Fire Emblem Tropera

Grendan stared flatly at the proceedings before twitching once and, quite deliberately, turning to examine Heath. "I want no part in that," he commented to Astra, who was once again hiding behind the wyvern.

"...me neither..." the manakete responded quietly.

Osroes listens to Vera closely, giving the occasional nod. I have always focussed on technique… That will be what is necessary on the celestial battlefield, after all. It is true that it isn’t always most efficient now, however…

And then she suggests a potential exercise partner. Osroes blanches initially at the sight of Bette - and then considers. I could use this… He nods, taking a breath and turning to the tarjadug, to which he nods again, this time in acknowledgement. “Very well… I hope that this will be productive for the both -”

He tails off as Nana speaks, then looks upon the ceremony. He smiles. Creation indeed… He reaches down to Rsama. “Shall we, my friend?”

So the pegaz rears with a loud whinny, beating his powerful legs and wings against the divine air, and his rider flexes the muscles of his mail-covered arms. So do they, alongside his tribe, honour the mighty jinn called Xel.

Brendan walks up and decides to join in too, doing a reserved, yet full-out flex.

Cava hummed thoughtfully as she watched the survivors of the marauding band of would-be murderers escape into the distance with colloquial tails tucked under their legs and wondered if they would come back with more people in the future. Turning her head towards the proceedings, all such thoughts outright flew from her head as she heard the... phrases being bandied about that led to a rather concerned look on her face.

Really, the culture here seemed a bit... off to her uncultured eyes but they seemed like decent enough folks so it warmed her heart to see that the innocent were allowed to enjoy their simple and idealistic lifestyle (even if they did have gainz for dayz). Chuckling, the manakete strolled back into town to enjoy the newfound peace.

Once the crown was produced, Xilla took it and turned it in her hands, handling it with a surprising delicacy as she appraised the relic. Brushing a thumb over the indentation in the crown's front, she let out a low whistle.

"Dear me, oh dearie me. My young lad, I think I know what you have here. Come with me." The Dracobara matriarch continued talking as she led the way back to her lair.

"According to our clan's legends, in the final days of the ancient Empire of Kambacha, when our people were little better than slaves to the magocracy, there was one among the ruling elite who showed us favor. The youngest of four princesses; a prodigal sorceress with a particular signature spell."

Xilla disappeared into her stone hut, and after a few moments filled with the sound of scraping stone, returned holding a polished amethyst between thumb and forefinger as though it might explode at any moment.

"This gem has been passed down for generations upon generations; a gift from the princess to her loyal friend and counsel, the progenitor of our clan."

Slowly, carefully, she brought the gemstone toward the crown's indentation. As it neared the crown, the gem began to tremble and shake in her fingers, leaping from her grasp to cover the final inch on its own with a flash of blinding light. When the assembled viewers' eyes had adjusted again, the crown rested in the sand, gleaming with a new light. Gingerly, Xilla picked it up, brushed a few errant grains of sand away, and offered it back to the company with open hands.

"In thanks for saving our village, and for helping my grandbaby reach his full potentswole, I now give it to you. May it aid you in your journey."

Twilight Crown acquired!^note Relic. Allows the wearer to teleport up to 10 spaces as their movement action. 3 charges.

"Oooooh, shiny!" Bette said, leaping up and grabbing the crown, shoving it onto her head. She happily jumped from one foot to the other while pressing both hands firmly onto the crown to keep it from falling.

At the flash of light, Osroes gazes at the crown with the same reverence that he afforded the Anima Bow just a little while before. He gives a bow to Xilla. “Truly, we are within your debt, wise jinn; the clear divinity of the power within this artefact is testame-.”

He starts as Bette dashes forward, grabs the crown and begins dancing around with it.

Osroes blinks. Hmm. This may be easier than I thought.

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Aug 31st 2018 at 11:28:57 AM

Brendan walks up, passing through the blinding light and ending up... right next to Bette.

"Well, at least you're having fun."

For now, Damien casually sketches the others having fun. He even puts emphasis on Bette dancing around with the crown like a buffoon.

"Wonderful. We're done here. Now can we please continue with our actually important mission?" Ailes grumbled.

Xilla huffed and turned away from the man.

"Xel, dear, I know we're vegetarians, but the Swolecestors will understand if you take a bite out of that man," she whispered.

____________________

"Ah, thar me baby blows," Scherwiz cooed early in the afternoon some days later as the Syldra came back into view. "Me just hopes Morgan haven't drunk more'n half the rum supply whilst we be away."

High above the party flies Rsama, soaring gracefully, as one with the divine air. Atop him, Osroes looks over the boundless, glorious ocean with a familiar wonder. Corrupted though it is, your creation remains beautiful.

The Parni smiles, then looks back to the desert with a sadder one. He gazes over the far-stretching sand and rock that he and his companion call home, seeking to burn the sight into his memory. Apparently, the group is going northwards to Reginbor; another of the fragments of their Emblem is located there, it seems. He rests his hand on Rsama’s side, stroking it. “I hope we will be warm enough… Had I known, I would have brought some furs.” He gives a laugh, then sighs wistfully. “Say your goodbyes, Rsama.”

Oh, how I wish I could have seen Tasmag at least once more… Father, Mother, Husravah, I will miss you dearly - yes, even you, Skandar. He presses his lips together. And, of cour…

His thoughts dry up as, his eyes sweeping across the desert, they sight a figure approaching across the sweeping dunes. It moves, at least as far as Osroes can tell, as quickly as any horse at full tilt - and yet its size precludes it from being larger than a man.

Only one person, to Osroes’ knowledge, fulfils both of those criteria. Surely… Surely she isn’t… By your divine name!

Beneath him, reading the subtle motions of his legs with years of experience, Rsama’s dive is swift, almost hurried.

Azadokht dashes effortfully across the sands, moving with a rhythmic regularity that parallels the ancient, magical automata of the desert ruins, yet possessing a fluidity that they could never access. Her breathing is heavy but controlled. It is certainly not the type of running that she enjoys the most - there are no obstacles to navigate around, no goals to achieve, and on top of that there’s a pack on her shoulders, tugging at her potential - but it is satisfying nonetheless. The feeling of her physical form in motion, of the air against fabric and skin, of her energy, her determination, her ability committed to use, is enough to push past the tinges of anxiety.

That anxiety is joined for a moment by bleary confusion as she picks out gleaming silver against the azure sky - and then both pushed out entirely by a flood of hope, relief, exultation as she recognises it. Found! Oh, thank you! Thank you, Mihr, thank you! Azadokht pauses at the thought, then laughs, shaking her head as she redoubles her pace. Sorry, ‘Roey.

The silver grows larger even as she closes with it, resolving into a very familiar pegaz with cream-coloured wings tucked and, riding him, an even more familiar young man. Azadokht’s grin widens. Indeed, no sooner has Rsama landed and Osroes barely dismounted than she has dropped her pack and tackled the latter in a joyful hug, sending him stumbling back against the former’s side even as he grabs onto her in an attempt to find support. Judging by his laughter, rising to accompany her own, he doesn’t seem to mind too much.

Eventually the laughter subsides and the two lean back. Azadokht looks him directly in the eyes, brow slick with sweat and chest rising and falling with her breath, her infectious smile complete. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi… Hi, Aza.” Osroes matching her gaze, his expression one of disbelieving joy.

After a momentary pause, the two lean forward. Their lips meet.

And, of course, a second or so after that, Azadokht feels something wet and hot press against the side of her face. She pulls away and giggles, glancing towards the nose and giving a firm rub to the side of the neck to which it is attached. “Yes, Rsama. Hi to you too.”

That is the moment, of course, that her utter exhaustion catches up with her. Her knees begin to buckle; Osroes catches her even as she steps forward with one leg, that she might continue to stand. “Are you alright?” he asks in concern.

“Just ran a few… Hundred miles. That’s all.” Azadokht chuckles, still breathing hard. “Ah… Could you carry me the… Rest of the way… Rsama? Would be… Helpful.”

Already Osroes is securing her pack to their own storage and leaping up onto the pegaz’s back, offering a hand. The dancer gladly takes it, joining her own effort to his and finding a seat behind him, legs hanging off to one side. She grasps his waist as she has often done before; this time she rests her head on his shoulder in her tiredness. Osroes looks back, wonder crossing his face, before Rsama takes off, wings beating slowly and constantly as the three wing their way across towards the group. A few minutes later he brings them down perhaps a dozen metres in front of the rest, slowing to a trot, then a walk and finally a stop.

Azadokht half hops, half falls off. She looks over the band, eyebrows raised. “Yep, those are indeed sayan.”

“My current thinking is that they’re actually jinn and Mihrzan,” Osroes replies quietly; Azadokht’s expression grows even more surprised at that. “Kiri - the red one - spoke in the divine tongue but a few days ago. I still need to ask her about it.” He pauses. “Then my father told you?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Azadokht grins at him. “Thought I’d keep it a surprise. I knew you’d send to him when you were leaving, so I asked him to tell you to wait if I hadn’t reached you. But I did!” she concludes, walking purposefully to meet the group before coming to a halt.

She puts both hands on her hips, immediately below the hand axes and tomes secured to her belts, and speaks out. “Hello! I’m Azadokht; I’m with those two over there.” She points back over her shoulder towards the pegaz and rider. “Mind if I join you all?”

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Sep 1st 2018 at 9:55:56 AM

Grendan shrugged; he honestly didn't really have an opinion on the subject at this point.

Astra, on the other hand, frowned sternly as they marched over to grab the newcomer's arm, then tugged her to a convenient crate. "Sit," they commanded. "You're obviously exhausted, and if you don't rest you'll just hurt yourself."

This brought a raised eyebrow from Grendan, who apologized, "Sorry about that- Astra here gets a bit... intense when people aren't at their best." He paused before snapping, "Heath, stop gawking," at the wyvern, who was currently stretching his neck out, straining against the restraints he'd been placed in (just in case) in order to get a better look.

“Thanks, Radiant; I'm okay, though. Not the first time.” Azadokht gives a smile to Astra - before stumbling back for a moment as Heath approaches, leading Osroes to start forward - and then, curious, stabilises herself and steps forward again, extending her hand. “So… You’re like a pegaz, right? Then…” She looks to Grendan. “Could I…” After a pause, she walks around to the wyvern’s side and rests her hand on his neck. “Hey there, ‘Heath’… I’m Azadokht - I’m a friend, alright?”

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Sep 2nd 2018 at 10:04:32 AM

"Not the first time?!" Astra repeated indignantly before reaching out to guide the newcomer to a seat once again. "That's all the more reason that you need to rest! If this is a regular thing, it's a wonder you can even walk!"

Grendan, meanwhile, approached the woman who was now introducing herself to Heath urgently, stating, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Not that he's dangerous, but-" His warning, unfortunately, was interrupted by Heath biting down on a loose strip of cloth and tugging at it; it hadn't come off yet, but it could certainly cause issues if left unchecked.

“You needn’t worry, Astrafiliel, Exalted One.” Osroes walks up to the blue-winged healer, Rsama close behind. “Azadokht is extraordinary. We think that she possesses both divine gifts like you; she has the swiftness and constancy of the Light.” He smiles in joyful reminiscence. “I’m honoured to be by her side, as I am to be your ally.”

Azadokht herself, meanwhile, is dealing with an excitable wyvern. “Yep, just like a pegaz!” she laughs as Heath latches onto the fabric, taking it firmly in her own hand as she gives an equally firm rub to the top of his head with the other, just behind his ear. “Oh, what a strange texture! D’you like that, hmm?”

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Sep 2nd 2018 at 12:55:02 PM

"Oh, don't encourage him..." Grendan sighed, facepalming at the spectacle. "I have enough trouble keeping him out of trouble as it is..."

“Oh! Okay, then.” Azadokht stands back, giving Heath a last rub on the head as she does her best to extract the cloth strip - which is, admittedly, a little tattered, not to mention covered in saliva. She examines it. “Ah, nothing a little sewing can’t handle. What’s your name; where are you from?” she asks, turning towards Grendan. “I’ve already said who I am,” she adds with a shrug.

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Sep 4th 2018 at 6:37:42 PM

Pointedly ignoring a sulking Heath, Grendan replied, "Grendan Salvir. I'm from Frael..." He paused before sheepishly amending, "Er, what used to be Frael and hopefully will be again one day... whatever." He gestured at the still-fretting manakete, continuing, "This worrywart is my ancestral cousin, Astrafiliel, though they go by Astra. The others can introduce themselves, I'm sure."

“Good to meet you both, Astra, Grendan,” Azadokht says. “I should say, Astra - thanks for being concerned. For most people, you’d definitely be right!” she chuckles.

Then she stops. “And I’m sorry about Frael… I talked to some traders from there a few weeks ago who were passing through Tasmag. Heard some bad things. Still…” Azadokht struggles to come up with something positive to say. “Well, I’m happy to help you, if you want. Sorry, that’s about all I’ve got.”

Talbot finally speaks up. He was busy taking care of his horse since that incident in the ruins. He's even stroking Eighty-Six's mane with a brush.

"It's nice to meet you, Azakdoht. I'm Talbot."

Edited by josh6243 on Sep 5th 2018 at 9:03:34 AM

Brendan walks up to the new conversation.

"I haven't caught much of this, but I might as well introduce myself. I'm Brendan Greyborn."

“Good to meet both of you as well,” Azadokht answers the two of them, a (rather relieved) smile on her face again; in particular, she looks over Talbot and Eighty-Six with a happy, approving gaze. Then she looks back to Brendan and notices his weapon, as well as his northern cast. “You wouldn’t happen to use throwing axes too, would you?” She retrieves one of her own from her belt. “I’ve been learning axemanship myself, throwing specifically; you want to practice together some time?”

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Sep 6th 2018 at 1:53:20 PM

Brendan scratches his head.

"I use axes, but I use them for melee purposes. However, it could be a good skill to pick up."

He shrugs.

"If'n ye care to move yer landlubbin' keisters aboard, you lot'll be havin' plentya time to squawk at each other while we be sailin' fer Reginbor!" Scherwiz shouted from the Syldra's deck.

"Reginbor?" Ailes called back, frowning. "Why in blazes would we go to Reginbor next? Ephlund is closer."

"Only in leagues!"

"What other measurement of distance is there?" Ailes shouted, his always-grim expression deepened to that of a man who has already suffered 200% of his daily nonsense allowance. "If this is some hairbrained, licentious—"

"Measurement in supplies, ye great blowhard!" Scherwiz shouted. "There be naught but sand and rocks from here to Frael, and we be runnin' low on drink and grub as it be. We need return to Murgavio or nearabouts to resupply, and from that point, we be as far from one as the other."

Ailes sputtered, taken aback at the pirate captain actually thinking of something he hadn't. "W-well then, we should still make for Ephlund next, to avoid the Vissan blockade around Caldaria!"

"Sure! 'cept fer two things, one bein' that the currents off the west coast be treacherous even for those what sail 'em regularly, an' none of my hearties be western salt. Second, I be havin' me own ways around the blockade, or ye'd never have met me south o' it in the first place."

"It sounds like Captain Scherwiz has this pretty well thought out, Mr. Ailes," Malia said consolingly.

Ailes huffed and stalked up the gangplank, making a dignity-preserving beeline for the cabins without another non-grumbled word.

Scherwiz watched him go, then turned back to the rest of the company. "Well, what've the rest've ye got, anchors for feet? All aboard!"

Damien and Talbot quickly board the ship for their next destination. They want to arrive for differing reasons. Damien wants to bust some heads, while Talbot wants to find his mysterious customer.

Edited by josh6243 on Sep 8th 2018 at 1:10:53 AM