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Fire Emblem on the Forums: Stellar Margin [IC]


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They had arrived on scene just as the once high and mighty Leofric took an arrow to the knee, courtesy of the Archer, and probably for the first time in his high-born life was forced to kneel before another man. As he watched from Erce's back, Mareek had to admit, there was something... deeply satisfying about the irony on a base level, something that he couldn't help but make him smirk.

 

Yes... this was how an asshole like leo should face his final moments. Kneeling, bloodied, haggard. He hadn't even heard what outrages had been exchanged and made Erce snarl in disgust earlier, but in all honesty, the Lestlian-born knight had no need to. Cutting down a path through his hired goons earlier, what the Gladiator boy had told them at the beginning, and the predicament of Rooz and his buddies had been more than enough to make up his mind. 

 

Just like the many bandits and predators who preyed upon the weak and defenseless; behind the cloak of noble birth and supposed social etiquettes, the man seemed little better than his and Erce's usual prey. Just like them, if Leofric wouldn't cease and atone for his actions, then he needed to die for them instead. And it mattered not by who's hand at the end of the day.

 

For a bandit by any other name, was still, and would always be, just another bandit.

 

But the fact that his end came from the very boy who'd virtually been his slave up till they happened upon him... was exquisitely poetic. But the moment lasted no longer than a few seconds before familiar faces came, and they were given other concerns besides the well-deserved death of this high-born dog.

 

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"Eh, guess it's not unexpected. If I had to though, I'd oppose his noble-born ass and do this all over again, just like I'm sure most of us would. These messes just have a way of happening, sometimes the biggest assholes are the guys who are supposed to be on your own side... ain't that right Erce?"

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The flame-scaled wyvern snorted in disdain, to think Marek would dare remind her of Gestalt and his god forsaken mountain of a mount. She still had the scars from that engagement, and no matter how many times the two of them could have ended those traitors rightly, it would've never been enough. She gave a low, rumbling growl, glaring up at the boy, eyes like smoldering coals...

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"Eh, alright, alright, I get it.... still don't like that subject." he said, patting her scales in placation. There was still the matter of getting out of dodge to worry about thouh, as he returned his attention to his fellow knights "Neeways, a few hours on foot ain't gonna be pleasant, so if any of ya want a ride, just speak up." 

 

Another grumble, this one not as agitated. Her rider smirked coyly

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"Can probably take... 2, maybe 3 of ya. She's vetoing anything more than that right now though, so... first come, first serve, mates."

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"We'd have been involved whether we'd liked it or not. They decided us guilty without so much as a second thought. Those men were looking for trouble sir knight. We didn't have much a choice." she replied to the knight. She'd hoped he forget their arrangement for the time. She didn't wish to reveal her name in front of all these people. Her true name... something she hadn't used in years. She was more used to being the nameless "One-Armed Demon" these days.

 

"As for personal effects, carry naught but the clothes on my back and my blades. All I have need for in this world. I'm always ready to travel."

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"Please uuuh... It's Arthur." He scratched the hair behind his back awkwardly. "Sir Knight doesn't fit me very well, at least I don't think it does. But you are right, I think we would have been dragged into this no matter what we did." Arthur gave a slight chuckle, trouble always seemed to find him anyways. "It's disappointing, I've grown accustomed to this way of life. I don't want to give it up for killing some fancy smelling noble. I hope the Queen will understand our side of the story; I hope someone will understand our side of the story."

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She'd have laughed at his earlier statement, as she believed it was clear that her calling of sir knight was clearly in jest. Though it seemed her companions were not well versed in the art of sarcasm. Or perhaps... she was just too good at it. She cared little to know the true answer. And it certainly wasn't the best time to laugh given the circumstance. "The truth is always known by the Mother of the World. So, I am content. In her eyes when all is lain bare only the truth remains. I have no guilt or regret. What's done is done. What comes to pass can be dealt with as it comes.

Perhaps a boon of her heritage. She always could believe in the Mother of the World. Perhaps her companions did not have such a luxury. Perhaps they couldn't find such solace. There was little she could do to fix that if such was the case. And so she found herself at the final piece of this puzzle. The Knight had given her his name. However, she didn't want to give her own this freely to all those around. "Ah, so that is the name of such a valiant warrior. I'm afraid for now I must decline on my end of the deal. My name isn't something freely given." she said this looking around as to indicate all those around. "I mean you no offense Arthur. Now just isn't the time."

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As Sterling directed, the inn is not too far along the path. Upon leaving the city, the group traverses the Lorellian Woods for some time, navigating thankfully well-cleared paths to reach their destination. The sounds of the city fade further and further into the distance as trees swallow the horizon on all sides.

 

The inn itself is a small, but cozy establishment, clearly intended to be a stopping point for travelers going to and from Lorelle. It's situated nearby a local wharf where ships can come and go to deliver supplies. A few idle vessels are docked here in reserve for private renting purposes, owned by the nearby shipyard. The active and lively wharf belies the comparative solace of the inn's interior, though. Peaceful and out of the way, it's manned at the moment by a middle-aged woman who welcomes them with a quaint smile and shows them to the available rooms upstairs to get settled in and put their things down, if needed. 

 

Not a couple of hours later, late evening falls, and many of the inn's other guests have retired to bed. The innkeeper is cleaning the counter and bar area, closing things up for the day, and quiet has descended over the establishment. A lone owl's soft calls can be heard from outside, and the moonlight spills through gaps in the thin cotton curtains. A few patrons, still awake, sit scattered about the small tavern in the front, chatting quietly about the possibilities of the Gossians launching an attack on Lorelle during the Games — a common thread of conversation in recent weeks, given the high density of high-profile individuals promised to attend — as they finish their drinks.

 

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At the top of the stairs, Noah stands outside the door to his room, staring out the window in the narrow hallway, lost in thought.

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"...Damn, not again."

Tightening the bandage only seemed to make another part of it fall loose, red starting to soak the white fabric anew. Goddess damn it all! This was hopeless. After the knights made their timely exit from the scene of the carnage (and technical crime), Wren had taken it upon himself to patch his wounds once he'd settled into his room for the evening. It was partially out of want to be alone, and partially to prove to the rest of them that he was tough enough to deal with what he now knew was a non-fatal injury. But... even that hadn't gone according to plan. It seemed like every time he so much as breathed the bleeding would start up again, and by this point he'd given up trying to make the damned wrapping stay in place. Tying the bandage off enough to stay generally in the same location, he gingerly shrugs his tunic back about himself and buttons it up for decency -- not that it was going to matter anyways soon enough, but a man still must have propriety. Time to find their healer...

 

Wren wanders about to the others' rooms, not actually knowing which one the healer in question was located in, giving the doors a knock. He passes by Noah, but cannot keep his eyes on the boy for long. What that poor child had gone through... but he mustn't speak of it yet. Got to fix this first.

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"Er, Herrman? Herrman, are you in there? It's me, Wren. I uhm, are you busy, per chance?"

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Tick. Tick. Tick. The light sound of a metronome continued playing in the background of the single bedroom. The room had been lit by a combination of a set of candles placed on the desk next to the one patron in the room. His rocking chair moved along to every other tick of the metronome. In his right hand was a hardcover book, the yellow color of the cover beginning to dull from age. His left hand was open with his cheek in his palm, as he looked at the tome’s pages, skimming through the words.

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“Ito ay isang...” Rokan concentrated as he whispered the foreign words within the book. He took his hand away from his disinterested face, keeping his eyes concentrated on the lines of his palm. “...Pag-atake ng kulog.” A weak spell given the book’s age, but it should at least do something. Or so Rokan thought, as no matter how hard he concentrated, he was still looking at his empty hand.

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In a fit of frustration, he threw the old book at the bed in the room, bouncing off the bed, hitting the wall, and landing back on the mattress on its back, open on one of the more inconsequential pages. He looked at the book with a look of anger in his eyes, before listening to the continual rhythm of the metronome on the desk. He reached his hand to the device, turning it off before letting out a sigh. “I need a drink.” Rokan blew out the candle in his room, the moonlight becoming the sole illumination within the room as he opened the door, back in the somewhat quiet halls of the inn. He walked down the stairs, sending a nod towards Noah, an acknowledgement of his existence and nothing more.

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“Hope the tavern serves milk.”

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"I understand, I won't pry. I may not understand all this... Mother of the world stuff, but I understand that we all have secrets that we want to keep." He smiled at the swordswoman and said no more for the journey to the inn. 

 

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When they arrived, Arthur spent a long time taking off his armor, and maintaining it. Polishing it to a shine, his sword and shield, everything. He wiped the sweat from his forehead when he was done: armor work was hard! He left his room and passed by Noah. He frowned immediately, remembering what he had said to the kid, and remembering what he had said to the swordswoman earlier. Secrets that we want to keep.  Arthur took a few steps back and stood a few paces away from Noah. "Hey could I have a word with you?"

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"O-oh, come in!" Herrman shouts from beyond the door before swooping something under the bed. She gets up and waits for whoever was knocking and calling her name to let themselves in. "I-it's unlocked...a-and I'm decent...no need to worry..."

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Elise had been very quiet since the battle. While she'd never supported slavery or anything, she did know that they were more than likely in the legal wrong there - if only they'd waited for those guys to strike first, they'd have a self-defense case, at least. She'd been having trouble sleeping because of it, so she was down in the tavern, drinking some water and reading by candlelight. 

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The air outside was still, temperate. The waves crashed against the wharf with rhythmic vigor in the distance, the moon shining down upon the Lestlian Knight's face as he gazed up at the stars. He stood alone, outside of the Inn, eyes closed and words uttered in a strange tongue that few in this land would've understood. A sphere of pure, inklike black pulsed in rhythm with his prayer, the surrounding light seeming to vanish the moment it touched it's boundaries...

 

A Lestlian would've easily recognized the words he spoke, thinking them merely some muttered spell. A Priest from his homeland however, would've known it to be a prayer, the sphere pulsing before him as it rose towards the sky, an offering to the Lunar Father...

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After the mess from earlier, Marcus wanted nothing more than to walk about outside. He enjoyed the sea air a bit, though it may have just been that he simply enjoyed being outside. At any rate, he did overhear the wyvern rider's chants and recognized them.

 

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"Oh? Didn't expect you to be out here in prayer," Marcus remarks as he moves closer to the man.

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The Dragoon finishes his Chant, leaving the monk there in silence for several moments longer. The sphere before him soon seems to have been satiated, it's pulsing coming to an end and finally rising high enough into the heavens to fade to a mere pinprick of black against the face of the full moon, and eventually, vanishing from sight altogether. Marek turned to face the man at long last, revealing the ornate blade in his hand as a he wiped the blood from it with a black cloth- an Athame, guard fashioned to resemble the crescent and full phases of the moon on either side, hilt bedecked in silver and copper accents entwining around the handle, coming to a head in a serpentine effigy serving as the pommel, eyes of ruby that gleamed like fire.

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"Yes. I only do so when the waters ahead are turbulent though" he began, "My family, we've a pact with the father, and so long as we uphold our end, our mere actions are enough for him. There are still times when it's better to seek additional favor with him though, ask for his explicit aid. What you just saw was me asking him for protection in battle...the power to keep destroying those who prey on the weak."

      He stowed the blade into a sheath beneath his armor and robes, tucking the cloth into the hem of one of his gloves. "Look, about earlier today... I don't regret what happened with Leofric and his captain, and like I said before, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. I'm sure you would too. But our Merc friends were right, no matter how much of a rotten scum bag he may have been, what he did was nonetheless deemed as accepted in this society; A Baron in good standing who acts like an ass, breaths suffering, and shits hot misery is still a Baron in good standing at the end of the day.  I've asked the Elder ones to show me something of what's ahead, all I got in response was shadows and clouds. It's always meant a mixed signal before... so I decided to come out here, get some air, make a blood offering. Juuuuuuust encase things go south from here and joining her majesty's knights proved to be a mistake."

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"But that's enough about me, friend. You wouldn't have recognized that prayer just now unless you were a Lestlian Clergy. Now, I wouldn't be surprised to find ya wandering outside our borders trying to spread the word of the Lunar Father and helping the sick and needy or something, but... working directly under a foreign queen as one of her sworn knights? Color me Curious: who's bad side did you get on back home? Or did you just... have enough and decide it was time to put the theocracy behind you?"

 

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"My reasons aren't nearly that interesting. I simply decided to expand my horizons a bit and explore the world. I figured this guard could be a decent way to go about that. Though chances are I'm probably on a few people's bad sides, but that's nothing new," Marcus answered with a chuckle.

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"Uh huh, sure then." He honestly doubted that was entirely the truth, but eh, "anyways, hope they've been broadened enough here, mate. Chances are, we're gonna have us some explaining to do. If we even, ya know, go back at all. Bet that'll be reeeeal fun."

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"But hell, it was worth it, man." he laughed, resting both arms behind his head "You see the look on Capt'n Wandrought's face when the two of us talked back to him? Ha, classic! You'd think the guy had never met a person willing to call him out on his bullshit before. Walkin' up to us, face all scrunched up like a sour-puss and dropping judgement like he was hot shit or something."

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"Bah. That was just a mess all around. All he had to do was explain himself a bit and this whole mess could have been avoided. Then again, I suppose I'm fine with how things have turned out, so I can't complain," Marcus groans.

 

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"At any rate, I'm just glad to be out and about. Though I may decide to stop by one of the taverns later if I get the chance."

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"Fair enough I guess. The dude honestly seemed a bit delusional, it was Probably was gonna end badly either way. But eh, we tried at least..."

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"The Tavern sounds pretty nice about now though, been a long day and all. Tell ya what, how bout I buy ya a round? We're right in between the frying pan and fire afterall, so might as well enjoy ourselves while we can."

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"You seem a bit young for a drink you know. Whatever, though I'm afraid I'll be passing up the drinks. Taverns for me tend to be good places to go for information you know. Though who can say what we'll find out," Marcus answers, grinning just a little bit.

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"Well what can I say?" the rider chuckled "Ya walk into the bar dressed in your full uniform or armor after a long day's patrol, and no one really bothers to ask your age. If you're old enough to be a soldier, risk your life and what not, I guess they just figure there's no real point denying ya service. Your loss though. Anyways, enough blabbing mah man, let's go~" 

 

and with that said, the dragoon turned and headed towards the bar, confident the monk wouldn't be too far behind.

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People coming and going hasn't bothered Noah since he's taken up post here, finding the air in his allotted room a little too stifling. The last time he'd been in a room so nice, with his own bed and space, had been . . .

 

He'd left the axe in there, though, hadn't bothered to clean the blood off of it during the hours of their walk. It'd probably be bad for the iron, and he'd have to do something about it later tonight, but for now he wanted to revel in the end of his two-year journey a little bit, keep evidence of Leofric's death fresh in his mind a while longer. His mom would have something to say about how he shouldn't hold on to grudges like that for too long. Well, he'd always taken more after his dad, anyway.

 

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A voice behind him startles him from his thoughts, and he turns around, surprise turning to reluctance when he sees who it is. That knight guy. The one who'd said he shouldn't bother running away or fighting back. Noah''s eyes narrow slightly as he looks him down and up. "Yeah? What do you want."

 

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Marcus and Marek return to the tavern, finding Elise and Rokan nearby. The innkeeper is speaking to the latter, readying a glass of cold milk for him.

 

" — seas, too. Ask me, we're still in good shape," one of the two men at the nearby table says, slinging an arm over the back of the chair.

 

"An' this is why no one asks you. Din't you hear the stuff 'bout the rune cannons? We should be worrying a lot more than we are."

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"Well uh, I wanted to say..." He scratched the back of his head trying to find the right words and trailing off a bit. He then sighed. "It's really not easy to say I guess, I wanted to apologize about what I said to you. It was not right. I don't support slavery or gladiator fights if that's what you were thinking, it's just..." Arthur trailed off again, unable to find the words. "Well. Let's just say we are very alike, the experience you had is... A lot like mine. I was also a. You know." He was trying hard to avoid saying the word out loud, he pointed to the scar on his forehead to really get the point across. "I also ran away, and payed a very dear price. I carry a lot of weight on and I'm not talking about just my armor. I thought for a bit that maybe staying there would be the best thing for you but. I don't have the right to decide what is the best for you, I am not a Queen or some fancy high society person to decide all that so yeah. I am sorry."

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“Thanks for the drink.” Rokan took the filled glass from the innkeeper, a light smirk on his face as he took his first sip of the milk. A nice cold drink of the beverage calmed any lingering frustrations the man had with that book he was reading. He let out a sigh as he left an extra few coins for them. "Here's a bit of a tip." With all but his thumb, he slid the coins towards the one in charge.

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Rokan turned his head to the side as he heard a conversation happening to the side. He stepped out of his chair and began to walk over to the two. “‘Rune cannons’?” The man spoke loud enough for the ones having a conversation to hear him. “You don’t mind telling me more about these?”

Edited by InnocentSerenity
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Akane felt restless. She wanted to sleep, but being within this building felt stifling. She was used to sleeping under the stars, the open sky. In general she felt more comfortable under the sky or in the more temporary structures her people used. She just wasn't this used to permanence. These people were strange. So... rigid. It never really felt right to her. Perhaps she just needed to be outside to wind down enough to not think about it. She grabbed her pipe and headed downstairs. She passed the young kid and Arthur on the way. She nodded towards them before realizing she should leave someone here with where she was going in case she decided to sleep under the stars. She directly addressed the both of them, "I'm going out. If I'm not here in the morning I slept outside. One of you will have to collect me. Hope that's not too difficult."

It was a strange feeling... relying on others. Her mind yelled at her not to... it'd only lead to her being able to be hurt again. But her heart, learning to feel again, urged her not to listen. She was torn. But, she just walked outside finding somewhere to sit down and light her pipe.

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"O-oh, er, good." Shuffling a little awkwardly, Wren opens the door, poking his head in. Even if he had in the end joined the side of everyone else -- the right moral side, even if it wasn't the least bloodthirsty -- he could help but feeling a palpable tension between himself and the others. It was probably self-imposed, but either way, he couldn't quite shake it. He'd made a right fool of himself in the beginning, simply going along with what he'd seen on the surface -- Lord Leofric in the right just trying to get back his lawfully own property (even if that property was a human being) -- only to be brought into the harsh light of reality in the end. He hopes Herrman would at least be kind enough to spare a healing spell or two. She seemed the kinder soul out of the rest of the knights anyways. Maybe he could practice a formal apology to her as well...

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"I don't mean to impose but, in our last battle, I had been wounded pretty grievously. I'd tried patching it up myself but... well, I am no healer. I was hoping I could ask you a favour of your assistance on the matter?"

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It's just . . . 

 

What, he wants to fire back, just that you're complacent? Don't wanna start trouble? Support the social structure staying in place? He's met plenty like them — people who look through the bars at them with pity but then shrug their shoulders like there's nothing they can do. Bystanders. Just as bad as the rest —

 

But then he points to his forehead and his words trail off with that distinct kind of embarrassment Noah recognizes by now. The kind he has refused these two years. Just say it! You're a gladiator! But he holds his tongue, knowing that it's more complicated than he likes to make it. He stomachs the other's apology, trying not to show too much surprise that he's also turned out to be like him. But he does look him over again, in a bit of a different light this time. He guesses he can see it; the guy had sure fought like one in that scuffle.

 

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"Then you should know better than anyone why I had to run away," he replies, still coldly. "Do you regret running away, just because you got hurt for it? You'd rather be back there?"

 

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One of the men turn to look at the bright-haired man who's stepped up to them, eyes dropping for a second to the glass of frosty milk in his hand and then coming back up, looking a touch unimpressed, as though to say you're a grown ass adult and you're drinking that?  "Yeah, mmm . . . not sure you should be eavesdropping on conversations. Kind of rude, don't you think?"

 

"Why the interest in rune cannons? You never heard of 'em? Or you one of those Lestli high-up spy types?"

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