As Clint made his way from stairwell to stairwell, he would eventually come upon every individual's room in linear fashion. One, however, stood out to him more than the rest. The door was slightly askew, which allowed for Clint to succumb to his own naturally high curiosity. Not only did he seek something to steal, but he wanted to learn more about the other passengers. The room was one which belonged to Takurasho, and from within came the most enigmatic grunts and groans. He could hear conversation, and crept the door open just enough to peek through the crack. His eyes widened at the apparent terror he was witnessing, defensively allowing his arm to fall to his side, hiding a blade which was ejected from the underside of his right wrist and into his hand. It was as of yet a hidden blade, but if things were to suddenly become hairy upon Clint's being discovered, he would be prepared.
He was not prepared, however, for the sudden rattle and flickering lights. It took all his will power not to react so hastily as to immediately assume Takurasho's involvement in the current happenings. It was as soon as Clint's eyes fell upon the ebony tendrils outside the window that he decided to give Taku a heads-up, making sure not to reveal his presence until Takurasho was entirely finished with what it was he was doing. "Ey' boy," his burly and deep voice rang through the now darkened room. He stood with his eyes though not directly on Takurasho himself rather more glued to the window behind Taku. "Y'might wanna' look outside."
He was not prepared, however, for the sudden rattle and flickering lights. It took all his will power not to react so hastily as to immediately assume Takurasho's involvement in the current happenings. It was as soon as Clint's eyes fell upon the ebony tendrils outside the window that he decided to give Taku a heads-up, making sure not to reveal his presence until Takurasho was entirely finished with what it was he was doing. "Ey' boy," his burly and deep voice rang through the now darkened room. He stood with his eyes though not directly on Takurasho himself rather more glued to the window behind Taku. "Y'might wanna' look outside."
Aranel stood at the edge of the ship for a short while longer, but the cold became far too unbearable and she had to return to the ship's belly. However, as she turned, the lights ahead flickered off. A loud gasp was given, nearly a shriek. She turned to face the other side, somehow feeling compelled to look behind her. Another gasp, and as much as she wanted to scream from that surprise, she didn't. Somehow.
She began to run downstairs, stumbling at the last few steps and falling to her knees. She kept at it, though, catching herself with her hands and using that momentum to push herself back up again and continue running. She heard some sort of commotion going on the further she ran, and she had no doubts that it was caused by the creature attached to the ship.
Her eyes widened. What was in that cocoon? She passed Aranel and Zaida earlier, but the woman wasn't anywhere to be found....
Oh God, no! Please..., Aranel thought, fists clenching. She wasn't prepared. Not like last time. And although she was shaking from cold and fear, she knew she couldn't just stand by and do nothing. She couldn't just let the ship be crushed!
Aranel would, in the heat of the moment, run toward one of the creature's tendrils in an attempt to latch on to the thing. She uttered little pleading sentences that sounded like prayers, but not like Zaida's. Aranel wasn't, as far as she let on, a particularly religious girl anyway.
Anyhow! There wasn't much she could do but try to push it away or punch it or bite it or something of that nature. But right now she was desperate to do something to keep things from getting worse. If she had to bite it, so be it! To anyone and everyone in the room, she'd beg for assistance. She knew she couldn't damage this thing without any weapons, all alone!
"Help me out, please! C'mon!" she'd yell. A second or two later, she'd add rather timidly, "But only if you want, I understand if you don't!"
...All while pummeling this lone tendril. Good lord, woman, when things are out of your control you should really learn to chill out and let them stay that way.
She began to run downstairs, stumbling at the last few steps and falling to her knees. She kept at it, though, catching herself with her hands and using that momentum to push herself back up again and continue running. She heard some sort of commotion going on the further she ran, and she had no doubts that it was caused by the creature attached to the ship.
Her eyes widened. What was in that cocoon? She passed Aranel and Zaida earlier, but the woman wasn't anywhere to be found....
Oh God, no! Please..., Aranel thought, fists clenching. She wasn't prepared. Not like last time. And although she was shaking from cold and fear, she knew she couldn't just stand by and do nothing. She couldn't just let the ship be crushed!
Aranel would, in the heat of the moment, run toward one of the creature's tendrils in an attempt to latch on to the thing. She uttered little pleading sentences that sounded like prayers, but not like Zaida's. Aranel wasn't, as far as she let on, a particularly religious girl anyway.
Anyhow! There wasn't much she could do but try to push it away or punch it or bite it or something of that nature. But right now she was desperate to do something to keep things from getting worse. If she had to bite it, so be it! To anyone and everyone in the room, she'd beg for assistance. She knew she couldn't damage this thing without any weapons, all alone!
"Help me out, please! C'mon!" she'd yell. A second or two later, she'd add rather timidly, "But only if you want, I understand if you don't!"
...All while pummeling this lone tendril. Good lord, woman, when things are out of your control you should really learn to chill out and let them stay that way.
The scene that greeted Clint would indeed be worthy of some alarm, being quite grisly in nature.
Takurasho was not the one to greet him. It was in fact a woman, but all traits considered, she could have easily been Takurasho's twin. Her eyes were grey, skin deathly pale, face somewhat gaunt & clothing dark yet gilded with gold embroidery. She spun about with widened eyes as he announced himself. In doing so, she revealed the two bodies lying on the bed behind her. One was Takurasho, the other that of the unnamed mage. Both were motionless- dead. They were laying besides one another on top of a thick strip of leather {so as to keep blood from staining the blankets}, & there was an assortment of medical tools in a case between them {as well as a silver bowl containing ice & a champagne bottle}. Takurasho's left sleeve was rolled up, a tourniquet secured tightly just above his wrist. The mage's corpse was missing his left hand entirely & in its place was a cleanly sliced stump.
As the lights ceased their flickering & the room filled with light, it would become evident that both his hand & a small hacksaw were currently held by the woman.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed venomously, black painted lips curling back in a dangerous snarl. Her eyes narrowed when he made mention of the window, as though suspicious of some trickery, but when she did as he suggested her fury gave way to mild surprise. "What... in the world is that?" she muttered, bewildered. The strange lady did not seem intent on waiting for an answer, for at that moment the yelling from upstairs would reach them, & she'd murmur "Aranel?" beneath her breath. The mage's hand was gently placed in the ice bowl besides the champagne. She abandoned the hacksaw by Takurasho's body, unsheathing his rapiers from the table besides the bed, turning to apprehend Clint with her sharp gaze. "I would appreciate if you kept this little incident to yourself," she warned. Like Takurasho, her voice was fairly melodious, but unlike his it was also somewhat sultry {example}. "& perhaps knock next time. Now if you will excuse me, I must tend to my companions." With that she would attempt to pass by him & dart towards the second floor. Should he get in her way, her demeanor would again become cross & the dual rapiers would be raised, suggesting he move if he did not desire combat.
Takurasho was not the one to greet him. It was in fact a woman, but all traits considered, she could have easily been Takurasho's twin. Her eyes were grey, skin deathly pale, face somewhat gaunt & clothing dark yet gilded with gold embroidery. She spun about with widened eyes as he announced himself. In doing so, she revealed the two bodies lying on the bed behind her. One was Takurasho, the other that of the unnamed mage. Both were motionless- dead. They were laying besides one another on top of a thick strip of leather {so as to keep blood from staining the blankets}, & there was an assortment of medical tools in a case between them {as well as a silver bowl containing ice & a champagne bottle}. Takurasho's left sleeve was rolled up, a tourniquet secured tightly just above his wrist. The mage's corpse was missing his left hand entirely & in its place was a cleanly sliced stump.
As the lights ceased their flickering & the room filled with light, it would become evident that both his hand & a small hacksaw were currently held by the woman.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed venomously, black painted lips curling back in a dangerous snarl. Her eyes narrowed when he made mention of the window, as though suspicious of some trickery, but when she did as he suggested her fury gave way to mild surprise. "What... in the world is that?" she muttered, bewildered. The strange lady did not seem intent on waiting for an answer, for at that moment the yelling from upstairs would reach them, & she'd murmur "Aranel?" beneath her breath. The mage's hand was gently placed in the ice bowl besides the champagne. She abandoned the hacksaw by Takurasho's body, unsheathing his rapiers from the table besides the bed, turning to apprehend Clint with her sharp gaze. "I would appreciate if you kept this little incident to yourself," she warned. Like Takurasho, her voice was fairly melodious, but unlike his it was also somewhat sultry {example}. "& perhaps knock next time. Now if you will excuse me, I must tend to my companions." With that she would attempt to pass by him & dart towards the second floor. Should he get in her way, her demeanor would again become cross & the dual rapiers would be raised, suggesting he move if he did not desire combat.
Crow’s hands clenched the white cloth, her pale form and face illuminated slightly by the sudden darkness and the crystal attached to her belt. Her eyes blink, the darkness settling in. A vague form lept through the air, crying out words, but Crow tosses the cloth by her hat, “There is no time.” The rest of the dining area was likely in complete darkness, Crow’s form and a ring of seven feet about her, were only faintly illuminated. Crow’s coarse shoes quickly close the distance between her hat and the knives inside, her hand snatching a candle off of the table that harbored her hat, and she nonchalantly flung it over her shoulder, the weak flame hitting the white cloth. A few words in a strange language escape Crow’s mouth, setting the white cloth on fire; a dark, black and caustic yellow flame.
Crow’s right hand places itself over her hat and the knives inside. Crow’s mouth moves, but no words escape her lips, and she draws her right hand slowly upward, her fingers closing inward. The knives levitate upwards, engulfed in a dark energy, Crow’s hand lifting upwards to press a single finger against her lips, the knives floating and slowly rotating in front of her mouth. The black flame flickers behind her, but doesn't catch the floor, or other objects, on fire.
Crow’s right hand places itself over her hat and the knives inside. Crow’s mouth moves, but no words escape her lips, and she draws her right hand slowly upward, her fingers closing inward. The knives levitate upwards, engulfed in a dark energy, Crow’s hand lifting upwards to press a single finger against her lips, the knives floating and slowly rotating in front of her mouth. The black flame flickers behind her, but doesn't catch the floor, or other objects, on fire.
Aearion had been wanting to walk Zaida to her room when those blasted tendrils appeared. He barely had enough time to react to Crow before he saw them. He didn't think much of the lights flickering. Technology always had its flaws, after all. But those tendrils were no part of flawed technology! From the moment he saw them, Aearion knew he had to react, thinking they were about to swipe at him, but instead, they grabbed his companion!
"Ohhh no you don't!" Aearion yelled as he grabbed Zaida by her legs, trying to keep her here, but it turns out Aearion is not the strongest of people. As soon as the tendrils started pulling her back, they dragged the Mer along as well.
Whether Zaida was about to be pulled through a door or a window, Aearion wouldn't be able to do much to delay this kidnapping... at least not in this form. Oh boy, he was not going to like this. The Merman form was extremely reliant on water. Becoming too dry was dangerous. But it had to be done. Aearion would increase in size, which would be enough to block off the door or window and hopefully saving his companion. Surely others must have noticed these tendrils!
And so, Aearion changed. His legs pushed together, they seemed to melt together and expand, shredding most of the Mer's trousers until they were fully grown into a long fish tail with see-through purple fins. It made Aearion much bigger, at least over two meters.
Before impact, Aearion pulled Zaida in front of him, and with his back aimed towards the exit from which the tendrils came from, smashing into the solid of the wall."Aaagh.... that's gonna leave a mark." He complained, cluthing Zaida against him like a wrapped in baby. On his throat had appeared gills as well. It couldn't be helped in the Merman form. But that meant he couldn't hold on to Zaida forever without choking to death. This was a stupid plan, anyway. The creature could probably still slip both Zaida and Aearion through the window if it still wanted to."I could use some help here!" He yelled in a hoarse manner.
"Ohhh no you don't!" Aearion yelled as he grabbed Zaida by her legs, trying to keep her here, but it turns out Aearion is not the strongest of people. As soon as the tendrils started pulling her back, they dragged the Mer along as well.
Whether Zaida was about to be pulled through a door or a window, Aearion wouldn't be able to do much to delay this kidnapping... at least not in this form. Oh boy, he was not going to like this. The Merman form was extremely reliant on water. Becoming too dry was dangerous. But it had to be done. Aearion would increase in size, which would be enough to block off the door or window and hopefully saving his companion. Surely others must have noticed these tendrils!
And so, Aearion changed. His legs pushed together, they seemed to melt together and expand, shredding most of the Mer's trousers until they were fully grown into a long fish tail with see-through purple fins. It made Aearion much bigger, at least over two meters.
Before impact, Aearion pulled Zaida in front of him, and with his back aimed towards the exit from which the tendrils came from, smashing into the solid of the wall."Aaagh.... that's gonna leave a mark." He complained, cluthing Zaida against him like a wrapped in baby. On his throat had appeared gills as well. It couldn't be helped in the Merman form. But that meant he couldn't hold on to Zaida forever without choking to death. This was a stupid plan, anyway. The creature could probably still slip both Zaida and Aearion through the window if it still wanted to."I could use some help here!" He yelled in a hoarse manner.
Crow’s form was still, her pale gaze frozen forward. Her poised finger slowly leaves her lips, stretching the arm outwards to point into the darkness, “Trying to ruin my concentration…” The knives change their circling motion, spinning rapidly and now horizontally, floating upwards, over Crow’s dirtied, tri-pointed hat, then down, about her waist. Crow’s right hand reaches into her robes and withdraws her the rune-bearing dagger. With the blade outwards, the blade is tilted to the side, Crow’s other hand pausing, hovering over the blade.
The dining room is subject to a low cry of a grown man, which slowly elevated to a gut-wrenching holler, as Crow’s hovering hand moves over the blade’s hilt, to the sharp point. The screaming is somewhat wispy, as if it were detached from its body, and it whimpers off as Crow speaks in a strange language. The knives slowly circling a foot away from her waist stretch, twist, and contort into faintly illuminated scimitars, each one pointed outwards, the blade holding an unnatural sheen.
Crow’s right hand places her dagger back inside her robes, her coarse shoes moving towards the Merman, moving in a straight line. The sharp blades around Crow’s form idly circled her, ceasing to be idle once Crow’s hands move in strange motions. The scimitars turn sideways and slice through the dining room’s tables’ legs, making them slanted. Another blade would stick into the middle of them and flick upwards, the table being flung through the air, to each side of Crow.
The dining room is subject to a low cry of a grown man, which slowly elevated to a gut-wrenching holler, as Crow’s hovering hand moves over the blade’s hilt, to the sharp point. The screaming is somewhat wispy, as if it were detached from its body, and it whimpers off as Crow speaks in a strange language. The knives slowly circling a foot away from her waist stretch, twist, and contort into faintly illuminated scimitars, each one pointed outwards, the blade holding an unnatural sheen.
Crow’s right hand places her dagger back inside her robes, her coarse shoes moving towards the Merman, moving in a straight line. The sharp blades around Crow’s form idly circled her, ceasing to be idle once Crow’s hands move in strange motions. The scimitars turn sideways and slice through the dining room’s tables’ legs, making them slanted. Another blade would stick into the middle of them and flick upwards, the table being flung through the air, to each side of Crow.
rolled 1d100 and got a natural 93. After the modifier of -20, got 73
Concentration! And then, a post when I awake next.
Fortunate for Aearion's increased mass was the ship's interior spared the internal wreckage from high velocity winds. The cocoon was still in its attempts of being dragged out the window which Aearion so loyally blockaded. A sudden screech came over the P.A system as it was turned on. It was The Gentleman.
"My Well-Esteemed Guests! The ship will not hold out to the beast's assault. I ask that you return to your rooms and seek out a small bag--"
An abrupt loud bang coming from the top deck which threw the ship completely off balance. Footing had become temporarily unstable for any and all on each floors. The front-right propellor had been constricted by the Umbra Kraken's powerful extension and torn from the ship's mechanisms. Working on three propellers the ship was sure to be downed. Those tendrils which began their coiling around the ship's mass began to tighten their constriction. It could be heard from corner to corner of each room, the metal of the primary hull beginning to give weigh to the increasing pressure being applied.
"--Hurry! The bags can be found in the bottom drawer of each of your dressers in your respective rooms. There is no time! Retrieve your items and brace for imp--" The P.A system had been cut off due to the wiring being torn apart by tendrils that found their way into the ship's inner-workings. Several other loud bangs riddled the already chaotic air as these same tendrils were beginning to puncture the ship hole after hole intent on bringing it down! The lights had gone out completely by this point. A cluster of the same tendrils charged through the window shoving Aearion out of the way and swatted Aranel should she not avoid the rather harsh swipe, so that the cocoon may be taken into possession. One of those obsidian tendrils made a plunge for Crow in an attempt to shove her away and provide the time necessary for the extraction of Zaida to be complete.
Shortly after the lights had gone out, another explosion and a harsh unforgiving jerk shifted the ship. The rear left propeller had been torn from the ship as well. The number of tendrils the beast had at its disposal was innumerable from just a look from the inside but even more amazing from the outside. With so many holes in the ship's hull the maintained air pressure within the ship was in a state of distortion, winds blowing left and right.
The bags were key for this upcoming mission, very much a necessity. There was still sufficient time before the impending crash as the descent was at a fair angle. It had taken a few minutes before the first and third floors were exposed to the pure altitude as the flooring to the third and the ceiling to the first were caved in and torn apart by the high velocity winds...
The contents of the bags were a set of attire (Your choosing, but must focus around the Eastern royal traditional themes), another pouch half full of Zenny equalling 4,750Z, a mock-written request to care for the Representatives of a foreign nation and a small heirloom (Of your choice) that validates your position of esteem and a note that read:
"If you are reading this then clearly the Umbra had apprehended our head of course and we have crash landed in publically uncharted territory a ways away from where you need to be. The downed ship will bring suspicion your way so do what you can to get as far away as possible and seem as wholesome travelers. I have equipped you well enough to seem as Nobles and provided with a stall tactic should they become too weary of your presence; this being the second note folded in your clothes. Should you come across any military troops, do what you can to have them bring you back to their headquarters and try to gain audience with the Head of Military. I do not know this sir's name so obtaining it will be left on you. If possible you may also seek council from the Queen. IF that is possible. From my understanding she and The Lady have quite the history and will provide you with some extra information that will earn you all individual bonuses. Obviously the clothes are to fit you in with their society and heirlooms to further back your aliases as foreign Representatives. Choose your words and actions wisely.
P.S, Do not bother searching for myself and The Lady. We will be fine."
[Fast-Forwarding another five minutes just before impact]
The descent of the ship could be heard with increasing noise. The two remaining propellers were losing power and were rotating just barely; what good that does, eh? The Umbra Kraken's assault on the ship remained unrelenting even into the last second of the plunge. The second floor; oddly enough, was the only floor that did not give way to the constriction. Just moments before impact stood the Butler before each of them; should they all have properly attended their rooms and braced as ordered by said Gentleman, with a hand extended to whom he stood before. The moment his hand was taken they would be gifted Temporarily with Veiled Recovery.
Veiled Recovery: While standing in the dark, injuries are mended at astounding rates
*CRASH*, Several booming explosions rung through the air. A flock of birds that were in the way of the ship as it slid through the thick forest knocking down tree after tree took flight to avoid certain death, carving its path in snow and frozen soil along with those downed trees until finally come to a stop. The Kraken, upon impact faded away into the mist along with Zaida in captivity. Metal of the ship very much twisted and mangled from the assault and impact. The remaining bulk of the ship was on its side, meaning for those who would stand in their rooms post impact would see things through a different perspective from now standing on the wall. All of the decorations and furniture would also be piled up on the wall; which was now their floor.
In the case of some rooms, large superheated pipes had plunged straight through the room and out the otherside. Everything was a sheer mess and held no relation to subtle. The cool air did drift down the now bare corridor as that piece of the ship had been stripped away from the impact and the slide on the ground leaving a decent size crawl space into the snowy lands a distance away from the intended target. From the sky fell millions of snowflakes in a moderate flurry that only added to what already stuck to the terrain.
The air around the ship was still powdered in white still aloof in the immediate radius of the downed aircraft making visibility difficult for the first few meters upon exiting the wreckage.
[This Mission will require some wits in conversation and in the art of stealth/assassination. Failure is optional and could alter the story curve.]
"My Well-Esteemed Guests! The ship will not hold out to the beast's assault. I ask that you return to your rooms and seek out a small bag--"
An abrupt loud bang coming from the top deck which threw the ship completely off balance. Footing had become temporarily unstable for any and all on each floors. The front-right propellor had been constricted by the Umbra Kraken's powerful extension and torn from the ship's mechanisms. Working on three propellers the ship was sure to be downed. Those tendrils which began their coiling around the ship's mass began to tighten their constriction. It could be heard from corner to corner of each room, the metal of the primary hull beginning to give weigh to the increasing pressure being applied.
"--Hurry! The bags can be found in the bottom drawer of each of your dressers in your respective rooms. There is no time! Retrieve your items and brace for imp--" The P.A system had been cut off due to the wiring being torn apart by tendrils that found their way into the ship's inner-workings. Several other loud bangs riddled the already chaotic air as these same tendrils were beginning to puncture the ship hole after hole intent on bringing it down! The lights had gone out completely by this point. A cluster of the same tendrils charged through the window shoving Aearion out of the way and swatted Aranel should she not avoid the rather harsh swipe, so that the cocoon may be taken into possession. One of those obsidian tendrils made a plunge for Crow in an attempt to shove her away and provide the time necessary for the extraction of Zaida to be complete.
Shortly after the lights had gone out, another explosion and a harsh unforgiving jerk shifted the ship. The rear left propeller had been torn from the ship as well. The number of tendrils the beast had at its disposal was innumerable from just a look from the inside but even more amazing from the outside. With so many holes in the ship's hull the maintained air pressure within the ship was in a state of distortion, winds blowing left and right.
The bags were key for this upcoming mission, very much a necessity. There was still sufficient time before the impending crash as the descent was at a fair angle. It had taken a few minutes before the first and third floors were exposed to the pure altitude as the flooring to the third and the ceiling to the first were caved in and torn apart by the high velocity winds...
The contents of the bags were a set of attire (Your choosing, but must focus around the Eastern royal traditional themes), another pouch half full of Zenny equalling 4,750Z, a mock-written request to care for the Representatives of a foreign nation and a small heirloom (Of your choice) that validates your position of esteem and a note that read:
"If you are reading this then clearly the Umbra had apprehended our head of course and we have crash landed in publically uncharted territory a ways away from where you need to be. The downed ship will bring suspicion your way so do what you can to get as far away as possible and seem as wholesome travelers. I have equipped you well enough to seem as Nobles and provided with a stall tactic should they become too weary of your presence; this being the second note folded in your clothes. Should you come across any military troops, do what you can to have them bring you back to their headquarters and try to gain audience with the Head of Military. I do not know this sir's name so obtaining it will be left on you. If possible you may also seek council from the Queen. IF that is possible. From my understanding she and The Lady have quite the history and will provide you with some extra information that will earn you all individual bonuses. Obviously the clothes are to fit you in with their society and heirlooms to further back your aliases as foreign Representatives. Choose your words and actions wisely.
P.S, Do not bother searching for myself and The Lady. We will be fine."
[Fast-Forwarding another five minutes just before impact]
The descent of the ship could be heard with increasing noise. The two remaining propellers were losing power and were rotating just barely; what good that does, eh? The Umbra Kraken's assault on the ship remained unrelenting even into the last second of the plunge. The second floor; oddly enough, was the only floor that did not give way to the constriction. Just moments before impact stood the Butler before each of them; should they all have properly attended their rooms and braced as ordered by said Gentleman, with a hand extended to whom he stood before. The moment his hand was taken they would be gifted Temporarily with Veiled Recovery.
Veiled Recovery: While standing in the dark, injuries are mended at astounding rates
*CRASH*, Several booming explosions rung through the air. A flock of birds that were in the way of the ship as it slid through the thick forest knocking down tree after tree took flight to avoid certain death, carving its path in snow and frozen soil along with those downed trees until finally come to a stop. The Kraken, upon impact faded away into the mist along with Zaida in captivity. Metal of the ship very much twisted and mangled from the assault and impact. The remaining bulk of the ship was on its side, meaning for those who would stand in their rooms post impact would see things through a different perspective from now standing on the wall. All of the decorations and furniture would also be piled up on the wall; which was now their floor.
In the case of some rooms, large superheated pipes had plunged straight through the room and out the otherside. Everything was a sheer mess and held no relation to subtle. The cool air did drift down the now bare corridor as that piece of the ship had been stripped away from the impact and the slide on the ground leaving a decent size crawl space into the snowy lands a distance away from the intended target. From the sky fell millions of snowflakes in a moderate flurry that only added to what already stuck to the terrain.
The air around the ship was still powdered in white still aloof in the immediate radius of the downed aircraft making visibility difficult for the first few meters upon exiting the wreckage.
[This Mission will require some wits in conversation and in the art of stealth/assassination. Failure is optional and could alter the story curve.]
As the obnoxiously screechy P.A. system echoed through the halls, Clint could feel not only his heart pound in surprise but a painful ringing in his ears. Swears and curses aside, he listened to The Gentleman's words attentively.
"Well-esteemed my arse," he replied despite knowing he wouldn't be heard. "I'mma 'bout as 'well-esteemed' as a plague-rat in a boilin' pot." Then came the part about the bag. This piqued the thief's interest. Having been pressed aside by the white-haired woman from before, he followed suit but did manage to take an alternative route, specifically seeking out his own room. Upon its discovery, he'd scurry over to the mentioned drawer and rife through it quickly, as hurriedly as he could.
Then came the rather swift descent. The aircraft was hurdling toward the ground at an alarming rate, and in this room there seemed no real escape. Clint's only option was to brace himself in the only way he knew would be effective. Both hands slammed against the ground, and from their mechanical inner workings were ejected to needly pikes. Each pierced the wooden floor's planks with relative ease, and given the boards' nails would hold out there was simply no way Clint was going to budge. Remembering his childhood teachings about what to do in the event of an earthquake, though, he used his leg to coil around the foot of the aforementioned desk (the one with the drawer from which the bag was withdrawn) and pull it over himself. This way any falling debris would simply hit the desktop and avoid Clint entirely. Were the aircraft to flip, he'd have nothing to worry about, since he would then be on the ceiling (which was previously the floor), and simply drop to escape through the window.
That said, neither had occurred. He was now, instead, mounted against the wall, so to speak, and the same principal had applied. Both hands worked their way free to be used to bust open the window and drop to the ground.
Clint, having landed flat on his face after escaping said aircraft with nothing but his clothes and that bag... and whatever else he could shove into his pockets which included but was not limited to an array of silverware and even the jewels from a chandelier which hanged from the third story ceiling; He lifted himself from the ground, spitting mud back to the earth and wiping drool from his jaw. "T'weren't the first I've tasted dirt, t'won't be the last," he proclaimed while surveying the area. He'd join the group, reading the notes before eying the bag which he'd procured from his room. Upon unfastening the silken rope which kept it closed tight did his eyes fall upon exactly what the note had predicted. A handful of coin and an heirloom -- the thief was obviously far more interested in the heirloom. This trinket was not an ordinary one. Inside the confines of the sack lie, atop the money, a blade, if one might call it such, manifested of carved a translucent white-hued crystal.
Thoughts of pawning the treasure pressed aside, for now, Clint turned back to his new comrades and took the initiative. "I s'ppose stickin' 'round here'd be an awf'ly bad idea, so I suggest we run." He chuckled softly, rotating his torso to gesture in one direction, then another. "I don't care which way we go -- it's the right way. S'long as it's not here." It was only then that he about-faced and began walking.
"Well-esteemed my arse," he replied despite knowing he wouldn't be heard. "I'mma 'bout as 'well-esteemed' as a plague-rat in a boilin' pot." Then came the part about the bag. This piqued the thief's interest. Having been pressed aside by the white-haired woman from before, he followed suit but did manage to take an alternative route, specifically seeking out his own room. Upon its discovery, he'd scurry over to the mentioned drawer and rife through it quickly, as hurriedly as he could.
Then came the rather swift descent. The aircraft was hurdling toward the ground at an alarming rate, and in this room there seemed no real escape. Clint's only option was to brace himself in the only way he knew would be effective. Both hands slammed against the ground, and from their mechanical inner workings were ejected to needly pikes. Each pierced the wooden floor's planks with relative ease, and given the boards' nails would hold out there was simply no way Clint was going to budge. Remembering his childhood teachings about what to do in the event of an earthquake, though, he used his leg to coil around the foot of the aforementioned desk (the one with the drawer from which the bag was withdrawn) and pull it over himself. This way any falling debris would simply hit the desktop and avoid Clint entirely. Were the aircraft to flip, he'd have nothing to worry about, since he would then be on the ceiling (which was previously the floor), and simply drop to escape through the window.
That said, neither had occurred. He was now, instead, mounted against the wall, so to speak, and the same principal had applied. Both hands worked their way free to be used to bust open the window and drop to the ground.
Clint, having landed flat on his face after escaping said aircraft with nothing but his clothes and that bag... and whatever else he could shove into his pockets which included but was not limited to an array of silverware and even the jewels from a chandelier which hanged from the third story ceiling; He lifted himself from the ground, spitting mud back to the earth and wiping drool from his jaw. "T'weren't the first I've tasted dirt, t'won't be the last," he proclaimed while surveying the area. He'd join the group, reading the notes before eying the bag which he'd procured from his room. Upon unfastening the silken rope which kept it closed tight did his eyes fall upon exactly what the note had predicted. A handful of coin and an heirloom -- the thief was obviously far more interested in the heirloom. This trinket was not an ordinary one. Inside the confines of the sack lie, atop the money, a blade, if one might call it such, manifested of carved a translucent white-hued crystal.
Thoughts of pawning the treasure pressed aside, for now, Clint turned back to his new comrades and took the initiative. "I s'ppose stickin' 'round here'd be an awf'ly bad idea, so I suggest we run." He chuckled softly, rotating his torso to gesture in one direction, then another. "I don't care which way we go -- it's the right way. S'long as it's not here." It was only then that he about-faced and began walking.
Aranel heard the groaning and banging of the ship and was slowly beginning to panic. She jerked when the screech sounded, followed by The Gentleman's voice, listening carefully to what he said but feeling too stubborn about stopping this thing from stealing that cocoon. She didn't let go. Maybe it was also because she was afraid to? She wasn't moving anywhere as long as she held onto the thing, not really anyway.
Well, wait, I lied. As the tendril shoved Aearion away, she didn't notice it coming to swat at her, so when it did she was sent stumbling away. It hurt, but she was fine. Might have a nasty bruise where it hit, and likewise where she collided with a table.
Seeing now that it was hopeless, she got up and scrambled toward the bedchambers. On her way there, the lights went out, but she managed to find her room despite that. She was nearly hyperventilating and also feeling very, very sick from all this motion. Somehow, she managed to keep it all inside for the moment. She opened up the dresser and snatched that bag, squeezing it tight against her belly. She was crying. This was scary!
Aranel was absolutely convinced she was going to die in this crash. She looked up moments later from her spot on the floor and saw the silhouette of the Butler. She thought he was trying to be comforting, and honestly it worked a little! That one little assumed sentiment made her stop breathing so terribly. She took his hand and bowed her head, curled up into a ball aside for the extended arm. The familiar feeling did make her realize there were alternative reasons for his gesture, but they were still good ones. She looked up after that, glancing toward him but not directly at him (it was hard to see where she was looking at, really). She whispered a nearly completely silent "Thanks," before the explosions were heard and she found herself tossed due to impact.
She was out. Thankfully, too! Bouncing around couldn't have felt all that great. She wasn't out for too long, however, mainly thanks to Veiled Recovery. When she came to, she was surprised to find herself still breathing! Sore, but alive and breathing. And very, very cold. The young woman, trembling from the shock of it all, pushed debris off of her (it took some effort, but she succeeded) and crawled toward the door, which she would also need to crawl through due to the ship being on its side.
She was so scared she was the only one alive.
"Guys?" she cried, hic-ing once at the end there. Speaking while worried - no, terrified - often prompted her wits to sort of... snap... thus she began to cry again! She couldn't quite get up to her feet, since the hall was just too short to walk comfortably in, and maybe that was a good thing? After all, she's still fighting off throwing up. "Is anyone else alive?"
She eventually found where she could crawl outside. She wasn't sure if she wanted to do just that yet, so she went back to her room and searched for something to wear. She realized the dresser was in shambles and hidden beneath other bits of debris, and she really didn't have the strength to move all that. Curious, Aranel opened the bag and found... clothes! As well as a gorgeous circlet, its stone being labradorite. Without a question, she stripped herself and changed, having difficulty with the thing at first but eventually figuring it out. It was nice... the warmth, that is.
A nightgown just didn't cut it!
Again, she left the room, this time in hopes of leaving out the space as well. When she hit the snow, her heart sank. Where was... well, anything? Everything was coated in white! They were absolutely lost. (Or so she felt, anyway.)
She felt very alone. Clint had likely did what he did during the minutes Aranel was out, so unfortunately she didn't hear him speak. However, when she was outside, she'd notice footprints of his! A smile crept across her face. She wasn't sure whose they were, but at least someone else was alive. Gods, she felt so hopeless.
((I hope I did the clothes right.
. I even had to search up what kind was considered casual and formal lmao. Also! This scene (along with a dream I had a few days ago) made me wanna animate snow! So then I did a thing.))
Well, wait, I lied. As the tendril shoved Aearion away, she didn't notice it coming to swat at her, so when it did she was sent stumbling away. It hurt, but she was fine. Might have a nasty bruise where it hit, and likewise where she collided with a table.
Seeing now that it was hopeless, she got up and scrambled toward the bedchambers. On her way there, the lights went out, but she managed to find her room despite that. She was nearly hyperventilating and also feeling very, very sick from all this motion. Somehow, she managed to keep it all inside for the moment. She opened up the dresser and snatched that bag, squeezing it tight against her belly. She was crying. This was scary!
Aranel was absolutely convinced she was going to die in this crash. She looked up moments later from her spot on the floor and saw the silhouette of the Butler. She thought he was trying to be comforting, and honestly it worked a little! That one little assumed sentiment made her stop breathing so terribly. She took his hand and bowed her head, curled up into a ball aside for the extended arm. The familiar feeling did make her realize there were alternative reasons for his gesture, but they were still good ones. She looked up after that, glancing toward him but not directly at him (it was hard to see where she was looking at, really). She whispered a nearly completely silent "Thanks," before the explosions were heard and she found herself tossed due to impact.
She was out. Thankfully, too! Bouncing around couldn't have felt all that great. She wasn't out for too long, however, mainly thanks to Veiled Recovery. When she came to, she was surprised to find herself still breathing! Sore, but alive and breathing. And very, very cold. The young woman, trembling from the shock of it all, pushed debris off of her (it took some effort, but she succeeded) and crawled toward the door, which she would also need to crawl through due to the ship being on its side.
She was so scared she was the only one alive.
"Guys?" she cried, hic-ing once at the end there. Speaking while worried - no, terrified - often prompted her wits to sort of... snap... thus she began to cry again! She couldn't quite get up to her feet, since the hall was just too short to walk comfortably in, and maybe that was a good thing? After all, she's still fighting off throwing up. "Is anyone else alive?"
She eventually found where she could crawl outside. She wasn't sure if she wanted to do just that yet, so she went back to her room and searched for something to wear. She realized the dresser was in shambles and hidden beneath other bits of debris, and she really didn't have the strength to move all that. Curious, Aranel opened the bag and found... clothes! As well as a gorgeous circlet, its stone being labradorite. Without a question, she stripped herself and changed, having difficulty with the thing at first but eventually figuring it out. It was nice... the warmth, that is.
A nightgown just didn't cut it!
Again, she left the room, this time in hopes of leaving out the space as well. When she hit the snow, her heart sank. Where was... well, anything? Everything was coated in white! They were absolutely lost. (Or so she felt, anyway.)
She felt very alone. Clint had likely did what he did during the minutes Aranel was out, so unfortunately she didn't hear him speak. However, when she was outside, she'd notice footprints of his! A smile crept across her face. She wasn't sure whose they were, but at least someone else was alive. Gods, she felt so hopeless.
((I hope I did the clothes right.
. I even had to search up what kind was considered casual and formal lmao. Also! This scene (along with a dream I had a few days ago) made me wanna animate snow! So then I did a thing.))
{That's an awesome Aranel animation! & Dungeoneer, if there's anything wrong with the outfit I mashed together, let me know 
}
The Gentleman's voice came over the loudspeakers just as the unknown {but not unfamiliar} woman slipped past Clint into the hallway. At first she appeared to ignore it, her lengthy stride carrying her hurriedly towards the staircase. She was interrupted- determined glare giving way to shock- as one of the primary propellers was torn mercilessly from the ship. She tumbled to the floor, still managing to be relatively graceful as she fell, & was quick to return to her feet. Her pale eyes were wide as a doe with hunting hounds at her heels. Aearion's cries for assistance had also reached her at this point, & she seemed agonizingly torn between sprinting to their aid & heeding the Gentleman's orders. The woman would not allow herself much time to ponder, however, seeing as time was quite obviously fleeting. She would obediently spin on a heel & head back towards Takurasho's room, bearing a heavy grimace as she returned to the gruesome scene.
The bag was located & set besides Takurasho's body, which became subject once again to the freakish operation. The woman fretted incessantly under her breath as she removed his hand, bone & flesh giving way to the hacksaw, her bloodied fingers struggling to keep a grip on a needle as she began to reattach the telekinetic's hand to Takurasho's severed wrist. Her work was rushed, but she took full advantage of the ship's gradual decline to complete the task. After wrapping the stitched area with heavy gauze she'd lean in close to the corpse's face. Lips parted & eyes rolled back, tendrils of smoke {the color of flesh & shadow} emerging in a long shaky breath, pressing their way into Takurasho's nostrils & ears. The spirit known as Takurashomo transferred hosts. As the woman went limp & fell against him, Takurasho would return to life with a shudder & a gasp, bolting upright. The man's brow was instantly matted with sweat as though he were under excruciating pain. He quickly grabbed the bag of essentials with his own {right} hand, curling the same arm around the female corpse, looking up to come face-to-face with the Butler besides his bed. His expression darkened with caution & confusion. After a moment of scrutiny he raised his trembling new {left} hand & carefully placed it in the butler's. Not a word was spoken.
Then came the crash. Despite his attempts to keep the female body close, Takurasho lost his grip around her, & the two were separated as they tumbled. His senses were overwhelmed with the smashing & groaning of the ship, vision impaired as light & shadow undulated wildly. One of said massive super-heated pipes pierced through his room with a horrific shriek. When all was still, he found himself buried beneath rubble. The man would lie still for some time before attempting to move. He'd start with curling his digits, then flexing his limbs, as though ensuring everything was there & in working order. The pounding of his heartbeat in his ears assured the vetala that this body was still in proper condition. This came as a tremendous relief, as did the gradual fading of pain as the Veiled Recovery mended his wounds {to include properly attaching his new left hand}. Once the healing was complete & he emerged from the pile of debris, he was instantly aware of the frigid air & made haste to dress himself. Having not read the note just yet, he would be confused by the glorious ensemble prepared for him. It was a robe fit for an Emperor. He would don this as well as a luxurious fur coat to stave off the cold & a pair of black gloves to hide his mismatched hands. After recovering his rapiers as well as the mission-oriented bag, he would read the note & examine his "heirloom". It was a spectacular ring, the design centered around the lotus flower, & although it was certainly impressive he found it a tad too feminine for his tastes. He would wear it begrudgingly.
After exiting the wreckage Takurasho would be found trudging through the snow, cradling the body of the unknown woman in his arms. She had been brutally burned & mangled by the pipe that penetrated his lodging, & his remorse was openly expressed on his gaunt face. For whatever reason, the vetala cherished these two bodies above all else, & treated her destruction as a "death" even though the lady herself had been deceased for quite some time. Assuming the Gentleman & the Lady would send a team to scavenge what they could from the wreck, he'd leave her body in a prominent place with a note requesting that it be salvaged & stored, to be returned to him after the mission.
No time for mourning, he consoled himself mentally. No time to bury the dead when the living may be in need. Not knowing that Clint & Aranel had departed the ship, Takurasho would begin to search the rubble for his team- or their remains.
}The Gentleman's voice came over the loudspeakers just as the unknown {but not unfamiliar} woman slipped past Clint into the hallway. At first she appeared to ignore it, her lengthy stride carrying her hurriedly towards the staircase. She was interrupted- determined glare giving way to shock- as one of the primary propellers was torn mercilessly from the ship. She tumbled to the floor, still managing to be relatively graceful as she fell, & was quick to return to her feet. Her pale eyes were wide as a doe with hunting hounds at her heels. Aearion's cries for assistance had also reached her at this point, & she seemed agonizingly torn between sprinting to their aid & heeding the Gentleman's orders. The woman would not allow herself much time to ponder, however, seeing as time was quite obviously fleeting. She would obediently spin on a heel & head back towards Takurasho's room, bearing a heavy grimace as she returned to the gruesome scene.
The bag was located & set besides Takurasho's body, which became subject once again to the freakish operation. The woman fretted incessantly under her breath as she removed his hand, bone & flesh giving way to the hacksaw, her bloodied fingers struggling to keep a grip on a needle as she began to reattach the telekinetic's hand to Takurasho's severed wrist. Her work was rushed, but she took full advantage of the ship's gradual decline to complete the task. After wrapping the stitched area with heavy gauze she'd lean in close to the corpse's face. Lips parted & eyes rolled back, tendrils of smoke {the color of flesh & shadow} emerging in a long shaky breath, pressing their way into Takurasho's nostrils & ears. The spirit known as Takurashomo transferred hosts. As the woman went limp & fell against him, Takurasho would return to life with a shudder & a gasp, bolting upright. The man's brow was instantly matted with sweat as though he were under excruciating pain. He quickly grabbed the bag of essentials with his own {right} hand, curling the same arm around the female corpse, looking up to come face-to-face with the Butler besides his bed. His expression darkened with caution & confusion. After a moment of scrutiny he raised his trembling new {left} hand & carefully placed it in the butler's. Not a word was spoken.
Then came the crash. Despite his attempts to keep the female body close, Takurasho lost his grip around her, & the two were separated as they tumbled. His senses were overwhelmed with the smashing & groaning of the ship, vision impaired as light & shadow undulated wildly. One of said massive super-heated pipes pierced through his room with a horrific shriek. When all was still, he found himself buried beneath rubble. The man would lie still for some time before attempting to move. He'd start with curling his digits, then flexing his limbs, as though ensuring everything was there & in working order. The pounding of his heartbeat in his ears assured the vetala that this body was still in proper condition. This came as a tremendous relief, as did the gradual fading of pain as the Veiled Recovery mended his wounds {to include properly attaching his new left hand}. Once the healing was complete & he emerged from the pile of debris, he was instantly aware of the frigid air & made haste to dress himself. Having not read the note just yet, he would be confused by the glorious ensemble prepared for him. It was a robe fit for an Emperor. He would don this as well as a luxurious fur coat to stave off the cold & a pair of black gloves to hide his mismatched hands. After recovering his rapiers as well as the mission-oriented bag, he would read the note & examine his "heirloom". It was a spectacular ring, the design centered around the lotus flower, & although it was certainly impressive he found it a tad too feminine for his tastes. He would wear it begrudgingly.
After exiting the wreckage Takurasho would be found trudging through the snow, cradling the body of the unknown woman in his arms. She had been brutally burned & mangled by the pipe that penetrated his lodging, & his remorse was openly expressed on his gaunt face. For whatever reason, the vetala cherished these two bodies above all else, & treated her destruction as a "death" even though the lady herself had been deceased for quite some time. Assuming the Gentleman & the Lady would send a team to scavenge what they could from the wreck, he'd leave her body in a prominent place with a note requesting that it be salvaged & stored, to be returned to him after the mission.
No time for mourning, he consoled himself mentally. No time to bury the dead when the living may be in need. Not knowing that Clint & Aranel had departed the ship, Takurasho would begin to search the rubble for his team- or their remains.
((Wow!! That animation looks incredible! I'm also not sure what exactly is the royal outfit. Do please correct me if I'm wrong with the reference I'll show below.))
Aearion tried to hold on to Zaida, but it was useless. No help came, and even if it did, it might have still been an impossible task to keep Zaida on the ship. The Mer fell to the ground, his legs having returned to him. Luckily his pants were somewhat intact. There would be no indecent behavior from him today!
"Damn it... damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!" He cried out as he heeded the Gentleman's warnings. He felt so useless. An entire ship of people crashing down, and he couldn't save even one of them. But perhaps he could still save his other companions. As long as he could brace himself well enough. The Mer grabbed the bag that was seemingly important and crawled in between his bed and the closet he had pushed against the window to block out the view. He figured if he set himself stuck, he might just make it.
But then, he saw the Butler. He looked at him, about to fire a salvo of questions at the appiration. That came to a sudden halt as he had given his blessing onto Aearion. He could feel it, the new power, and knew what it did, as if he had always known. He would thank him, but then the crash happened.
His plan was somewhat effective. He didn't get flung away like rock being catapulted, which he first feared. But when the ship landed sideways, the bed he supported himself against fell right onto his back, cracking his very bones. The pain didn't say for long, luckily!
Sooner than expected, the Mer crawled out from underneath the bed, his bag still clutched in between his arms. After taking a few breaths, the Mer was healthy and strong enough to stand up. Before he did, though, he checked what was in the bag. A red and black kimono, just his size and perfect to hide his lack of decent pants. He wasn't too crazy about the hairpiece, though. What interested him most, though, was the strange instrument that came along in the bag. To most this would seem like a big flute, but Aearion knew what this was, only he never really saw such a fancy one. This shakuhachi had an interesting pattern of golden flower petals surrounding a similarly colored serpentine dragon that coiled around the black wooden body. There were leather bandsf with feathers strapped around the top and bottom as well. Truly this was a magnificent instrument. Shakuhachi were known to create a soothing and mystical sound. It made Aearion anxious to try it out once he and the others were safe. The note he read as well, finding it odd how the Gentleman seemed to be expecting a crash to happen.
Well, at least he could put on the kimono. He wasn't about to frollic down the snow with his legs bare, which was kind of ironic since he still refused to wear shoes, even in the snow! Sure, Aearion was cold blooded, but even he could still feel the effects of snow flying against his skin and get troubled by them.
The thing fit like it was made for just for him! That was good. What was even better, though, was his bag of coin and his flute had made the crash. He gladly took those along on this trip. But his good demeanor left him quickly, as he saw his prized lute was shattered into pieces. Aearion bit his bottom lip a bit at that sight. He wouldn't feel whole again without his prized instrument. But this was no time to be sad over an instrument. He had a different one after all. One that was seemingly important. He had to keep moving!
With his things gathered, he walked to the sideways hallway, looking for a hole to get out of. Snow crept through every nook and above him. The ship's insides stuck out through the flooring as far as he could see. The ravage the crash had made gave Aearion little hope anyone else survived. But perhaps the Butler showed up in front of his group as well! He seemed capable of appearing out of nowhere, so why not at multiple places at once?
With that thought in mind, he crawled out of the broken window where he lost grip of Zaida and dropped straight into the snow. Not too troubled by the cold anymore, Aearion searched around the ship, hoping to meet some familliar face in these snowy fields, but he saw no footprints. He couldn't have been the first to crawl out of the wreckage, could he? He decided to travel around the ship to look for any survivors and hopefully come across any that made it out themselves.
Aearion tried to hold on to Zaida, but it was useless. No help came, and even if it did, it might have still been an impossible task to keep Zaida on the ship. The Mer fell to the ground, his legs having returned to him. Luckily his pants were somewhat intact. There would be no indecent behavior from him today!
"Damn it... damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!" He cried out as he heeded the Gentleman's warnings. He felt so useless. An entire ship of people crashing down, and he couldn't save even one of them. But perhaps he could still save his other companions. As long as he could brace himself well enough. The Mer grabbed the bag that was seemingly important and crawled in between his bed and the closet he had pushed against the window to block out the view. He figured if he set himself stuck, he might just make it.
But then, he saw the Butler. He looked at him, about to fire a salvo of questions at the appiration. That came to a sudden halt as he had given his blessing onto Aearion. He could feel it, the new power, and knew what it did, as if he had always known. He would thank him, but then the crash happened.
His plan was somewhat effective. He didn't get flung away like rock being catapulted, which he first feared. But when the ship landed sideways, the bed he supported himself against fell right onto his back, cracking his very bones. The pain didn't say for long, luckily!
Sooner than expected, the Mer crawled out from underneath the bed, his bag still clutched in between his arms. After taking a few breaths, the Mer was healthy and strong enough to stand up. Before he did, though, he checked what was in the bag. A red and black kimono, just his size and perfect to hide his lack of decent pants. He wasn't too crazy about the hairpiece, though. What interested him most, though, was the strange instrument that came along in the bag. To most this would seem like a big flute, but Aearion knew what this was, only he never really saw such a fancy one. This shakuhachi had an interesting pattern of golden flower petals surrounding a similarly colored serpentine dragon that coiled around the black wooden body. There were leather bandsf with feathers strapped around the top and bottom as well. Truly this was a magnificent instrument. Shakuhachi were known to create a soothing and mystical sound. It made Aearion anxious to try it out once he and the others were safe. The note he read as well, finding it odd how the Gentleman seemed to be expecting a crash to happen.
Well, at least he could put on the kimono. He wasn't about to frollic down the snow with his legs bare, which was kind of ironic since he still refused to wear shoes, even in the snow! Sure, Aearion was cold blooded, but even he could still feel the effects of snow flying against his skin and get troubled by them.
The thing fit like it was made for just for him! That was good. What was even better, though, was his bag of coin and his flute had made the crash. He gladly took those along on this trip. But his good demeanor left him quickly, as he saw his prized lute was shattered into pieces. Aearion bit his bottom lip a bit at that sight. He wouldn't feel whole again without his prized instrument. But this was no time to be sad over an instrument. He had a different one after all. One that was seemingly important. He had to keep moving!
With his things gathered, he walked to the sideways hallway, looking for a hole to get out of. Snow crept through every nook and above him. The ship's insides stuck out through the flooring as far as he could see. The ravage the crash had made gave Aearion little hope anyone else survived. But perhaps the Butler showed up in front of his group as well! He seemed capable of appearing out of nowhere, so why not at multiple places at once?
With that thought in mind, he crawled out of the broken window where he lost grip of Zaida and dropped straight into the snow. Not too troubled by the cold anymore, Aearion searched around the ship, hoping to meet some familliar face in these snowy fields, but he saw no footprints. He couldn't have been the first to crawl out of the wreckage, could he? He decided to travel around the ship to look for any survivors and hopefully come across any that made it out themselves.
Crow's pale gaze catches site of the beast's tendril, being launched at her. Crow's form falls upon its rump, the flying blades conforming to impale themselves into the black tentacle, slowly dragging themselves back towards Crow's outstretched hands. Her fingers slowly pull themselves inwards, one blade freeing itself and moving to chop the tentacles tip off, letting it hit the floor. Perhaps it flopped a bit before staying still.
Crow's hands push upon the floor, regaining her footing, her arms instinctively rising up closer to her face at the sound of explosions. Crow's pale gaze catches, across the room, something large is taken out of the dining room. "They cannot be saved." Crow's shoulders rise in a nonchalant shrug, the tentacle piece rolling towards her coarse boot slowly, then more quickly as the ship's structure was going down, and quickly. Crouching down to pick up the obsidian chunk, Crow's right foot steps forward, her form slowly sliding, along with the tables and the band's instruments, with the band clinging to them. Crow's form is bent, as if she were climbing an increasingly steep slope, and her hands cup around the black, squirming tentacle piece.
Crow's hands close about the object, her pale gaze tilting her hat back as she looks at the ceiling. Crow's lips move almost silently, her form sliding once more. The couple that she had spooked earlier were desperately holding onto one of the catering tables, its heavier frame offering what it could, but the husband's hand was slipping, his other hand holding onto his wife's, she being connected only to him. By the time Crow's spell is finished, they slip, performing a similar scene of the Titanic. Crow's coarse shoes slide across the floor until large, obsidian tendrils launch themselves from her back, colliding into and past the ceiling, curving to hook and lodge themselves back into the ceiling above her. Crow's form is suspended above those who were sliding underneath her, most of them watching her ragdoll-like responses to the ship's sinking, as they slide by and eventually out of the ship's still airborne frame.
Crow's form swings idly back and forth, shaking abruptly as the ship collides into the ground, and when the ship finally stops, Crow's legs dangled in the air, her tendrils keeping her stuck in the middle of the, now, wall of the dining room. Below her, were the stairs to the other floors, but at a great distance from her current spot. Crow's hands remove themselves from her dirtied, tri-cornered hat's rim. Her pale gaze slowly drifts around the wreck of a room, and finally, her tendrils, only a few at a time, withdraw themselves from the wall, and burrow through the wall space in front of her. Crow's almost spider-like appearance moves towards the stairs, down them, along the hallways, and finally, Crow's coarse shoes drop upon the wall that held her room's door in place.
Crow's form kneels down, her hands working the door knob, having to lift it upwards, pushing it to rest on the other side of the wall. Crow's room has been untouched since she arrived, her gift-bag oddly shaped and lumpy. The bag rested against the dresser, which was also on its side. Crow's form jumps into the room, the tendrils catching the room's door and the spot where Crow jumped from, her body jostling about before settling. One tendril scoops about the bag, bringing it towards her as her pale hands open it to reveal three things. One, a small, blue-ish tome, roughly the size of her black one. Two, amask that featured an elongated, bird-like beak of a nose, a crumpled forehead, and two encircled stars upon each cheek. The third item looked to be a lantern,, round in shape with metallic circles around the bottom and top, with a darkly colored lid. The handle was made of wood and the middle hosted a pattern of red circles.
A few minutes later, Crow's form lands into the snow, the tendrils slithering into the dirtied robes she still wore. Her face is covered by her mask, the last tendril slithering away holding the lantern, which, Crow plucked from it. Holding it outwards, the lantern's insides began to flicker, illuminating the area about her with the dark, caustic flame. Her pale gaze looks about her, the lantern shifting as she turns, starting to walk away from the wreckage...until someone rounds the edge of the downed ship....Crow's pale gaze squints, the snow making it hard to see, but her masked face lets loose a disdainful hiss. "He's still alive.."
Crow's hands push upon the floor, regaining her footing, her arms instinctively rising up closer to her face at the sound of explosions. Crow's pale gaze catches, across the room, something large is taken out of the dining room. "They cannot be saved." Crow's shoulders rise in a nonchalant shrug, the tentacle piece rolling towards her coarse boot slowly, then more quickly as the ship's structure was going down, and quickly. Crouching down to pick up the obsidian chunk, Crow's right foot steps forward, her form slowly sliding, along with the tables and the band's instruments, with the band clinging to them. Crow's form is bent, as if she were climbing an increasingly steep slope, and her hands cup around the black, squirming tentacle piece.
Crow's hands close about the object, her pale gaze tilting her hat back as she looks at the ceiling. Crow's lips move almost silently, her form sliding once more. The couple that she had spooked earlier were desperately holding onto one of the catering tables, its heavier frame offering what it could, but the husband's hand was slipping, his other hand holding onto his wife's, she being connected only to him. By the time Crow's spell is finished, they slip, performing a similar scene of the Titanic. Crow's coarse shoes slide across the floor until large, obsidian tendrils launch themselves from her back, colliding into and past the ceiling, curving to hook and lodge themselves back into the ceiling above her. Crow's form is suspended above those who were sliding underneath her, most of them watching her ragdoll-like responses to the ship's sinking, as they slide by and eventually out of the ship's still airborne frame.
Crow's form swings idly back and forth, shaking abruptly as the ship collides into the ground, and when the ship finally stops, Crow's legs dangled in the air, her tendrils keeping her stuck in the middle of the, now, wall of the dining room. Below her, were the stairs to the other floors, but at a great distance from her current spot. Crow's hands remove themselves from her dirtied, tri-cornered hat's rim. Her pale gaze slowly drifts around the wreck of a room, and finally, her tendrils, only a few at a time, withdraw themselves from the wall, and burrow through the wall space in front of her. Crow's almost spider-like appearance moves towards the stairs, down them, along the hallways, and finally, Crow's coarse shoes drop upon the wall that held her room's door in place.
Crow's form kneels down, her hands working the door knob, having to lift it upwards, pushing it to rest on the other side of the wall. Crow's room has been untouched since she arrived, her gift-bag oddly shaped and lumpy. The bag rested against the dresser, which was also on its side. Crow's form jumps into the room, the tendrils catching the room's door and the spot where Crow jumped from, her body jostling about before settling. One tendril scoops about the bag, bringing it towards her as her pale hands open it to reveal three things. One, a small, blue-ish tome, roughly the size of her black one. Two, amask that featured an elongated, bird-like beak of a nose, a crumpled forehead, and two encircled stars upon each cheek. The third item looked to be a lantern,, round in shape with metallic circles around the bottom and top, with a darkly colored lid. The handle was made of wood and the middle hosted a pattern of red circles.
A few minutes later, Crow's form lands into the snow, the tendrils slithering into the dirtied robes she still wore. Her face is covered by her mask, the last tendril slithering away holding the lantern, which, Crow plucked from it. Holding it outwards, the lantern's insides began to flicker, illuminating the area about her with the dark, caustic flame. Her pale gaze looks about her, the lantern shifting as she turns, starting to walk away from the wreckage...until someone rounds the edge of the downed ship....Crow's pale gaze squints, the snow making it hard to see, but her masked face lets loose a disdainful hiss. "He's still alive.."
Aranel was still clutching that bag. Her knees dug into the snow, feet becoming cold from the snow. The tabi was the only thing protecting her flesh from the soft ice, which was a significant downgrade from her boots, but still much better than being barefoot like she was.
Still feeling hopeless, she decided to open the bag again. She spotted the circlet again and the notes, which she'd read. At first, she thought of disregarding the part of the note where it said not to look for The Lady and The Gentleman. She wanted to do it anyway. And why not? They were only human after all! Surviving a crash like that was something more than a miracle. But no, she decided to stay. There had been stranger things happen, and it seemed she wasn't the only one alive judging by the footprints leading away, so they could very well be alive as well.
She felt horrible for obeying the note. The circlet was glanced at once again and, understanding what the note said about such a thing, she placed it on her head.
Aranel heard footfalls a distance away, gaining volume as they grew closer. Whoever it was, they were circling the ship's remains. Fumbling to get to her feet, she rushed toward the noise awkwardly, not used to walking in this type of footwear. When she saw Aearion, she grinned widely and nearly lost her composure. He was a blur of blue and various colors, something she almost didn't recognize as a companion, but as she drew near she could tell who it was. She sniffed once rather deeply, forcing any tears to stay inside. "Aearion!" she yelped, hoping it'd reach him from that distance. Hoping also to gain any other person's attention if they were outside as well.
She ran up to him. "Have you seen anyone else...? I saw footprints going away from the ship but I can't see too far. I can't--" Oh. No. Aranel noticed what she said and reached up to pat her face, which lacked glasses. "Oh no!" she whimpered. And here she thought all the blurry vision was caused by the dark, the snow, and her own tears. Nope! It's also because her vision sucked and her glasses fell of when they crashed. Giving him little time to make any attempt of response or further conversation, Aranel ran away and sought to find the hole where she exited, even passing Crow. During her search, she constantly squeaked, "Oh no...!" over and over like a broken record.
Jinkies!
((This rp has been a steady source of doodles lol....))
Still feeling hopeless, she decided to open the bag again. She spotted the circlet again and the notes, which she'd read. At first, she thought of disregarding the part of the note where it said not to look for The Lady and The Gentleman. She wanted to do it anyway. And why not? They were only human after all! Surviving a crash like that was something more than a miracle. But no, she decided to stay. There had been stranger things happen, and it seemed she wasn't the only one alive judging by the footprints leading away, so they could very well be alive as well.
She felt horrible for obeying the note. The circlet was glanced at once again and, understanding what the note said about such a thing, she placed it on her head.
Aranel heard footfalls a distance away, gaining volume as they grew closer. Whoever it was, they were circling the ship's remains. Fumbling to get to her feet, she rushed toward the noise awkwardly, not used to walking in this type of footwear. When she saw Aearion, she grinned widely and nearly lost her composure. He was a blur of blue and various colors, something she almost didn't recognize as a companion, but as she drew near she could tell who it was. She sniffed once rather deeply, forcing any tears to stay inside. "Aearion!" she yelped, hoping it'd reach him from that distance. Hoping also to gain any other person's attention if they were outside as well.
She ran up to him. "Have you seen anyone else...? I saw footprints going away from the ship but I can't see too far. I can't--" Oh. No. Aranel noticed what she said and reached up to pat her face, which lacked glasses. "Oh no!" she whimpered. And here she thought all the blurry vision was caused by the dark, the snow, and her own tears. Nope! It's also because her vision sucked and her glasses fell of when they crashed. Giving him little time to make any attempt of response or further conversation, Aranel ran away and sought to find the hole where she exited, even passing Crow. During her search, she constantly squeaked, "Oh no...!" over and over like a broken record.
Jinkies!
((This rp has been a steady source of doodles lol....))
So much discord. Everything in shambles.. Why was there an Umbra creature involved in this and one of such ferocious magnitude? There seemed to be no end to the snowfall. No longer above the clouds where the moon lit up their sky, now beneath the thick layer of clouds where the sky appears to be an above on its own with chilled ash falling from its frigged depths upon a land strewn in white. Fortunate enough that everyone of the group survived this tragedy of an airship wreck; even though one was stripped from their grasps during the plunge. It was clear enough that the ship's remains were not going anywhere.
Sure enough Clint began walking but to what end without proper given direction? In fact. There was no direction given aside from they were near their target destination. How close is near anyway? Couple miles? Perhaps? In the distance began to come into vision a couple of blurred orbs of orange from beyond the darkness that enshrouded the trees. The closer one orb came, the more that became visible. The inhabitants of this Northern Range were strong believers that the necessity of machinery was null and that if the human body and mind could not accomplish it then it was never meant to be done.
The ship wreckage on their territory could pose a hindrance should the group be found connected to the ship in some way. Several voices echoed through the near silence coming from the sources of those lights. Troops, maybe? Or perhaps traveling merchants. Whomever bore those orbs was coming to scout out the wreckage that was sure enough.
[Zaida being written back in]
Subtle silence. A few voices here, a few voices there, but they were all from beyond a wall or two or down a hall. T'was idle conversation that came about as muffled bass tones; two or three men obviously talking. After a few moments footsteps harbored their departure from the topic of interest, two leading away and one coming closer. Then a door slid open. In the door stood the Military Captain. "So this is the woman found?.", speaking about Zaida who had been placed in a futon to rest. The room itself was rather plain, polished wooden flooring, walls decorated with a few traditional symbols by their cultural respect on different panels on the wall. Stepping over to her as the door was nudged to slid to a close behind him he knelt at her side. "Hm..the clothes are not something I'm familiar with." Saying with extreme scrutiny. "But she is beautiful. A very unique treasure."
He rose to a stand. "Have this woman prepared for the upcoming Conference. I want her presented properly." Another door slid open but with two women knelt down in overture in respect to their superior. Should Zaida have woken up at any point during his appearance, he gave no acknowledgement to it. Upon his exit did the two females get to work in stripping Zaida, washing her; with the aid of a little girl who ran back and forth with a cloth soaked in warm, floral scented water, and then dressing her accordingly. May there have been a conflict of interest with removing Zaida's clothes, the women would only become more forcive in their actions and exclaim. "Lord Gyousei commands that we prepare you!" Said one woman. The other chimed in as well. "If we do not, death is our only option! We cannot leave his wish unfulfilled!" It seemed more of desperation if anything that they proceeded with.
In the distance down the hall a ways just beyond the door Gyousei left was his voice. "Have we heard anything back yet about the ship that crashed in the north-western woodland?" There was a short pause. "I see. We will discuss this at the Conference." Then there was nothing. Only steps that became fainter and fainter, a door opened then shut leaving silence beyond the walls of the room.
Choose your outfit, Zaida. ))
How long does it take you to do these drawings, Aranel? They're extremely impressive as always!))
Sure enough Clint began walking but to what end without proper given direction? In fact. There was no direction given aside from they were near their target destination. How close is near anyway? Couple miles? Perhaps? In the distance began to come into vision a couple of blurred orbs of orange from beyond the darkness that enshrouded the trees. The closer one orb came, the more that became visible. The inhabitants of this Northern Range were strong believers that the necessity of machinery was null and that if the human body and mind could not accomplish it then it was never meant to be done.
The ship wreckage on their territory could pose a hindrance should the group be found connected to the ship in some way. Several voices echoed through the near silence coming from the sources of those lights. Troops, maybe? Or perhaps traveling merchants. Whomever bore those orbs was coming to scout out the wreckage that was sure enough.
[Zaida being written back in]
Subtle silence. A few voices here, a few voices there, but they were all from beyond a wall or two or down a hall. T'was idle conversation that came about as muffled bass tones; two or three men obviously talking. After a few moments footsteps harbored their departure from the topic of interest, two leading away and one coming closer. Then a door slid open. In the door stood the Military Captain. "So this is the woman found?.", speaking about Zaida who had been placed in a futon to rest. The room itself was rather plain, polished wooden flooring, walls decorated with a few traditional symbols by their cultural respect on different panels on the wall. Stepping over to her as the door was nudged to slid to a close behind him he knelt at her side. "Hm..the clothes are not something I'm familiar with." Saying with extreme scrutiny. "But she is beautiful. A very unique treasure."
He rose to a stand. "Have this woman prepared for the upcoming Conference. I want her presented properly." Another door slid open but with two women knelt down in overture in respect to their superior. Should Zaida have woken up at any point during his appearance, he gave no acknowledgement to it. Upon his exit did the two females get to work in stripping Zaida, washing her; with the aid of a little girl who ran back and forth with a cloth soaked in warm, floral scented water, and then dressing her accordingly. May there have been a conflict of interest with removing Zaida's clothes, the women would only become more forcive in their actions and exclaim. "Lord Gyousei commands that we prepare you!" Said one woman. The other chimed in as well. "If we do not, death is our only option! We cannot leave his wish unfulfilled!" It seemed more of desperation if anything that they proceeded with.
In the distance down the hall a ways just beyond the door Gyousei left was his voice. "Have we heard anything back yet about the ship that crashed in the north-western woodland?" There was a short pause. "I see. We will discuss this at the Conference." Then there was nothing. Only steps that became fainter and fainter, a door opened then shut leaving silence beyond the walls of the room.
Choose your outfit, Zaida. ))
How long does it take you to do these drawings, Aranel? They're extremely impressive as always!))
For the first few moment of being undressed, Zaida was in too much shock to do anything, until she felt her hair was loose. She then started to fight, but her dagger was already gone. She still had fists.
She landed a few blows but these girls were surprisingly strong. Perhaps it was their will to live that kept her down while they dressed her in strange cloth and brushed her hair. Her hair.
She tried to fight again, having never been so exposed before, so pained by an action brought on by another. She was disgracing her religion, her parents even Amira by letting this happen.
When her fight ran out (right around when they finished brushing her hair), her eyes glowed for a moment and turned brown. She didn't fight anymore. She just took their actions and even helped them, if only to get it over with.
When she was dressed she stood, looking at herself in the mirror, waving them off halfheartedly if they attempted to put make-up on her face.
((hopefully what I chose is alright. I wanted to give her something worthy of being a concubine
It took me a long time to decide, lemme know if I need to change it.))
She landed a few blows but these girls were surprisingly strong. Perhaps it was their will to live that kept her down while they dressed her in strange cloth and brushed her hair. Her hair.
She tried to fight again, having never been so exposed before, so pained by an action brought on by another. She was disgracing her religion, her parents even Amira by letting this happen.
When her fight ran out (right around when they finished brushing her hair), her eyes glowed for a moment and turned brown. She didn't fight anymore. She just took their actions and even helped them, if only to get it over with.
When she was dressed she stood, looking at herself in the mirror, waving them off halfheartedly if they attempted to put make-up on her face.
((hopefully what I chose is alright. I wanted to give her something worthy of being a concubine
It took me a long time to decide, lemme know if I need to change it.))
Aearion had been walking and looking, having used his transparent eyelids for his low light vision. It didn't help much, but he saw much more than the human eyes would in this weather. He had been assembling his sakuhachi. Perhaps some music would lure any survivors his way. But even before he fully assembled his instrument, he heard a familliar voice. He turned around and saw Aranel!"Hey there!" He yelled back as he waved, running to meet her. He'd never admit it, but the sight of her filled him with an incredible amount of joy. Others survived! His eyes had a strange thick and much more fish-like look to them, due to the extra eyelids. Hopefully that didn't scare Aranel too much.
"No, you're the first I've seen! I hardly see any sign of life, or death for that matter. How many people were aboard exactly?" He wouldn't get an answer though. He saw why immediately."Oh, you lost your glasses? Wait a second, I'll help you find them." He offered, following Aranel through the snow.
"What did they look like again? They were round, ri- WAAAGH!" Unlike Aranel, Aearion did notice Crow, and that mask was scary as hell. He took a step back, almost tripping over some steel pipes. He quickly recognized her outfit though."Damn it, Crow. You gave me a bloody heart attack!" The orbs in the distance went unnoticed by the Mer.
"No, you're the first I've seen! I hardly see any sign of life, or death for that matter. How many people were aboard exactly?" He wouldn't get an answer though. He saw why immediately."Oh, you lost your glasses? Wait a second, I'll help you find them." He offered, following Aranel through the snow.
"What did they look like again? They were round, ri- WAAAGH!" Unlike Aranel, Aearion did notice Crow, and that mask was scary as hell. He took a step back, almost tripping over some steel pipes. He quickly recognized her outfit though."Damn it, Crow. You gave me a bloody heart attack!" The orbs in the distance went unnoticed by the Mer.
Having fruitlessly investigated the rooms of his companions, Takurasho was not discouraged by the fact that they weren't to be found- at least there weren't any bodies, & that was encouragement enough. Besides them, he had little interest in aiding whatever staff might have survived. He may have been somewhat caring, but he was by no means compassionate, so the lives of these strangers were of little concern to him. He had just made the decision to exit the wreckage when he heard Aearion's cry &- not knowing it was simply a reaction to Crow- he bolted towards the nearest hole in the wreckage that he could use as an exit.
Spidery legs launched towards the opening with a graceful leap, which was very ungracefully interrupted when suddenly a wild Aranel appeared! Takurasho emitted an awkward "Urk" sound as they collided. "Aranel," he acknowledged solidly, but with a slight undertone of relief. He'd lean by her, peering outside, squinting to see through the snow. Aearion & Crow's shapes were easy to identify. "Why are you so flustered? Where is Zaida... & Clint?" He'd lightly place a hand on her shoulder as he asked, doing so in attempts to settle her down & keep her from bolting off blindly. He would notice that her glasses were missing, but had no idea her eyesight was so greatly impaired without them.
Spidery legs launched towards the opening with a graceful leap, which was very ungracefully interrupted when suddenly a wild Aranel appeared! Takurasho emitted an awkward "Urk" sound as they collided. "Aranel," he acknowledged solidly, but with a slight undertone of relief. He'd lean by her, peering outside, squinting to see through the snow. Aearion & Crow's shapes were easy to identify. "Why are you so flustered? Where is Zaida... & Clint?" He'd lightly place a hand on her shoulder as he asked, doing so in attempts to settle her down & keep her from bolting off blindly. He would notice that her glasses were missing, but had no idea her eyesight was so greatly impaired without them.
(That animation was gorgeous! 
Wish I were so amazing, I'm only a mediocre artist at best.)
Clint had given every opportunity to be followed. Fortunately, though unbeknownst to himself, there was one that did follow his lead, albeit a while after. A sigh escaped him as he trekked the flush landscape, sorely regretting the weight of his heavy metal arms. "What's this?" he cooed upon the appearance of such magnificent orbs of luminescent hues. "Some sorta' fae?" He may be stubborn and a thief, but Clint was no oaf. It was his experience that when something one cannot explain starts moving toward him, he probably shouldn't do the same. He started backtracking, watching to see how fast these things were moving. If they were too fast, he'd run back the way he'd come. Otherwise, he'd simply turn around and walk the other way. All the while, though, he was arming himself with his last knives. They were primed and ready, but he did not want to throw them. Other than those, all he had was his sack.
Wish I were so amazing, I'm only a mediocre artist at best.)Clint had given every opportunity to be followed. Fortunately, though unbeknownst to himself, there was one that did follow his lead, albeit a while after. A sigh escaped him as he trekked the flush landscape, sorely regretting the weight of his heavy metal arms. "What's this?" he cooed upon the appearance of such magnificent orbs of luminescent hues. "Some sorta' fae?" He may be stubborn and a thief, but Clint was no oaf. It was his experience that when something one cannot explain starts moving toward him, he probably shouldn't do the same. He started backtracking, watching to see how fast these things were moving. If they were too fast, he'd run back the way he'd come. Otherwise, he'd simply turn around and walk the other way. All the while, though, he was arming himself with his last knives. They were primed and ready, but he did not want to throw them. Other than those, all he had was his sack.
Crow’s masked face turns towards the rushing, glasses-less Aranel, looking behind her for a short moment. Crow’s head turns back around, her right eye covered by the curve of her dirtied tri-cornered hat. Her left eye stared at the Mer’s chest area, “You must have multiple hearts, then. I would enjoy finding out.” Crow’s free hand searches for her black tome, her left pale eye staring at her robes, “I suggest you assist in that female’s search, lest she die with you. There are few worse fates.”
Crow’s hand stops its search when her head lifts up to look past the Mer, her form turning to walk away from the ship, leaving from the side of the ship. Crow’s right hand kept the lantern low to the ground, its circle of illumination reaching outwards, but blending where the crystal pendant around Crow’s belt illuminated jointly. Crow’s mouth moved silently, her back towards the others.
Crow’s hand stops its search when her head lifts up to look past the Mer, her form turning to walk away from the ship, leaving from the side of the ship. Crow’s right hand kept the lantern low to the ground, its circle of illumination reaching outwards, but blending where the crystal pendant around Crow’s belt illuminated jointly. Crow’s mouth moved silently, her back towards the others.
The orbs Clint had taken notice of were in no real rush judging by how slow they were coming to illuminate more of the white pane they seamlessly levitated over as though cautious to the ship's arrival; visible only to them was a slowly eroding plume of white that was finally losing its haze inflicting density providing the group slowly fading coverage were.. it not for Crow's illuminations of her own and Aearion's shouting.
"There's something over there!" A voice rung out. It was Crow's own light which was drawing attention possibly unbeknownst. Those orange flickering orbs began to near faster with a bit of a wobble to their motion; clearly lanterns. Accompanying their approach; completely looking passed Clint due to the faults of tunnel visioning on a single target of interest. "It's a light!" -- "Do you think someone actually survived the crash?!" -- "Don't be foolish!" So many voices and so many opinions. The idle banter of What is casting that light pressed on, audible enough for the group to notice and eventually the closer the group of guards came the further into the ship could their voices be heard. "Footprints!" One shouted having seen Clint's scattered imprints left in the snow. It was now clear that there were survivors, but whether they were hostile or not had yet to be disclosed to the Guards.
It was not long until the group of armed guards approached the ship's proximity in wonderment. The last of the haze was finally clearing so that all that skewed vision was the lack of omniscient light from the sun and the ongoing flurry. "In the name of lord Gyosei, Protector of our Empress! We demand that your names and from where you hail!" [Roll 1d100]
One of the guards scrutinized the area, expecting more of a field of corpses from the wreckage that had lain still before them. "This can't be right." One muttered under his breath.
Back at the dressing Chambers which Zaida had been rearranged...
"Come, come!" The little girl that had brought the cloth back and forth to wash Zaida's flesh tugged at her attire so gently, looking up at her with such innocence! As for Zaida's casual wear, it was being folded in the meantime and removed from the room through the door which the women emerged from. The little girl however, tugged and pulled at Zaida for her to follow. Should Zaida follow she will be lead hastily through a series of rooms. A room where women dressed just like those who prepared her were toiling away at clothes for the officials and staff of this Station. Other rooms had only a single woman seated so silently as if a statue themselves neverminding the duo that passed through the room; clearly a concubine, no more, no less.
Sliding door after sliding door did the little girl lead Zaida until finally they were outside. It was a small fenced space with a miniature shrine in the center of the square parameter. On just the other side of the fence was a crystal river yet to be frozen by the chilled weather. Just across was a particular building stood amidst the spots of drifting white flakes. The air was cold, but the wind was forgiving to be gentle. "There! There!" She shouted.
What was so peculiar about the building that she had to show Zaida of all people?The girl bounced up and down in a fit of giggles as she continued to shout "There, there!" A few more times before the girl ran back toward the building they just exited juking around Zaida to embrace a rather familiar individual in a suit. The Butler. As the Butler began to pet the girl's head he spoke to Zaida. "A pleasure to meet with you again Master Zaida. Our talk will be rather brief." There was a short pause before he knelt down and reached into his inner vest pocket and handed the girl a little black marble. "Here you go Miss Tomoe." The smile was as elderly and weak seeming as ever before standing up and sending the girl on her merry way.
"That building there houses something sinister. Something evil. All the rumors of this land source from that building across the river as pure as crystal. Sir Jonathan is a mere pebble compared to what lies asleep there." A wrinkled finger of his pointed in the building's direction. "There, there!" He said. In the shadow within the indicated structure stood a female silhouette. All sound perceived by Zaida began to slow down; by this point in time relative to the other group members would everything began to slow down as well but not hinder their motions. That song. That...haunting hymn...it rung so deep into all of their ears as if it were coming from their very subconscious...their vision began to become impaired very slightly with fluctuations of the absolute darkness like someone was turning a light switch on and off to their already dim surroundings also accompanied by that familiar feeling of Umbra. When the hymn ended time resumed as normal and that presence of Umbra released its grip from their common perceptions.
The Butler lowered his hand. Was it fear he expressed? Or perhaps excitement..? "Our time here is over, Master Zaida. You have a meeting to attend to soon." A small chuckle emanated from him as his body began to erode away from shoulder to shoulder into a black mist; which turns out to not really be a mist but small black particles.. almost like sand now that his disappearing act could be seen under normal conditions and not the high speed whipping winds of a ship's travel.
[+10 Modifier caused by being found too close to the ship / Roll does not apply to Zaida]
[+20 Modifier to any of the group who approaches the Guards in a fashion that would not relate them to the ship.]- - - Exiting the ship and saying "I didn't do it" Doesn't cut it. Lol.
[EDIT Note: Did a small addition to the roll assets. First roll modifier mentioned was supposed to be a subtraction but ruling that bit out and accommodating all rolls under the basis listed above.]
"There's something over there!" A voice rung out. It was Crow's own light which was drawing attention possibly unbeknownst. Those orange flickering orbs began to near faster with a bit of a wobble to their motion; clearly lanterns. Accompanying their approach; completely looking passed Clint due to the faults of tunnel visioning on a single target of interest. "It's a light!" -- "Do you think someone actually survived the crash?!" -- "Don't be foolish!" So many voices and so many opinions. The idle banter of What is casting that light pressed on, audible enough for the group to notice and eventually the closer the group of guards came the further into the ship could their voices be heard. "Footprints!" One shouted having seen Clint's scattered imprints left in the snow. It was now clear that there were survivors, but whether they were hostile or not had yet to be disclosed to the Guards.
It was not long until the group of armed guards approached the ship's proximity in wonderment. The last of the haze was finally clearing so that all that skewed vision was the lack of omniscient light from the sun and the ongoing flurry. "In the name of lord Gyosei, Protector of our Empress! We demand that your names and from where you hail!" [Roll 1d100]
One of the guards scrutinized the area, expecting more of a field of corpses from the wreckage that had lain still before them. "This can't be right." One muttered under his breath.
Back at the dressing Chambers which Zaida had been rearranged...
"Come, come!" The little girl that had brought the cloth back and forth to wash Zaida's flesh tugged at her attire so gently, looking up at her with such innocence! As for Zaida's casual wear, it was being folded in the meantime and removed from the room through the door which the women emerged from. The little girl however, tugged and pulled at Zaida for her to follow. Should Zaida follow she will be lead hastily through a series of rooms. A room where women dressed just like those who prepared her were toiling away at clothes for the officials and staff of this Station. Other rooms had only a single woman seated so silently as if a statue themselves neverminding the duo that passed through the room; clearly a concubine, no more, no less.
Sliding door after sliding door did the little girl lead Zaida until finally they were outside. It was a small fenced space with a miniature shrine in the center of the square parameter. On just the other side of the fence was a crystal river yet to be frozen by the chilled weather. Just across was a particular building stood amidst the spots of drifting white flakes. The air was cold, but the wind was forgiving to be gentle. "There! There!" She shouted.
What was so peculiar about the building that she had to show Zaida of all people?The girl bounced up and down in a fit of giggles as she continued to shout "There, there!" A few more times before the girl ran back toward the building they just exited juking around Zaida to embrace a rather familiar individual in a suit. The Butler. As the Butler began to pet the girl's head he spoke to Zaida. "A pleasure to meet with you again Master Zaida. Our talk will be rather brief." There was a short pause before he knelt down and reached into his inner vest pocket and handed the girl a little black marble. "Here you go Miss Tomoe." The smile was as elderly and weak seeming as ever before standing up and sending the girl on her merry way.
"That building there houses something sinister. Something evil. All the rumors of this land source from that building across the river as pure as crystal. Sir Jonathan is a mere pebble compared to what lies asleep there." A wrinkled finger of his pointed in the building's direction. "There, there!" He said. In the shadow within the indicated structure stood a female silhouette. All sound perceived by Zaida began to slow down; by this point in time relative to the other group members would everything began to slow down as well but not hinder their motions. That song. That...haunting hymn...it rung so deep into all of their ears as if it were coming from their very subconscious...their vision began to become impaired very slightly with fluctuations of the absolute darkness like someone was turning a light switch on and off to their already dim surroundings also accompanied by that familiar feeling of Umbra. When the hymn ended time resumed as normal and that presence of Umbra released its grip from their common perceptions.
The Butler lowered his hand. Was it fear he expressed? Or perhaps excitement..? "Our time here is over, Master Zaida. You have a meeting to attend to soon." A small chuckle emanated from him as his body began to erode away from shoulder to shoulder into a black mist; which turns out to not really be a mist but small black particles.. almost like sand now that his disappearing act could be seen under normal conditions and not the high speed whipping winds of a ship's travel.
Dungeoneer Modifiers
[+10 Modifier caused by being found too close to the ship / Roll does not apply to Zaida]
Group Member Modifiers
[+10 Modifier allowed] to those dressed in the attire granted by The Gentleman[+20 Modifier to any of the group who approaches the Guards in a fashion that would not relate them to the ship.]- - - Exiting the ship and saying "I didn't do it" Doesn't cut it. Lol.
[EDIT Note: Did a small addition to the roll assets. First roll modifier mentioned was supposed to be a subtraction but ruling that bit out and accommodating all rolls under the basis listed above.]
rolled 1d100 and got a natural 97. After the modifier of +10, got 107
[Charisma Roll] How will the guards take to you? The higher the roll the better and vice versa!
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