I am because, well, punk I’m curious.
While I wait, I hum whatever quirky beat Search was listening to at the dig. Some-kind of metal that a “sweet”, “mild” girl like her enjoys shocking people with. It’s about taking down the current government. I love playing those songs around Oscar. I can hear him going livid. Grimme thinks it’s funny too.
The doors finally swing open.
It’s show time.
Well… that’s a strange kinda weapon. Feels and sounds like a grenade launcher had a baby with a rifle.
And no, I’m not explaining where I learned about grenade launchers. But I am willing to say that it’s all Oscar’s fault! I never get to say that but it’s actually true! Whaddya think about that?!
“What’ll it be?” asked Barkeep.
“Rum and a shot of the Dragon’s Breath for the rookie.” I can hear the gravelly punk slap some kid-punk over the shoulder.
The kid-punk holds up a claw.
I tug on my fingerless gloves. And stick a hand in my pocket. The other keeps a loose grip on my alcohol. I want more – but more isn’t conductive to effectively planning revenge. Or escape. I want escape more than revenge but I gotta feeling that you need revenge to escape. Or something.
Whatever punk.
“First kill!” yells kid-punk.
I twist some free smoke around my finger – and then discretely dissipate it because, ya’know what punks? I fell through a hole in reality. And clearly if whatever that is outside is an indication, people here play by different rules.
It’d be just my luck if talents are death sentences. Ya’know punk? I’m different enough back home.
Barkeep mixes up drinks.
“Couldn’t have been a better shot.”
And here come the abyss-bound yarning and darning.
“Up came the monster. The harpoon had him fast but he would stop fighting.” I can hear the punk punching air. He swirls the smoke about dizzyingly. “Set on blood, he snapped left and right chasing us out of range.” A strong wake to poor kid-punk’s abused shoulder. “Bart here flew right up to the beast, spinning like a madman to dodge ‘im. Boom! One shot in the eye and it was over.”
Clink.
Strike?
I sniff – smell the alcohol fire.
“Drink up lad.” smirks Barkeep.
“Drink it, Drink it, Drink it.”
Kid-punk downs it.
I … I want to drink fire. I bet it wouldn’t hurt me that much. Fire opal doesn’t.
I should drink fire. I want to drink fire. I should. I could. I’m sure I could. I see with smoke. Why can’t I drink fire? There is no good reason is there. I will drink fire. I want it.
As soon as I open my mouth to ask Barkeep…
“So, um, Burn, you were talking about some kind of revenge on something?”
“ARGH! You…” deep breathe. You can ask in a minute. “Were you dropped on your head too many times falling through holes in reality?” I grouse. “And maybe keep that part down. Otherwise people will think you’re crazy.”
I reflect a moment. “Hey Ax-Punk. Did we land in your reality this time?”
When life knocks you down, wait 'til it passes over you and then attack it from behind.
With a look that said, “This is the last straw”, Alessio flopped onto the pillow and blankets he had thrown onto the floor. “I want sleep. Or death. Whichever comes first.”
He was sitting up, as Hades’ wrist withheld him from laying down. Having nothing better to do, Hades sat down. Honestly, he was tired, but he wanted to keep his attention on the armor guy. The armor guy didn’t look like an Ehrenvoll Knight, nor a Black Knight for the matter. None of his equipment felt familiar and, aside from what appeared to be a grappling hook, he had no visible weapons.
“Becoming paranoid, are we?”
Nope, he didn’t need Persephone messing up his night even more. Just get to sleep and everything will be fine.
“Well, now that you are aware that this isn’t a saloon and you can’t have a bar fight here,” Arsene started with a smirk on his face, “I’m going to check on our other companions.”
If anyone wanted to object, Arsene didn’t give them an opportunity. He immediately left.
You can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
“Revenge? Revenge on…”
A loud mechanical whine interrupted them. Nathair moved away from the door without even looking up. Oh wonderful, some regulars apparently – since the bartender knew to set a dozen glasses. Loud laughs like a group already drunk, albeit by adrenaline and eleven men sauntered in.
Smells like opportunity if you as Nathair. Two of them had some stupid hefty weapons almost as large as them looking ugly tough. The kind of weapon you kill a draekon with, quite nice.
“Rum and a shot of Dragon’s Breath for the rookie.” A large were-man said, clapping a hand on the youngest of the crew looking bright-eyed and proud of himself.
“First kill!” He announced to cheers.
Odd. Most boys in Hesgmarde killed a draekon at fourteen – part of their coming of age ceremony. The boy was still young but he looked older than that, but who was Nathair to judge? Different world different rules. Anyway, the draekon part was still an assumption Nathair made.
“Up came the monster.” – Here comes the embellishments every rook’s kill provides. Nathair grinned and cupped his drink over his lips. “The harpoon had him fast but he wouldn’t stop fighting. Set on blood, he snapped left and right chasing us out of range.”
Nathair slid slower, sensing potential for a good scam.
“Bart here flew right up to the beast, spinning like a madman to dodge ‘im. Boom! One shot in the eye and it was over.”
One shot indeed.
The bartender came back with a flaming drink. Oh, Nathair wanted to see this go down.
Kid actually drank it once the fire went out.
“I couldn’t help but overhear – a first kill? I always love a good story” And people love to tell a good story, just about everyone in the group let him cut in.
– Several minutes later –
Everybody was drunk and Nathair…was pretending to be drunk. Because it sounded like a good idea at the time. And of course everybody was comparing their first kills.
Nathair was good at this, scary good. You have to be to live in the situations he’s been through. He didn’t even think about it now, just reflex. Or…well, sometimes he did think about it, hated it just a little. But right wrong, good and bad, they were all just luxurious theoreticals he could never afford.
Oh well.
He let out a slow sigh and leaned back with a relaxed, easy smile.
“Tell me again, how big did you say it was? Six tons? Seven?” He said, exaggerating the kid’s – Bart’s – earlier claims in the telling/retelling of the account. This was the fun part coming up.
“Oh I’sssay ‘bout ten ton, at leas’” He slurred, gesturing yee-high. Nathair glanced around at the rest of the band – they’d been talking about their first kills too. So he perked a little innocent, inquiring smile.
“That’s incredibly impressive, I don’t know a lot of about dragon hunting, how big are most dragons?” he asked, glancing around again. “How big were your first kills?”
“Pft, ol’ Bert you’re a good hand but it weren’t near ten ton, laddy.” A more lacky, lean and mean crewmate guffawed, clapping a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “My first kill wasis closer to tha’”
“So your’s was bigger?” Nathair prodded.
You, me and Nathair all know where this ends so let’s just say when the fists started to fly, Nathair casually ducked, grabbed his drink and moved back. A crewmember with a scar along his face careened into the counter in front of him as Nathair took a sip.
“Uh…what would you bet the kid over that lean one over there?”
“Gimmie a drink,” Growled the man, tapping the counter before grabbing the first cup of something he saw. Then he clamped several coins on the counter. “My bet’s on the Steve there – outta ma way!”
Balling his fist he made a B-line for the fight yet again, and Nathair glanced down at the coins with a sly smile.
He got up to five or six men betting high dollars on the bear-man and a solid three or four betting on the kid, eight bets on the one with the scar and up to ten miscellaneous bets for random events in the middle of the fight.
“Drinks on the house!” He yelled, left a few coins for the bartender and slid the rest into his pouch.
“I think we might want to leave now,” he whispered to his companions already heading for the door. “They’re generously funding our revenge plan, you’re welcome.”
He’s already out the door by the time anybody looks up.
@hannahrenner @ethan-leonard @rusted-knightTo be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
As amusing as it would be to watch the Syndicate of Disorder fight, the gentleman thief slipped away. Many would have called this irresponsible or shrinking from duties, but Arsene Lupin was actually going to check on the other group. Maybe check out some of the apartments later on. However, checking on the other group would be quick, as they were only a few doors away. Since he was a gentleman, Arsene knocked on the door, waiting for a response.
No answer.
Knocking again, Arsene patiently stood at the bland door. For a luxury hotel, the doors were rather plain.
There was no answer.
Looking at the door, rather suspicious of the silence, Arsene knocked once more. Why was nobody answering? Surely one of them was awake. Right? … … …RIGHT?!?!?!?!
The silence was making him worry.
Sighing, Arsene muttered. “I’m just going to break in.”
Taking a lock pick, Arsene quickly unlocked the door. Getting his talon knives, Joker and Ace, ready, Arsene entered.
Much to his surprise, he saw Crorie putting a blanket on Leana, comforting her. That explained why nobody answered. Now he had to explain why he broke in.
You can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
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