archsage rising

Even the wind howls in its silence. [[FERP affiliated blog for Soren from Fire Emblem 9/10; tracks #arcwindsage]]

[spiritcharming-blog]

❗ Soren glared at the scarved man. Just what was he trying to pull? While it was true modern versions of the style had great deal of variation, the man clearly thought he was dressed historically, from the outdated embroidery on the scarves. However, from reading strategy texts of the early Daein separation conflicts, there was something very wrong with it, "Are you TRYING to break character? That shade of blue comes from Phoenician seashells, which only Daein GENERALS wore-- not myrmidons."

Pelleas just barely managed to keep his mask on – standing on tiptoe was enough to steer him free of the shorter man’s reach. The mask wasn’t a huge affront, but he bristled at the critique of his accuracy. 

“Quite right,” he replied quickly, somehow maintaining poise, amazing even himself. “However, as you may recall, for some time in the early to mid 400s, Daein enjoyed a profitable trade agreement with the beorc of the nation of Hatari, which of course had a flight-based trade agreement with Kilvas, where Phoenician fashions were commonplace – so in fact, if you study the texts of the time, many from all ranks within Daein’s society favored blue fabric to display their prowess as merchants.” 

He shuffled for a moment, worried the other might try to grab something else, but still feeling like he had to assert himself. 

“A-also during the time, emulating a simple swordsman was seen as a quiet rejection of Begnion’s perceived, er, excesses.” 

[arcwindsage]

“Let me see your face,” Soren growled. “While it’s true I mistook your costume for military re-creation, instead of the clothes of a mere merchant, it’s deliberately misleading. Take, for example, this--”

He pointed to the jagged embroidery of the other nerd’s sleeve, “That pattern is the same hemline used by official military-men of the guard. I presume you based the stitching off the diagrams of clothing preserved from the first Fort Nevassa. Additionally, if you look at the pattern of triangles-- two small ones on top of a federation star-- it’s an exact match for the ones that indicate the role of a second lieutenant. While, yes, merchants did imitate the militia as a symbol of humility, isn’t it also true that the penalty for falsifying military experience in the Daein army was five years in prison?”

[arcwindsage]

😳

“... what, you want to hear a secret about me?” Soren snorted at the masked mystery person. “I hardly think you’ll find entertainment going around and collecting strangers’ secrets. I’ll give you one of little consequence, though... I was in a choir, once. They taught me to speak through song.”

[arcwindsage]

🍷 – bring my muse something to eat or drink

“No thank you,” Soren brusquely refused. “I don’t take beverages from masked strangers.”

[arcwindsage]

🐽 wolf ears

The hair on Soren’s head rose and fell down over the new ears he’d somehow recieved. With a yelp (one that sounded, in fact, rather like a dog’s), he hurriedly tried to cover his head. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. It was bad enough that he had to carry the blood of the laguz. It was worse, now that he was made to exhibit the features of one, too.

[arcwindsage]

🎵 japanese olivia

Suddenly going from having no voice acting to having the most moe-sounding voice of all time was rather a large change for Soren, having sipped at a beverage he recieved from a passing waiter.

“Ugh,” he squeaked. “I guess that wasn’t a waiter after all.”

[fireemblem-rp]

Send a potion to:

🍄 – make my muse taller for the duration of 1 ask ☕️  – make my muse shorter for 1 ask 💇 – change my muse’s hair to a colour of your choice for 1 ask 🎵 – change my muse’s voice to something you choose for 1 ask (higher, lower, animal noises…) 🐽 – give my muse a laguz feature of your choice (or, if laguz already, take one feature of your choice away)

[fireemblem-rp]

Send a symbol to:

💃– ask my muse to dance 🙈 – pretend to be another muse (specify who)  💋 – steal a kiss (specify where) 🎩 – steal part of a costume (specify what) 🌷 – ask to take a break outside 👓 – ask my muse to take off their mask ❗ – try to rip my muse’s mask off 🍷 – bring my muse something to eat or drink  💁  – ask to sit and talk for a while 💌 – tell my muse a secret 😳 – get my muse to tell a secret

[altennate-blog]

[[All three of my muses for FERP masquerade! man4flowers and arcwindsage are my other two.]]

[arcwindsage]

“No, you’re coming with me. I won’t leave you here. I’ve got to save you!”

Soren cast an eye at the foes around them, breathing heavily from the pain of his wounds. He was fairly certain he was at least slightly concussed, the blood from his temple running down his cheek.

“Don’t be stupid,” Soren scowled, glancing at the setup of the enemies. It would be a lot easier to tactify his way out of this mess if his vision wasn’t starting to blur. “I need you to go hit that myrmidon... don’t take me; I’ll slow you down, you need to hit him twice.”

[rpfunstuff]

Star Wars Ep. 1-6 Sentence Meme

[arcwindsage]

rpfunstuff:

“Always two, there are. No more, no less. A master… and an apprentice.”

“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you.”

“If and when they find us, they will crush us, grind us into tiny pieces and blast us into oblivion!”

“That is the sound of a thousand terrible things headed this way.”

“This is getting out of hand. Now there are two of them!”

“From the moment I met you, all those years ago, not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought of you. And now that I’m with you again… I’m in agony.”

“It may be difficult to secure your release.”

“Well, you know, it- it wouldn’t have to be that way. We could keep it a secret.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me?”

“You’re asking me to be rational. That is something that I know I cannot do.”

“Don’t make me kill you.”

“If you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy!”

“So this is how liberty dies… with thunderous applause.”

“To cheat death is the power only one has achieved, but if we work together… I know we can discover the secret.”

“You’re breaking my heart! You’re going down a path I cannot follow!”

“Don’t be too proud of this technological terror you’ve constructed.”

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

“I’m getting too old for this sort of thing.

“I’m surprised you had the courage to take the responsibility yourself.”

“In my experience, there is no such thing as luck.”

“I can’t keep the vision out of my head. They’re my friends. I’ve gotta help them.”

“If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.”

“There is no escape! Don’t make me destroy you.”

“This deal is getting worse all the time.”

“You have failed me for the last time.”

“I know there is good in you.”

“No, you’re coming with me. I won’t leave you here. I’ve got to save you!”

“Soon I’ll be dead, and you with me.”

“This is an unexpected pleasure. We are honored by your presence.”

“Your overconfidence is your weakness.”

[man4flowers-blog]

Send me ↔️ for our muses to clothes-swap!

((So the MUN has something to look forward to after work ;3 ))

[darkmageknoll]

"The librarian told me that you have the book I'm looking for. If you can tell me the incantation on the Third Vertex Circle for Celican Mage spells, I'll leave you alone."

Knoll blinked and glanced down at the small pile of books in his hands. “Ah…Give me a moment.” He said quietly, finding a small table nearby to set the stack of books down. “Third Vertex Circle…” He muttered to himself, flipping through the books. When he found the correct one, he held the page open towards the other. “Is this what you are looking for?”

[arcwindsage]

darkmageknoll:

“We have no way to alter natural disasters.” Knoll shrugged gently. He wouldn’t doubt that any magic involved in such a thing would put a huge burden on the mage, or mages, who cast it. It was something to research, though. If only for something to do with his time. “I would imagine doing such a thing would be catastrophic, though.”

He blinked then sighed. “Yes we were quite thorough. And I am sure my Prince…in the past would have been interested in discussion but I am afraid he died during war.”

“Hm… unfortunate,” Soren clicked in disappointment. “I would have liked to speak with him. It isn’t every day you meet a member of the royal family capable of not only intelligent thought, but with an interest in the scientific functionality of magic. I’m certain your method for reading the ripples of time could be applied practically, with a bit more research. Maybe not so much altering a natural disaster, but perhaps predicting the locations of future outer-realm rips in time, so as to adequately prepare for an influx in travelers… mayhaps even opening rifts ourselves within colleges and libraries, to create an inter-web of knowledge.”

The mage, abhorred that he’d gone off on such an embarrassing ramble of magical applications, shook his head to clear it and added professionally, “In any case, it’ll do us no good to think on what might have been. It must have been a great loss to the scientific community when he passed. One can only hope that your prince’s successor is an adequate ruler, though I’ve my doubts that he’ll ever be replaceable to the scholars with whom he worked.”

[darkmageknoll]

Knoll had to admit the banter and conversation in general was actually quite enjoyable. Though he wasn’t used to it, and he could feel himself getting more exhausted by the minute. At least his hands had stopped shaking and whatever panic he’d had had now passed

As for the successor. “I have only met with his…..successor once or twice since he ascended. While he is not the researcher my prince was, he does his best for Grado.”

[arcwindsage]

“Hm,” Soren remarked noncommittally. Foolish rulers were a dime a dozen, and as the other mage had been less-than-effusive about their new ruler’s impact, he could only assume that this one was the same. Certainly, Knoll was hardly rhapsodizing on his virtues, as he had the previous prince, and ‘he does his best’ was basically code for ‘he’s trying, but he frankly sucks.’

“In any case, I have the answers I interrupted your research for. While this conversation has been conducive to my studies, I suppose I ought to leave you to yours, as promised. May your studies go well,” he added, and was surprised to discover that he’d actually said it out loud.

[crimeanpaladin-deactivated20180]

"I'm cutting the budget for food," Soren announced to the kitchen in general as he swept in, a scowl upon his face. "Weapon replacement costs were particularly taxing this month, and it was either this or the vulneraries."

‘Again?’ Oscar thought to himself, scrubbing vigorously at a plate that seemed to simply refuse to be cleaned. “Well, that’s okay. I can make due with what we’ve got. I certainly won’t be able to come up with anything fancy, but we’ll get fed.” Frustrated, the paladin set the dirty dish he’d been working on back in the sink to soak some more and picked up a new one. “Hey, Soren? Would you mind helping me with these dishes? If you’re not busy right now, that is.”

[crimeanpaladin-deactivated20180]

arcwindsage:

“That is because your brothers do not understand the definition of efficiency,” Soren scowled, deadpan, as he promptly flicked the plate he’d been scouring dry with another short gust of magic.

He attempted to explain in a manner he thought Oscar might understand, being somewhat less of an imbecile than either of his siblings, “Given that it takes close to two hours for one person to complete cleaning a meals’ worth of dishes, but it takes two people less than forty-five minutes, it’s simply more ergonomic. In exchange for forty-five minutes of their time, you are gaining an hour and fifteen of yours, which is a net gain of half an hour.”

Soren tisked and clicked disapprovingly, “There is no need for you to assist me with filing the company taxes. The reason why washing dishes with two people is more ergonomic is because they are doing completely separate, repetitive jobs, and working towards the same pile of dishes, but with reduced necessary movement. Doing taxes or planning strategies would be the exact opposite, where an incorrect reference or move on one person’s work could undo the other person’s basis for success entirely. At least, when it’s just me, all of the errors will be consistent.”

He gave a quiet “Hmm” while rinsing off a bowl, frowning slightly. “I suppose they don’t. It’s not like doing dishes terribly important, though. I manage it and the other housework alright on my own. I’ve been doing this kind of thing since I was nine, after all.” He picked up another plate, scrubbing it clean. “That makes sense. It’s still a forty-five minutes they’re not willing to give up. It’s not like they’re just wasting that time, though; they’re training most of the time.”

The knight went to work on a particularly food-crusted bowl, scrubbing vigorously at the dirty surface. “I suppose so… I wouldn’t want to mess up your work. Is there anything I can help you with? Even if it’s just errands that need to be run, I’d like to help out somehow.” They were nearing the end of the dish pile, and Oscar could actually start to see the bottom of the sink as he picked up another plate.

[arcwindsage]

“Hm, I suppose it’s true that they could both use a little extra training, with their sparse field experience,” Soren acknowledged. “Boyd could use some practice in not-missing things, and Rolf has the makings of a half-decent marksman in comparison. Still, I’ll not have anybody shirking their chores if I can help it.”

Soren scrubbed away at the next dish in the pile, and wondered how a relatively small mercenary company could possibly make so much mess, “Like I said, I will require your assistance in carefully maintaining our food budget. But unless you can either find the firmness to make others do their chores or somehow become capable of doing everybody’s chores at once...”

He gave pause on that thought, as if seriously considering it, “Well, perhaps not everybody’s chores, but Rhys is often ill, and as a result, our stock of healing herbs and post-battle treatments has suffered. Not everyone has the botanical knowledge required to correctly identify them, so I’ve been doing the work in his stead when he is ill. With enough education, perhaps you would be capable of assisting him.”

[arcwindsage]

Miscalculation || Soren v. Nils

There was a certain artistry in spell invention, the way lines of research came together into perfect, concentric balance. That being said, of course, there was also a certain ugliness about it– namely, troubleshooting the kinks by practicing the spell in question. Thus far, Soren’s latest foray into experimental magic had led to three public mage laboratories collapsing as a result of altered wind pressure, and the liquidizing of a fourth one’s walls into mud.

For this purpose, the mage had made a foray into a forest little-traveled and set about casting and altering his spell. It was woefully inaccurate, spinning off at almost random cardinal directions. Frustrated, Soren pressed his lips into a thin line and pushed more power than necessary into his next casting, the wind howling and shrieking for him.

He would have continued the spell if not for the sight of a small, humanoid figure on his periphery, “What are you doing? Get out of here!”

[half-draconic-bard]

Nils had simply been wandering around. Hanging around some of the nicer forest creatures that would decide to stray near him on his little walk. It didn’t help that his temperature was running low, which left him putting a thin layer of frost on anything his touched and having to leave town for fear of being discovered.

He was glad for the quiet and lack of people…Until he heard someone using magic nearby. With a slight frown, the dragon went to go investigate, only to be almost hit by a blast of wind magic. He almost fell back with a shriek that was covered by the sound of whoever that was powering up another spell.

He jumped when the mage in question noticed him and yelled at him to leave. “I’m not going anywhere. Why are you practicing magic all the way out here???”

[arcwindsage]

Soren scowled at the short... thing... that had apparently been walking out here. By the gods, he hated children... and beyond that, something felt off about this kid. Maybe it was just Soren, being naturally uncomfortable with youths, but there was just something that didn’t feel completely human about him. Well, then again, most kids could barely be considered human, anyways-- Soren disregarded it, in interest of answering the question.

“I’m practicing magic here because I was told nobody came here,” Soren bit back acidly, annoyed that his research had been interrupted. He added a second explanation with a grumble, “And because I felled four of the rooms where mages normally research this material. I can’t afford any more reparation fees. And what are you doing here?”

[arcwindsage]

Numbers || Soren v. Leonardo

[archery-and-hairties]

arcwindsage:

“Don’t concern yourself with matters like these,” Soren answered dismissively. “It’ll happen the same way it always does? Gatrie and Shinon will become inebriated enough to get arrested for drunken and disorderly conduct, Mia will be pursued by authorities attempting to start a bar fight with a perceived rival, Boyd will overestimate his constitution and drink more than necessary. And then, in the morning, I’ll have to bail them out of the local prison.”

The mage tisked before continuing, “Well… unless… I can’t imagine Daein’s laws being more lenient than Crimean laws on the matter of public intoxication, but perhaps do you deal with public drunkenness differently? It would be incredibly inconvenient to have to bail out someone who becomes charged with an execution sentence instead of overnight imprisonment.”

A sheepish, weak laugh followed, more weak than laugh, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Well- It depends more on the town, but some are more lenient than others, most more so than Crimea, from what I’ve heard- And when bar fights do occur, only a little more than half of them are actually pursued, and that only in the case that the locals complain or a patrol actually passes the place.”

The archer stopped and looked around for a moment, as if taking a bit to remember where exactly he was- Before continuing, now frowning. “Sadly, this place isn’t one of the lax places. The population doesn’t take kindly to rowdy guests/travelers, but the imprisonment sentence is about the same, if I’m not mistaken. Perhaps a day more. But execution is out of the question.”

[arcwindsage]

“How comforting it is to know that a night on the town won’t end with a beheading,” Soren rolled his eyes. He mused, “I wonder which would be less expensive... posting bail or bribing the barkeeps to stop serving ale after words stop coming out coherent? Naturally, it would depend on the number of barkeeps in this town... and, of course, for how much you can buy their discretion.”

He looked Leonardo up and down for a moment, and then tisked in an odd blend of frustration and begrudging approval, “I’d ask if you knew, but frankly, you don’t look to frequent taverns too often.”

[crimeariver-deactivated20170302]

xii // balancing accounts // closed; soren

That time of month had come around again, and no, it wasn’t the woman’s cycle that was tiring Elincia just thinking of it.

It was the monthly public audience.

At first, the new queen had been ambitious with these, trying to hold one weekly. With her ever-increasing number of new diplomatic connections to host and visit, though, that became a nightmare to orchestrate on a regular basis, and so she soon scaled back to accepting drop-in audiences once a month instead. For the most part, the citizens didn’t seem to mind, and (at least from what she could see) were happy that she was taking their thoughts into consideration.

Now, it wasn’t so much that she disliked these audiences - far from it. Elincia most certainly was invested in her people, or at least wanted to be, and so she would consider and try to settle each case presented to her in a balanced yet timely fashion. And while not everyone would come out fully satisfied, she had learned that appeasement was not the way to be ruling a nation anyway, although it had certainly taken the threat of a rebellion to drive that point home.

It was just that all this effort to be just and considerate was rather taxing on a single person. Even with her team of advisors and close confidants, at the end of the day she would just find herself collapsing to her bed. Most certainly worth it, but indeed a tiring prospect.

So when she finally arrived to behind her guard escort to the throne room, she sank - rather comfortably - into the cushioned seat, crown heavy on her head, and looked out to those who were in the audience today. A couple of tradesmen, some farmers who looked worse for the wear from a long trip, and… was that Soren? 

It seemed like today’s audience was going to be particularly draining.

[arcwindsage]

Soren scowled as he shoved his way through the crowd and situated himself admidst the populace posing queries to the Queen Elincia. Imbeciles, all of them– the farming village with the crop failure had obviously been overtaxing the land by replanting the fields with the same three crops year-in, year-out. The pair of women squabbling over who owned a particular horse foal (Soren had overheard one owned the mother, and one owned the father) should have taken the dispute to an actual farmers’ court– unless the Queen was educated in horse breeding, it would be nigh impossible to resolve. Also, the foal itself had been whinnying impatiently the whole time they’d been in the waiting room, and it was really getting on Soren’s nerves.

From what he understood through the eavesdrop (not like it was hard to eavesdrop when they were shouting), there was some kind of dispute between the traders about splitting the latest cargo payment– which, if anyone had been paying attention, should have been specified in the Merchant’s Guild of Crimea agreement they should have signed at one point or another. In short, it was a room full of idiots, plus Soren and the Queen (who, though hopelessly idealistic, Soren begrudgingly admitted was capable of intelligent thought). He was almost embarrassed to be in their company.

Not particularly eager to listen to the common folk of Crimea repeat their grievances again, after spending three hours in a waiting room with them, Soren brusquely moved to the forefront of the unorganized masses with little fanfare and curtly spoke to some unlucky guard so that he would be announced properly.

“Soren, on behalf of the Greil Mercenaries,” he glared at the guard as if daring him to place the mage anywhere but first. “In regards to the Crimean Tax Return Policy for charitable donations.”

[crimeariver-deactivated20170302]

“Your Majesty!” the guard announced loudly, quickly bringing the waiting crowd to silence, save the whinnying horse foal, which managed one more neigh before it was finally calmed down. “Announcing Soren of the Greil Mercenaries, with a query on the tax return policy for charitable donations.”

The young monarch tried hard not to sigh. 

Of course the first thing to deal with would be finances. Arguably the least favoured of her tasks as queen, Elincia would much rather have someone else deal with the monetary affairs of the state, but her last minister had just been caught embezzling funds from the royal treasury and swiftly removed from position. Since the House of Lords had yet to convene to discuss a replacement, she had temporarily assumed the position.

On top of all this was that it was Soren. It had only taken a few strategy meetings for her to see that the Greil Mercenaries’ resident tactician-cum-accountant was efficient at what he did, and very particular. Undoubtedly, he knew the financial regulations better than she did, and probably knew that too. Well, at least the conversation would remain within reason. She should be grateful for that. Most of the… more unpleasant situations she had to resolve previously involved people screaming their heads off at each other (and at her). Luckily for her, Soren was too rational to do any of that, at least not here.

“You may proceed,” she said, trying not to look too much like she had just spent several hours poring over documents. 

[arcwindsage]

“I bring to the court today a conflict between the company I represent and local Crimean tax collection,” Soren began stiffly, carefully observing Her Royal Highness’s demeanor. He judged that, perhaps, if he was fortunate, she would be too tired to deal with the minutae and just approve him and send him along without having to listen to an entire argument which, according to tax code XII, recent to the end of King Crimea’s reign, he knew to be correct.

“As stated quite succinctly in Code XII of Crimean Tax Law, work done on behalf of the Crimean Crown for Public Purposes cannot be taxed, or, if done for free, is tax-deductible as a charitable donation and/or public work,” Soren explained. “Unfortunately, the argument presented by tax collection is that, during the Mad King’s War approximately two years ago, the Crimean Crown legally belonged to King Daein, and therefore all mercenary services purchased during that time period by our current Queen Elincia are taxable, including funds that were then re-invested in the weaponry of the Crimean Knights, which I have listed and filed as, technically speaking, ‘charitable donations’.”

He frowned, “Again, the argument is that, at the time of accrual, the knights of the family Crimea were not members of the ruling reign’s army, and therefore considered a private company. Furthermore, asylum for our current ruling monarch was, at the time, valued at nearly a quarter-million gold coins, according to King Daein’s suggested reward, and qualifies as a public work, unless the people of Crimea would prefer living under a reign of madness. Under current Crimean law, the opportunity cost of granting asylum would, legally, be tax deductible; I have, however, graciously decided to ignore the terrible wording of Code XII and have merely included the costs of weapons expended in administering asylum.”

He added rather bluntly, “The tax collection’s primary argument is that, when all is said and done, we owe thirteen and a half coins in total taxes, which is apparently impossible.”

[wxndmagus-blog]

// Yes, let's do that. Harry Potter AU. Right now, u and me. I am an asshole potions professor with a penchant for the Dark Arts. You are probably another teacher or student, or the dark overlord whom I serve. Whichever suits you.

((Ricken the dark overlord seems hilarious, but I usually make him a first year in Gryffindor.))

    Despite not knowing where he was going, Ricken squeezed through older students trying to find a way to the dungeon. He was running late. Running out of breath, Ricken kept pushing forward. The mage skid to a halt when he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere by running around aimlessly.

     He attempted talking to other students, but they ha their own troubles or they said ‘ask a teacher’. Ricken knew there was no way he’d make it to class on time.

     Finally, from what felt like forever; he made it to the dugeon, the class being half over now. 

“Sorry I’m late, Professor…”

[arcwindsage]

The professor’s cloak billowed dramatically as he paced the rows of desks with a sneer, eyeing the students the way a particularly curmudgeonly dragon might eye its choice of villages to burn to the ground. Here were the caves of his domain, and it was the first class of the year where the students would learn the laws of his empire.

“You must never, furthermore, mix the saliva of a black dragon with asphodel,” Soren continued, writing with a flick of his wand a series of alchemical notations for the reaction on the board. “As it will not only create the Lim-Root-Copper compound, but also release an aeriated form of draconic toxins that could lead to permanent respiratory problems. We will be working with both substances this year and it is very important to--”

The professor was about to further extoll the potentially-fatal consequences of mixing things that weren’t supposed to be mixed when he was interrupted by a small child running in, apparently tardy.

“Yes, I suppose you will be sorry that you missed half of the most important lesson of the year,” Soren’s upper lip curled as he eyed the Gryffindor with condescension. “I hope you can find someone who’s actually been taking notes.”

At this, several students looked incredibly nervous, as if they hadn’t expected they would actually need to write all of that stuff down. Soren added with disgust, “It would be a shame if someone was mortally injured as a result of failing to arrive on time. Ten points from Gryffindor.”