Purg

She seemed in a better mood now. Fargo and Darrian both had a way of improving the mood around them, something Dom could appreciate for this task. He considered letting them all walk on their own, but had a feeling that they would only get lost, something that had happened enough in Corthrone. While he may not know the city as well as Yuki implied to the others, he at least knew his way around the main parts - so he simply nodded and set off at a brisk pace, careful not to slip on the wet flagstone. He hoped they would keep up. As the group wound their way up the hill through the twisting streets, Dom found himself enjoying their company more and more. They were beginning to remind him of his family, almost, always trying to act, to do something. He had found himself in a state of lethargy ever since monsters had become more frequent. If war brewed, he could serve his purpose better, but he had found himself unable to even stun the majority of the beasts stalking the wilderness now. It was undeniably a good thing, then, that he had stayed with this group.

Man, Kanami for "don't mess with on a bad day" tier. Well done.

You'd be amazed how liberating it is to be able to say what you think without worrying about the repercussions.

I've only been telling y'all that for how long?

I agree.

To be fair, he put a lot more thought into character creation than I did. I start with blocks and start carving down from there.

"All roads in this city lead to the arch," he said calmly, pulling Fargo off his shoulder. He had no issue with the younger man - if he wanted to join them on their walk, that was certainly fine by him, but he wasn't quite sure that he needed to be carried for it. "You just have to make your way to the center." The stones were slick from the rain, but the streets were clear, of both other people and carts making their way through the city. Now that the torrent had stopped, it really was pleasant weather, despite the gray skies. It wouldn't be long, though, until mist began to rise from the cobblestone, giving the foreign city an ethereal feel - perhaps that would serve to make their walk a bit more interesting, though. All truths be told, he rather enjoyed the dreary and damp days over the bright sunlight - he found that, the less people he had to push past to do what he liked, the better he thought his experiences were. With virtually no one in between the now-trio on their way to the arch, Dom could honestly say he was enjoying himself. A shadow of a smile was the only sign of it, the only feature out of place.

Such a conflicted life you lead.

.... They haven't hired anybody. In fact, I think of the whole group, the only one who's an actual mercenary is Dom.

Same. Stat-based RPs are going to have to really set themselves apart or take place on a coffee table while I'm surrounded by friends in the real world, or else they're not going to hold my attention.

... The forum, named Legend of the Emblem. ... That better be a really important s.

I saw LotE, and then was promptly disappointed that it didn't mean what I first thought.

Dom's not fighting for good. He's fighting for self-interest, basically.

Even as she wrapped herself even more heavily into her cloak, the rain appeared to be letting up, although the sky was still shrouded in haze and clouds. He shook his head, droplets falling to the ground around him as he thought. "I've never been there myself, but I suppose we could start with the arch itself. Everything else worth seeing would be around it anyways, and if there is some holiness in this place, it's almost certain to be found there." He shrugged. "If not, the exercise should be good enough. Perhaps the weather will turn around." Thunder rumbled overhead. "... Perhaps not." He considered getting his cloak a second time, but before he could turn to the entrance, he had already taken a few steps, before turning back to Yuki. "Shall we?" ~-~ The rain had stopped, but it couldn't shake his doubt and sadness that had taken hold of him. Drin had taken a seat across from the great arch, watching the robed figures as they did their business, glad he didn't recognize any of them. It had come to this - the end of his life was drawing close, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. That was the condition of being mortal, but he hadn't thought it would happen like this - it just seemed so sudden. Where had the time gone? He could still remember days of heroics and happiness, as distant as they had been. He... no, he had to snap out of it. Eltiar... Eltiar had trusted him to watch over his daughter, and his... son, that was how he felt about Stark. He wouldn't fail his friend - he couldn't. A man sat beside him on his left, in robes, unlike those of the followers of the arch. There was something familiar about him - Drin wasn't sure what, until he removed his hood, revealing a scarred face, and as he turned, Drin saw that his left eye was sewn shut. Prophet was grinning, madness shining in his expression and his one eye. "Hello, Tinker. It's been some time." Drin frowned immediately, standing, not wishing to be in the same city with the man next to him, let alone sitting on the same bench. "Prophet. You look as mad as ever." "Even madder, I hear from others. Not that you've ever cared for it." He stood as well, always within a few feet of Drin, no matter where he tried to go. "This is your city, isn't it? Where your family is." "I don't see how that matters," he said quickly, regretting it as his reaction only served to reveal the truth. "Ah, good. I had been curious, you see. I hear you have children, too, a pair of boys." His grin widened, always increasing, the look on his face ever crazier. "I do love kids, you know. As do my minions. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting?" He laughed - Drin felt ill, but he could feel something that hadn't been awakened inside of him in a long, long while. Without thinking, he had pulled his sword, stepped forward, swung at the man who had reminded him how to ignite his passion, his fury, something that had been dormant for decades. The blow connected, the robe sliced open. No blood seeped from the wound, though - through the torn cloth, Drin saw something that made him want to retch. Prophet... He wasn't even human, was he? The madman laughed, tearing a wider hole exposing his chest. Bones, veins - there was nothing covering them, they simply sat exposed to the air now that the robe was ripped. His cackling continued as the exposed heart pumped slowly. "Weren't expecting that, were you, Tinker? Perhaps you didn't know - the only man who can control monsters is one who has become one. It was a powerful doctor that stitched me together, one that insured that I would remain in one piece, despite my unique condition." He stepped forward. "You simply are too fun. Alas, I just came here to remind you of your place, although it seems you've made up your mind, to attack so passionately." He began walking away. "I imagine Internal Affairs will be after you, as soon as they've dealt with your friend Eisig. I hope the hell you're pushed into won't be too far from mine - it's so fun to taunt you, you know." Drin blocked out the abomination's words, sheathing his blade and trying to calm himself. Now he certainly couldn't afford to fail his friend.

"Ah..." He hadn't expected that - or rather, he hadn't expected her to take to the idea at all. He was surprised he had even suggested it - as interesting a city as it was, he had a great distaste for the senseless following of the religion, and the unnecessary hatred of his own hometown, based on a series of events that made no logical sense. He was glad his family had never been particularly patriotic, or else he would likely never have found himself here - and here was where he needed to be, to help the others. He supposed a sentiment like that made friendship official, then. He wondered if they thought the same. "Very well. If you'd like to grab anything from your room, feel free. I'll wait for you outside." He stepped out the door into the rain. Enough to keep people inside, but not enough to send those outside rushing back in. He thought of grabbing his cloak, but decided against it - a little water never hurt anyone, after all, and, though the wind had a certain chill to it, the walk would likely remain pleasant enough, so long as the rain didn't increase. All things considered, he supposed he could turn this into a good day.

"I haven't known Stark for nearly as long as you have. In fact, I can honestly tell you that it's been less than a week. But he's demonstrated to be a man of conviction and strength, both physical and mental. He wouldn't leave alone without a terribly important reason, after everything that happened in Corthrone. All we can do is wait - I imagine trying to find him would only result in unnecessary tension, both between us, and in whatever task he finds himself doing." He sighed. He was speaking logically, but the words didn't feel right. Perhaps it was Yuki's age that was making this conversation feel so... unnatural. He would have to push past the feelings - this wasn't something he could halfway do. "This city is notably safer, so long as we keep our mouths shut regarding the arch. I can't think of anything that could bring harm to a man like him, within these walls. He'll return, and you can ask him about his business, if you wish. For now, though, there is nothing to be done about it. If you wish to better distract yourself, there are a great many things to see here, whether you believe in the religion or not - a walk, even in the rain, would likely do some good."

... Heh. Well done.

Drin faltered, breaking eye contact with his friend. "I... I don't know, Eltiar. The way things are looking, I won't have much time myself. And I've proven in my own life that I can't take care of anyone, hardly even myself... How many times did you have to remind me to eat or drink, when otherwise I would have let my body waste away?" He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "... But I'll do what I can. I'm not sure Stark will be happy to see me, or if Yuki even remembers who I am - I'll keep them out of whatever trouble I can. At least I don't have to worry about my own children," he said, turning back to watch the boys deeply involved in a ritual circle. "Anything is preferable to either of them following my life." "... It used to be something I could consider fun, working like this. Something changed, though... It doesn't matter anymore. We had best part ways here, friend. I strongly doubt any eyes will remember seeing us here." He held his hand out, to shake, for what would likely be the last time. "It's... been an honor to work with you, my friend," he said with a nod, his emotions numbed from the severity of this meeting. "Perhaps we'll meet again. But if not..." He shook his head. "What am I saying? Foolish old man. I imagine I'll see you again, here before too long." With that, all of his things gathered, a new responsibility on his shoulders, Drin left the sacred structure, unsure of where his trail led next. To Yuki, or to Stark, he supposed - whichever was closer. ~-~ Dom rose quietly, sliding through the door to his room and into the lobby. Yuki sat by herself, which was shocking, to say the least, although she looked sufficiently upset by it herself. He couldn't see any of the others nearby - if Stark wasn't around, then it was possible that he was the reason for her distress. He sat on a bench across from her, thinking for a moment before opening his mouth. "You may have none of the familiarity with me as you do with Stark. However, we find ourselves to be traveling companions at the moment. If there was some way I could help alleviate your concerns, I would be happy to help." It was clear to him now that, despite being raised with sisters, he had never learned how to properly speak to girls.

Not necessarily, in Lord of the Rings, when the group split, they, uh, wait, never mind. Splitting up in Bram Stoker's Dracula, the group splitting up to fight him... allowed him to make another character into a vampire. Huh. ... Maybe you've got a point.

Clearly group split is the only solution to the "tons of characters" problem. That, or fictional genocide.

He had been expecting a conversation like this, ever since he had spoken to Stark. Somehow, he had known it would be like this - maybe he hadn't predicted it happening here of all places, but, this was how it would be. "... I don't think she'd appreciate being called that, anymore. I don't think she'd appreciate seeing me, either. I... haven't been the best husband." He resisted the urge to look back at his sons as they practiced their arts. "Nor have I been the most attentive father. I aspired, but..." He laughed. "I don't think I could balance my life quite so well as you did, Eltiar." There was an uncomfortable pause, before he spoke again. "... If... If I was a man of my bond, I would kill you where you stand, old friend. It wouldn't be easy, in any sense of the word... but there are men among us who would do it, without asking questions. I... am not one of those men. Even in the best of times, when the work was simple, when I had no qualms about what we were doing, there were always questions. I could never, in good faith, follow the orders given to me, without investigating why it had to be so. Perhaps that was why a man several years my younger was offered a position above all the others - I was even more surprised to hear you turn it down." "That conversation... belongs in the past, though. We've both made our decisions - our funerals are set to be on a battlefield, at the hands of our comrades. The other members of your cell are after you, as well - whether they aim to protect or slay, I don't know, only that you're the target of many eyes. If word spreads that I've left without a report, then they'll come after me as well, but... I knew what troubles associated themselves with this decision when I made it." "... I met Stark, in Corthrone. He's looking for you as well, you know. I don't know where he is now, but... I wouldn't stay in any one place, for too long. If he finds you... it can only mean that the others are just behind him."

The great arch, the library, the city, the people - nothing within Keeparch had changed in the many years he had been gone. It had been long since he had returned, long since he had written letters or brought gifts or even reminded his family that he was alive, that he had left them. Twelve years... He wondered if they even remembered him, if they hadn't moved on, found someone else to support their needs, their dreams. He had never been a strong father, a strong husband - merely a compulsory figure, one who existed rather than did. He had always regretted his decisions, but, rather than try to face them, to fix what wrongs he had created, he had ran away. His greatest shame, but he had tried to justify it - "If they survive so well with my minimal involvement, then they would be fine without me." Wrapped up in his research, like his father before him - a fate that he supposed the men in his family were doomed to follow. He hoped deeply that his own sons weren't going to fall victim to it, that his abandonment would dissuade them from his path. He would rather them become the mindless servants of the arch than mad scientists like he was. He sat at the bottom of the library, at one of the few unoccupied tables, his work spread out over the entirety. Even while he thought of how much he hated his life's goal, he couldn't stop his hands from working, performing measurements and putting assemblies together without really paying attention. Every now and then, one of the worshipers would glance over, making sure his work wasn't profaning the holy site, before returning to the complex rites beneath the tiers. None of the religious rituals drew his attention away - they hadn't when he had lived here, his return was unlikely to inspire any more understanding. One robed man, however, flinched back at the sight of Drin. It took him a moment to realize it - but each time, he looked over, and instantly away, as though... As though he knew him. When the man looked over again, the tinker gestured over to him, instead leaving his table when it became apparent that the figure wouldn't leave his station. Within a few feet from the cloaked man, though, the elder stopped, almost unwilling to believe what he saw. "... Sidney." It had been so long since he had last seen him, but it was unmistakable. He turned to look for another familiar face in the circle that was now only a few yards away, looking away when he found it. "And Edgar, too. ... I had hoped I wouldn't see you two while I was here. But I suppose this means you haven't forgotten me." "We tried," the man said, turning away from Drin. "Or at least, mom and I did. Ed... just didn't seem to get it, I guess. That you left because you didn't care. You still don't care, I take it." "I... I care, Sid. About you, and Ed, and Louisa. It's... for the best, though, that I left. It's for the best that I don't stay here long, either." He reached to his belt, pulling out a small leather wallet, filled with Ducats. "Take this to your mother. Tell her you helped find a heretic or a spy of Highrise, or something. You boys have always been smart, you'll think of an explanation. Just don't tell her that you saw me here. She doesn't need to be reminded... Neither did you." He looked back to his table, his devices and tools strewn about the surface, without organization or purpose. "... I'm going to leave again," he said quietly. "I can't afford to linger here much longer. Business, not painful memories, brought me here." He smiled, pushing away the melancholy of this meeting for just a moment. "If... If something occurs within the city, then I suggest that you and Edgar stay out of it. Something big is coming... A gathering storm, I suppose. Just stay at home, ignore whatever it is. I promise... It's for the best." The last four words had a certain weight to them - a reminder that, just because of the business he had found himself in, it was the only justification he could give without endangering his family even more. Sensing nothing more to hear from his father, Sid left to return to the ritual with his younger brother, the wallet deposited safely within his robes. And while he was already trying to push away memories, Drin's hands worked as quickly as always, the table rapidly clear of his presence, the library soon afterwards.

Predicted, won't fight the flow of events, etc. Was fun while it lasted.

The display of magical power and bravado by his comrades hadn't dissuaded him from his anger. Ivan suggested speaking to one of the two injured men? He had words of consolation for the both of them, kicking their helmets off and slitting their throats efficiently. They were too badly injured, too stunned to have a chance to fight back, and the life faded from them before he had even cleaned his knife. That left one alive, and he was outmatched and outmaneuvered - it was funny, really, how quickly the tables had turned against the lone knight. Laterite fully hoped that the last thing the man thought of before he died would be the cruel sense of karma that accompanied the situation, the feeling that his beloved god that he would kill for had abandoned him and his comrades. He felt bad for finding that so funny, but took solace in the fact that, once he knew what had happened to his papers, he would be able to calm down. For now, though, he had business with the captain. He had no idea where Andra was or if he had snatched him yet, but that wasn't going to stop him from looking. The fire was spreading slowly, the morning mists stopping it from completely roasting the trees and fortress nearby. He found his horse quickly, recovering his saber and the spooked animal - this was where he had met the knights, then, but there was no sign of the captain here. The fort would burn once again, it appeared, and the losses would likely be skewed towards the Granfs, this time. Mounting the steed, he set out, looking for either the wyvern rider, the captain, or the healer - if he found more than one of them, perhaps this day could be salvaged.

Welcome to Keeparch.