the man who sold the world

beowolf, a mercenary in the service of the Knights of Seiros || closed roleplay blog affiliated with TOA avatar by agahari

[sayhwaet]

June 2024 Activity Check

-PASSED- 

Skill Points Earned:   Monthly +1 Arena +1 15 -> 17

Allocated:  Bow E -> D

Rank Rewards Earned:  Iron Bow (Bow D) Heavy Draw (Bow D) Imitation Dakka (Summer Arena 2024)

Classes Accessed:  Fighter

[nelithic]

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

　　　　　　　　　　　 　❪　team five　/　gold round　❫

[corvuschriisti]

Beowolf put on quite the show -- and Naesala can't help but be impressed by how he commanded the attention of his battalion. Satisfied with how the battle seems to be going he surveys the field once again, looking from Nel to Ivy to Balthus. Balthus' whip has saved them more times than Naesala cares to admit -- and he's making such a flashy show of it.

He adjusts his gloves and feels a glow wash over him again, filling him with the desire to move. Can't let the King of Gambling show him up in terms of showmanship.

Naesala 6.5/10HP recovers 1HP from Bond! Naesala 7.5/10HP Naesala 7.5/10HP recovers 1HP from Amaterasu! Naesala 8.5/10HP

He fans out his wings, ignores the pink haired girl and -- is that Tormod? what the -- goes for the weaker of the targets. He wants to look stunning and impressive as well, so he'll need to pick his target carefully.

Naesala 8.5/10HP hits and hits Survivor of the Curse 5.5/10HP with Flashing Fist Art! [Roll: 6+4=10, 2+4=6] -3HP Survivor of the Curse 2.5/10HP 

His one-two punches land, and the featureless yet quivering girl in front of him raises a tome. His brows furrow -- hadn't his team just done something to stop her from attacking? Why do Nasir and this depressed student get to cheat, but only when Naesala is attacking?

Survivor of the Curse 2.5/10HP counters with Luce! [Roll: 14 - 4 = 10, hit!] -2HP Naesala 6.5/10HP 

It catches at such close range, putting Naesala on the back foot. He's fast, and even if he can't avoid this he still can punch back just as hard.

Naesala 6.5/10HP follows up with Flashing Fist Art! [Roll: 10+4=14, 7+4=11] -3HP Survivor of the Curse 0/10HP Survivor of the Curse has been defeated!

She falls to her knees. Naesala might have felt bad for her if he'd the capacity for feeling bad for a construct, something with no consciousness, but as it stands he is grateful that he didn't actually need to beat up a student. Imagine what Leanne would have said.

He turns around to face the rest of the group. "The biggest threat is down, you are welcome."

@sayhwaet @albwreckt @lindwyvrm @nelithic im the king baybee

[sayhwaet]

Oh, now, there we go. It didn't take much of his posturing to gather the attention of the one taking pot shots at them with his miniature cannon. Beowolf had seen how it had affected the Lady Nel's abilities, and he figured at the very least if he could draw some of the fire away from her for half a fucking second that they might be able to win this thing.

"Yeah, come on. I'm a nice open target, huh?" He kept advancing, even as the lad loaded his cannonball, made blank eye contact, and fired.

Plucky Freedom Fighter10/10HP hits Beowolf10/10HP with Silence Blast! [Roll: 9 + 2 = 11, -2HP] Beowolf8/10HP. Beowolf is inflicted with Silence.

As it turned out, he was a good shot with that thing. Beowolf couldn't help but grin in response, shaking off the force of the blow easily enough.

But it hadn't occurred to him until he opened his mouth - to taunt, to jest, to say anything, really - that the magical silence cast on Nel might have been cast on him as well.

Oh come on.

Just as well, he supposed, for there was no lord on high who might have wanted his holy figures to say the words that Beowolf wanted to say right now.

@albwreckt

[nelithic]

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

　　　　　　　　　　　 　❪　team five　/　gold round　❫

[corvuschriisti]

The shift in the energy surrounding him makes Naesala tense. Everyone is moving around him, shifting in positions and avoiding attacks. He sees Balthus with his whip stop attacks before they can land, no doubt saving his team in the process.

His hands, gloved up and made into fists, are ready to do something stupid and reckless. Wasn't it always Reyson who had kept him on a path to consistency? Was it not Leanne who helped him remain calm and steady?

Neither of them are here right now, and Naesala is feeling particularly off-center. It might be Tibarn's clothes, or the injustice of that stupid dragon being able to hit at close range -- but he takes it personally.

"Nasir, we're going to have words after this!"

Naesala 1.5/10HP recovers 1HP from Bond! Naesala 2.5/10HP Naesala 2.5/10HP recovers 1HP from Amaterasu!  Naesala 3.5/10HP 

With newfound energy he moves forward, no terror in his eyes -- only immature impulsiveness.

Naesala 3.5/10HP hits and hits Eternal Wanderer 2/10HP  with Flashing Fist Art! [Roll: 14-4 = 8, 5-4 = 1, -1.5HP - 1.5] Eternal Wanderer 0/10HP  

The first hit lands, and Naesala sees Nasir's shadow raise his bow back; it's about to pierce through feathers and that bastard is about to cheat again, but it's Naesala who lands the next blow.

Nasir falls, and Naesala cannot help but grin. "Get a better bird next time," he huffs, then whips around to look at Beowolf.

"Hello! Heal me, please!"

@albwreckt & @nelithic & @sayhwaet

[sayhwaet]

Watching Naesala surge forward brought a thrill of very human terror to him. It was a familiar feeling, haunting, one that he had thought that he had kept on a tight lock for the last... he had stopped counting the years, hadn't he? Had simply quarantined the grisly moments into their own containers in the attic of his mind, hadn't looked back to acknowledge that they might be festering.

When the stupid bird turns back to him, Beowolf could fairly feel the swell of warmth and brightness that coursed through his heart, chasing and tangling with the adrenaline.

Beowolf 10/10HP recovers +0HP from Bond! Beowolf 10/10HP recovers +0HP from Amaterasu!

"Yeah, yeah." It wasn't a grumble, didn't hold that same gravelly thickness to it, but he shook his head as though he were a parent, exasperated at a child's recklessness. Jogging forward, he raised the staff, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed his emotions to surge out of him.

Beowolf 10/10HP hits Naesala 2.5/10HP  with Physic [Roll: 18 - 2 = 14] +4HP, Naesala 6.5/10HP Live to Serve! Beowolf 10/10HP  recovers +0HP

"Ay!" He said brightly, watching Naesala's feathers ruffle as the mended, bringing the flush of life back to his friend. Tapping the bird on the nose with the tip of his staff, he grinned. "Gettin' the hang of it."

But there remained the drain, which he had not expected, the sharp plummet of his own life force that he had not expected - was that right? No, it was no void of his energy, not quite, but there was a pitch to his essence that was undefinable for him.

Beowolf 10/10HP activates Fast of the Charities!

He whistled, sharp.

"Ain't you tired o' going after them?" he called across the field, the eyes of those that remained swiveling to him blankly. He didn't truly think that taunting them would have made much difference, but he strode forth anyway, spreading his arms for them to see.

His form wasn't so slight as many of the holy men he'd seen, but the robes he wore made for a nice illusion, and his hands, empty, had seemed diffused and softened by a light form within..

"I will keep healing them, and we will keep takin' you down - and don't that just piss you off?"

Swordmasters Battalion hits Survivor of the Curse 7.5/10HP with Silver Sword! [Roll: 17] -2HP, Survivor of the Curse 5.5/10HP Survivor of the Curse is Silenced and cannot counterattack!

As though in demonstration, those at his back rushed forward and piled onto the quiet holy woman on their own side, striking her in her moments of weakness.

"Come on, then!"

@nelithic @albwreckt

[nelithic]

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

　　　　　　　　　　　 　❪　team five　/　gold round　❫

[albwreckt]

“Hey, that’s not just any girl in pigtails,” Balthus retorts, quick to jump to the noble’s side when Ivy accosts him, “that’s the Hilda Valentine Goneril–put some respect on her. Way stronger than she looks, by the way. And her brother? Like, twice the size of me!” And acting with twice the purpose. Where Balthus keeps his strength for the ring or saving his own hide, Holst uses it to propel himself forward and reach for glory. Hero of Fodlan, and all that. He’s convinced that even Ivy’s display of force last round would bounce right off the older pinkette. 

“The Gonerils are not a nest you wanna go poking, pal.” 

Satisfied with that bit of chit-chat, he turns his attention back to the battle. The runt of their group begins to load what Balthus assumes is some sort of heavy cannon. It gets a chuckle out of him–someone so small operating a device so massive. Maybe he’s a pirate? But whatever he is, the Wolf doesn’t want to see what his weapon can do. So, brandishing his whip–

Plucky Freedom Fighter 10/10HP hits Nel 10/10HP with Silence Blast [Roll: 14 + 2 = 16] Hunting Whip: Balthus 10/10HP stops Plucky Freedom Fighter’s turn against Nel

–He snatches the thing by the barrel, pulling up until it’s way out of sight of any of them. “Oh no you don’t!” he sneers, more than enough breath to spare on dialogue. His foe, on the other hand, isn’t as chatty. 

The tug-of-war lasts long enough for ‘Hilda’ to go blazing by him. As he whips his head around to watch, he catches her gunning for Nel, and the rest he turns a blind eye to. It doesn’t take a sage to know that Nel will be minced into meat once she's done; Balthus doesn’t need to watch the show to know its ending. Still, there’s just no way he could raise a hand to his childhood friend. It’s better that he pretends she isn’t here.

Given enough struggle, the shade of the cannoneer breaks free, albeit spilling its ammo in the water. As he watches them scrape their shells back together, surprise colors his face. A bit like Hilda in that looks-to-brawn department. Deciding it had earned enough respect for him to back off, he faces another with his whip. ‘Nasir,’ Naesala had called him.

“This guy giving you trouble, birdface? I’ll wrestle him down for you. Just so happen to also be the King of Grappling, so it’ll be no sweat!” 

Balthus 10/10HP uses Hunting Whip! Balthus can stop one turn on enemy phase Alert Stance: Balthus 10/10HP gains +8 avoid during enemy phase

SPLISH SPLASH: @nelithic @corvuschriisti @lindwyvrm @sayhwaet !

[sayhwaet]

It was understandable in part, he guessed, not to want to get involved with an opponent too big or too close - if he cast his mind back he thought he could name one or two - but in shadow-boxing, sentimentality didn't quite have its place.

Neither did fear.

"It ain't the anything," he corrected, though softly, still unused to whatever in the fuck was going on with him. "It's a training dummy, and we'll smack it around, same as the rest."

Though there was a bit of envy in it, and for Naesala's charmed squawking at the slender man who had almost shot him down - it was the memory of times passed, of recognition and the ties that bound, that prickled at the edge of his sinuses more than once in the time that he'd been here: it was something to call home, that recognition, and if he sat with it too long, he would come to understand that it was something that he missed.

Good, then, that he did not sit with it too long. "Still hangin' on?" he called to Naesala, the only one who mattered if he could hear; "I'll come to save you in a bit, don't get your feathers too ruffled 'fore I get there."

He could tender the connections that he had, perhaps, for the time being.

@nelithic @corvuschriisti @albwreckt @lindwyvrm

[nelithic]

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

　　　　　　　　　　　 　❪　team five　/　gold round　❫

[corvuschriisti]

He's feeling pretty good about this. The first enemy went down quick, and Beowolf was making short work of that man with the bow.

His eyes narrow. He looks at the figure in front of him, this 'emblem' as they're calling him, and realizes with a sudden start who that is.

"Nasir? You old bastard, is that you?" he calls, then laughs at himself for not recognizing him earlier. What odd luck, to be faced against a dragon of Goldoa -- and one who is just as jaded and disillusioned as he is. He grins, see the bow and thinks --

(he does think. that is the sad part of this.)

-- that because Nasir has a bow, and Naesala has Tibarn's big strong fists, he can win this fight easily. Bows can't be used up close, he would know all about that; Naesala is a bird, and he's always thinking about bows.

"Well, seems we'll need to discover who the better fighter is today, don't we?"

Naesala 9/10HP recovers 1HP from Bond! Naesala 10/10HP Naesala 10/10HP hits, hits, hits, and hits Eternal Wanderer 8/10HP with Flashing Fist Art (Nimble Combo) [Roll: 16-4 = 12, 9-4=5, 13-4=9, 11-4 = 7] (-1.5 -1.5 - 1.5 - 1.5) Eternal Wanderer 2/10HP 

He punches hard, using the art of combat (a concept he's so lovingly taught to his students) in order to make sure he hits four times in a row. He sees the shimmering figure take the hits, and as he's about to celebrate his victory, false-Nasir rears back and draws his bow.

"Hey. Wait, what?"

Eternal Wanderer 2/10HP counters with Lendabair! [Roll: 14] -6HP Naesala 4/10HP Naesala loses 1HP after combat! Naesala 3/10HP 

Of course it hurts more than it would have on any other player in this match. The arrow pierces through his feathers, leaving a nasty wound in its place.

"Shit, shit! Hey! You're not supposed to be able to do that!"

@sayhwaet @nelithic @albwreckt i think he cheated. tf

[sayhwaet]

Beowolf 7.5/10HP recovers +1HP from Bond! Beowolf 8.5/10HP Beowolf 8.5/10HP recovers +1HP from Amaterasu! Beowolf 9.5/10HP

Was it always like this? That the leaders of men, long past their lives had ended or their usefulness had run its course, long past the time they were pulled from the battlefield - either with brutal swiftness, or with dire slowness - continued to benefit of the succor of those around them, those to whom they might have called companion.

It grated, that gentle release, that flowering of light within him that soothed a balm over the slash of lances that had scraped against him.

He hadn't earned it.

All this time, he had not earned it, had not put forth his worth in the ways that he knew he was valuable: the strength of his body, and of his convictions, useless in the arenas they had found themselves in, with the positions he had been placed by some higher hand.

And he had been rewarded for it all the same, hadn't he.

The grimace on his face deepened to see Naesala fall - his friend was always more bark than bite, and even he knew that those wings begged caution against a man with a bow.

But he had taken the risk anyway, either through stubbornness or grit or, hell, even stupidity.

"I'm coming!"

Beowolf 9.5/10HP hits Naesala 3/10HP with Physic [Roll: 7 - 2 = 5] +1HP, Naesala 4/10HP Live to Serve! Beowolf 9.5/10HP  recovers +1HP, Beowolf 10/10HP

He didn't understand. It was true that Beowolf would not have pretended that he understood the finer points of faith in a higher power, be that the Crusaders or this Goddess or whoever else the fuck might have been out there ignoring them all, but he knew for damn sure that he had seen enough healers in his time to know that he weren't doing nothing so different as they.

The light bloomed in his chest further, and he grunted. "You hang tight, I gotta go take care of our dark lady - you hang tight, you hear me?"

He hadn't wanted to leave Naesala after that, had wanted to try again, to prove to himself - to all of them, waiting, needing - that he could do it. The rounded edges of this new voice, not his, belied the urgency he felt as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted to Nel's side.

"Second time's the charm, hey?"

Beowolf 10/10HP hits Nel 2.5/10HP with Recover! [Roll: 19 - 6 = 13] +6HP, Nel 8.5/10HP Live to Serve! Beowolf 10/10HP recovers +0 HP

As though mocking him, the warmth in his chest spread to his fingertips, and in spite of their situation he was immersed in such a sense of calm that he almost might have described it as comfortable.

Damn unsettling.

"Now, let's take care of this bastard..." Raising his arms, evoking every line the noble he had followed before and might again, Beowolf urged his forces forward, to strike down their foe who had threatened his dear friend so starkly.

Swordmasters Battalion miss Eternal Wanderer2/10HP with Silver Sword! [Roll: 7 - 6 = 1]

"Ah, shit."

@nelithic

[nelithic]

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

　　　　　　　　　　　 　❪　team five　/　gold round　❫

[lindwyvrm]

The sting of defeat still lingers on her skin as the world returns to focus.

She has changed attire once more, this time donned in the thing she had been taught to fear — Brodian armor. Not any Brodian’s either, she realizes it is Diamant’s reds that clothe her in this new arena, white furs trimming red-embellished gauntlets, heavy steel greaves keeping her firmly on the earth. Ivy had always been accustomed to soaring through the skies on wyvernback, soft silks rippling in the air behind her as she glides between enemy lines — weighed down by Brodian metal, she feels larger than she is, bulky and clumsy, like an ox in a porcelain shop.

Apparitions shimmer on the field before them, whispy and not quite corporeal. Her heart lurches as she thinks ghosts but she realizes she recognizes the faces facing them — faces of those very much alive.

“Emblems,” she agrees, drawing her blade — its not as heavy as the one she’s seen Diamant lugging around, but it weighs quite a bit more than a tome. She glances at Nel out of the corner of her eye before turning her whole head to see — is that a wedding gown? Ivy forces her attention forward — the illusion seems to have an odd sense of humor. 

One of the Emblems topples quickly under Naesala’s onslaught, and Balthus is poised to intercept enemy advancement atop his bird-like mount, whip drawn tautly in his hand — and he seems to recognize one of the Emblems they are fighting.

Ivy arches an eyebrow at Balthus’s adamant swearing-off of attacking a rather dainty looking shade. There is a palpable panic etched in his face.

“I never thought the strong and mighty ‘King of Gambling’ would be so cowed by a girl in pigtails.”

Ivy turns her attention to a different shade, a man atop a mount not unlike Balthus’s. An easy enough target… his armor does not seem to be thick at all. 

Ivy 10/10HP misses Eternal Wanderer 10/10HP with Wo Dao [Roll: 8 - 6 = 2, -0 HP]  Eternal Wanderer 10/10HP counters with Lendabair [Roll: 14 + 6 = 20, 4 DEF - 3 DMG = -0 HP] Ivy 10/10HP gains one stack of Vengeful Adgarda! Eternal Wanderer 10/10HP is inflicted with Taunt!

She lunges at him as fast as she is able to, blade raised and ready to strike — but she is too slow, body wholly unaccustomed to wearing weights, and her swing goes wide as she misses quite terribly. Diamant always looked so gallant charging into battle, blade high and proud. She never really knew how much work all that running required until now. The shade retaliates, but his arrows glance harmlessly off her fine Brodian armor. 

Her blade returns to her side, and Ivy finds she is breathing quite heavily, beads of sweat matting her bangs.

“I did not… well, I never realized how heavy all this metal clinging to you really is…”

@sayhwaet

[sayhwaet]

At first, when he opened his eyes and found the luminous dark awaiting him, Beowolf thought the reaper might have finally caught up with him and dragged his sorry ass to hell. It might have served, he thought - regrets he'd never reconciled, or even admitted aloud, loose ends he'd never tied up as neatly as he should.

But the others stirred around him, listing and breathing and alive, and it occurred to him that it was a stupid thought, however sharp its hooks in his heart. Training exercise. Illusions. Right.

The swaddle of thick white robes puzzled him, briefly, the flicker of incandescence in his veins that shimmered as he rose to his feet, cracked his back with an arch and a grunt, and cocked a grin at the young queen.

"You get used to it," he offered kindly, surprised for a moment at the sonorous echo his voice had become, a pleasing facsimile with all of the rough edges sanded away.

Beowolf frowned. Didn't like that much.

Nor could he say he was necessarily a fan of those lined up against them. Couldn't make out much of their faces, but what he did see pressed against his mind like an itch in a place that he couldn't reach, insistent and warm. Their lady dragon and Naesala had made short work of the slightest among them, but there remained the issue of the bowman, and of Naesala's wings.

The movements of his arms came naturally in the moment, as though it were something that he had been waiting for: simply the moment to call, to direct, to rouse.

It had not been the first time that he'd been a leader of men, but he found himself, absently, wishing that he was among them, rather than so detached.

Beowolf 10/10HP activates Invoke [Roll: 2] and summons Swordmasters [Roll:1] Luce activates! Saint’s Vow activates! Swordmasters Battalion remains on the field for 5 Phases Swordmasters Battalion hits Eternal Wanderer10/10HP with Silver Sword [Roll: 13 - 6 = 7] -2HP, Eternal Wanderer8/10HP

@nelithic @albwreckt @corvuschriisti @lindwyvrm

[obsidiendo]

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺.

[SHOWCASE] - Bow +1, Beowolf & Duessel

[obsidiendo]

Duessel liked this man. He seemed to remind him of someone, though he was not sure exactly who -- it mattered little, really. What mattered was he was not stuck in the woods with someone who was coddled, someone who did not know how to hold a weapon. Though Duessel did hold a fair amount of patience in his bones for those less skilled than himself, he did not think he could draw upon it today.

"I agree. I don't think it will be too difficult, though it might take a long time to find our target." His feet hurt a little, and he felt more than a little bit of soreness in his arms. The night before he had set himself against a series of training dummies, his bowstring taut against his fingers, his aim less true than when he wielded a spear.

It was all for naught. He held his lance, not a bow. He would practice with the unfamiliar weapon later.

"I don't believe I properly introduced myself," he said. He holds a frown on his face as he turns to look at his companion. "I'm General Duessel, Obsidian of the Imperial Three."

[sayhwaet]

He kept his mouth shut. For once, he kept his mouth shut, did not disparage the man the service that he had put into a house that Beowolf had known nothing of, did not scoff or click his tongue in a mockery of what prestigious company had been bestowed upon him for this hunt - a knight was one thing, but a general was a different beast entirely.

The smile on his face remained easy and he paused in his stride to hold out a hand. "Pleasure's mine, friend. Name's Beowolf. Been a hired sword here and there - emphasis on here," he tapped the Seiros standard embroidered on the collar of his tunic, and cocked his head. "Though I don't suppose rank matters much now, hey? Same standing, you'n I, in the grand scheme of this here forest."

It was supposedly old growth, a forest older than the lands that surrounded it by a significant margin, the barest puddles of water containing greater depth of memory than the both of them combined.

Beowolf tapped his knuckles against his companion's breastplate, and resumed his trek forward. "You spend much time huntin', then? Probably a different flavor'a quarry than what we're seeking now, ain't it?"

[sayhwaet]

It's the Gallagher Principle

[corvuschriisti]

Naesala could not help but smile a little. 'Of course it's Queen,' he wanted to say. 'Isn't it obvious?' The words never got a chance to be spoken aloud, however, and the sickening crack of something falling from a great height made him wince.

He followed Beowolf out and saw the carnage below. Eyebrows were raised as he took in the brutality of the scene. He'd never been afraid of heights, that would have been foolish, but he could imagine that this would have been a terrifying last few moments for whoever this sorry soldier was.

With Beowolf's rage comes Naesala's amusement. Secret hostages? Throwing them over? Oh, political intrigue. For once, things seemed so, so interesting.

And then the boy spoke, and Naesala felt disappointed. Then confused. Then entertained once more.

"They send you melons for this purpose?" he asked, and looked back at the wreckage. There was lunch. He would not let that food go to waste. "You people are so strange. And you didn't even invite Sir Beowolf the Gentle of Dieksük Island, province of Fodlan?" He tsked and shook his head.

The boy didn't get the joke and instead looked between the two of them. "I can make it up to you," he began, slowly. "I can make dummies for you to practice on..."

"So long as you use our correct titles," Naesala insisted, because he was feeling a certain way about wasting food -- degrading this poor soul seemed to make him feel a bit better. "Go on. It's Queen Naesala of Archanea, and...?"

"Sir Beowolf the Gentle of Dieksük Island. I'm so sorry. Come with me, and I'll get you both set up, sirs."

[sayhwaet]

"Now what in the fuck is that name?" He couldn't help asking, at the same time as the young recruit said, "Well, the melon's aren't for eating, sirs - "

The lad shot him a quizzical look, spooked by his ire, and he had to remind himself what exactly he was dealing with here - these weren't exactly the cream of the crop, these kids, hadn't been able to been whipped into proper shape by what he'd been told was one of the finest martial forces in the land, weren't no scholar neither, and din't have the good sense to go'n out and make their coin as a man of the world, neither.

Which had left them as border control, and -

"They're…not for eating," he repeated, flat, his grimace twisting even further. "You wanna run that one by me again?"

"Er, of course, sir - "

"Don't call me no stupid fuckin' name, just tell me what the fuckin' melons're for."

"Of course, sir. Er, well, you see - because we border so close to Duscur, the soil around here is good for planting things that if you travel a little farther into Faerghus, would wither and die. Too cold, sir."

"Following so far." He'd about frozen his ass off when they'd caught a stray wind riding north for the contract to begin with, so even though he'd not the farmer's temperament Beowolf could at least understand that foodstuffs would be less inclined to thrive in that frigid emptiness. Beowolf cocked a brow. "But if y'ain't sent the melons to eat - "

"We're meant to propagate them, sir. Er, plant them."

The lad had begun leading them up a set of stairs, a tower in the keep that they hadn't yet explored in their short time here - he wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed it, from the smell alone. Far be it for him to judge, knew that some places by virtue of their contents would be riper than others, but Beowolf snorted and snuffled once as they reached fresh air as they reached the parapet. The smell remained, and he could see its source now in the crates of melons that dotted the low walls overseeing the courtyards below - not rotting, but in no condition to be consumed.

"All of 'em? Seems a waste."

It was so many melons.

"They're inedible sir!" he explained, and ushered them to where another pair of young men was preparing to shove another dummy over the edge. "It's the leaves we want - the way they grow, it helps keep the conditions good for beans to thrive. Those we eat," he clarified.

The pieces were starting to come together.

"DOWN BELOW!" the pair at the parapet shouted, before shoving their melonman over the edge, cackling unceremoniously at the explosion that followed.

"Would you, er. Would you like to try it, sirs? Queen? Sir? Sirs?"

[nelithic]

　𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎.

　　　　　 　　 　 　　 　❪　team five　/　silver round　❫

[corvuschriisti]

The battle quickly progresses. Naesala manages to avoid all of the onslaught; it's probably because he's not attacking the enemy, but rather playing at support. It's funny -- but if not being targeted is what it's going to take in order to make him a team player, he supposes that healer will be a suitable role.

He won't run away so long as there's two big strong men, a dragon, and a princess who can punch four times in a row to protect him. This is compromise.

Part of holding up his end of the bargain however is keeping on top of what's happening around him. He sees Beowolf taking another supportive position (and doesn't he look so fetching in that uniform?) but it's good that Naesala can back him up. When you don't spend any time with the herons and their healing magic, your skills are not as honed as his. It's clear that this is his friend's first time with a healing staff.

"Let me show you how a real woman heals, Beowolf!" Naesala calls out as he motions to the not-fully-healed Nel. "With the sounds of culture!"

He unfortunately pulls the lute forward again. Something about this makes the Maddest Hatter completely ignore him despite the free concert he's receiving. Perhaps it doesn't want to ruin the show -- how thoughtful.

Naesala 10/10HP heals Nel 5/10HP with Physic! [Roll: 15 + 4 = 19] +4HP,  Nel 9/10HP

♫ "Lady Nel's here, there's nothing I fear / And I know that my heart will go on..." ♫ The strum of the lute is not so much bad as it is... twangy. Stringy, somehow. Off-putting in a way that makes it if you try to smile, it ends up more like a grimace.

Naesala 10/10HP uses Restore on Nel 9/10HP! Enemy inflicted debuffs removed.

♫ "Near, far, what a big dragon you are / I believe that the fight does go on..." ♫

He takes a bow, of course.

@nelithic & @lindwyvrm & @albwreckt lets start a band !!

[sayhwaet]

He didn't need to be no musician to know that these songs were terrible, but fuck if they didn't do the job - Beowolf himself had felt all the better when the spell had mended him, and he thought the lady Nel must have, also.

At least, he assumed. He was no master of dragon physiognomy. He hoped that it was doing the job, in any case.

"We'll add it to the list of your considerable talents, then," he said wryly, turning to face the rest of the battlefield, where their other comrades held the line, and where their opponent cavorted. Naesala had the right of it, there - the fight was in fact going on.

But would it for much longer? There was the comfort of a sword at his side, but it was clear from the rest of his kit that he was relegated to the backlines, for emergencies - and the fit of his tuxedo indicated the same. No breathe, no give.

Where he'd felt more at home in the previous, sleazier, greasier establishment, this current one felt a cruel mockery of the resplendence that they'd all experienced with the Ball, barely a moon past - with real tux to boot. Nary even the control to deign what he'd wear in this place, hey?

Beowolf raised his gaze, tapped his knuckles gently against the Lady Nel's flank. "Oughta do her, hey? Looks like that slippery sod's about done - certainly takin' a pounding from the other rose amongst swine here. Let's get back to the fray and finish him off!"

let's crack that healthbar gang @albwreckt @nelithic @lindwyvrm

[sayhwaet]

Oh girl got that twang in her? (would she like to?)

[swiftlance]

He's got a point. There's always some League of Fancy Pants Folk decidin' they've had enough of loungin' in their houses, so they stir up trouble where none need exist.

Well, sure, she's here to earn her way, but it's mostly for Ma 'n Pa 'n her siblings. The dress was a gift, anyhow--not that it's his business. Her earlier flush returns, makin' her look as red as a tomato.

"...Thank ya," Nephenee replies, hopin' she don't sound too stiff. She watches him disappear inta the crowd, silently hopin' she don't need any more helpin' hands.

--the end

[nelithic]

　𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎.

　　　　　 　　 　 　　 　❪　team five　/　silver round　❫

[albwreckt]

Balthus wakes with a groan. His head feels like a church bell rang one too many times, the echoes of last battle reverberating in that mostly-empty skull of his. But he’s alive–he’s gotten up–and that’s got to count for something. Hooking himself by the chin, he pops his neck. 

“What gives with this guy? Thinks he’s some kinda hotshot or something. But he looks loaded…” And he, on the contrary, does not. Everything from the last room is long gone, replaced with some less-shiny, less-opulent armor with the chest punched out. And he’s got a bladed lance. A guandao would be more the appropriate name, if Balthus knew what a guandao was. 

“How’s about we rough him up and take back what we lost!” 

The dreamy haze cast over their surroundings–those memories melded into bubbles and iridescent shadows in every corner of the venue–are completely lost on him. Poor Baltie thinks he’ll walk away a winner somehow. 

Backup: Balthus 10/10HP deals -1HP to Maddest Hatter 18/25HP* [Maddest Hatter 17.5/25HP*]

Launching off his feet, he delivers two brusque blows to the Hatter’s torso, careful not to let his blade bite any of that pricey coat. This opens him up to Ivy’s attack, which the Wolf is all-too willing to step back and let her perform. In fact, the display gets a hoot out of him. Cheering her on, he ebbs back into the fray. 

“Hey, no offense, but I’ve never met a princess-type who can throw a punch like you. Your old man teach you any of that?” 

Balthus 10/10HP misses Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* with Harmony Lance [Roll: 5 - 4 = 1, -0 HP, Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP*] Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* counterattacks and hits Balthus 10/10HP with Raise the Stakes [Roll: 9, -0HP, Balthus 10/10HP] Seal Speed: Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* loses all speed buffs until R2P Adaptability: Balthus 10/10HP gains +1 defense until R2P

On the contrary, he hits nothing but the air with his swing. Having dragged the weapon against the floor to build momentum, he intended to let it fly with the kind of might that’d flatten the top of that poser’s hat. But his opponent reads him with ease, snapping a finger and creating some coin to drop on his head.

Good thing Balthus is so dense, else it might’ve actually hurt.

“Tch… Playing your cards close to your chest? Hurry up and make your wager–opportunity doesn’t knock on its own, you know!”

CAN'T LOSE THIS ONE: @nelithic !

[sayhwaet]

The wooziness subsided in time for their resident lunk to take up a sliver of their foe's attention - enough for Beowolf to slink over to the side of the Lady Nel.

Dubiously, he approached as any sane man who had never met a dragon might: slowly, hands up, murmuring softly. "Here to help - you ain't gonna bite me, are ya?"

He had no idea how much of the stoic lady was in there, and whether this form of hers was a choice, but he did know that he'd be damned on high if he'd let anything happen to her.

 Beowolf 10/10HP heals Nel 6/10HPwith Recover! [Roll: 3, +3HP] Nel 9/10HP

"Oh, come on, you fuckin' thing - " The staff in his hands fizzled and hissed at him, emitting a weak, vague approximation of the warmth and light that he knew that it was supposed to, in more skilled hands. He tried not to think of all of the times he'd benefited from such magic, all those friends who had been so much better at this than he, and smacked the head of the staff on the ground in his frustration.

"It'll have t'do fer now. You good to move about, I don't think it'll give us much chance for rest, it's a slick fuck - "

As though cued by his ire and attention, their foe turned its gaze onto the two of them, peppering the Lady Nel with an onslaught that promptly undid all of the good work he'd just put in.

And then, with a laugh, it launched once more the bouncing projectiles at them, one by one, echoing first from the impact with the ground, and then streaking through the air for their heads.

Maddest Hatter 1.5/25* attacks with Winner Takes All! Targets: Nel, Beowolf, Nel, Beowolf lmao Misses Beowolf 10/10HP  [Roll: 4 + 2 = 6] Misses Beowolf 10/10HP [Roll: 4 + 2 = 6]

"Oh, get outta here, you piece o - " He raised his arms overhead, smacking one of the projectiles away with the staff like a bat, grinding his teeth to see that the lady had not been so lucky.

"Ah hell, hang tight - I'll get it this time, here, watch - "

Beowolf 10/10HP heals Nel 1/10HP with Recover! [Roll: 9] +4HP, Nel 5/10HP

Lips curdled into a grimace, and he smacked the head of the staff once more on the ground. "Fuckin' thing's defective. C'mon, let's inch away from this fucker and get our bearings back."

can't wait to hear him gloat @corvuschriisti

[nelithic]

　𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎.

　　　　　 　　 　 　　 　❪　team five　/　silver round　❫

[lindwyvrm]

As Ivy comes to, she finds the air has thinned — gone is the acrid smell of cigarette smoke or the creaking, rotting floorboards, or the endless din of chiming betting machines. Their new surroundings are blinding compared to the dingy hovel they had been fighting in previously; they are somewhere rich, somewhere grand, somewhere nearly gaudy. Ivy blinks the disorientation out of her eyes — her shoulders feel heavy, weighed down by long robes and a golden collar. Hands rove over her new attire — the thick, wooly fabric and the sharp pointed half-cage adorning a high collar; her mouth goes dry — she needn’t even see herself to know who’s clothes she is wearing. How often had she clung to him, hidden in the floor-length folds of his coat as a girl? How could she not know the weight sins of her father resting like the Sky upon her back? She carries no weapon this time, no knife or blade, no tome or staff — the battle will be sought, found, and finished in the divets of her knuckles, in the heel of her hand. Her father had wrought so much death and misery in those planes of his palm. 

She raises her eyes to the distant stage, where Fell Child stands in her truest form, basking in the unshackled power of her birthright. It is an awe-inspiring sight — there is a reason, Ivy knows, that the draconic and the divine are used interchangeably.

Dice materialize on stage, and Ivy groans inwardly — another game of chance, another gamble. It is not the house they’re betting against this time, it seems — no, it is another player, dressed in a rich silk suit, furs, and a tall, wide-brimmed top hat that hovers above them that seems eager to play, and confident they’ll win.

But Nel emerges victorious, despite the Hatter’s assured prediction of his own victory — as the flames die down, Ivy charges forward, dancing over the smoldering cinders.

Ivy 10/10 HP hits, hits, hits, and hits Maddest Hatter 18.5/25HP* with Brave Knuckles [Roll: 14 - 2, 8 - 2, 16 - 2, 13 - 2  = 12, 6, 14, 11, [(2.5 + 2) * 4] / 2 = 9 HP, Maddest Hatter 9.5/25HP*]

An open-handed strike connects — then a punch, then a jab, and then another punch. Each blow leaves her hands stinging, but the Hatter staggers under her flurry of blows. Ivy retreats a step or two, body swaying as if anticipating a strike in retaliation — another flurry of chips to fly at her, perhaps.

And retaliation does come, but not to her — the Hatter’s laughter sounds as though it is rattling in a tin can.

“Place your bets!” the Hatter crows, producing quite the sizeable gold coin from seemingly thin air. “What do you think? Who lives, who dies — say it quickly now!”

The Hatter flips the coin and it soars through the air — too late does she see who’d lost the bet.

“Lady Nel, Sir Beowolf — duck!”

@corvuschriisti @sayhwaet @albwreckt who winning they 50/50

[sayhwaet]

He almost didn't realize that they had blacked out, been shunted from one location to the next, because it went from warm and hazy lights drowned in smoke to the bright and ringing lights that surrounded them now, fractal color scattering and blinding.

The dragon was new, though. That, he couldn't have said that he was expecting.

It was a few blinks into this new waking that Beowolf even realized that it was their very own dark lady, either trapped or freed into a form he was unfamiliar with. Their other lady didn't seem nonplussed, so he guessed the latter, and hoped it might make the difference.

They kept being thrown into houses of luck. He knew his fair share of them, in his time, and he was certain that Naesala and Balthus might have shared that experience - but there was something particularly chagrining about being wrenched from one rigged game just near the win, and tossed into another.

He tsked, thankful for the familiar clatter of scabbard at his hip. Well, if they were to keep being thrown onto the bet, then they'd just have to keep winning.

Maddest Hatter 18.5/25HP* crits Beowolf 10/10 HP with Winner Takes All [Roll: 15, -4 HP] Beowolf 6/10 HP is inflicted with Cornucopia [Roll: 1] -4 speed. Unit is forced to move last on Player Phase

The orb that bounced against his head brought stars to his vision immediately, swaying and woozy - grounded, almost comforted by the vague shape that began to move toward him.

"Still wearing that stupid hat?" He said, didn't like how much he slurred, shook his head.

Was the hat getting bigger?

well? is it? @corvuschriisti

[albwreckt]

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[lindwyvrm]

The House towers over them, fangs bared in morbid delight at its half-dead guests staggering before it.

The anger that had risen and bubbled over at Nel had quickly cooled, its easy drawling taunts returning as Naesala charges forward to silence it. Black feathers streak past her as Ivy crouches, tension coiling in her knees, soles firm and steady on the creaking floorboards beneath her. Nel’s voice rises to a shout — one word, one message; her rallying war cry, conviction emanating within every syllable. 

As Naesala drives his lance into the wyrm, Ivy leaps forward to follow up. She tries to remember how Kagetsu had move, how he landed on his heels, how light he had been on his feet —

Ivy 3.5/10HP attacks Corporate Shadow 26.5/30HP with Killing Edge [Roll: 15 - 2 = 13, -2, Corporate Shadow 24.5/30HP]  Corporate Shadow 24.5/30HP counterattacks with Please Play Responsibly [Roll: 18 - 4 = 14, -2, Ivy 1.5/10HP] Ivy 1.5/10HP attacks Corporate Shadow 26.5/30HP with Killing Edge [Roll: 17 - 2 = 15, -2, Corporate Shadow 22.5/30HP] 

She is not as fast as him, her movements are longer and not as tight, but she swings with all the might she can muster. A flash of silver sparkles under the dingy casino lights as she digs her blade into the wyrm; it bares it teeth and catches her with a wide sweep of his tail. She is not as fast as Kagetsu, and receives the full brunt of the blow. She staggers and topples, but as the wyrm cackles, she drags herself back up and throws herself back into the fray — her blade whistles through the air and cuts into the collar of the wyrm, coming away soaked in a sort of black, tar-like substance.

“Stupid girl. I think you’re forgetting that the house always wins!”

Corporate Shadow 22.5/30HP attacks with No refunds! Ivy 1.5/10HP Roll: 4 - 4 = 0, miss! Omen activates! 4-1 = 3  Ivy 0/10HP

The chips spew out at those still standing, and Ivy is familiar enough with the wyrm’s games to stand out of its range but then that all-too familiar dread and fear pools in her chest. Her sword clatters against the rotting wood panels; Ivy clutches at her slowing heart, eyes widen. A scream dies on her lips; she collapses to her knees, and her world goes dark. She couldn’t run from Misfortune long, it seems.

IVY HAS LOST THE GAMBLE.

@corvuschriisti @sayhwaet

[sayhwaet]

And it just kept going, didn't it? Over and over, though they were putting up the best fight they could - working in tandem with one another, taking stock of their surroundings and taking advantage of what weaknesses this beast had - but it did nothing but drain them dry one by one.

The curse that left him at Ivy's drop was a loud one, and he desperately cast about the area for something to take his frustrations out on, for some outlet to the helplessness that they were needing to swallow.

It was a bet that made this thing weaker, weren't it?

Sticking two fingers in his mouth, he pierced through the cackling with a sharp whistle, slamming a fist onto the betting table - and, generally, making a big loud ass of himself.

"AY. You want what we got, dontcha? Maybe I ain't done givin', hey?"

 Beowolf 3/10HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 3, Generous Generous rate Roll 1d5: 1, random 3 Star Item. Roll: 22. Beowolf loses Draining Blow and gains Airfoil Shield Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 22.5/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance!

And with any luck, they weren't quite through with the taking, either. The laugh that left him then was more raucous than previous ones, more obnoxious, taunting, despite that his grin was sharper and more of a baring of teeth, menacing than it was any intention of enjoyment or resignation.

Its power was overwhelming, but they knew its game now, and it was merely a matter of time before something just as big bit it in the ass.

fin?

[albwreckt]

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[lindwyvrm]

A genuineness seeps into Ivy’s smile as Beowolf saunters over to her, a mild surprise mingling in the expression. There is a private prejudice she harbors about men like him and places like these, a byproduct of high society living — his easy consideration, the conviction in his movements, the way he is so ready to become her shield.

“I’ll hold you to your word, now.” Her tone is mockingly severe as she draws her blade, sharp steel sliding out of oiled leather like the keel of a warship through whitewater waves. “But I have little want for these small treasures. I’d like to try for the jackpot.”

Before she can swing, a burst of energy ripples throughout the room in a devastating shockwave as everything around them flies and seems to hone in on them. Ivy stumbles back, clutching her head as she is pelted by cards and chips and coins. Somewhere, in the din, she hears a shout and the whistle of an arrow — the smell of burning flesh…

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds Ivy 7/10HP Roll: 13 - 2 = 11, hit! -2.5HP Ivy 4.5/10HP Omen activates! 2 - 1 = 1 Ivy 3.5/10HP

When the dust settles, she sees that their army of five had become four — the King of Gambling lie unmoving at their feet, dethroned by the house. The wyrm howls with laughter, baring its bangs and lashing its tail, delighted by Balthus’s fiery fall from Luck’s good graces.

Nel is by her side again within a heartbeat, words brief and direct — strike fast.

“I will,” she promises through gritted teeth. She readies her blade, recollections of Kagetsu’s form and footwork playing in her mind’s eye. She lunges forward, a flash of silver arcing through the air –

 Ivy 3.5/10HP attacks Corporate Shadow 30/30HP with Killing Edge [Roll: 11 - 2 = 9, -2, Corporate Shadow 28/30HP]  Corporate Shadow 28/30HP counterattacks with Please Play Responsibly [Roll: 4 - 2 = 2, -0, Ivy 3.5/10HP]

It cuts into the wyrm’s hide and it howls, swiping back at her but Ivy anticipates its retaliation and ducks aside, parrying its incoming claw with the flat of her blade.

“Feeling lucky, girl?” It snarls. “Misfortune is at your heels — it’s only a matter of time before it catches up!”

@corvuschriisti @sayhwaet @nelithic KILL JOHN LENNON. KILL JOHN LENNON.

[sayhwaet]

It was fine one minute, and then it wasn't. The curve of his lip upward, a genuine smile and nod of acknowledgement to the ladies of their party, the silent promise that in two-shakes the whole thing mighta been done with, and before Beowolf could even turn the crackle-and-pop explosion jerked his attention back to the big man lying in a heap on the floor.

He swore, loudly, and the wyrm laughed, rearing up with a heave, bolstered by their frustrations to spit out further hell upon them.

Corporate Shadow 28/30 HP attacks with No Refunds Beowolf 6/10HP Roll: 7 - 2 = 5, miss

More insult'n anything else, at this point. He raised an arm, cursorily, to shield his face from the worst of it, angling himself before the lady as promised - damn! couldn't field for both!

Another swear, and he turned his attention to the dark woman who had been so attentive to their group at large, whistling low at the sight.

"With all respect, ma'am, you look like hell."

Beowolf 6/10HP rallies Nel 2/10HP for +4 Defense and +4 Resistance!

It wasn't meant unkindly, or to rub it in. If he could have taken the brunt of the beating for her, he might have, for all the kindness she'd shown their little coterie - and if he'd his usual arms, he'd dish it back in kind.

Supposed that was the trainin', weren't it?

[albwreckt]

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[corvuschriisti]

The game continues, and Naesala looks around to survey the room. They all seem on edge -- the raven can only speak for himself, but his nerves feel tense and tight. Narrowed eyes view the dragon gambler with suspicion, and though it does look a fair bit more corporeal than before he does not think it wise to take risks.

But that's never stopped him before. Silly, fickle, risky creature.

Naesala 7/10HP regains 1HP with Blessed Lance! Naesala 8/10HP  Naesala 8/10HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 2, Bad Rate Bad Rate: Roll 1d4 = 2, random 3-star. Roll 1d31 = 29 Naesala 8/10HP loses Repelling Sword and gains Storm of Edelweiss!

It's in rapid succession. A coin is flipped, a choice is made. He slips his mid-grade weapon on the table before he sees the hand that fate has dealt. It's not a pretty one, but he doesn't want to let anyone know his weakness.

Especially Beowolf. He would never let him live it down. Why has his luck suddenly gotten so good?

"I like this better," he says, almost like a petulant child. "A hidden gem. No one appreciates the little things."

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds Naesala 8/10HP Roll: 4 - 6 = -2, miss! Omen activates! 2-1 = 1 Naesala 7/10HP

He feels another pang in his shoulder, but it's something lighter. It's not as strong, and while their luck as a group has been pitiable it's seemed to have turned around. No one appears too hurt, at least.

As for next steps... a glance to the self-proclaimed King of Gambling and then again to Nel tells him all he needs to know.

He has a little... let's just say magic up his sleeve. He can take a page out of Micaiah's book. He too can have child soldiers, there's literally no rule against that.

"I do hope they look like the Dawn Brigade," he says aloud, and when he takes his chance to call his incorporeal, ghost-like children --

Naesala 7/10HP regains 1HP with Blessed Lance! Naesala 8/10HP Naesala 8/10HP uses Garreg Mach Youths! Roll: 3, fail! The youths are useless!

-- nothing answers. He frowns, looks at his hand and shakes the summoning object again. Nothing. Oh, he bets if he had a stupid little bird and beautiful silver hair, they'd listen then.

This stupid game is rigged.

[sayhwaet]

Oh now there was the shift.

It had mostly been petty annoyances up until this point - the spitting coins that surely hurt like a bitch, and those weird curling pains that had sprung forward that he still hadn't dismissed as merely superstition.

But that little wyrm was looking mighty writhy, gnashing and seething behind its smile as the flick of its eyes and the lash of its serpent's tongue begged them not to notice that it was startin' to get pissed at them for not sittin' down and takin' it.

Naesala had noticed it, too, and that bird's instincts for danger were as sharp as any's.

"The hell are you talkin' about?" Beowolf laughed, clapped his friend on the shoulder, good-naturedly - a too-loud facade, the are you sure you haven't had enough? jests the people do to tease, and tugged the brim of that ridiculous hat down just a bit tighter over the man's eyes. "Maybe yer head's gotten too big in that hat, hey?"

But the second clap on Naesala's shoulder was firmer, with more purpose, even as Beowolf pushed off to saunter the few steps over to the ladies of their little group, quieter than the men by far - and the smarter for it.

"Now you, though, you ain't been getting those big prizes, have ya?" It was clearer to see with Ivy in comparison to Balthus - the big man had his flashy prizes, and he'd need 'em in the time to come, but the solemn lady seemed adrift and isolated by the exchanges. "Tell y'what, when we get back to the monastery, I'll split my winnin's with you, hey?"

A warm hand on her shoulder, his gaze with a little more intent. "No sense in all of us comin' out of this empty handed."

He knew he was a bit of a lout, all things considered. Knew that his fitting in here, and her very much not, painted a certain picture. But he hoped that, they being colleagues leading toward the same end - not an end, not for them - that when the time came, she could find his presence to be a protecting sort.

Even if he had to guard her with his body.

Beowolf 6/10HP rallies Ivy 3.5/10HP for +4 Defense and +4 Resistance!

His smile widened. "Almost done, I think."

@lindwyvrm @nelithic

[albwreckt]

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[albwreckt]

The now-crowned King smirks in response to both Ivy and Nel’s dialogue, a sense of sleazebag’s pride goading him to take his place center-stage. “What I’m hearing from the both of you,” he begins, lumbering forward so that his impervious body would be the one bearing the brunt of the coin barrage, 

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds Balthus 5/10 HP Roll: 3 + 6 = 9, barely hit! -0, Balthus 5/10 HP ; Roll: 6 + 6 = 12, hit! -0, Balthus 5/10 HP Omen activates! Roll: 1 - 1 = 0 Balthus 5/10 HP

“–is that you’re in need of a real-deal crapshooter. Well, ain’t this my lucky day? Can’t remember the last time I was asked to gamble!” 

After catching a few of the chips with his free hand, he slaps them onto the table–breaking the line of sight the dragon had with Nel. He might be a guest in this house, but a King’s presence ought to be felt with each step he takes. “I do quite like this one,” admits the host, its voice slick like honey and raspy like smoke. But it speaks above Balthus, addressing Nel as though he were nothing more than a member of her entourage, “If his luck ever does run out, I think I’ll keep him as a bouncer!” 

Balthus 5/10 HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 4, Guarantee Rate

A snap of its fingers, and an orb materializes over the Albrecht’s hands. It radiates a resplendent kind of heat. In one, swift motion, it swirls round his body–conferring him a bit of lift as every color of the rainbow coalesces around his form. His eyes shut. His arms outstretch. He receives the blessing of the beast by spinning a hundred times a second, before finally his foot touches the ground. Only, it is no longer clad in its formalwear. 

Guarantee Rate: Balthus loses Hit+ and gains Personal Armor Model DM! Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance!

Balthus emerges with an ornately decorated suit of armor: white plating adorned by gold and accented by a stygian underside. While his extremities are fully covered by gauntlets, boots, and a helm–and his shoulders protrude with geometric pauldrons–his chest remains uncovered. A green aura glosses over it instead, burning bright like plasma and fire.

The malice of his bow lives on in his left glove, its arms magically fused to his armor, and a glowing-green arrow ready to fire.

“Have I beat it into your skulls enough? Balthus is undeterred, unbeaten, unbowed in the betting house! You pals oughta put a little more faith into your old friend, here.”

GOING ALL IN: @sayhwaet !

[sayhwaet]

Ah, so there was something shady going on here - not, of course, that most of these dens of sin were of pristine reputation, but the slathering look in their host's face as it had hit Naesala back had more of a hunger to it than Beowolf was strictly comfortable with.

He inclined his head, briefly, to that dark lady's warning, and followed Balthus back to the table, watching with some satisfaction as the man won turn after turn at the table, scathed and chipped by the initial bouts of underhanded skulduggery but all the more powerful for it.

A keening whistle, and a couple of soft claps of appreciation. "Now that is a nice kit, ain't it? Enough shine to see our handsome mugs through, hey?" As though in demonstration, he leaned nearer to the plated armor and rubs the stubble on his chin in admiration - whether he could actually see himself was beside the point.

"Well, hell, we keep gettin' big break after big break, we might sweep the house clean - after this idiot's fumble, could use the fortune," he added with a nudge to Naesala's ribs, and another flick of a coin to the wyrm.

Beowolf 8/10HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 4, Guarantee Beowolf loses Shelter and gains Rally Resistence Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance!

Now that he'd the eyes to see, learning its game came easier, eyes seeking out the patterns that were fuzzier before due to the hazy smoke of the ambiance, the buzz of chatter and the thrill of excitement.

House only wins if y'let it.

The wyrm narrowed its eyes. "You are feeling lucky, aren't you," it murmured, annoyed that his initial loss had become win after win.

Feigning innocence, he shrugged, smiled, winked at the Lady Nel when its eyes flickered away. "What can I say. Crusader's blessed, me."

@lindwyvrm

[albwreckt]

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[lindwyvrm]

When they enter, Ivy knows she is outclassed in experience with their surroundings — prim and proper princess had never seen so much debauchery. 

The parlor is ripped directly from handmaids’ wary whispers — the air is heavy and bitter, an acrid taste filling her mouth and lingering on her tongue. The floor creeks and rattles under her feet; a hand rests on the blade sheathed at her hip, arm tense and ready to draw. Sharp bells whistle and sing around them, an incessant and unending cacophony of grating chiming from the strange machines that litter the area. Out of the group, she only recognizes Nel out of the bunch, and the others are of vague familiarity to her. There is the shirtless knight from the ball, a winged man, and the loud, boisterous, self-proclaimed ‘Lucky King of Gambling’ — who turns out to be rather unlucky, as fate would have it. Something huge, dark, and serpentine lurks behind a desk on the far wall — come to play the long odds? 

Ivy lingers behind with Nel as the others step up to try their luck — Beowolf draws the shortest straw of the bunch, winning nothing for his efforts. The bird casts her a knowing look before trying the odds for himself, winning a blade for his efforts. His light teasing his a welcome sound amidst the jingles jangling around them — unbidden, a soft pfah of amusement escapes her at his little joke. As each of them step up to roll the die, Ivy’s hand never leaves her hilt. Eventually, the time to play the long odds falls to Ivy. 

It is as though the wyrm can sense her hesitation — it grins, or does something akin to it: Scared? You could really win big.

Ivy steps forward, hand hovering over the console, and Nel follows with a warning — do not get carried away. 

“I understand,” Ivy murmurs, eyes steadily resting on the flashing lights before her. Her hand prickles, as if sensing the danger, the way the wyrm’s eyes bore into her — the atmosphere sparks with the anticipation of a fight.

 Nel 10/10HP rallies Ivy 10/10HP. Ivy gains +6 speed and +4 avoid.

Nel’s words bring the world into a sharper focus, and Ivy stands a little straighter, shoulders stiff and square. The creature and this game are connected, somehow — it seemed as though the key to victory lied within the bet. 

“I won’t, Lady Nel. You know I won’t. But… watch my back.”

Ivy 10/10HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 2, Bad Rate

She frowns. Just her luck, isn’t it?

Bad Rate: Roll 1d5 = 3, random 4 star. Roll 1d40 = 2, Ivy loses Sunder and gains Fire. Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance!

Her hands find the familiar spine of a fire tome; the warmth of home courses through her fingers. A rueful smile dances on her lips as she turns to her other comrades.

“Good luck seems to be a scarce commodity between the lot of us, hm?”

roll the dice, @albwreckt , @sayhwaet , @corvuschriisti !

[sayhwaet]

It didn't even feel like a damn fight. Sure, there were some sleazy sorts in here - present company excluded - but at the moment, it just felt like they were out for a good time, a laugh and some ribbing between buds.

Hell, some of their group even found some good luck after his piss-poor go at the slots - or at least, it wasn't bad luck.

It was a laugh and a lark, despite that Naesala's squawking needed to be brought down a peg or two.

"Ay, you shut right the hell up or I'll - "

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds Beowolf 10/10HP Roll: 5 + 2 = 7, barely hit! -2HP, Beowolf 8/10HP Omen activates! Roll: 3 - 1 = 2 Beowolf 6/10HP

So then why had it started to hurt?

It was so quick and so thorough, cutting straight through his cocksure facade and that it didn't even wipe the grin from his face, but with an unsettling wave of dread his fingertips fluttered up to his chest as though his uncertainty might have assuaged the whitehot burst of pain.

"Ah?" The murmur left his lips so quietly he scarcely heard it himself, but the wyrm's eyes flicked to his and though it didn't have no damn cheeks, Beowolf coulda sworn he saw that little shit's smile widen.

"Another try, then? Lady Luck might have her sights on you this time, for certain!"

A beat, silent.

Well, hell, what was the harm?

Beowolf 6/10HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 4, Guarantee Beowolf loses Qi Adept and gains Rally Defense Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance!

"Ay! There we go!"

A rush of spirit filled him once more, warm against the grazed area that the pain had left behind, but did not fill him enough that he'd forgotten - merely pushed it aside was all.

Nudging an elbow into the sides of Naesala and the other man, Beowolf tapped his knuckles against the counter. "House always wins 'til it don't, hey?"

@albwreckt @corvuschriisti @nelithic