rokubiraijuu

It wouldn't take long for him to frisk out a hand axe, though the boy immediately begins protesting the check, trying to reach to get his weapon back. "H-Hey! This isn't -- you can't just -- ! Put me down, you old geezer!"

A unit of armed soldiers rush by as Marek and Marcus step outside, followed by their apparent Captain, who is still directing orders from the back. They manage to overhear him mutter "if the damn little fox keeps escaping his pen, we'll just close him in a bigger one . . . " before he moves off to join the rest of the men. Several seconds later, the startled townspeople begin to settle back amongst themselves again. Though they'd been caught off guard, from the looks on a few of their faces, they don't seem very surprised. "Again? Right before the Games too. That's just embarrassing." "You'd think it wouldn't be so hard . . . " A minute later, once the coast finally seems clear, a young man emerges from behind a few stacked barrels, brushing hair out of his eyes. "Phew. Now just to find my way -- " Turning, he nearly walks right into Marek and Marcus and steps back with a scoff, looking like he's about to say something, then pausing when he sees their clothing. His expression falls. "O-Oh. Queen's -- oh, shit."

Just as Wren is about to step beyond the door, the relatively low sounds of life going on outside suddenly spike -- there's a scream, then another, followed by the sounds of alarmed cries and a horse's shrill whinny. "Get out of the way!" Rapid, heavy footsteps dash by outside, followed several seconds later by the clanking of armor and weapons. "There he is! Don't let him escape! Lord Fenway's orders -- surround the upper residential district, block all exits!"

"Thank you for your kind words," he replies, amused. "We don't have many chips to throw in this year, so to speak. As I said, our warrior is still mostly untrained. We can only hope to place." The youngest boy of House Cross, so clearly bowing and scraping before High Nobility like this? Not unexpected, but a little shameless, he thinks. He guesses habits die hard, even when one is now of the esteemed Queen's Knights. "The pleasure is all mine, Lady Knight," he replies graciously to the woman who emerges from her selected room, giving a small bow. At that moment, a soldier approaches from further down the hall behind Leofric, coming close to whisper something in his ear. A shadow crosses his face instantly and he turns to the man. "Are you certain?" "Y-Yes, my lord. He was heading toward the bridge to the upper residential district." Grinding his teeth, Leofric barely muffles a curse under his breath before turning to face the Knights. "My sincerest apologies, Honored Knights, but an urgent matter demands my attention and I must leave you. Please do explore the city. The Games don't begin until tomorrow, but Lorelle has much to offer until then. As I mentioned, though, mind the troublemakers amid the common rabble." With that, he turns and briskly follows the soldier down the end of the hallway.

House Cross, House Cross . . . "Oh, yes. I remember seeing your brother some months ago, and he mentioned a sibling of his had made his way into the Queen's Knights. That must be you. My heartfelt congratulations." Though the smile is warm enough, there's something of a concession in it. Fenway, after all, is a high noble house, with generations of longstanding political ties. By comparison . . . "We do," he replies. "He is a bit fiery, but the new ones always are. Nothing a few more years and some training won't remedy. His skill is impressive, but I am just looking to test his abilities this year. There is still much refining to do."

Looking up from Lillie -- who looks a little better off now, thank the Goddess or whoever -- he raises an eyebrow at the swordsman. "Uh, are you crazy? Give me one good reason why I should hand this over to you." He rests a hand on the rapier that the woman in the house had given him. A family heirloom. That kind of thing . . . he'd feel bad just passing it around. Besides, this guy clearly has some problems, and he doesn't really think it's a good idea to be giving more weapons to someone who's already so kill-happy. On the other hand . . . Gaill looks past him, up towards the houses to the northeast. "On second thought, you're going after the big fish up there, right? Tell you what. That guy has a speedwing that I could really use. I'll trade you the sword if you bring that back for me."

"The arena boasts a library of its own, though admittedly small. The city collection can be found near the upper residential district, which is just past the bridge you'll see if you leave the arena and walk straight for a few blocks," he replies to the monk politely, before turning his attention to the girl behind him. "Er . . . I'm afraid horses cannot fit well through these halls . . . or the rooms. My apologies, Lady Knight, but I assure you he will be lodged in the finest stables Lorelle has to offer."

Another . . . manakete? Staring curiously at the green orb still, he has half a mind to ask what 'hybrids' are -- presumably, from their name, a mix of human and 'manakete', but is that even possible? He would not think that a draconian race could even have children with humans -- when Cass says something to him before he can open his mouth. Head snapping up, he looks at the other, then at the assortment of instruments lining the shelves and walls. "I'm most familiar with instruments that use wind . . . " he remarks. "In my tribe, we often use pipes fashioned by reeds. But it looks like you favor strings," he concludes, glancing to Cass' guitar slung across his back.

PROLOGUE: THE RIGHTS OF MEN Barsadian Year 740, 4th of Ovis Once every three years, Lorelle becomes one of the most crowded and active cities in Sathor. Just over a full day's trip downriver by boat from the Imperial Capital, the sparkling riverside fortress has for generations served as one of the main points of defense on the way to Queensgate. But its more well-known -- and far more controversial -- feature that has led to today's thick multitudes and the high spirits of its citizenry centers around the arena at the far end of town, and the Games that had been held there for as long as anyone can remember. Nobles from all across Sathor congregate, bringing the gladiators that have trained for years, some of them champions of previous Games, in a bid for who has the finest fighters. Nearly everyone of some name has a stake in these Games, and it's high stakes, high rewards. "We are honored to have a dispatch of the Queen's Knights themselves here to oversee the safety of the Games." With tensions with Gossmys mounting by the day, the rebels' next attack could take place anywhere. Lorelle at this time of year, with its high population density, many of whom are of the noble class, is a prime target. "Her Majesty is very generous to think of Lorelle." The young nobleman guides them through the halls of the arena's residential areas, where only those of highest status are permitted to stay, most others coming to see the Games forced to find their own lodgings elsewhere throughout the city. The dispatch that has been sent to guard Lorelle from any hint of foreign invasion consists of both new recruits as well as some who have been among the ranks for some time. Many of the finest among the Knights, of course, as well as their Commander, have stayed behind at Queensgate, maintaining the defenses and strong security there. Though the Knights' primary task in Lorelle is one of guard duty that calls for professionalism and alertness, there may well be those who see this is as an opportunity for sightseeing, as the city and its stone bridges over clear water are quite beautiful, even with all the people. Heeled boots clicking against the polished marble, the nobleman rounds another corner to a long hallway, lacquered doors lining both sides. "These will be your quarters for your stay," he says, turning to face them with a slight bow, gesturing to them with a modest sweep of an arm. "I hope they have been prepared to your liking. The door to the town is that way, though I humbly suggest that you not get separated too much if you wish to see the city. I have no doubt in your ability to defend yourselves, but with the Games always come the petty thieves who try to take advantage of the crowds, and other such troublemakers . . . Once again, my name is Leofric, of House Fenway. Please let me know if I might provide any further assistance."

All right, it's the 22nd, which means submissions are closed. Without further ado, Stellar Margin's starting roster will be: As much as I would have liked to include everyone who applied, I had to keep in mind a number of factors in choosing the party. That being said, congratulations to those that got in! To those who didn't, there will be chances to join later down the line, so don't worry too much. Everything is nearly in place for play to begin, so we will be starting around the late afternoon - early evening time, EST. ( it's currently nearly 1AM here and I should probably not be awake soon. ) Can't wait to see you all there!

Tailing behind a bit, Idei accompanies Cass to the musician's shop, curiously examining the interior. Though he himself has limited talent with instruments -- he had always been more interested in learning how to hunt, string his own bow, shoe his own horses ( "more your uncle's son than mine", his father would joke ) -- he still appreciates what he sees, and almost finds himself regretting that he hadn't learned more. Then again, these aren't much like the instruments from home, so he doubts he would be able to do much with them. "What's this?" he asks curiously, having meandered his way up to the front and now looking at the large green orb. Its stand is so ornate it seems a strange possession for a common merchant.

"A . . . manakete? Is that what he is?" Idei glances back over his shoulder at the man as they head towards the center of town, as if hardly able to believe that a human being could turn into a dragon at a moment's notice. That kind of creature -- transporting merchant goods? It's such a strange thought that he nearly laughs. His thoughts brighten upon reaching the place the man had pointed them. The town square boasts song and music, and many of these instruments are ones he's never seen before either. Curious, he strays up near one of the stands. "You should hurry," he remarks, looking over the various wares. "They look like they're leaving."

"Fool a nomad once, shame on you. Fool us twice . . . " He steps up, amused at having overheard Cass' muttering, finally finished with testing his new bow. The man is part of the Royal Guard now, with a salary, and he still thinks like this? These jingling coins really are worth a lot to some people, then. But he's more interested in what the merchant tells him. "Can I come with you?" he asks. "I wouldn't mind looking at these instruments."

Not two seconds after he stows away the corpse -- dragging dead weight is always more effort -- he hears hoof beats nearby and looks up to see the cavalier galloping back his way. With someone else who looks like they've seen better days. "Whoa, hey! Is she okay?" Obviously not, judging by those injuries. "Here, let me take her." It can't be good for the girl, being jostled around on the back of a horse in this condition. More dead weight, great. And blood on his clothes. "Hey, priest!" he calls back over his shoulder. "Need your help over here!" Move to J13, take Lillie and Drop to I13. ( Is also open for Trade with Kayde if he asks nicely. )

Current Chapter Enemy Stats Convoy Current PC Sheets Marcus Noeitia Arthur 'Pegasus' Marek Sidow Wren Cross Herrman Rokan Elise Sturn Akane Noah

Welcome to FEF: Stellar Margin For some time now, I've been tossing around ideas for a FEF of my own, and thanks to Ashes' groundbreaking work and the subsequent guidance of Sea of Crossroads, I've managed to get a fairly good grasp on how to go about kicking off one of my own. This OOC will serve as the thread for character-making and all out of character discussions, as well as strategy planning if needed. Any and all are welcome to apply, whether or not you are in one or both of the existing FEFs. The basic rules are taken from the Bay12 handbook, with added changes and balancing borrowed from Ashes and Sea of Crossroads. I've made a couple of my own tweaks though, so it's worth looking through the changes again below even if you've seen them on the other FEFs before. Thanks to Murdoc, Krim, and everyone else who contributed to the original improvements on the SoC classes, and Hukuna the Undying for his work on the Battle Mage, Paladin, and Freelancer! I'll be the main point of contact for this FEF as I'll be handling all the story, lore, NPC interactions, and posting. However, my friend aliettite will be handling all the visual work, including mapmaking and sprite work. Can't have done it without her. And of course, thanks in advance in Krim who I'll be running all the map balancing by. Now, without further ado: -------- The continent of Barsade has always known conflict. Divided by differing people, each touting their own views of right and wrong, how things should and should not be done, it has seen war over resources, land, and simple differences for as long as anyone can remember and as long as history dictates. Over the centuries, borders were redrawn, countries crafted and razed, until two empires emerged as the superpowers of Barsade and the land was torn between their two sides. To the north, the Queendom of Sathor reigned supreme, by far the strongest military power in its immediate area. To the far south, the Mansellian Empire continued to expand further and further. In order to defend its northern lands, Sathor chose to declare war. In Barsade's sprawling central plains, the two forces met. For months, they fought; both sides incurred devastating losses, but there was no sign of either victory or armistice. Gripped with righteousness, the leaders of both countries demanded their soldiers continue to fight. Yet it was not Sathor and Mansell that suffered the most; it was the towns and villages of the surrounding area whose people were forced to give up everything for a war effort that didn't concern them, whose homes were destroyed, lands burned and blasted. One day, a young priestess from a nearby church decided that she would put an end to all the suffering her people were going through for the sake of these power-hungry leaders. She prayed to the gods for something to end the fighting. Some say she was granted divine power; others say that the sun goddess herself possessed the priestess' body. Either way, the next day, she approached the battlefield amidst the bloodshed and brought the sun's wrath down on the men of both sides. Countless perished in the initial blast several tens of miles wide. The sky darkened with smoke and the ensuing firestorm raged for three full days. When it finally calmed, neither side were in the condition to continue the war. They had no choice but to meet and establish an agreement of peace. The north would keep to itself, and the south would keep to itself; both sides would dedicate their energies not to fighting, but to the cultivation and wellbeing of its people. The goddess-blessed priestess would give them both a shield as a symbol of their regional sovereignty, and to remind them that war should be only to protect, not to destroy -- these two shields would become each land's Fire Emblem. In turn, the central lands would take on the role of peacemaker, dedicated to keeping such a catastrophic war between the north and south from happening again. They would serve as a testament to the horrors of battle -- parts of their land left in their ruinous state to serve as a reminder to future generations what war was capable of. And so, each side returned to their domain, and Barsade saw relative peace and the birth of a new age, beginning at Barsadian Year 0. However, conflict nips always at people's hearts, and soon enough, mankind forgets. Present Day Plot and Map Some Worldbuilding Months Rules & Changes All Character Submissions should be submitted in the following format. You will also need to include a background that preferably discusses how your character came to be where they are now, as part of the Sathori Queen's Knights. It can be however long or short you feel is appropriate. Before posting the sheet here, please PM it to me. Once approved, you may post it here. Example Character

With little concept of how much his possessions are worth, at least in terms of vespers, Idei nods obligingly. "That's fine." He takes the Steel Yari in hand, admiring the smoothness of the wood against his fingertips. After passing over the money and weapon as promised, he steps back to let others speak with the merchant. Eager to test the bow, he draws the string back as far as it goes, noting the flexibility and resistance. It's sturdy enough to be quite accurate -- the wood doesn't wobble in his hand -- but also made of light material. And strong enough to shoot a great distance. "Just like home," he murmurs with a smile, lowering the bow again and looking at it fondly. Exchange 900 vespers and Poison Crossbow for Steel Yari.

"The yari, please." His answer is automatic; he hardly even needs to think about it. Yaris are the only kind of longbow he has seen outside of Arcadia that resembles the bows his tribesmen make back home -- it's not identical, but the feel of them is the closest Veritias has come. He had trained with the one in the Guard's armory whenever he could get his hands on it. Her earlier comment reminds him of something else, though. "If you're looking for crossbows, I have a poison crossbow with me that has all but four bolts left. How much off the Yari will you give me for it?" That's what he's supposed to say, right? Currency as a go-between is still something he has a hard time getting a handle on, but at least he's gotten to the point where he knows he can't simply trade one item for another outside of Arcadia . . . for some reason.

"I'm looking for bows," Idei also chimes in quietly, stepping forward, holding tight to Kite's reins. The stallion doesn't seem to like the look of these massive dragons flying overhead and continues to snort, hooves clacking impatiently against the cobblestone. At least he's not biting anyone -- yet. The horseman himself has never seen creatures like these before -- men who can turn into dragons? Or the other way around? He has seen wyverns before in his recent years outside of Arcadia, but they had never been anything like this, as far as he knows. He watches the man -- Percival? -- carefully.

He hesitates, initially somewhat reluctant to be touched by someone he doesn't know very well, but seeing as she's attending to an injury, he relents, extending his arm. It isn't as if he can't handle the wound on his own -- it's hardly the first time Kite has lashed out at him, and caring for bumps, bruises, and broken skin thanks to the testy stallion is nothing new at this point -- but he doesn't want to refuse kindness. "Some time ago, we were shipwrecked by a sudden storm at sea. We were trying to go to Kabumu, but washed up far away . . . that one storm led to everything that has happened since." He flinches at the sting when she applies the poultice a little too roughly, but otherwise shows no sign of discomfort. An ironic quirk of lips accompanies his next remark: "Hm. It's not the first time a storm has changed the course of things."

"It wouldn't be safe," he replies, shaking his head apologetically. "He has never liked open water, and it's been worse since the shipwreck. He gave me this for my efforts to calm him." Rolling up his sleeve, he displays the still angry-looking wound from Kite's bite on his forearm. "He would be even more dangerous to someone he does not know."

The things that the shaman speaks of almost remind Idei of the some of his own tribe's folklore -- and not just his tribe either, but legends that are known throughout the Arcadian sands, though never fully believed. Tales of spirit talkers who tread the line between human and ghost, and risk losing their sanity outright to the voices that whisper from beyond what's visible. His father had dismissed it as superstition, as he tended to do with anything that wasn't staring him in the face, but his uncle would sometimes regale him with these stories -- 'to show him there's so much in the world we don't understand', he'd said. Of course, he has no idea what Helena talks about when she mentions the legends of summoners, but they're probably not anything good. The sudden question about Kite catches him off guard. "Below decks," he replies after a moment. "I left him sleeping. He's not happy to be here, but it's not safe to let him out."

He might not be gifted with conversation, but he can tell when there's a story behind someone's remarks. The shaman seems troubled by his thoughts, so he decides not to push any further in that direction. "Less than stellar reputation? I'm sorry, I don't know much about magic. What makes dark magic so different?" As far as he's seen on the battlefield, the shaman's spells are alarming, certainly, but no less so than a roaring flame or a bolt of lightning to make a corpse smoke, unrecognizable, on the ground.

There's something to be said about meeting someone else who is as seemingly mundane as yourself -- he's always felt like he never has anything of intrigue to say about himself, having spent his entire life living what he considers to be a normal nomad's existence. "Is that how dark magic works?" he asks the shaman. "Helena said something about an 'institute'. Did you have the same?"

A final task . . . he nods -- it must be like a coming-of-age ritual of some kind. He thinks about what she says; so she's glad to see the world, then? If he'd had a choice, he never would have left the sands, would have spent his entire life there like his parents and his parents' parents. What has brought him here, where he's so out of place? After giving her question serious consideration, he opens his mouth to answer -- Only for the arrival of the shaman to catch him off guard, and he quickly closes it again. He recalls from the battle that these two are already friendly with each other; as two magic users, he's not too surprised. "You too," he replies with a nod. "I know little of magic, so fighting alongside you both was . . . a new experience."