Blasbo

Once upon a time, it was dragonkind rather than humanity who ruled the known world. According to legend, this strange, magical, unfathomably powerful and advanced race could shapeshift between a truly draconic form that let them access their power and a more human-like form, kept watch over the humans beneath them, and did their best to rule fairly and justly over all. Technologically, their reign over the continent of Britince was a golden age, and some of the technologies and magical techniques they practiced have since been lost to time and inaccessible in all but stories. However, every age, good or bad, is eventually destined to end… The end of the Age of Dragons did not come with an uprising of humans, but abruptly with a disease known as the Drakenbane. In humanity, it amounted to little more than a bout of highly dry skin and a week-long flu. In Dragonkind, however, the disease caused a much more severe bout of illness lasting up to a month, and about half of all cases wouldn’t make it that long before expiring. And of that half who survived, a half of those were forever changed by the experience--corrupted or maddened, it mattered not to the humans as much as the resulting violent tendencies and uncontrollable bloodlust it induced in the “Baneful”, as these unfortunate cases were called. With all their advances, the Dragons could scarcely pinpoint if this illness was bacterial, viral or even magical in nature, much less concoct a cure in a timely manner--and with every one of their number that went on a rampage, resentment against the Dragons grew among humanity. Before tensions were to reach their breaking point, this ancient and powerful race simply packed up and left the continent, never to be seen or heard from again. They did not leave humanity with nothing, however. In their old cities, soon to be ruins, they left swords of impossible craftsmanship, shields that could not dent, siege weaponry capable of breaching any gate, gates capable of withstanding any siege weapon. It’s on these ruins that the power vacuum was filled, and the human nations of Leocor and Nobilisse arose from the ashes of draconic civilization. Both countries decided that, actually, they wanted the whole thing, and so they’ve been warring on and off again ever since--even after one nation underwent a dramatic upheaval and regime change, Leocor has simply used it as a pretense to invade again. And so, the meat grinder of war grinds on and on, death, destruction, creeping totalitarianism, revolutions consuming themselves, all that stuff...but, then again, what am I boring you with this history lesson for? You’re not here for that. You’re here to get paid. That’s why you’ve come to work for Anna in the first place, whether you’re a veteran of her ‘company’ or a new hire. The world may grind on in its endless cruelty around you, the man who was free today may be the next on the guillotine tomorrow, but there’s always someone willing to part with their money for the right price, and there’s always something really cool you can buy with that money if you know where to look. Whatever your reasons for joining up, Anna pays you more than well enough to stay on, and usually she’s savvy enough to stay out of trouble even in your shadier ventures. Well, usually...sometimes she slips up. And one of those slip-ups is where our little adventure begins... Hey! Welcome to my first go at running an FEF! My name is Blasbo and this is Jackass. Uhh, I guess I'll be putting a link to the handbook below--but please do pay attention for some homebrew rule changes I'll be implementing down below. Before I get to those though I'll go ahead and give you a better idea of the world you'll be playing in. Map The Continent of Britince The Kingdom of Leocor Locations of Leocor The Kingdom of Nobilisse The Republic of Paysanne Locations of Paysanne Leocor and Paysanne/Nobilisse The Island of Cape Capital The Great Ruins Anna's Company (The Players) Rule Changes First thing's first, before I introduce the changes to the rules I'll probably have to give you what exactly the base rules are to begin with. So, here you go. Now, without further ado: General Skills Class Changes New Classes

A grimace falls over her face as Owena looks over their combatants on the battlefield--the Pendragon and assorted cronies, as expected, but she didn't expect someone quite so...young on the enemy's team. Then again, thinking about it she doesn't put it too far past Rosanne--if she's willing to use her sister to get what she wants, then what's taking it that step further to her? Speaking of, her gaze fixates on Mercia, standing across the fountain, her sister's gaze turning hard and determined on sight of her. Well...she can't really blame her for that, she supposes. A sinking feeling grows in her gut and a pain shoots through her heart as it starts to fully sink in--they're going to have to fight. Truth be told, she'd hoped she could manage to help end this conflict without ever having to confront her sister...but in retrospect, it makes sense that Rosanne would keep the one Dragonborn supporter she had around as often as possible. To help explain, 'Why, I can't possibly be racist--I have a Dragonborn friend here, you see.' Her head turns slightly to address the other members of her group, low enough that the other side couldn't hear. "There's something else you should know. The dragonborn in their group...she's my sister. I...I'd appreciate it if you didn't hurt her, if possible. She's just...she's misguided. If she won't get out of the way then I'll deal with it." Her eyes turn to the ground for a few moments before she adds on, voice cracking a little, "Please." Owena to L10. Nicolos to M10. Vivi to N11. Brinda to L11.

It takes a few minutes for Owena to make her way back to Nicolos, and a little longer to make sure she's not being tailed in the process, but she finally arrives there nonetheless. Approaching, she takes another careful look around to ensure that they're alone or, at the least, in trusted company, before shrugging her hood back off again. "Nicolos. We...we've probably got trouble. I'm pretty sure Rosanne and her agents are here looking for Lancelot, too." There's a short pause before she begins staring downwards at the ground. "I...know that because my sister is among them. And given how firmly she's placed herself on Rosanne's side, where she goes it's likely her agents aren't far behind. Hey, um...I need you to listen, okay? My sister...it'll probably be hard to miss her. She has blue hair, blue scales like mine and horns. I'm telling you this because I don't want anyone to hurt her if it comes to a confrontation. If she won't get out of our way then I'll handle her, but...don't hurt her. Please."

Her eyes narrow at the reveal that someone's decided to audition to join their team by pilfering their belongings. She sees among them nothing that belongs to her--and good thing for him, or she would be markedly more hostile--but all the same the way he's chosen to 'try out', as it were...doesn't particularly endear him to her very well. "Famous, really? ...I've never heard of you. I'll leave the decision to people with more authority here than me, but steal my belongings at your own risk." Just from her tone, one can tell that she's...really not joking about that.

She pauses for a few moments—Mercia’s doing her self-esteem thing again. Of course, Owena figured following a leader who couldn’t give a damn about her didn’t do wonders for that, but...it still tugged at her heartstrings to see. She shakes her head slightly. “It’s no trouble, don’t worry. And...please, take care of yourself. It’s dangerous out there.” With that, she turns and begins making her way back to Nicolos, keeping a roundabout route in case she’s being tailed. There’s...a few things they’ll need to talk about.

Man, she has never wanted to get away from her sister and avoid answering her questions more than she does in this moment. She wanted to see Mercia again, yes, but...when it was all over, when someone who'd treat their people was on the throne, when they had options other than appealing to someone who had no history of or reason to be listening to a Dragonborn's appeals to not treat them like lessers. Not lying to her while she tries to do some shoddy intelligence work about one of the Knights of the Round Table. Why would they be willing to join with Rosanne, anyways...? Didn't they leave because the last Pendragon was an utter shithead? "That's...a general sentiment around these parts, yes. The status quo hasn't been kind to many here, and a lot of people see Rosanne as representing more of that status quo. 'Meet the new boss, same as the old boss'...as the saying goes. As for my opinions..." She's silent for a few moments before deciding to be honest for once, a pained grimace coming over her face. "I just hope this whole thing is over soon."

Owena can read between the lines just a little bit--enough to suppose that if Mercia, a known agent of the monarchy, is looking for Lancelot then it's likely enough that the monarchy is looking for him too. And if they were looking for him, it wasn't just to chat him up about Alexander the Dragon Prince. She can't say for certain that Rosanne wants to find him for the same reason that they do, but either way this is worth reporting back to Nicolos about as soon as she can; the two outcomes she can see with Rosanne meeting up with Lancelot is him either deciding to become an agent of stagnation or being executed after refusing to bend the knee. It...it would probably hurt Mercia a lot if she figured out how they knew, but she just can't allow either of those two possibilities to come to pass. Of course, to report to Nicolos she'd have to disengage with this conversation, which...well, she'll have to do her best. "...Sorry, I don't know any more than you." She keeps her voice that same level of deep, shaking her head. "Sorry to ask unnecessary questions. There's rumor that the monarchy is interested in recruiting him or removing him if he won't be swayed...not everyone wants things to stay as they always have been. So you might get that question more than once." Well, not exactly true, but...

It's not too long before she comes to the center of the town, and...hm. That's actually a really nice fountain. She'll have to ask Nicolos about it later on...but, she's not really here right now to admire a statue, is she? She's here to ask about Lancelot, and so far not many of the people she's asked have had much of anything to say about him. Which...damn, that's a bummer. But before she can move on to question people in the square, she spots a face in the crowd. A familiar, blue face, one that wouldn't be out here if she had her way, one that would be safe and protected at home, like...like things used to be. But the Pendragons have never been in the business of letting nice things last, have they? It's also a familiar face that's heading right this way. Fuck. Shit. Okay. If she's here then the Queen Bitch's forces probably aren't far behind so it's probably not smart to pull any funny business here. She doesn't want to deceive her--dammit, she's never wanted to hurt Mercia--but at this juncture she doesn't see much of a choice in the matter. ...Fuck, does it hurt, though. "...W-Why--" Quickly, she clears her throat. "Why do you want to know?" She puts on...just about the deepest fake voice she can muster, and she hopes that's enough to keep Mercia from recognizing her right now. Because if she did recognize her right now there'd be a lot of uncomfortable questions.

Swampmill, hm...? Seems like a pretty nice place...she just hopes the tavern is just as nice. After all, she still fully intends on holding Nicolos to that promise of drinks later. She doesn't have as much problem going by herself to gather information--she's not exactly a stranger to brawling and, well, most of these people look like they can take care of themselves if they need to as well. So, giving a slight nod, she raises her hood again, enough to keep her face mostly covered. "We'll meet back here after a while, then, I'm guessing? Don't worry, I won't get anything from the bar until we're all there--but once we are, it's fine if we use your tab, right?" She doesn't actually give Nicolos much of a chance to respond to her little joke, walking off into the village shortly after. She strolls on through the little hamlet, trying to keep a low profile and looking around for anyone who might know something about Lancelot...

"...Father used to have me practice it as a method of anger management. I figured I might as well keep trying at it." She's quiet for a few seconds before, if not changing the subject, then at least moving it somewhere adjacent. "You don't meditate yourself, do you?"

"Anything I want to lay down...?" To tell the truth, she hadn't thought too much about that. It's not like she planned to be there forever, after all. So really, there's only one thing she can think of off the top of her head. "...If you see that I'm trying to meditate, don't interrupt me unless it's important." Granted, none of her attempts to meditate had worked all that well so far anyways, but that's neither here nor there.

All of these ground rules point towards this Lenore being someone who's...standoffish, a little guarded, maybe. But that's fine--or, at the least, she has absolutely no right to complain about it. It's not like she's been trying to be the warmest person possible so far herself anyways. "...Fine, so long as 'your side' doesn't block the door. I don't really have anything left to recognize in your stuff, anyways..." So long as they were telling the truth about not knowing anything about her goals, anyways--if it turns out they were lying then she'd better have a good-ass explanation.

Dinner was...hm. She has things she prefers more, but at the end of the day it's being provided for her and it's a lot better than the food they'd been given in prison. So, she is thankful for it. That being said, she doesn't really...talk all that much during it. Afterwards, though, she approaches the person that, as it's shaken out, seems to be the person she's going to be bunking with. Lenore, if she remembers correctly. If they're going to be sleeping together (that is, in the same room), she figures she may want to discuss it or something. "So...Lenore, right? It seems like we're going to be sharing a room. ...Do you have any ground rules?"

Make assumptions? She...well, let's be honest here. Exactly what else is she supposed to be taking from what she's seeing here? Is this a charity offloading of feral Cursed onto someone they're looking at invading, then? But she can also tell that this line of conversation seems like it's making Juliett uncomfortable and...she doesn't want to act like the same assholes she had to deal with daily in the Winelands. She's silent for a few minutes, glancing towards the ground herself, before speaking up again. "Sorry."

Her eyes widen as the implications of the entire thing sink in--'Cursed Warriors'? She didn't know (or care) too much about Tsukiochi, but she has heard of their forces starting to encroach upon Tameloc's lands...and, well, if they can handle Rosanne she's pretty sure they can handle them, so the issue has more or less been at the back of her mind. But this... "Manufactured...? So, wait, they're...either they're deliberately giving people the Curse to turn them into foot soldiers when they become feral, or they're just shipping whatever they've already got over here? And..." Her expression turns...remarkably sour as she thinks more on the implications of the reasoning Vivi's laid out for doing that kind of thing. "I'm guessing 'sow distrust' means 'stir up anti-Cursed sentiment'...as if they don't have enough to deal with. Either way, though, they're just throwing these peoples' lives away like they're nothing...that's unforgivable."

She's...honestly, she's a little uncomfortable chipping in on this. This seems like a complicated issue, one that she feels would be better off without her interjecting an ignorant opinion into the mix. But, she is a part of the team so she feels she should say...something. "I...look, I understand that they're dangerous, and I understand there's probably a lot I don't understand about this issue, I just...I don't know how comfortable I am killing them. In a way, they're victims too, aren't they? None of them asked for what's happened to them."

Well...let's be honest, she wasn't sure Nicolos had to add the whole flourish of 'filthy, diseased claws'. But, as long as she was being honest, she couldn't help but also note that their opponents for the day were generally...let's say, unhygienic. It's fairly plausible it was something of a faux pas more than genuine malice, so...hm. Well, Galen and Brinda probably knew more than her about the issue, so she'll keep an eye out for their opinions before making a final judgement on that. The battle's over now, and she's happy that the majority of them could come to a consensus on showing mercy when possible towards the Cursed. But mainly, she's tired--so, planting her hatchet firmly in the ground and pulling her hood down, she sits herself down up against the nearest tree. "Drinks, huh...? Yeah, I could probably go for one or two, once this quits stinging...punches, I can take. Magic, though, that shit stings. I'll try and hold you to that, though, Nicolos. Where are we gonna drop off the Cursed that are still kicking?"

"Okay...let's finish this up. That last one looks like they're more of a fight than the others, but I'm pretty sure we can take 'em." Owena strolls on upwards and tosses a hatchet at the non-large Cursed. Vivi to M11, heal Owena. Owena to M14, throw a hatchet at Shaman E. Nicolos to M15, finish off Shaman E.

"...Tch." Well...she's heavily disappointed that Baldur seems to have ignored the fact that Shin just fell down the stairs, but...she can't exactly say she's surprised. She makes her way about halfway down the stairs after him, ready to step in if the current cast can't handle him. "Hey. Are you okay? That...looked painful."

"Well, so long as you don't catch me out hunting something then it's not like I'll be very busy otherwise. So, um...yeah. Whenever you're ready to talk about it feel free to come and find me."

She's quiet for another few seconds, seeming to soften just a little bit further before she speaks again. "It's...it's nothing, really. Don't mention it. And I'd love to hear about your, um...'Manifesto' whenever you've got time."

Turning her head, Owena notices Juliett flying in with Nicolos in tow. She thinks she might have it in hand right now, but...well, it's not like she's gonna get pissed at anyone for coming to help out. And the fact that he's over here right now means that there's probably nobody else coming from the west flank anyways. "C'mon, up you get, Nicolos. We've got a few more to deal with before the villagers are safe, but I'm pretty sure we can take them," She says as she, more or less, lifts Nicolos off of the pegasus' back and places him down in front of her. "Juliett, um...you might want to watch the archer." Arissell to N11, throw some Wind at the Archer. After that, Owena to M12, take Nicolos off of Juliett's hands and drop him off at M13.

There's a bit of a long pause as Reiko just stares at the floor for a few moments in silence. "I...think I understand that. I don't know about the ideology thing...I mean, I literally don't know, not...you know. My point is. I do understand having something that you just...have to see through. That's what I'm doing right now, actually...it's a long story and if you don't already know something about it then I don't really know if you want it on your mind. But...even if my fate is to die trying then I have to go through with it. And I deeply understand wanting to make people pay for their sins. What you're fighting for is a noble thing." "So...if that's the case, and he refuses to shape up after so long, then maybe we could just kick him out. The important thing would be that we don't have to deal with him being a shithead anymore."

She glances towards the ground more than a little awkwardly for a moment, trying to parse exactly what she wants to say before she looks back up at Lizaveta. "Well...I'm glad you're more or less okay now, physically speaking." "He doesn't seem like he fits with your whole 'lovable rogue' shtick to me either. Piece of shit, thinking he can slap around someone smaller than him as he pleases...he tries to touch me and he'll be needing a new hand. ...Um, anyways, you don't...you shouldn't have to deal with someone like him. A more competent leader than Phoenix or whoever the fuck would have screened for behavior like that before Baldur got anywhere near representing his group in the first place. And if he doesn't make him shape up, well...I'm planning on leaving when Simeon is done with my new sword anyways. You don't have to follow me, but if it takes that long to get a lid on his behavior..."

Hrm....so that's how it's going to be for the moment, then? Fine enough...normally she'd be okay with being in her own little corner and waiting for everyone to get on with it, but...well, to be honest, it would feel wrong of her not to check on her. The mousy girl with the glasses--Lizaveta, or something like that. So, glancing over everyone until she finds the girl, she walks over to her and glances off to the side for a moment before speaking, her tone slightly softer and more sympathetic than usual. "...Lizaveta, right? ...Are...you okay? That seemed like a pretty bad hit the bastard gave you."