{Sorry for the wait guys!}
Although he was fairly familiar with Arabic culture & knew his stare was not helping poor Zaida's discomfort, it would be a moment before Takurasho was able to {uncertainly} avert his gaze. He'd been right... not that he doubted himself, of course... but her arrival rekindled the raging series of questions he'd barely managed to subdue earlier. He was confounded, suspicious, & admittedly a tad amused {by Aranel's reaction to Zaida's reappearance}. "أعني أي ازدراء..." {"I mean no disrespect"} he would say gently before she began to pray, "ولا Aranel." {"Nor Aranel"} His accent was certainly off, but the vetala managed to speak her native tongue with relative eloquence. The sudden patter of little feet raised his gaze. Tomoe was given a very stern frown, though it was her words that caused Takurasho's brows to knit. "Impure?" he repeated, tone dangerously low, "Master Zaida?" He made no attempts to hide his displeasure for the child. Granted, he was naturally awful with young persons, but this one in particular had an unusual aura about her. He shuddered slightly.
Ugh. Children.
Takurasho would make no attempts to stop Aranel as she began to leave. He was not entirely trusting of this unfamiliar place, especially due to a certain vibe that engulfed them, but he was almost as awful with women as he was with children. Her feelings were hurt, & he only knew so many tactics for assuaging upset humans. At least she had yet to remove the fur coat he'd passed along to her. If anything, she wouldn't catch cold from heading outside.
As Aearion emerged & Zaida donned her hijab, Takurasho would motion for his & Aranel's room. "Perhaps we three should discuss such matters in a more private enclosure..." he would suggest, glancing up & down the hall to make sure they weren't already being eavesdropped upon. "I'm certain you have much to share, Zaida, &... little girl..." that terrifically grumpy gaze returned to Tomoe for a moment. "I believe you should run along to your parents. Zaida will be perfectly safe now that she is again among her companions." He'd wave a hand at her as though attempting to shoo a stray.
Although he was fairly familiar with Arabic culture & knew his stare was not helping poor Zaida's discomfort, it would be a moment before Takurasho was able to {uncertainly} avert his gaze. He'd been right... not that he doubted himself, of course... but her arrival rekindled the raging series of questions he'd barely managed to subdue earlier. He was confounded, suspicious, & admittedly a tad amused {by Aranel's reaction to Zaida's reappearance}. "أعني أي ازدراء..." {"I mean no disrespect"} he would say gently before she began to pray, "ولا Aranel." {"Nor Aranel"} His accent was certainly off, but the vetala managed to speak her native tongue with relative eloquence. The sudden patter of little feet raised his gaze. Tomoe was given a very stern frown, though it was her words that caused Takurasho's brows to knit. "Impure?" he repeated, tone dangerously low, "Master Zaida?" He made no attempts to hide his displeasure for the child. Granted, he was naturally awful with young persons, but this one in particular had an unusual aura about her. He shuddered slightly.
Ugh. Children.
Takurasho would make no attempts to stop Aranel as she began to leave. He was not entirely trusting of this unfamiliar place, especially due to a certain vibe that engulfed them, but he was almost as awful with women as he was with children. Her feelings were hurt, & he only knew so many tactics for assuaging upset humans. At least she had yet to remove the fur coat he'd passed along to her. If anything, she wouldn't catch cold from heading outside.
As Aearion emerged & Zaida donned her hijab, Takurasho would motion for his & Aranel's room. "Perhaps we three should discuss such matters in a more private enclosure..." he would suggest, glancing up & down the hall to make sure they weren't already being eavesdropped upon. "I'm certain you have much to share, Zaida, &... little girl..." that terrifically grumpy gaze returned to Tomoe for a moment. "I believe you should run along to your parents. Zaida will be perfectly safe now that she is again among her companions." He'd wave a hand at her as though attempting to shoo a stray.
rolled 1d20 and got 8
15+ takes note of the terribly suspicious marble!
{Tis' not a problem! Expecting children is a very exciting and time-consuming process, so I hear. I think I can forgive, just this once~}
Crow’s blue tome was held within her left hand, her thumb pressing into the space between pages as she withdraws the ink vial and quill pen, separately, from her robes, and placing them upon the table in front of her.
Is it not odd? Look closely. Love and hate, so closely resemble each other. How could they be so different?
Crow’s pale skin was illuminated by the crystal attached to her belt, her gaze drifting to the opened pages of the blue tome, a strange symbol with several notes underneath it on the page and more notes on the next page. Crow’s left hand holds the book open, while her right hand dips the quill pen into the ink, starting to draw on the table’s surface. Her delicate hand creates a ring of black ink along the table, moving the quill pen and dipping it back into the ink.
They are as old as they are old. But what is the difference? Of age, of knowledge, of culture?
Crow’s quill pen is drawn across the surface, creating another circle within the first one, then another circle a few inches inside the second one. Then her quill pen moves to dip back into the ink, her gaze looking at the book held within her left hand.
Must be the darkness. They say it crusts around the heart and soul. Makes a person black as death.
Crow’s quill pen moves from the South-West section of the inner-most circle, to the North, directly in the middle of the circle, to the South-East of the circle, to the West of the circle, then to the East of the circle. Then right hand dips the quill pen back into the ink vial.
Both destroy. Saving anything destroys something else. That is the grey spot between decisions.
Crow’s quill pen draws strange symbols between the second and third circle, then words, inside the same circle, and then inside the third circle, then inside the points of the created star. Crow’s gaze returns to the opened book, then back to the symbol, drawing the last, strange symbol in the middle of the whole design
Crow’s left hand shuts the book and her mouth moves, silently whispering to herself, her right hand placing the quill pen back within the ink vial, her right hand then hovering over the design, a faint, black flame erupting from the black ink and smoldering, until cooling. The table’s legs give a shudder, then lift up, one-by-one, and settle back down. Crow’s legs un-cross as she slides off of her chair, near the corner of the table. She places the blue tome back within her robes and her right hand reaches out, plucking the ink vial and the quill pen up, one-by-one, and placing them within her robes. The table idly moves up and down, subtly, as if it were breathing. Crow’s gaze drifts to it, “These chairs are yours. Eat them.”
The table’s legs tap the carpet, moving to stand over the chair. It lowers itself, teeth of wood appearing in a wide-stretched mouth, along the underside of the table. It dismantles the cushion and the wood underneath, devouring the chair. It then does the same to the other chair, as Crow watches the door to the room idly, her expression calm. As the table finishes with its meal, it stretches and bends, warping into a larger table.
Crow’s blue tome was held within her left hand, her thumb pressing into the space between pages as she withdraws the ink vial and quill pen, separately, from her robes, and placing them upon the table in front of her.
Is it not odd? Look closely. Love and hate, so closely resemble each other. How could they be so different?
Crow’s pale skin was illuminated by the crystal attached to her belt, her gaze drifting to the opened pages of the blue tome, a strange symbol with several notes underneath it on the page and more notes on the next page. Crow’s left hand holds the book open, while her right hand dips the quill pen into the ink, starting to draw on the table’s surface. Her delicate hand creates a ring of black ink along the table, moving the quill pen and dipping it back into the ink.
They are as old as they are old. But what is the difference? Of age, of knowledge, of culture?
Crow’s quill pen is drawn across the surface, creating another circle within the first one, then another circle a few inches inside the second one. Then her quill pen moves to dip back into the ink, her gaze looking at the book held within her left hand.
Must be the darkness. They say it crusts around the heart and soul. Makes a person black as death.
Crow’s quill pen moves from the South-West section of the inner-most circle, to the North, directly in the middle of the circle, to the South-East of the circle, to the West of the circle, then to the East of the circle. Then right hand dips the quill pen back into the ink vial.
Both destroy. Saving anything destroys something else. That is the grey spot between decisions.
Crow’s quill pen draws strange symbols between the second and third circle, then words, inside the same circle, and then inside the third circle, then inside the points of the created star. Crow’s gaze returns to the opened book, then back to the symbol, drawing the last, strange symbol in the middle of the whole design
Crow’s left hand shuts the book and her mouth moves, silently whispering to herself, her right hand placing the quill pen back within the ink vial, her right hand then hovering over the design, a faint, black flame erupting from the black ink and smoldering, until cooling. The table’s legs give a shudder, then lift up, one-by-one, and settle back down. Crow’s legs un-cross as she slides off of her chair, near the corner of the table. She places the blue tome back within her robes and her right hand reaches out, plucking the ink vial and the quill pen up, one-by-one, and placing them within her robes. The table idly moves up and down, subtly, as if it were breathing. Crow’s gaze drifts to it, “These chairs are yours. Eat them.”
The table’s legs tap the carpet, moving to stand over the chair. It lowers itself, teeth of wood appearing in a wide-stretched mouth, along the underside of the table. It dismantles the cushion and the wood underneath, devouring the chair. It then does the same to the other chair, as Crow watches the door to the room idly, her expression calm. As the table finishes with its meal, it stretches and bends, warping into a larger table.
[Wishing you the best into the new frontier of fatherhood, Takurasho! Whenever that bundle of whatever you'd like to call it comes out. Boy or girl? )
Everything in the fortress seemed to be in wait for something greater. The words Tomoe spewed to Aranel was in a squeaking shout. Tearing herself from Aranel's grip shortly after her shoulders had been grabbed hold of or until she was let go, either way worked. There was really nothing more Tomoe said, but she did make the attempt to stand by Zaida's side until the very end so it seemed; if it meant it. The little girl's face so full of rage, cheeks puffs up and arms crossed. Despite Aranel's approach and learning what she meant by the word Impure gave no way for word of tongue. She just stood, arms folded over her chest glaring Aranel in the eye with a look that could kill were it a tangible force.
The marble Aearion so luckily caught notice of and took into his possession felt as it were an ordinary marble; a child's play thing, but one of black material? The object were not transparent though it felt of glass nor was it a solid object for it were hollow beyond its thin yet impregnable, flawless surface. Thee was however.. something..moving.. something squirming on the inside as it were a cloud of sheer black.
Gyosei finally made his arrival onto the building there was no motion to move and allow Aranel clearway passage passed him as he quickly examined her attire which presumed this woman to be of the group he sought to congregate with. "You are of the Nobles that wish to see me?" If his words did not halt her then his physique sure enough would have being firmly planted where he stood bumping into him will be almost like bumping into an armored rock. Yes, an armored rock. Who the hell puts armor on a rock anyway?
All Tomoe could do was stand and take the; what she felt for mildly belittling, words to leave. Giving Takurasho one final glare of utter gut wrenching disgust before hurrying over to exit where their Warlord attempted conversation with Aranel. "Our Empress will have your heads!" In a venomous whisper. There were no further words of conflict for what little she did say as Tomoe left.
In that dungeon. The Second Head of the scout squad finally arrived to visit Clint. With the lantern having been shattered it was utterly dark in this cellar. "Mn.. Was NO ONE watching this guy?!" The few troops that were in the barracks staying warm apologized, but placed blame on a young fellow, the one whom was initially Clint's watchdog. He spat and snatched up a lantern that hung on the side, taking a small flame by stick to light the lantern giving it the warm orange glow. The small stick he found to be of upcoming use; resembling that of chopstick if anything and kept it on his person between his teeth. Down into the cellar he descended providing some form of light to cast on the pitch black of the dungeon.
"Wake up if you aren't already! We need some information out of you!" He bellowed. His voice sure enough echoed and reverberated in the small confines. Clint's weakened form; if he truly was weakened was illuminated by the lantern. "So. These Noblemen. What exactly are you all, hm?" The Lantern was set down beside Clint although a distance enough away to be able to keep it out of Clint's immediate reach with any of his appendages. Both eyes mainly focused on those mechanical arms of his which sent disgust rippling through to his very core. Slow steps encircled the bound thief sure enough in his attempts to intimidate this mysterious male.
Memory Shard
The immediate proximity around Takurasho's hand created a small flux around it that lasted only a brief moment, but in that moment Takurasho will find himself dragged to another part of.. the world? Color was stripped from this universe although there were some pivotal images that could be struck as monuments to remember. A clock tower. Ghastly images of people moving in stop & go motions about their day-to-day lives in intervals of four seconds for each image. The sounds, however persisted as white noise banter and possibly a sale of some carrots going on to the left. The only fluid motions were his own: Takurasho's, though he donned a new sort of clothing. Robes cloaked his form. The smell of delicious baked foods held tasteful to the air. From just behind him arose a voice, a rather familiar one at that. It were a female's voice. Should Takurasho turn around will he find himself confronted by The Lady although she spoke to him under another name. Yantume [Ya-n-toom]. Her motions were swift and fluid just as Takurasho's own despite the periodical change of scenery around them. In her motions her arms draped over both shoulders with a swift lean in that was gradually slowing down as all was being consumed by white until all was lost in the ominous glare along with the sensations of touch, smell, hearing.
A moment in time elsewhere..?
Everything in the fortress seemed to be in wait for something greater. The words Tomoe spewed to Aranel was in a squeaking shout. Tearing herself from Aranel's grip shortly after her shoulders had been grabbed hold of or until she was let go, either way worked. There was really nothing more Tomoe said, but she did make the attempt to stand by Zaida's side until the very end so it seemed; if it meant it. The little girl's face so full of rage, cheeks puffs up and arms crossed. Despite Aranel's approach and learning what she meant by the word Impure gave no way for word of tongue. She just stood, arms folded over her chest glaring Aranel in the eye with a look that could kill were it a tangible force.
The marble Aearion so luckily caught notice of and took into his possession felt as it were an ordinary marble; a child's play thing, but one of black material? The object were not transparent though it felt of glass nor was it a solid object for it were hollow beyond its thin yet impregnable, flawless surface. Thee was however.. something..moving.. something squirming on the inside as it were a cloud of sheer black.
Gyosei finally made his arrival onto the building there was no motion to move and allow Aranel clearway passage passed him as he quickly examined her attire which presumed this woman to be of the group he sought to congregate with. "You are of the Nobles that wish to see me?" If his words did not halt her then his physique sure enough would have being firmly planted where he stood bumping into him will be almost like bumping into an armored rock. Yes, an armored rock. Who the hell puts armor on a rock anyway?
All Tomoe could do was stand and take the; what she felt for mildly belittling, words to leave. Giving Takurasho one final glare of utter gut wrenching disgust before hurrying over to exit where their Warlord attempted conversation with Aranel. "Our Empress will have your heads!" In a venomous whisper. There were no further words of conflict for what little she did say as Tomoe left.
In that dungeon. The Second Head of the scout squad finally arrived to visit Clint. With the lantern having been shattered it was utterly dark in this cellar. "Mn.. Was NO ONE watching this guy?!" The few troops that were in the barracks staying warm apologized, but placed blame on a young fellow, the one whom was initially Clint's watchdog. He spat and snatched up a lantern that hung on the side, taking a small flame by stick to light the lantern giving it the warm orange glow. The small stick he found to be of upcoming use; resembling that of chopstick if anything and kept it on his person between his teeth. Down into the cellar he descended providing some form of light to cast on the pitch black of the dungeon.
"Wake up if you aren't already! We need some information out of you!" He bellowed. His voice sure enough echoed and reverberated in the small confines. Clint's weakened form; if he truly was weakened was illuminated by the lantern. "So. These Noblemen. What exactly are you all, hm?" The Lantern was set down beside Clint although a distance enough away to be able to keep it out of Clint's immediate reach with any of his appendages. Both eyes mainly focused on those mechanical arms of his which sent disgust rippling through to his very core. Slow steps encircled the bound thief sure enough in his attempts to intimidate this mysterious male.
Memory Shard
The immediate proximity around Takurasho's hand created a small flux around it that lasted only a brief moment, but in that moment Takurasho will find himself dragged to another part of.. the world? Color was stripped from this universe although there were some pivotal images that could be struck as monuments to remember. A clock tower. Ghastly images of people moving in stop & go motions about their day-to-day lives in intervals of four seconds for each image. The sounds, however persisted as white noise banter and possibly a sale of some carrots going on to the left. The only fluid motions were his own: Takurasho's, though he donned a new sort of clothing. Robes cloaked his form. The smell of delicious baked foods held tasteful to the air. From just behind him arose a voice, a rather familiar one at that. It were a female's voice. Should Takurasho turn around will he find himself confronted by The Lady although she spoke to him under another name. Yantume [Ya-n-toom]. Her motions were swift and fluid just as Takurasho's own despite the periodical change of scenery around them. In her motions her arms draped over both shoulders with a swift lean in that was gradually slowing down as all was being consumed by white until all was lost in the ominous glare along with the sensations of touch, smell, hearing.
A moment in time elsewhere..?
Aranel's swift movement wasn't to be mistaken with rushing toward the nearest exit. She closed in quickly on Gyosei but without realizing whoever was there would not move. At a distance, it simply appeared he was part of the scenery - a blurry aurora of colors cast across the walls and floors., nothing more.
When she drew closer, it seemed off. Her hand extended to feel him, though coupled with the texture and the subtle movements a human body did, she realized she was touching a man. She would have ran into him, since she continued to take a step even as she managed to touch him, but she stopped herself, realizing this wasn't a wall. Close enough though. It didn't dawn on her who until he spoke, and then she retracted her hands with a surprised yelp.
Clamoring backwards, she fumbled for an apologetic bow (bowing was good, right?). "Uhm, yes sir. I am. I--" she paused. What was her explanation for all that? For her leaving and touching all up on that armored torso? Tomoe's words weren't replied to, but noted.
When she drew closer, it seemed off. Her hand extended to feel him, though coupled with the texture and the subtle movements a human body did, she realized she was touching a man. She would have ran into him, since she continued to take a step even as she managed to touch him, but she stopped herself, realizing this wasn't a wall. Close enough though. It didn't dawn on her who until he spoke, and then she retracted her hands with a surprised yelp.
Clamoring backwards, she fumbled for an apologetic bow (bowing was good, right?). "Uhm, yes sir. I am. I--" she paused. What was her explanation for all that? For her leaving and touching all up on that armored torso? Tomoe's words weren't replied to, but noted.
Zaida frowned, looking at Takurasho, giving a curt nod. Her hand would briefly touch Tomoe's shoulder in reassurance before she was chased off, "هناك الكثير مما ينبغي مناقشتها بالفعل. أنا أعتبر أنك سوف تكون مريحة يتحدث في لغتي الأم؟" (Much to be discussed indeed. I take it you will be comfortable conversing in my native language?) She nodded softly to herself, "انهم لا يعرفون أنني أعرف لغة مشتركة. وأود أن تفضل الاحتفاظ بها بهذه الطريقة في الوقت الراهن." (They do not know that I know a common tongue. I would prefer to keep it that way for now.)
She stepped towards the gestured room, shuddering as she remembered what Gyosei had called her. Vile man.
She stepped towards the gestured room, shuddering as she remembered what Gyosei had called her. Vile man.
((Woo! Aearion's going for the most loved character award!))
((Congratulations, Libertine! Good luck with the newest addition to your family ))
Aearion found the marble to be a strange one. He knew it had magic capabilities, but he had never expected the thing to contain something. With his transparent eyelids closed, he took a closer look at the thing, and found it to be eerie. His low light vision wasn't enough to penetrate through the blackness of this thing. It gave the Mer the chills. A child ran around with this!?
Aearion turned to the others that were in the room, but they were speaking a language he didn't understand."Kt'ai lot. S'ope lef' aaik te mach 'kal drath." He spoke, perhaps a bit loud. The language he spoke was Aquan, and half of the words sounded like they were unfinished, due to the fact Aearion didn't use his gills to help him speak. If anyone understood a little Aquan, they might have gathered he said "Oh, how nice. Speak a language I don't comprehend, why don't you?"
"Friends, if I can barge in?" He said as he walked a bit closer to the two, holding the marble in his palm."Takurasho, you're an expert on supernatural things, right? Do you recognize what this is? I can't for the life of me remember if I saw one of these before. But it looks sinister. Something is inside of this... marble."
((Congratulations, Libertine! Good luck with the newest addition to your family ))
Aearion found the marble to be a strange one. He knew it had magic capabilities, but he had never expected the thing to contain something. With his transparent eyelids closed, he took a closer look at the thing, and found it to be eerie. His low light vision wasn't enough to penetrate through the blackness of this thing. It gave the Mer the chills. A child ran around with this!?
Aearion turned to the others that were in the room, but they were speaking a language he didn't understand."Kt'ai lot. S'ope lef' aaik te mach 'kal drath." He spoke, perhaps a bit loud. The language he spoke was Aquan, and half of the words sounded like they were unfinished, due to the fact Aearion didn't use his gills to help him speak. If anyone understood a little Aquan, they might have gathered he said "Oh, how nice. Speak a language I don't comprehend, why don't you?"
"Friends, if I can barge in?" He said as he walked a bit closer to the two, holding the marble in his palm."Takurasho, you're an expert on supernatural things, right? Do you recognize what this is? I can't for the life of me remember if I saw one of these before. But it looks sinister. Something is inside of this... marble."
{Aerion, it's on}
{Thank you everyone! Knowing her parents, Dungeoneer, I have a feeling she's going to be a bundle of chaos Her name is Willow, & she should be here sometime between now & the 20th. I'll be sure to let you guys know when I'm headed for the hospital, I may be absent a few days. Thanks for your forgiveness Miss, lol}
The powerful glare Tomoe cast his way was returned with a subtle sneer & an unintelligible insult, something to the effect of "sticky-fingered hairless ape youngling" potentially overheard by those standing closest. This guy was not fond of kids! Takurasho's attention was redirected as Zaida spoke, & although he did not meet her gaze, he tilted his head towards her as he listened intently. It was not a language he practiced often, but he could make out the words well enough. The memories of vetala were generally more clear & concise than that of a human. "فهم," {"Understood,"} he replied simply. This was excellent. If her captors suspected she could not speak common, they may have unknowingly leaked some vital information as to-
As the unfamiliar memory enveloped his mind, Takurasho would freeze. His expression went slack, eyes glazing over, impeccable posture disrupted by a loose slouch. When it passed, he'd sway on the spot & blink rapidly. He was clearly disoriented. Gaze swiveled blearily in Aearion's direction, brows raising as Aquan was spoken. The vetala was extremely unfamiliar with this language & only caught little quips: "...nice... speak a language I don't..."
What is happening?
The marble was appraised with a clueless look. He raised his "new" hand palm-up, gesturing for the Mer to pass the strange stone, speaking thickly as he mumbled "Gibbet 'ere...." His hand was trembling ever so slightly.
{Thank you everyone! Knowing her parents, Dungeoneer, I have a feeling she's going to be a bundle of chaos Her name is Willow, & she should be here sometime between now & the 20th. I'll be sure to let you guys know when I'm headed for the hospital, I may be absent a few days. Thanks for your forgiveness Miss, lol}
The powerful glare Tomoe cast his way was returned with a subtle sneer & an unintelligible insult, something to the effect of "sticky-fingered hairless ape youngling" potentially overheard by those standing closest. This guy was not fond of kids! Takurasho's attention was redirected as Zaida spoke, & although he did not meet her gaze, he tilted his head towards her as he listened intently. It was not a language he practiced often, but he could make out the words well enough. The memories of vetala were generally more clear & concise than that of a human. "فهم," {"Understood,"} he replied simply. This was excellent. If her captors suspected she could not speak common, they may have unknowingly leaked some vital information as to-
As the unfamiliar memory enveloped his mind, Takurasho would freeze. His expression went slack, eyes glazing over, impeccable posture disrupted by a loose slouch. When it passed, he'd sway on the spot & blink rapidly. He was clearly disoriented. Gaze swiveled blearily in Aearion's direction, brows raising as Aquan was spoken. The vetala was extremely unfamiliar with this language & only caught little quips: "...nice... speak a language I don't..."
What is happening?
The marble was appraised with a clueless look. He raised his "new" hand palm-up, gesturing for the Mer to pass the strange stone, speaking thickly as he mumbled "Gibbet 'ere...." His hand was trembling ever so slightly.
rolled 1d20 and got a natural 18. After the modifier of +2, got 20
Attempt to identify any supernatural properties the marble possesses
{You are so welcome~}
Crow’s form turns about, her left hand reaching out and grasping the dirtied, tri-cornered hat from the animated table’s edge, it having stayed there while the table went about its business. Crow’s hand places the hat back upon her wispy locks of white, her right hand drifting upwards to push down upon the hat, until it was secured.
Crow’s right hand points down, twice, her pale gaze upon the table, “Stay in this spot until I call for you.” The table ceases moving, except its steady, subtle breathing. Crow’s form turns slowly, her coarse shoes making scuffing sounds upon the flooring of the room, her pale gaze drifting to the locked door, then down at her belt, at the crystal that illuminated her form and the area around her. Her right hand reaches towards it, touching her thumb and pointer-finger along its smoothened surface, her eyes occupied by it. Then her gaze returns to the door, her form briskly moving closer to it, her hands unlocking the door and pushing it open.
Crow takes a step outside the room and turns about, closing the door with a gentle push, her expression a mix between un-interest and neutrality; even more so when she looks down the hallway that hosted the other room, and the figures staring at what looked like a black rock. Crow’s thin eyebrow lifted with a quirk. Then her form begins to turn to walk away from the Mer and the Puppet, and the other femme.
Crow’s form turns about, her left hand reaching out and grasping the dirtied, tri-cornered hat from the animated table’s edge, it having stayed there while the table went about its business. Crow’s hand places the hat back upon her wispy locks of white, her right hand drifting upwards to push down upon the hat, until it was secured.
Crow’s right hand points down, twice, her pale gaze upon the table, “Stay in this spot until I call for you.” The table ceases moving, except its steady, subtle breathing. Crow’s form turns slowly, her coarse shoes making scuffing sounds upon the flooring of the room, her pale gaze drifting to the locked door, then down at her belt, at the crystal that illuminated her form and the area around her. Her right hand reaches towards it, touching her thumb and pointer-finger along its smoothened surface, her eyes occupied by it. Then her gaze returns to the door, her form briskly moving closer to it, her hands unlocking the door and pushing it open.
Crow takes a step outside the room and turns about, closing the door with a gentle push, her expression a mix between un-interest and neutrality; even more so when she looks down the hallway that hosted the other room, and the figures staring at what looked like a black rock. Crow’s thin eyebrow lifted with a quirk. Then her form begins to turn to walk away from the Mer and the Puppet, and the other femme.
Things are finally slowing down here for the time being. I'm really, really sorry for having you all wait this long. Additionally, so everyone is aware. Clint's character will be removed from the story per his request, but we have been collaborating here and there on methods to remove him rather than leaving his story arc a void. Posts should be coming in tonight or in the morning. ))
((No worries, Dungeoneer! Life's more important anyway. Thanks for keeping us updated though. . Glad to hear stuff's getting better. Or, well, slower at least!))
{Does that mean there will be more cuddly Crow? I am glad you are back!}
Alright. Let's do this. Posting now. This will be edited to accommodate that post. It feels good to be back. ))
Gyosei's lips poised with a deep frown. She was acting rather suspicious and furthermore, why was she not with the rest of her group of Nobles? "Are you lost?" In such a stern tone, Tomoe froze at the door at both the sight of her Warlord and how he was speaking. Tomoe stepped out into the snow barefoot and with just her servants garb keeping her as warm as it possibly could. Off to Gyosei's left walked that peculiar individual with that straw jar shaped hat. Gyosei was torn between two options. Furthering interrogations with Aranel or chasing down that mysterious person who paid no heed to the events that transpired between Aranel and Gyosei. By the time Gyosei had chosen that person was of a higher priority he had already come to terms that whomever was beneath that hat was going to give him no information worth letting the female in front of him go. This was his chance to get an idea of whom he was going to meet. "Your group--" At the corner of his eye the image of the individual disappeared beyond the seam of the door, but there he noticed Tomoe although knew not her name and assumed she were paying respects to a Significant's orders. "Why have you all come to my fortress? One of my men say you are from foreign nations, but to what end? Do you seek alliance?" Each word was followed by a white smog from warm breath to chilled air.
Down the hall a ways that mystery person moved with such light steps there was no possibly way for it to be a male under that hat, stopping in front of Crow. Should Crow stop as well the person only lowered their head slightly and continued on to push forward and if need-be even shift around Crow if allowed to pass. "You most of all bewilders me to his decision-making capabilities." Low, raspy. Hard to tell if male or female with no given physical indication underneath the sagely garbs.
As Takurasho reached for that obsidian sphere there was a sense of magnetism almost, but with it came a haunting desire that was not his own. A voice? Yes. A voice rung in the back of Takurasho's head. "Give me the seed!! The seed of darkness and bewitching hatred!!" Oh that was surely not Takurasho's voice...
Underneath the Barracks in their holding cell [This is just to remove Clint from the plot. He's caught up in his own things and will be unable to proceed further.]
The Second command was not appeased by the lack of words spoken by their present captive."The silent type, eh? And judging from your body modifications you are no ordinary thief. Probably could have broken out whenever you wanted." Without wasting any more time trying to get information from a dying man he decided to put him out of his misery. "See if we can use you to get information from any of them." From off the wall which was hanging on a hook he grabbed a long edged blade. Taking to a running start and in one swift motion he brought the black clean from Clint's Adam's apple to the wooden cylinder he was bound to, even getting the blade wedged into the wood. The head rolled off the blade. There he left it. The glow of the dancing orange flames reflecting off the crimson that poured free. Up the stairs he went. "Someone clean up that mess down there and dispose of the body! Keep the head." Tossing one last glance down into the dungeon. "Poor bastard." The men occupying the barracks were quick to heed his order.
Seems like the group was probably going to get something other than tea.The First Head of the squadron was in his quarters, looking over the sheet of paper he still held in possession. "This letter is flawless, but I don't buy it. I refuse to bend knee to would-be imposters." Continuing to keep his gaze heavy upon each written letter in search of something to bode well to his suspicions.
Down the hall a ways that mystery person moved with such light steps there was no possibly way for it to be a male under that hat, stopping in front of Crow. Should Crow stop as well the person only lowered their head slightly and continued on to push forward and if need-be even shift around Crow if allowed to pass. "You most of all bewilders me to his decision-making capabilities." Low, raspy. Hard to tell if male or female with no given physical indication underneath the sagely garbs.
As Takurasho reached for that obsidian sphere there was a sense of magnetism almost, but with it came a haunting desire that was not his own. A voice? Yes. A voice rung in the back of Takurasho's head. "Give me the seed!! The seed of darkness and bewitching hatred!!" Oh that was surely not Takurasho's voice...
Underneath the Barracks in their holding cell [This is just to remove Clint from the plot. He's caught up in his own things and will be unable to proceed further.]
The Second command was not appeased by the lack of words spoken by their present captive."The silent type, eh? And judging from your body modifications you are no ordinary thief. Probably could have broken out whenever you wanted." Without wasting any more time trying to get information from a dying man he decided to put him out of his misery. "See if we can use you to get information from any of them." From off the wall which was hanging on a hook he grabbed a long edged blade. Taking to a running start and in one swift motion he brought the black clean from Clint's Adam's apple to the wooden cylinder he was bound to, even getting the blade wedged into the wood. The head rolled off the blade. There he left it. The glow of the dancing orange flames reflecting off the crimson that poured free. Up the stairs he went. "Someone clean up that mess down there and dispose of the body! Keep the head." Tossing one last glance down into the dungeon. "Poor bastard." The men occupying the barracks were quick to heed his order.
Seems like the group was probably going to get something other than tea.The First Head of the squadron was in his quarters, looking over the sheet of paper he still held in possession. "This letter is flawless, but I don't buy it. I refuse to bend knee to would-be imposters." Continuing to keep his gaze heavy upon each written letter in search of something to bode well to his suspicions.
rolled 1d100 and got 92
Level of Suspicion Roll: Gyosei is already peculiar with strangers, finding Aranel did no justice for the group's cause. Beat the roll!
Aranel stared up at the man. To be frank, she wasn't a very good speaker when put on the spot like this. And even more did she feel she knew too little to really engage the man. Absolutely intimidated by the thought of screwing everything up, the young woman's mind went blank in momentary panic.
"Y-yes I am! Though um... though to be honest, sir, I was merely having a look about. I've not yet been in a place with architecture like this." Which was true! "And I was on my way outside, just for a moment, so I could watch the snowfall. Isn't it pretty?"
In her panic, through all her attempts to converse and make herself find an excuse for being away from her group, she completely failed to realize he asked an even more important question. Her eyes couldn't quite meet his face, and on the rare occasion that they did, they wouldn't linger for more than half a second. She recognized his face well now, but that's all. She wouldn't stare. A tiny, almost shy smile kept trying to surface, though. And then it occured that one of the questions ended with "to what end?" She thought on this and picked a direction and pointed. "That end."
Cue internal facepalm. She instantly regretted that.
((Damn dice. Lmao.))
"Y-yes I am! Though um... though to be honest, sir, I was merely having a look about. I've not yet been in a place with architecture like this." Which was true! "And I was on my way outside, just for a moment, so I could watch the snowfall. Isn't it pretty?"
In her panic, through all her attempts to converse and make herself find an excuse for being away from her group, she completely failed to realize he asked an even more important question. Her eyes couldn't quite meet his face, and on the rare occasion that they did, they wouldn't linger for more than half a second. She recognized his face well now, but that's all. She wouldn't stare. A tiny, almost shy smile kept trying to surface, though. And then it occured that one of the questions ended with "to what end?" She thought on this and picked a direction and pointed. "That end."
Cue internal facepalm. She instantly regretted that.
((Damn dice. Lmao.))
rolled 1d100 and got 33
Vs. 92! C'mon!
Crow’s form continued to walk the hallway, her coarse shoes now dry and scraping lightly against the flooring. Her face was uncovered, the mask having been left within her room, and her gaze was settled steadily forward. She did not glance at the figure headed towards her, and simply took a few steps forward, before her form stops, turning about to set her pale gaze upon the figure’s back. Crow’s lips pulled into a thoughtful frown, her faint eyebrows pinching together. “Hmm.”
Crow’s pale gaze lingered upon the figure’s retreating back, until she was out of sight. Crow’s tri-cornered hat holds firmly upon Crow’s head, as she turned back towards the hallway, walking out of the building and into the falling snow. Crow’s chest lifts up, subtly, a breath being inhaled through her nose, before her breath is released through her mouth in a white cloud. Then her eyebrows twitched inward, her right hand lifting as she observed its palm. A faint feeling, that grew fainter yet, pulsed within her palm. Crow’s pale gaze lingers upon the hand for a few moments, before looking up, towards the falling snow, “They killed him?” Crow’s settles next to her side, her lips slowly turning upwards into a quaint smile, and the most strangely airy and somewhat musical laugh starts to escape her mouth, before her left hand covers it, her head tilting downward, her wide-brimmed and dirtied hat shielding her facial features, her form subtly moving, until the fit ends.
Crow’s pale gaze lingered upon the figure’s retreating back, until she was out of sight. Crow’s tri-cornered hat holds firmly upon Crow’s head, as she turned back towards the hallway, walking out of the building and into the falling snow. Crow’s chest lifts up, subtly, a breath being inhaled through her nose, before her breath is released through her mouth in a white cloud. Then her eyebrows twitched inward, her right hand lifting as she observed its palm. A faint feeling, that grew fainter yet, pulsed within her palm. Crow’s pale gaze lingers upon the hand for a few moments, before looking up, towards the falling snow, “They killed him?” Crow’s settles next to her side, her lips slowly turning upwards into a quaint smile, and the most strangely airy and somewhat musical laugh starts to escape her mouth, before her left hand covers it, her head tilting downward, her wide-brimmed and dirtied hat shielding her facial features, her form subtly moving, until the fit ends.
Zaida watched Takurasho with interest, knowing she would have to rely on him for now. Without him she would have no real form of communication with the others until she was certain it was safe.
Her green eyes looked around the room, trying to decide what to do next. Irony filled her - silent and reliant on a man once more.
Her green eyes looked around the room, trying to decide what to do next. Irony filled her - silent and reliant on a man once more.
((In come the horrible paint edits!))
Aearion seemed rather worried about Takurasho. It wasn't all that noticable, but the trembling seemed to show he was sick. A fever of some sort. But then again, Aearion was not exactly a doctor. Usually when he gets a cold he feels like he's ready to drop dead at any second. Knowing Takurasho, he was going through something magical. Regardless, he gave the marble to him.
"Are you doing alright, friend?" He asked as he looked at him. In the room next to this one, Aearion could hear some sort of commotion. He had no idea what it was. Was Crow throwing a tantrum without Aearion being the cause of it? That seemed highly unlikely. It's not like the sound remained for long. Soon it was all quiet again.
His attention turned to Zaida now."I have seen that Umbra kraken take you away! How did you escape its grasp?" He asked, curiously.
Aearion seemed rather worried about Takurasho. It wasn't all that noticable, but the trembling seemed to show he was sick. A fever of some sort. But then again, Aearion was not exactly a doctor. Usually when he gets a cold he feels like he's ready to drop dead at any second. Knowing Takurasho, he was going through something magical. Regardless, he gave the marble to him.
"Are you doing alright, friend?" He asked as he looked at him. In the room next to this one, Aearion could hear some sort of commotion. He had no idea what it was. Was Crow throwing a tantrum without Aearion being the cause of it? That seemed highly unlikely. It's not like the sound remained for long. Soon it was all quiet again.
His attention turned to Zaida now."I have seen that Umbra kraken take you away! How did you escape its grasp?" He asked, curiously.
{You mean *wonderful paint edits}
As his fingertips neared the marble & that terrible voice hissed in his mind {"Give me the seed! The seed of darkness and bewitching hatred!"}, Takurasho's demeanor would darken ominously. "I said give it to me," he spat, regardless of the fact that it was being handed over willingly, but he'd snatch it away as if Aearion were being difficult. Once it was in his grasp, the trembling of his hands & the swaying of his body would come to a stop. Even that shady expression would diminish. The man appeared confused, perhaps mildly alarmed even, looking between Zaida & Aearion with a befuddled frown. "I am... feeling unwell," he admitted, but was not entirely willing to share the strange "flashback" he'd experienced, nor the sinister disembodied voice that compelled him to act out with unnecessary spite. Takurasho hadn't experienced anything quite like this before, & it made him feel at a disadvantage. Vulnerable, even.
Although his gaze locked onto the marble intently, trying to gauge its mechanics, he repeated Aearion's question to Zaida in her native tongue. Should she give a reply, he would translate it back into common as she spoke for Aearion. He briefly glanced towards the Mer, his own voice- distant & echoed- suddenly sounding in the bard's head alone. "Do not be alarmed," it would say, "I am utilizing telepathy to project my voice into your mind... for the sake of secrecy, that is. Zaida's captors are unable to speak her language. She wishes to keep them under the impression that she cannot speak theirs, either. I believe she may have overheard some vital information, & may again if we keep Gyosei & his men under this impression." Pale eyes pierced the surface of the marble, producing a frown as he examined it.
As his fingertips neared the marble & that terrible voice hissed in his mind {"Give me the seed! The seed of darkness and bewitching hatred!"}, Takurasho's demeanor would darken ominously. "I said give it to me," he spat, regardless of the fact that it was being handed over willingly, but he'd snatch it away as if Aearion were being difficult. Once it was in his grasp, the trembling of his hands & the swaying of his body would come to a stop. Even that shady expression would diminish. The man appeared confused, perhaps mildly alarmed even, looking between Zaida & Aearion with a befuddled frown. "I am... feeling unwell," he admitted, but was not entirely willing to share the strange "flashback" he'd experienced, nor the sinister disembodied voice that compelled him to act out with unnecessary spite. Takurasho hadn't experienced anything quite like this before, & it made him feel at a disadvantage. Vulnerable, even.
Although his gaze locked onto the marble intently, trying to gauge its mechanics, he repeated Aearion's question to Zaida in her native tongue. Should she give a reply, he would translate it back into common as she spoke for Aearion. He briefly glanced towards the Mer, his own voice- distant & echoed- suddenly sounding in the bard's head alone. "Do not be alarmed," it would say, "I am utilizing telepathy to project my voice into your mind... for the sake of secrecy, that is. Zaida's captors are unable to speak her language. She wishes to keep them under the impression that she cannot speak theirs, either. I believe she may have overheard some vital information, & may again if we keep Gyosei & his men under this impression." Pale eyes pierced the surface of the marble, producing a frown as he examined it.
LOL Oh man! Those images have me cracking up! ))
Gyosei was displeased with Aranel's lack of seriousness toward his question. They were not on friendly terms in the least and in a time of war scheming he was sure not going to take jokes with the same jest. His lips fell further in frown and disapproval. "Mn. So you take me for a fool then, girl?" His question imposed with verbal blades as to crucify her to the very statement she blundered further with. "I'm starting to further feel distrust toward the Integrity of --" Then came Crow. Gyosei's judging eyes homed to the woman's pale visage. "One of your's?" Gyosei's words statements seemed to go back to back without leaving room to be answered. Then the subtle cackle. "Do my ears deceive me?" What in the world could she be laughing at and out of nothing spontaneously visible for anyone but Crow to know. "Woman!" Projecting his voice in Crow's direction. "What has you in such fits of laughter!?" Both hands had their digits curled into tight fists with growing impatience. "In fact, both of you!" One hand placing upon the hilt of his blade. With so many occurrences of suspicion within such a short duration of time it was clear to him that something was going on under his nose and he felt the need to be prepared by keeping a ready hand on his equipped blade with a foot sliding back in a partial battle-ready stance.
Meanwhile, in the room came a knock upon the door. Three times. *KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK* Then a pause. Followed by three more knocks *KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*. No words came to follow the request for entry. Just.. silence. Should the door be opened to allow entry then the group would be met with the mysterious individual dressed in sagely wear and a straw hat stitched in the shape of a jar.
Takurasho's hand after a short delay will find itself desiring to close around the Marble, but whether it did or did not another fragment of memory will momentarily captivate his mind.
The room was dark. A casual lantern placed a few feet from the futon casting a dim light over him and another figure who's head rested upon his bare chest. Blankets covered him and her for the most part so no unmentionables were visible in the slightest. "Yantume.." The woman spoke. "Know that I will forever love you." It was The Lady's voice, although she did not look up at him. "Darkness is spreading from the eastern lands and you know this. I can tell you are drawn to it. You were standing in your chamber carving symbols across your wall with your nails... etching them into the walls. Some people think you to be mad.." Her tone so sweet, gentle and loving.
Another memory shard within the current [Inception!!!]
Takurasho through the eyes and senses of the man known as Yantume were knelt before a wall carved and drawn across from corner to corner with a peculiar sigil.[Oh yeah, going all the way back to Jonathan's Manor on Page 2] Hands were numbed with pain; to be felt after this experience in solely the right hand Takurasho wore after this experience. The room itself was torn apart with furnishings turned over and the blanket drawn over the windows to keep any probable outsiders from looking in. This experience ended when the door opened and a voice rung loud in his ear. "YANTUME!!!" ...It was The Lady's.
Returning to the initial memory shard entry
The Lantern's dim glow began to glow brighter. Takurasho at this point could notice that they were STILL in that room! Furnishings still turned over and strewn about. The carvings of said sigil etched in all different sizes and angles; there was a point that can be noted where only a handful of these engravings were raw markings in wood, but others were bloodied, blood stained or done in blood. When Takurasho came to notice this would then all of the circle points of each sigil open up as eyes which all stared down upon the two of them. "Yantume.. my dearest, Yantume."
Gyosei was displeased with Aranel's lack of seriousness toward his question. They were not on friendly terms in the least and in a time of war scheming he was sure not going to take jokes with the same jest. His lips fell further in frown and disapproval. "Mn. So you take me for a fool then, girl?" His question imposed with verbal blades as to crucify her to the very statement she blundered further with. "I'm starting to further feel distrust toward the Integrity of --" Then came Crow. Gyosei's judging eyes homed to the woman's pale visage. "One of your's?" Gyosei's words statements seemed to go back to back without leaving room to be answered. Then the subtle cackle. "Do my ears deceive me?" What in the world could she be laughing at and out of nothing spontaneously visible for anyone but Crow to know. "Woman!" Projecting his voice in Crow's direction. "What has you in such fits of laughter!?" Both hands had their digits curled into tight fists with growing impatience. "In fact, both of you!" One hand placing upon the hilt of his blade. With so many occurrences of suspicion within such a short duration of time it was clear to him that something was going on under his nose and he felt the need to be prepared by keeping a ready hand on his equipped blade with a foot sliding back in a partial battle-ready stance.
Meanwhile, in the room came a knock upon the door. Three times. *KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK* Then a pause. Followed by three more knocks *KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*. No words came to follow the request for entry. Just.. silence. Should the door be opened to allow entry then the group would be met with the mysterious individual dressed in sagely wear and a straw hat stitched in the shape of a jar.
Takurasho's hand after a short delay will find itself desiring to close around the Marble, but whether it did or did not another fragment of memory will momentarily captivate his mind.
The room was dark. A casual lantern placed a few feet from the futon casting a dim light over him and another figure who's head rested upon his bare chest. Blankets covered him and her for the most part so no unmentionables were visible in the slightest. "Yantume.." The woman spoke. "Know that I will forever love you." It was The Lady's voice, although she did not look up at him. "Darkness is spreading from the eastern lands and you know this. I can tell you are drawn to it. You were standing in your chamber carving symbols across your wall with your nails... etching them into the walls. Some people think you to be mad.." Her tone so sweet, gentle and loving.
Another memory shard within the current [Inception!!!]
Takurasho through the eyes and senses of the man known as Yantume were knelt before a wall carved and drawn across from corner to corner with a peculiar sigil.[Oh yeah, going all the way back to Jonathan's Manor on Page 2] Hands were numbed with pain; to be felt after this experience in solely the right hand Takurasho wore after this experience. The room itself was torn apart with furnishings turned over and the blanket drawn over the windows to keep any probable outsiders from looking in. This experience ended when the door opened and a voice rung loud in his ear. "YANTUME!!!" ...It was The Lady's.
Returning to the initial memory shard entry
The Lantern's dim glow began to glow brighter. Takurasho at this point could notice that they were STILL in that room! Furnishings still turned over and strewn about. The carvings of said sigil etched in all different sizes and angles; there was a point that can be noted where only a handful of these engravings were raw markings in wood, but others were bloodied, blood stained or done in blood. When Takurasho came to notice this would then all of the circle points of each sigil open up as eyes which all stared down upon the two of them. "Yantume.. my dearest, Yantume."
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