Hero of Justice!

[Indie roleplay for Owain from FE13]

[swordwain]

►Barracks

[scriptedfates]

"What are you up to, Owain?"

It always amazed River how big Owain’s imagination was. What an interesting child.

[swordwain]

A grin flash upon his lips. "What else could possibly occupy a hero's mind besides the overwhelming desire to dispel the world's evils and eradicate the sorrows woven into the land? Dark Owain remains a valiant hero of Justice, whose sword hand has never known defeat! The peace that has finally settled upon this grassy plain is due to the blood shed upon the battlefield, where light and dark collide-- where hero wrestles with evil, face to face in grizzle combat!"

[swordwain]

►Barracks

"Hoy there, River! Nary a shadow slinks about the circumference claimed by our hero, as he has just returned from a valiant patrol. Has thine eyes gazed upon a dark cloud o'er the fields, which blocks out the thin veil of sunlight?"

[fromthebloodofheroes-blog]

This Owain scowled, looking properly indignant as he pointed accusingly at his doppelganger. “I am not a mere spell, charlatan! I am Owain, son of Lady Lissa of the Halidom of Ylisse, the Chosen One formed from the blood of heroes!” he declared, glaring at the other Owain.

“Explain yourself, why do you have my face, my eyes, my Mark, yet not my hair?!” (I THINK THAT THEY WOULD HAVE DIFFERENT FATHERS HAHA MY OWAIN IS FROM STAHL)

[swordwain]

Accusatory words, sharp as a warriors blade, pierced his poor, pure heart. A charlatan! Him? How dare this mirror rewrite his heroic title to something so.. so insultingly inaccurate! And to claim his lineage as well! -- blasphemy

"Your unkempt locks would ruin my noble visage," Owain scowled. Strange how hair color remained the only difference between them. Dark locks didn't look to bad on his mirror, though, if he were to speak honestly. A pout played upon his lips briefly when he realized he'd slipped and addressed a trivial matter -- then again, should something ruin his stunning features, damsels across the land would weep.

To complete the mirror, Owain thrust a finger at his twin. "How can a hero explain himself if his introduction is stolen? Owain Dark eradicates the poisonous evil infesting the land, no other explanation need be provided. Are you truly not a spell or curse manifested that you would ask such a thing?"

[swordwain]

princessofylisse started following you

Owain glanced up from the worn book cradled in his hands at the sound of nearby footfalls. He'd instinctively snapped the book shut but relaxed upon seeing who was gracing him with their presence. "Mother," the swordsman greeted with a smile. "How fair you this auspicious hour?"

laurent-the-elucidator started following you

Tilting his head to the side, Owain poked his head out from behind a crate of weapons he had yet to unpack. "Lo! What inquiry sends a man of your caliber to the encampment's steel limbs? Are you in need of its services or are you merely venturing out, curiously observing the methods exercised by sections other than the cranium?"

lonesecretdreamer started following you

"... I dub thee Borealis," Owain hummed, fingers grazing over the smooth wood of a bow. Naming weaponry while checking inventory of new equipment was of the utmost importance, especially if said inventory included a small amount of wood or low mineral weapons: wood snapped easily in the turbulence of war and bronze didn't fair much better -- all the more reason to give the poor things a name, right? Owain glanced up as he moved onto a sword, only to falter slightly. Erk. "S... Severa..."

masked-assassin started following you

heartful-lover-yukari started following you

Offering a mix between a friendly smile and an arrogant smirk, Owain brushed his thumb and pointer finger against his chin. "Unfamiliar faces, be thee friend or foe? Do you hail from the far reaching mountains, where clouds kiss the peaceful land? Or are the tempting marshes -- the devourer of weary travelers -- your origin? Both hero and villain are shaped by their abode, so from whence do you hail?"

meaning-of-beard started following you

If any man had a mustache, it was this fellow. True, the man seemed vaguely familiar but Owain was a tad bit distracted at the moment. It was as if a twinge of a hero's fiery soul resided in that mustache, but distorted into something sinister as one neared the curled edges. Very.... peculiar, to say the least.

[timebrokentactics-archive]

As Owain leaned forward, Morgan leaned back, forced to take a step when her balance began to waver. He was staring at her so intently, she wanted to balk, but the hand he had on his sword - what had he called it again? Shadow? Justice? Shadow Justice? She could never remember, he named almost everything he came across - made her nervous. Owain wasn’t thinking of… using that on her… was he?

But then he was starting his theatrics again, and she blinked at him, more out of relief than confusion. Then—

You look like my friend.

I was your friend. Was. Because he was gone now. Her Owain, at least. Like everyone else in her future. Gone. Dead. Her fault. Nonetheless she gave him a slightly flustered smile.

“D-do I? Well, they say that there are three people in the world that look like you,” she attempted to joke, albeit weakly. “I’m Morgan. You’re Owain? Nice to meet you.”

[swordwain]

A strange expression painted his companion's features, though Owain couldn't figure out why. Perhaps his devilish allure was overwhelming? The blood of heroes flowed through his veins, after all; his charm could make even his foes green with envy!

["D-do I? Well, they say that there are three people in the world that look like you."]

Owain blinked. Well, if nothing else she shared his friend's humor. But three people, huh? One of the parents was an obvious answer, the other being.... a sibling? And the third...? Ah! The third would be that person's evil opposite! Their arch-nemesis -- the half of their soul that was tainted by the bitter melody of darkness. Of course! Ah, but this female didn't appear to be an incarnation of evil; his sword hand wasn't itching, pulsing with the unquenchable desire to charge into battle. 

So that made this girl, according to her joke, a "sibling"?

Offering a smile as he pulled away from his thoughts, the swordsman inclined his head in greeting. "Pleasure to meet you as well. Now that we are acquainted, though, should evil ever dare amass in the dark crevices of the world and lunge forward to sink its venomous fangs in your defenses, give shout to the wind -- it will carry your plea upon its back to me. Owain Dark never cowers from devilish foes, nor will he leave a friend in their sinful grasp!"  Of course, he wouldn't leave anyone in general, but that went without saying. A hero must save people, after all.

[timebrokentactics-archive]

swordwain started following you laurent-the-elucidator started following you pigtail-punisher started following you

[timebrokentactics-archive]

Friends. So many friends. The guilt was killing her inside. “You seem… familiar. Did I… Do I know you? Are you… from the future?”

[swordwain]

Well that was one way to greet someone. Owain leaned forward, one hand brushing his pointer and thumb across his chin while his other perched casually upon his sheeted sword.

"Odd inquiry, considering you must hail from the future as well," he mused aloud, brow furrowed slightly. Perhaps not the future Owain had originated from, but a time-to-be nonetheless. Unless! Gods! Had he fallen into a rift in Time? Had he stumbled upon a different "present"? Owain scowled to himself. But that couldn't be; he hadn't done anything to instigate another leap through time. Plus he doubted the dark forces of evil could pull such a feat -- tossing him to another Time to be rid of his heroic influence -- without the mighty Owain Dark noticing.

Owain smiled and straightened, slipping into his character as easily as the wind that brushes over emerald blades of grass. "But alas! To not recognize the noble visage of Owain Dark! Evil fiends slither in the shadows, concealing word of the heroic feats that threaten them. Lo, to hear that evil gripped whatever humble abode you hail from suffered such a fate saddens this great hero." Owain paused, a faint frown on his lips after various expressions flitted across his features during his spiel. It was brief, but he flashed a smile as his charade ceased for but a moment as he spoke suddenly, "You look like my friend."

[swordwain]

fromthebloodofheroes

Words charged forth, fueled by fathomless confusion, only to tangle and collapse within his throat. Owain blinked, stunned that a god had descended from the heavens -- because surely it was a divine power at work to place a 3-dimensional mirror of himself before him. Gaze narrowed, the swordsman leaned forward ever so slightly, but cautious nonetheless. This mirror may share his devilish good looks, but perhaps it did not carry his burning, pure soul!

"From what sorcerer's spell do you originate? Are you the mirror to my soul, crafted with the pure blood of fallen heroes, or do you hail from the abyss, where shadows slither and shudder as they give form?"

[swordwain]

bradysgotpower started following you

[bradysgotpower]

Brady sniffled, but then calmed himself down. “N-No… S-Something in my eye…” Geez, what a way to live up to Brady of the Moistened Eyes, he needed to stop that. “Besides! What’s it to you if I start crying again… just gonna call me a crybaby… least you haven’t said anything about it to anyone…” He did have to admit, Owain kept his word. Not a single person knew he was a crybaby at heart… everyone except Owain. He really couldn’t keep his act together when he was around Owain… and well, he could say that Owain could exactly keep his act together as well. “…So, what are ya doing anyway?”

[swordwain]

A faint frown tugged upon the corner's of the young man's lips, his brows furrowed slightly. Brady was a horrible liar, to say the least; but Owain had to admit, that was a quirk he liked about Brady.

Owain raised one hand, the other still cupping the empty bowl, and pointed at his companion. "Probably," he replied, "since it's akin to your temporary title." After all, Brady was rather sentimental; although he made scary faces sometimes, the guy had a soft heart. Naturally, Owain lightly teased his friend a little, but he always backed off before crossing any lines. Perhaps that was because Owain kept slipping out of character whenever he conversed with Brady -- particularly with the other was near tears.

["...So, what are ya doing anyway?"]

Blinking slowly, as if he was just asked what color the sky was, Owain pointed at his bowl. "Replenishing energy. A hero cannot brave the battlefield on an empty stomach; a dark cloaked villain could emerge from the shadows -- a final showdown! -- and drive the hero to the brink of death if he lacked energy." As he talked, a sharp light flickered in his gaze, which was present whenever he delved into his creative fantasies. His expressions changed, morphing to represent the two characters and the intensity of the situation -- like the waves rolling over the sea, the entire act was one fluid motion, though he remained sitting.

His hand fell to his lap, his features relaxed as he casually slipped out of character once more. "So, what are you going to cook?" He bit back some comment about how tears weren't a seasoning.

[swordwain]

[Salutations, fellow valiant warriors! Aha, but no really. Hello to friends and newcomers -- my apologies for not responding quickly as of late (or much at all) and for not greeting you properly. I have replies to threads, it's just a matter of phrasing them adequately. I can be slow with this, so my apologies.]

[nowaruu-deactivated20130416]

Oh dear.

After a recent mishap during training, Noire had accidentally broken the string of her bow. All she wanted to do was ask Owain if he possibly had extras, but it was apparent that she came at a wrong time. He began speaking, and while Noire wanted to intrude to state her original objective, her soft-spoke tone couldn’t even begin to match up to the man’s boisterous attitude.

“Um…” Noire tried to speak, but it was apparent that Owain didn’t notice her. He was too caught up in his normal speech, and while she didn’t mind his was this enthusiastic about the matter, it was difficult for her to get a single word in. Keeping silent until he was finished, she fiddled with her fingers in an anxious manner.

“I - I just wanted to see if you had extra bow strings?” Noire squeaked, not really wanting a dramatic, heroic battle like the one he had always envisioned. I - it wasn’t as if she was the antagonist trying to kill him, after all! She just wanted to fix her weapon and go back to training…

[swordwain]

Owain blinked, the wide grin on his lips falling to a soft smile. Noire's timidness had it's cute moments, but it always took him a moment to bounce back when she replied so softly. On the other hand, when she gripped that talisman in those slender fingers of hers and allowed her voice to travel farther distances, oh how fun it was to play with her! -- though there were scary times when he took it a bit too far and had to dodge some arrows.

"Aye," he replied, half in character. "Dare you tread the path I walk, as this brave legend leads you to glory?" Again, that wide grin played upon his lips as he turned on his heel and ventured over to the corner of the tent, weapons neatly piled and waiting for a brave had to take them into battle. Owain knelt, rummaging around in a crate, pulling out a string only to mutter something under his breath and place it aside before digging around once more. This continued for a few minutes or so before he fiddled with one, tentatively pulling on it and turning the string over as he inspected it.

Finally, he half turned, holding out the bow string, "Here. There's more arrows, too, if you need `em."

[feminineantithesis-deactivated2]

Owain went off again on some rant, and to be honest, Sully just stopped paying attention entirely to his act. She did pay attention now again, hearing something of hardships and shame? Ah hell, whatever. She didn’t have half the patience as some of the other people in the camp to deal with this kind of crap, but it would be rude if she just interrupted. She made sure to make it seem like she was paying attention, but in truth, she kind of just zoned out.

Sully did notice he stopped talking, and she assumed now would have been a good thing to pay attention again. There was something of a quick silence, and she instantly thought ‘crap.’ Did he ask her something? Was she supposed to respond? Aw, hell—!

It was fortunate that he asked her another question, and though she didn’t show it outwardly, she sighed in relief. Thank the gods she didn’t ignore something to give a response to. “Nothing much. Trying to get my hands on a new sword. Mine’s getting dull, and I don’t think it can withstand another sharpenin’.”

[swordwain]

Owain nodded gravely, fingers brushing against his chin as if he was a great sage lost in thought. Woe, pitiful and deadly is the sword that breaks upon the battlefield; ever sad is the one worn past its prime, unable to dance against the whetstone once more. Perhaps if Sully had named the poor thing, it would have remained in service much, much longer, but Owain was wise enough to keep this thought to himself -- for now at least.

Though his body posture remained poised, an actor ready to spring into another dramatic tale at the drop of a hat, his voice remained causal, his words simple. "Want me to fetch one for you?" A harmless offer, though not extended because of Sully's gender. But rather, because Owain kept tabs on their weapons and the maintenance of them. He was good for more than just naming things, after all. Sully was a fierce fighter, Owain would love to pick out a sword for her -- and perhaps spare a few moments (before she left him in the dust) to convince her to name this one.

[swordwain]

bradysgotpower started following you

[bradysgotpower]

Brady looked at Owain with a raised eyebrow. “Well, Owain… I’m headin’ towards the kitchen, it’s my turn ta cook tonight…” Brady scowled, remembering what happened the last time he cooked. Owain had wandered in and mistook him for, well, he didn’t really know. He remember calling him some kinda fiend, which was probably a shot at his looks. “An’ hey, what happened to ‘Brady of the moistened eyes’? Thought that was my title. And why does it have ta be fearsome eh?! I ain’t done NOTHING ta be fearsome yet!” Brady felt tears already. Jeez, he really was a crybaby.

[swordwain]

It was still an odd thing to imagine -- the rough looking Brady donned in an apron and chef's hat -- even more so to see it in person. But has the other had said, Brady wasn't a bad cook. "Hm?" he blinked, swallowing another bite. A playful grin spread across his lips, "Alas, had you grown attached to that alias? A true member of the Justice Cabal must burden a title so akin to their soul's nature, it morphs into a second skin. A burning passion has yet to brand the Justice Cabal's insignia upon your soul, however preparation prior to harms us not." Owain wanted to find Brady the perfect title -- that's not to say Brady of the Moistened Eyes wasn't befitting... it was, but that was hardly a title that would strike fear into the hearts of fiendish foes.

Owain blinked, setting his trusty Cleaving Spade -- his spoon -- down in the bowl as he stared at Brady, whose eyes seemed a little moist. "H-hey you're not gonna cry already, are you?" Slipping out of character again...

[swordwain]

bradysgotpower started following you

Owain glanced up from the snack he managed to sneak out of food storage, quiet for a brief moment while he swallowed. "Hark! Upon what occasion need to pay tribute to for a visit from the fearsome violinist?" His words were merely friendly jests; Owain rather enjoyed Brady's company, but he often slipped out of his character more often than not the longer their conversations dragged. Perhaps that was because it was a natural reaction to Brady's.... sentimental side -- or so the other called it.

[swordwain]

dreaming--dances started following you

nowaruu started following you

sweetthievery started following you

Whoa! Could this be--? Dare he hope--? An audience?! Or even... a challenger?!

Nevermind the more than probable reality that they were merely passing by or fetching him to maintenance the gear or switch with someone on patrol -- Owain was beside himself with joy at the sudden company. He was keenly aware that his... antics quickly pressed upon the patience of others and thus he was often left to his own devices unless he sought someone out. But this--!

A wide playful grin spread across the youth's lips as his left thumb brushed against his cheek out of habit. "Fate weaves Her web in intricate ways, twisting the mind and soul of fools with bloodied thread. With each thrum of gleaming thread, a battle is born! -- raging as burning souls clash!" Fluidly, the youth's body twisted this way and that, dramatizing his words as they poured from his lips. "Another turning point emerges in the dizzying spiral of Fate's web; intense souls collide, creating the stage for our battle! -- a gleaming gem upon cold thread. Speak! What cold winds spurred you here? What dark desires kindled your passion and forged your path?"

[feminineantithesis-deactivated2]

“Whoa there, kiddo!” Sully exclaimed, giving a quirked eyebrow at the man before her. Owain was his name, she believed - Lissa’s kid from the future or whatever it was. She could never understand all that time-traveling junk. Hell, she was way too shocked when she met her own kid from the future. She didn’t even know she got married to someone, let alone have a kid. It was nice, and Sully would never ignore the kid; the situation was just too weird at first and difficult to understand. But she digressed.

The more pressing matter was the kid in front of her asking where she hailed from. “You hit your head or something? You know who I am.” She gave him a disbelieving look, hand on her hip as she shifted her weight to lean on one leg. She had briefly heard of his histronics, but truly, was such necessary? Was there another red-haired, female cavalier prowling around, and she didn’t get the note? 

[swordwain]

Owain faltered slightly, a faint frown upon his lips. "No, I didn-- er... Heh! To find a foe brave and capable enough to land a blow on Owain Dark would be a challenge in and of itself! Unspeakable hardships have tempered this body into an unbreakable metal that would put even the rare orichalcum to shame. The mere notion that some feeble, foolish foe succeeded in rendering Owain Dark with a cranial injury is preposterous!" Quickly, he recovered from his slip, but the youth allowed an internal sigh die in his chest. Ah, why wouldn't anyone play along? Was that too much to ask? Owain was acutely aware that his antics irked many in the camp, but old habits died hard.

"What's up?" he asked, allowing his charade to halt for a brief moment least Sully snap at him like Kjelle was wont to. The last thing he needed was an actual, serious head trauma. "Need help with gear maintenance?"

[swordwain]

feminineantithesis started following you

Owain blinked, a barely noticeable pause as he gathered himself, lips quirked up in a half smirk. "Lo! Fiendish foes slink about in the shadows, sharpening their sinful claws beneath the watchful moon." Despite his words, it was the middle of the day, but then again, Owain's spiel often stretched the imagination once he started. He shifted, left thumb grazing his cheek as he narrowed his eyes upon the armored female. "From whence do you hail? Be you friend or foe?!"

She looked familiar. Kjelle's mother if he recalled correctly. But who could tell if a spy had slithered their way into the camp? Surely Kjelle's real mother was kidnapped, tied up, and held captive in a dungeon over the Plegian desert! -- or somewhere in Valm. Gods! Kjelle would be enraged to hear such news! But ne'er fear, Owain Dark shall unmask this vile spy and rend the truth from her lips!

[swordwain]

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

A click of the tongue. Tsk tsk. To ask such a question to one of his caliber! Isn't the answer obvious? For a mighty hero, his legendary sword  of... legend is irreplaceable! "My trusty blade, Galebringer should answer your query."

Of course, Owain had precious treasures he kept -- mementos -- but he didn't speak of them lightly.

"Now, from whence do you hail? Are you friend or foe? Speak now, fiend!"