Terrador

Angus rights himself, no longer leaning in towards the river; the madman's laughter perturbed him more than he would have thought. He looks to Serge, only to find a similar reaction to his own... then, a comment with perhaps as much underlying sanity as Apellon's. Despite himself, the young baron joins Apellon in laughter, if only for a moment. "Fair? Mate, you got some Moloko Plus on you? You did gut th'man after a duel, mind; an' didn't you hear that 'poison heart' bit? Doubt 'e'd give you a drink if you were dyin' of thirst." His comrade addressed, Angus once again faces the immortal myrmidon. The idea of death as life's ultimate purpose was mad to Angus, but the rest... he couldn't refute it. Though he first sat down in hopes that Apellon might let slip some great secret, now... Angus wanted him to keep talking. Across the river was a mad dog; a god; something alien. He knew the unknowable. "Humor me, then." Finally, quietly, Angus speaks. "What's it like?"

Florina and Lucius for me; I need a healer and I have funny plans for Florina.

Rebecca and Dorcas, may his mutton forever be poisoned.

Unfortunately, Quint, eclipse beat you to it by... checks PMs 24 minutes. I just hadn't updated it yet. That said, I now have the drafting order! Terrador SB eclipse scorri And with that, I shall make my first pick: Eliwood.

It's that the MYSTERIOUS CONTESTANT has not been determined yet! ...and that's all the mystery.

Simple stuff here: we draft, we play HHM, we try to document the most hilarious run possible! If you're interested in being our MYSTERY CONTESTANT, drop a post or PM me. We currently have three of the four players ready to ROCK AND ROLL. Drafting: 1. This draft is for 4 players. 2. Hector, Marcus, Merlinus, Ninian/Nils, and Athos are free for all to use. 3. Bartre and Karla are drafted as a pair. 4. Geitz and Wallace are drafted as a pair. 5. The game will be played on Hector Hard Mode, skipping Lyn Mode. Rules: 1. Thou Shalt Play The Game. 2. Thou Shalt Document Your Play. 3. Thou Shalt Make Merry. 4. Thou Shalt Not Use Undrafted Units, Except When That Unit Is Forced To Deploy. 5. Thou Shalt Only Cheat When It Is Funny. [spoiler="Units Remaining] Teams: 1. Terrador: Eliwood, Rebecca, Dorcas, Lucius, Florina, Kent, Vaida, Wil, Renault 2. SB: Bartre/Karla, Raven, Priscilla, Nino, Isadora, Fiora, Farina, Oswin, Geitz/Wallace 3. eclipse: Matthew, Lowen, Guy, Louise, Pent, Heath, Rath, Karel, Hawkeye 4. scorri: Erk, Lyn, Serra, Sain, Canas, Legault, Harken, Jaffar, Dart

Angus sits on the hot rock, unfazed beyond an initial flinch; his fatigue with combat and desire to know more far outstripped his fear of being fried into a slab of Angus steak. Further, in context of a return from the grave, a thunderbolt or two wasn't exactly terrifying. The filthy knight unstoppers his medicine as Apellon lectures. Two things struck Angus as odd, though, and only once Serge was still did he query the menacing myrmidon. "Success? Didn' think you cared about tha'; thought you were all about the fight. Curiosity, though--you got me good on that. Not sure you know this one, but I'm noble back in Wyke. Landed, knighted, all th'tedious crap that comes with... an' I'd sooner put talk like yours in court than th'slums." He side-eyes Serge, calmly, hoping to communicate that this really was handled. "'nough to make a man wonder if you've always been out here, eh?" [Keep talkin'. Jus' keep talkin'.]

Angus studies the mercenary with care. The voice, the stance, the wildness of his eyes--all of them spoke to an impossible truth: Apellon lived again. The possibility of a Thunder Sword attack from a man who knew little of magic was nothing to Angus, not compared to the chance to understand. There was a power very close at hand. Owen needed to know. Baron Kearney dismounts, clapping Serge on the shoulder. "Stalemate. Don' worry 'bout muscle; stay if you like. 'e can't get us, we can't get 'im." Once again, Apellon has Angus' full attention. The knight sits on a stone by the river, leaning forward intently. He had no intention of running either his mouth, or the risk of making some error; their past differences could be addressed as they came. For now, this psycho's existence could be useful.

Angus turns to see the mage very literally talking down to him, his jaw nearly dropping at the nonsense spilling from her mouth. He doesn't give an immediate answer, but her condescension does prompt an end to the flow of tears. Angus sets Ywein's body into the shallow grave, but the head gives him pause. With a grimace, he shuts both his eyes and the corpse's, before finally hiding it from the world. Only then, as young Kearney takes up the Holy Diver, does Morganna merit a response. "Ain't so simple, either bit," Angus offers flatly. "I'd've surrendered, were it jus' me. Not much worth fightin' someone like him over, but Owen's work, tha's one; sure 'e felt the same about me." He slings Ywein's weapon to his horse; such a thing couldn't be left among these savages. Before he could protest the idea of thinking so blindly about battle, he is interrupted by a lingering crack in the sky. The young knight had fought alongside Claire long enough to recognize it, and a quick turn confirmed his suspicions. "Shit." Angus mounts his steed, snatching Morganna and pressing her firmly into Agro's back. With only a suggestion to "Grab 'im with your legs", the battered baron charges towards the river. Geoffrey would stay close. As Angus drew closer and closer, though, his grief was supplanted by raw confusion. Gently flinging Morganna from his horse, Angus queries quietly of Serge: "Am I seein' things, or izzat Apellon?"

Angus stares blindly at Ywein's head; only his shock holds back a pained shriek. Thankfully, before Angus has to decide once more whether to raise his axe, the downed eyes grow dull. The victor's ears, though, still ring, his gaze fixed downwards. [He... he said somethin'.] The particulars escaped him. Angus stares down, not even considering that another might have heard; instead, he only wonders what was said. Another scrap of this man already lost to time, to Angus' own hands. "Think it could've been diff'rent?" His loyal animals can give him no answer. Geoffrey mewls quietly; the predators were dead and gone, so why was his strange mother distressed? A shaking head mocks the question posed. "You're righ'." Of course it could have. Angus should have been counting his lucky stars, retrieving Captain Haddock, even scavenging for gear--really, anything but adding tears to the river of blood and sweat his victory was purchased with. Still, blind to the world, Angus Kearney strikes the earth. As if Ywein's own revenant, mindlessly fulfilling one final task, he prepares a resting place.

Angus stares on in shock as Ywein plummets alongside his steed. The crack could not be mistaken--something very large was broken. His men's departure only made that clearer; no attempt was even made to retrieve their leader. Instead, the poor man writhed on the ground; the boy Kearney had seen no few livestock in this state. He remembered how he would tut gently at them, even as he slit the poor beasts' throats. The thought of doing that to a man? A believer? Angus could hardly stomach it. Two voices were in his ear, but Angus could hear only the dispassionate musings of his eyes. [He's like an animal now], they whispered to him. [it would be better if he died before he even landed.] Angus couldn't deny either of these things. What was left of a worthy man struggled on the ground, beyond the help of any healing on the earth. "Care for your fellow follower, as if he were a brother." The knight's whisper was barely audible; perhaps even Serge did not hear it. Louder, this time, Ywein is addressed. "...f-few minutes. It'll be... over then. M-make peace." Angus voice breaks, unable to stem the tide of emotion. He looks away, anything to escape the haunting image before him: Serge stood there. Now, of all times, the last commander of the Reliants appeared calm. With only the barest clues what Serge had said, Angus addressed him. "Ah... S-Serge. Thanks. Could you... ah... th'castle? N-no more fightin'. Jus'... ask for Haddock." Still, Angus' voice couldn't obey him. He quickly crashes to the ground, scooping up his pet. To look would be unbearable. To listen was to share in the agony. Perhaps Ywein spoke. Perhaps not. The seconds heap stones onto Angus' hands, pour sand into his arms. He buries his face in Geoffrey's fur for moment after moment, until that dread time came. When one must call on his resolve in that moment, or risk not acting at all. Angus stands, slowly, a Herculean task. Taking up his axe was yet a greater one. Every step counts down Ywein's final moments. The victor stands over the conquered, the world empty but for the two. Beginning to weep openly, Angus lifts his weapon, an edifice towering into the air. A blind howl, a crashing blow. Silence. Angus opens his eyes. Ywein blinks back at him.

[spoiler=Angus' misadventures never end] Angus wanders the halls of that dread fort, not terribly inclined to sleep. His ferocious beast had finally been tamed, but there was another dangerous animal to be tended to! With no blasted clue what he intended to say, Angus finds what he believes to be the noble ladies' room, offering two very gentle raps. Hopefully, Cassandra would be awake even at this unholy hour. --- Cass had been happily curled up against Adele's arm, having sleepily snuck into her bed while everyone slept. While she was happily asleep, it was a light sleep, all things considered, so when Angus rapped upon their door, she was startled awake. Her position on the bed meant that this startled motion made her slip off, rolling onto the floor, landing on her side with a quiet grunt. A very, very tired and annoyed Cass appeared moments later at the door, nightgown wrinkled and unkempt, shoulder hanging out of the top of it. You'd never tell she was a Princess like this. And Angus was not what she wanted to be woken up for. "What is it?" she asked, as flatly as possible. --- Angus' head turns fairly quickly on the Princess' exit, and his entire body with it. He finds himself leaning against the wall, looking pointedly at the ceiling. "Your, ah..." Angus pats his own shoulder. His face begins to burn--Engel above, how did he still not know how to talk to this woman? Instead of meeting Cassandra's eye, Angus continues studying the ceiling. Far easier, all told. "So, uh... you jus' about got us both killed today. We should talk." He kicks off from the wall, looking almost back, before thinking better of it. "Walk with me?" --- Cass didn't pick up on his gesture on account of being half awake, but his mention of what happened today sprung her out of it, at least a bit. She still didn't fix her top. "And what of it?" was her first question. "We're still alive... I learned my lesson. Did you?" She asked him, wondering if he was going to give a similar explanation to the Baleros situation. "Walk... Walk and talk in the dead of night with Angus Kearney, alone, defenseless, half asleep, and in my knickers and blouse. Is this how you managed to sleep with the Valter sisters?" She scoffed, but smiled, proud of her ability to still mock him in a, hopefully, friendly manner. Alas, she stepped out of the room, and quietly closed the door, though probably to Angus' dismay. Her "knickers" weren't very long, and neither was the blouse. --- Angus begins to open his mouth, but he's quickly cut off by Cass' teasing accusation. That whole situation was... compromising put it kindly. The poor boy keeps his back turned, unable to make a sound, instead just shaking his head. He turns back to his Princess, mentally cursing her stature before finally getting a word out. "Well, ah... Morta, at least." Angus continues to look past the tired girl, though at least he manages to face her. "Well... we had a bit of an arrangement, tha' I never saw th'oldest there, but you should... prob'ly know." His eyes dart left, right, down, up, looking for an escape, finding none. "Went over, jus' a decent visit, check up after that night at th'bar. Morta's playin' somethin', loses her shit. I clean that up, righ'? Now Decima plants one on me, an' I tell 'er we'll talk about that, but Morta's a terror there, an' she asks me t'bring Geoffrey up in a few. I'm thinkin' I can get outta tha' jus' fine, then Nona offers me a drink, righ'?" Losing himself in the thread of his tale, Angus finally meets Cass' eye, slapping one hand across another. "Out cold. No clue wha' it was. Wake up in Morta's bed, but not all up on 'er. Geoffrey gets into the pies, she an' I fetch th'rascal, and then... well, no need for th'details." It wasn't quite like spinning a thread for the boys, unfortunately. Some things were better left unsaid. "Next mornin', I wake up t'this screamin' little man, their pa, none of 'em seem fazed, but Nona says I was in bed with 'er! Ol' fart passes out, an' I'm gone soon after. Haven' talked t' one of 'em since, but they're strong enough, noble, an' cooped up like chickens, so I had 'em come along." The mooncalf shakes his head at his own antics, recognizing what a mess he was so precariously near. "So, uh... yeah, jus' about like this." --- Cass listened, quietly, surprisingly, to his tale. She didn't believe for a moment that he simply 'fell asleep' with Morta. Boys. She rolled her eyes of the whole thing. It was compromising, to be sure, if she were hammered on the subject, especially by Valter himself... That said-- "Why can't you just be proud of who you've slept with, Angus?" she asked, meeting his awkward stare with a rather complacent one from herself. "I realize I was upset on the boat, but that was then, and this is now. I have calmed down, and I apologize for my nature. I was under a lot of stress... I still am, but I've had a moment with my lover, and am back in full form." She took some steps ahead of him, glancing back at him over her shoulder. "So, which one is your favorite, then? Morta? Does she remind you of me? Aha~ What about Nona? Though, as rude as you are, I do find you chivalrous enough to not bed a drunk woman. You can manage that much, Angus Kearney... What about Decima then, the most prim and proper sister? Is she your type? Not that as I would figure... No, I really would paint you as the one for Morta, yes. Our likeness aside, from your story-- though really, the angry, small, violent noblewoman? You do have issues, don't you --that aside, I suppose you could do worse." "Was that all?" she finally asked, turning to face him. "You said I almost got us killed, yet here we are, so shall we gossip about your sex life instead?" --- Angus groans softly in distress--Cassandra's ribbing was simply too much! He taps the walls of the fort gently with his fist, focusing on the impact, the texture. When she finally turns to the hapless baron, he starts, scraping his knuckles against the wall. A massive swallow, literal and metaphorical, precedes his answer. "I'd guess, ah... Morta. Their dowries are far outta reach, Nona's smashed all day, an' I think Decima's not too happy 'bout bein'... left out. At least I know Morta's good for a roll." He hits the wall again,this time with aimless emphasis. [Dammit, I came down here for a reason, an' it was... shit, can't think, c'mon man--THE TWINS.] The knight actually takes a step toward Cassandra, a concerned frown on his face. "I've told you my bit, now please, do th'same. Why? By Engel's beard, what did you hope t'do?" Angus blinks, and just like that, he feels any pressure he can apply begin to ebb. "Y'know... today. Chargin' in when I had it locked down." --- "Tsk." Cass had hoped she had pushed the baron far enough to not want to go back to his initial topic, but it would seem that he was too determined to not bring it up. "Do you ever really have it locked down, Angus?" At least she had guessed right with Morta, though she doubted his reasons of 'good for a roll' being all he saw in her. Alas, this was going to be talked about sooner or later. She sighed, and took a moment to gather an answer. "Because I am scared, Angus. I am scared, powerless, and asked to watch as my best friend continues to put himself in situations that could end his life with a single misstep. Do you still not realize this?" that question wasn't as rhetorical as her first. "I do not wish to hear another pratle about you being replaceable; you are not, and it's about time you started acting it... I have learned it, by now. I know I am not. If I required any further convincing, I received it today, along with the harsh lesson of just how powerless I truly am." She turned to face him, fully, concern the only emotion on her face. "When will you give me reason to believe that you are safe when you conduct these plans? You can tell me you are safe until you are blue in the face, but you continue to tell me you are simply like wheat stock; replaced easily should we require more. What do I do on the day you aren't safe? How do I deal with that? Do I sit back and watch you die, hire a new knight, and continue life as normal!?" She was becoming visibly upset at this point, her telltale tears starting to fall down her face. Instead of succumb to them, she wiped her eyes, biting her lip. "I am sorry, Angus... But i have been thinking about this a lot. Perhaps too much, ever since my fight with that woman. I am too weak..." --- Angus listens halfheartedly for a moment, knowing that Cassandra's own "prattle" would not cover much new ground. [i'm bigger'n this], he says to himself. [Even if she cries, I'll hold my ground], he thinks. Oh, how wrong he is. Two bulky arms swiftly encompass the Princess' head, pressing it into Angus' chest. For a moment, he doesn't speak. His hope of putting these fears to bed comes slowly, with a dull tongue, like cutting butter with a feather. "I have a horse", the knight offers in a whisper. "I've all of you. An' I've got somethin' else... somethin' you should know." A step back allows their eyes to meet again. "There was a man named Copperbottom, I knew 'im only a short time, a shady man 'e was. Bit of a codger, too, yet we took on well. He was slower'n me. Weaker. Holdin' a knife t'my axe. Yet I never once touched 'im." Angus stared intently, punctuating his story. "An' when I asked 'im why, he said 'e saw my desire. If you can see a man's soul, 'e says, you can rip his heart out." "I've all that," the baron continues, for once knowing full well the course his tongue would take. [so I won' die], he thinks. But... again, his tongue denies him. Apellon's wound still twinged with every movement of his arm. [i could.] All this, in the span of the briefest pause. "an' even with it, I could die, at any time." Angus bites the inside of his cheek, telegraphing his own discomfort with presenting her the idea. His eye finally begins to shy away. "I thought, for a few days, after beatin' Baleros... that I might've been th'strongest man in Wyke. I'm not even close, Cass. That day'll come. Could be tomorrow, for all we know. When it does..." His eyes drill into Cass, one last time. Not as fire, but as iron, yet apologetic. "Don' be afraid. You jus' told me what you'll do." --- Part of her wished to scream, that small part that was still scared, unable to trust even Angus in his surprise hug. She held it back, but she did freeze up, for a moment, finally weakly pushing at him to let go of her, a tiny growl escaping her lips. She let it die out as he spoke. Agro isn't enough, she mouthed, sometimes we aren't, either, she mouthed again, not bringing a voice to these worries. She made her motions scarce as he pushed her back to stare at him, finding it hard to meet his gaze... When had he stopped being an awkward boy? When did Angus become Baron Kearney? It made her blush, finally staring up at him-- up at him, he was tall, too. Curses. "I can see your soul. Does that mean that even I, weak as I am, I could grab this still beating heart," she punctuated with a hand pressed against his chest, not softly, but not meant to hurt, gently pushing against his left side, "and tear it out? And if I can manage that..." Angus' own pause causes her to stop, Cass paying attention to every moment this time, because she wanted something, some little tick she could pick on, something to fuel her own-- He started talking again. He pick his cheek and looked away. She frowned, and she bit her own lip, pulling away from his hug. It wasn't soft, either. Neither was her reaction. She slapped him, but it wasn't harsh, nor violent-- it was childish, barely hard, Cassandra's pretty face donning another scowl; more emotions not fit for it. "Do not mock me," she whispered, trying to shake off the ugly look, starting the floor in a staring contest, "as if I would be able to..." Don't cry again, you've done that enough for a lifetime, no one else needs more of your tears, Cassandra! PLEASE! Try as she might... She could not stop them. --- Angus stares softly down at his broken friend. Her slap didn't hurt, but her tears did. They always did. He sighs, considering for a moment. [Why are you actin' this way? I was movin' away, I was never gonna... she don't know I was lyin', holy hell.] He crouches, the better to look into her eye. "Cass... I'm lookin' out for my own hide too, now. There's only one Angus Kearney, righ'?" The titular mooncalf offers a bittersweet smile. "What I did today, y'know that was t'not fight those two? I knew I couldn' take 'em, so I'd let the others do it. You wanted me t'keep my arse out of the fire, eh?" Angus reaches up, a hand on Cass' face. "I can take an order, Princess. You jus' have t'let me." --- Cass was fully expecting a rebuttal from Angus, some childish excuse to throw his life away onto the front lines. He always did. It was the thing he was best at. Some excuse; I'm replaceable; I have to; you're more important-- she hated that one the most. But he... "Only... One?" His response threw her off so much that she hadn't even considered it, hearing what she'd wanted to hear for months now. Her face contorted into a grimace, but then to a smile, still scowling, tears streaming faster, trying to control herself as she sobbed and threw herself at him and hugged him tightly, breaking down into a happy stream of crying against his chest. "Whyyyyy... Why did i-it take you so long, hic... Why, Angus..." was all she could muster, burying herself deeper as she let go of every worry she'd held for him over the past month, the relief hitting her and her emotions like a wave, crashing down and finally settling as the impact died out. --- Adeltrudis shivered lightly in her bed, blankets disheveled from Cassandra's departure, the door, left ajar, producing an unwelcome draft. The coast of Magonsaete was cold, unlike the inland areas of Wyke, and the stone fortress was far from air tight. A few moments in the cold was all it took to bring Adeltrudis' eyes to gently open, sitting up and lazily inspecting the room around her. Charlotte lay undisturbed in her bed, but Cassandra was nowhere to be seen, door left open in her wake. 'She didn't scream or make a fuss, I would have awoken if she had... went to get some water or a mid-night's snack perhaps? Maybe I should check on her...' Adele considered for a moment, before standing and stretching, shivering once again. Her blasted nightclothes were too thin for such conditions, but Cassandra had insisted she wear them and not lay in a thicker shirt and pants. Shaking her head, she stepped away from her place of rest, wandering down the hallways, following the sound of voices. One of them was most definitely Cassandra, the other... Kearney? What reason might they have to consort at this time of night? She supposed she'd find out soon enough, turning another corner just in time to see a crying Cassandra flinging herself into the Baron's arms, burying her face in his chest. Huh. "You know, for how you insisted your betrothal was false and that I needn't worry over it, your actions certainly don't fill me with confidence in it." --- Angus receives Cassandra's tackle with surprise, but is far from displeased. His mouth opens, but he has nothing queued. It was better that way. Instead, his head rests on hers, his eyes shut. Only time for a breath before Adele speaks. The baron flinches, immediately meeting Adele's eye. Then Cassandra's. Then Adele's again. [This really could not look much worse, could it?] His head tosses backwards, carrying him into a roll that ends with him standing, if barely. This time allows Angus to scrape his brain for what double-talk he picked up from court... and that scrape yields not a damn thing. A different memory comes to mind: that of waking to Earl Valter's outrage. "Urrr... sounds like a personal problem?", the accused postulates weakly. "We were, ah... well, I'm clothed, at least." Angus looks to Cass, flashing a shit-eating grin that even he couldn't believe. "I've got enough lady troubles without one more tryin' to kill me outright, eh?" --- "A-Adele!?" Cass squeaked in sobbed surprised, as she pushed herself away from Angus, immediately wiping her tears. "N-No, it's not like that, we were just..." Alas, Angus spoke first and stirred up the kettle, going as far as to mock Cass' nightwear! How rude! She huffed, but was unable to hide her smile. This was what she'd missed. Just mindless banter with the people she cared about. Not having to worry about their lives on the field of battle, not having to put up with councils and marriages and rules-- just laughing. So she did, a little bit, not willing to muster anger towards Angus' poking of her attire. "We had a talk, and it ended well, Adele. That's all it was. How am I to be trusted if I cannot hug my best friend after he says he won't toss himself onto ever blade swung out way?" Cass punches Angus' arm, lightly, smiling down at Adele. It is nice to see you so worried though, I must say... "Yes, Angus Kearney, you did mention those girl troubles. I hope they haven't been compounded with our current coverup. I can't imagine the ones you did end up sleeping with took it well." This was the perfect time to drag Angus back to that subject. --- Angus buries his face in one hand, dragging it down his face--this again?! It was only fair, though, after the anguish Cass went through tonight. "Yyyyyeah. I'll be honest with 'em after we gut Mr. E; let's hope I live through that one, eh~?" One more objection soon comes to mind. "...an' I only slept with one of 'em!" His indignation is far from serious, though; evidently Cass thought he should be proud of philandering about? Even after all this time, Angus could still hardly understand her. --- "A personal problem, huh? I'd think not. Honestly Cassandra, you hurt me. For one, I thought that I was your best friend all this time, I'm left aghast with the gravity of your betrayal." Adele began, her face appearing quite serious... at least to begin with. "If you are to spit on my honour at least have the courtesy to not take my dignity with it next time... have your tryst with the bear or a wild raccoon, anything but the mooncalf, lest Engel above weep for me." Adele continued, finally cracking a small grin as she finished, stepping towards Cassandra and giving the Princess a light tug, gently hugging her back as she pulled the girl over. "And I should hope you remain clothed. I've no reason to fillet you then. As for you though, what am I to think, with you embracing the man as though he were your lover, whilst in nothing but your skivvies?" Adele asked, giving Cassandra a lazy smack to the rear as she spoke. --- "I've a feeling that telling them won't be as explosive as anything we're going to experience here. Don't worry about surviving that one. Expert mages and the dead disappearing should be much higher up on anyone's worry list." She idly chided Angus without a serious tone in her speech, chuckling at the mention of just one. "Well, just one, for now. I'm sure you'll make quick work of that; from what you said, they were all interested in battling the baron." Adele's reaction left Cass stunned for but a moment, before the smile brought her true intentions. Cass went back to relaxed, still a bit too scared to stomach some of this, yet enjoying almost every moment of the levity. She didn't hesitate to give Adele her hug and stand there with the heiress' arm slid round her. "Come now, even in jest, Angus is surely better than a wild animal. Look, he even bathes now! I've half a mind to call him presentable, if I were cornered for an opinion." Cass laughed again, leaning against Adele and smiling at Angus. This felt really nice... Until Adele started to feel her up, the blush spreading like wildfire on her face, hopping away from her a few steps. "Well! Perhaps I know who the real animal is! How rude, in front of him." Cass faked a pout and stuck her tongue out, huffing quietly, the smile still clung to the sides of her lips. "It was a spur of the moment action, purely emotional~ Though I do not regret it-- and besides, you seem to quite like it when I wear these to bed. It's not skivvies if I am covered, anyway~" She was still wearing her underwear, bra included, and the nightie wasn't sheer enough to see through, in the pale light shining through the open windows. Really, it was just fine~ --- Angus slouches against the wall with a grin of his own--Adele's arrival was surprisingly enjoyable, but he'd sooner call a wade through Agro's leavings "comfortable". "You're one t'talk of dignity, Adeltrudis", the third wheel snarks. "You're far from decent, eh? Your brother, he'd be ashamed, wouldn' you think?" He looks up at the ceiling, remembering the abruptness of Graham's departure. "Did your old man--did he groom you t'run the place, when 'e passed, or was it just your brother? D'you think you could, either way?" The ill-fated baron wouldn't consider himself prepared for Cassandra's affair, but that was even more true for his newfound holdings. Perhaps Adele had some answers for him. --- "If we are to delve so far into animal husbandry, I thought it best to mark my territory, as they tend to." Adeltrudis replied to Cassandra's outburst with a smirk, sticking her tongue out teasingly at the Princess before continuing her response to both Cassandra, and Angus as well as he chimed in. "I suppose I like them well enough when you wear them to my bed, but that is an entire other thing from the visitations of a young man, don't you think? And as for you Baron Kearney, I fail to see what is so indecent about my current attire. It is both long and high-cut enough to more than adequately cover me. If you've musings about what lies underneath, is that not a fault of your own?" Adele chided, about to give a light chuckle, though Angus appeared to grow serious for the moment, so she kept that bit down. "Only since Teddy passed did he begin to. Graham was always far too single-minded. It made great prospect for him as a knight, but as a Lord, he would be... inadequate. I've still many things to learn yet, but... forced into the position, with the support of my father's pre-existing... extensive support network, I am confident I could manage long enough to see myself begin to prosper in such a role." Adeltrudis replied, letting out a sigh as she finished speaking. "Not that I would wish for such a thing. Even in years time, I don't know if I could ever truly be... prepared for such a thing. Though I suppose without experience, no one truly can be to start." --- Cass was surprised the conversation had taken such a serious political turn, or at least towards leading, but Cass could only think of one thing to add to what was being talked about right now. "Are you worried about what to do with your new station, Angus?" --- Angus shrugs. "Worried? Not so much; in a pinch, I've got a helluva lot o'strings t'pull for someone who has t'get dragged to court. Still, I poked my head in, an', well..." the baron recalls his meeting with Mardo--not tactfully handled, that was for certain. "I ripped a fellow's door off and might've killed 'is grandson, and that wasn't th'worst of it. Now I'm in charge of th'diplomat and those new Reliants; only one I'm sure I can lean on is Doug, an' he's..." [Far be it from me to speak poorly of the man, but I still wonder if he's hittin' the flask when the rest of us aren't lookin'.] "... odd. I can't be th'only knight who slept through half 'is classwork, but now I've gotta know all o'that. Soon, prob'ly." He grins, staring pensively up at the ceiling. "Got a lotta work on my hands is all." --- "Sounds like you're just getting into the same... adventures as always." Adele replied with a light smile, as the baron recounted his mishaps. "I'm sure you'll pull through, Kearney. You always seem to, despite all odds." --- "Sounds like you've got a fair bit of work on your hands... And what's this about killing someone's grandson? Breaking doors is quite like you, but murdering the-- well, maybe they weren't innocent, I won't make assumptions." Cass decided it best not to pry into that one, knowing that whatever answer she got from him, unless he's killed some noble's bandit turned son, she would regret hearing it. "Doug is weird, yes... But he is a dependable man. Just don't step on that Serge's toes. He's taken the loss of Niko, well... A few planks have come undone, if you will." Cass figured Serge for an awkward man ever since she'd met him, but not for an unstable one... And she didn't quite know what to do about it. "Adele is right, though. You'll succeed-- or die trying. But, ehm, d-don't do that last bit. Seriously. I'll bring you back and chastise you if you somehow manage to collapse." Cass gave him a rather stern finger wagging, sighing. --- Angus starts for a second--did she really think he'd do that? "It's not like that. He was... one o'Dettard's boys. Far as I can tell, all of 'em were there. Wasn' quite dumb enough t'mention that it wasn't bandits, though." He turns away, offering a wave to the girls. "It's been a long one. We all should be sleepin'. --- Angus growls with unease. Doug, those two mages, neither could land a blow on Ywein. Serge was isolated; he couldn't get around the thief in time. A tear wells from the young knight's face; he feels true fear, knowing that he would face tragedy in moments. [Can't be afraid of killin' him. He's strayed. He forced my hand.] The thud of hooves crashes across the dry dirt. [Dyin', neither. Nobody lives forever. Th'rest will pull through, somehow.] The foes seem to part before Angus, Engel's apparent champion looming above. [i know what this man is. Curse my knowin', but it's all I need.] With a desperate howl, Angus meets the foe. In the barest moment, the sins of one of these men would be judged. Angus to (7,11), attack Ywein with Iron Axe

Hans to (4,11), rescue Larissa Morgana to (5,12), attack Ywein with Thunder Lars to (5,11), rescue Morganna Emily to (5,12), attack Ywein with Fire

Angus groans softly at the impact of yet another sword--things didn't look good. No, not the tiniest bit. [We're up on th'wall now, I'm hurt, an' Ywein's far too close. We can't run, an' if we go in swingin', we could get slaughtered. There's got t'be a way out--dammit, I know there has to be!] He keeps his gaze on the nearest wyvern, ignoring his pet's cries of anxiety, but in the corner of his eye looms the great enemy, holy and furious, the lynchpin of these "Reliants"' entire attack. This battle could only result in severe losses if he still rode the skies. [There ain't anythin' else we can do, is there.] Angus despairs. Even in perfect victory, this battlefield would be the site of tragedy. He had no desire to cry out, to call for Ywein's head on a silver platter. But he had his duty. "Wykians! Allies! We're takin' the commander! Serge!" Baron Kearney indicates the three mages with his eyes, after meeting those of the Reliants' supposed inheritor for the briefest moment. "Get th'mages in, ignore everythin' else! Do or die!" There was every chance that Ywein's death wouldn't break the enemy, but it was their only hope. Angus could not surrender. Not while his prince expected him to fight.

Angus gently pops his neck, craning to see everything he could. They seemed to be bunching up around the cliff, taking out what enemies they could and staying out of range of two of the remaining wyvern knights. That said, Alain's flank was exposed, and that couldn't be allowed. Angus rides quickly into position, but between his blood loss and the looming lizards, he felt a tad queezy. "Oi, eh... Sir Duhamel. Mind if I borrow tha'? Feel like every one of these buggers has taken a piece of me." Angus to (3,14) Angus trades with Alain, gives Zadkiel's Vulnerary (why does this still have a slot T_T), obtains Vulnerary! Angus uses the Vulnerary!

Angus offers a frustrated grunt as his axe swings wide of an offending wyvern rider. [We're winnin', sure, but... we're gettin' too hurt for it. I'm torn up somethin' nasty, Doug's taken a big hit, an' the diplomat is...] Angus looks to his side with surprise. Alain was... on the move?! Angus charges in after him--the mage could only last so long at the front, even if he was unleashing hell on his way there. "I said "don' be a hero", but you seem t'have it figured out, eh? C'mon, let's get you back out." [He seemed a moody fellow, but he's got balls like boulders! What I wouldn' give for men like that.] Angus to (9,12), equip Bronze Axe, rescue Alain, Canto to (9,15)

GROUP C PLAN Alain to (9,15), stuff a cock in Wyvern #3 Larissa to (9,16), dance for Alain Alain to (9,11), stuff a cock in Wyvern #2 Angus to (9,12), equip Bronze Axe, rescue Alain, Canto to (9,15) Doug take Vulnerary from Larissa, CHUG THE DRUGS, Canto to (10,14) Morganna to (6,16), cast Illusion to (5,14) Emily to (8,15), take Alain, drop Alain to (7,15) Serge to (8,16), CHUG THE DRUGS Axebros to (7,17), (8,17) Barring any objections or alterations, I'll start poking people for moves tomorrow. Seems pretty airtight to me.

The baron shakes his head--that deal would not fly. Ywein could not grasp the enormity of his mistake, or perhaps he was bound by duty. Either way, Angus would not yield. "No. Th'Prince will pass as 'e chooses. You say Raewald's killin' your diplomats? I'll let 'im know." Angus trade with Doug, receive Zadkiel's Vulnerary! Angus equips his Iron Axe! Angus consumes Zadkiel's Vulnerary! It's so bitter... Angus Cantos to (10,15) --- Morganna moves to (7,15) Morganna equips her Wind! Morganna casts an Illusion to (7,12)

RETCON: Hans to (8,19), attack Thief #6 with Iron Axe --- Emily to (8,18), attack Thief #6 with Fire

Lars moves to (9,18) and Iron Axes Thief #6 a question --- Angus shakes his head--none of what this man said made any sense. They were only at sea for a handful of days, and warmongering? So far as Angus knew (and he assumed he would know), there were no Wykian troops abroad besides those the baron rode with. He leans down, plucking Zadkiel's medicine from the skewered thief. One whiff turned even Angus' stomach--it would need to wait for just a moment. The bear-tamer taps Serge's arm with his own bloody and frostbitten one. "I'm with you on this, but eyes open an' sword out 'til he agrees to terms. Remember who started this." Angus raises his voice, now addressing Ywein. "OEI! We ain't after shit! We're goin' to Raewald, an' in case you haven't noticed, we're a bit short on men! Ywein, izzit? I ain't gonna pretend I know politics, but takin' a swing for the Prince's crew seems likelier t'start a war than anything!" The young baron Kearney gestures at the battlefield--three dead wyverns, a skewered thief, and a quartered mage for not a casualty in return would hopefully make a fine point. "Who looks blessed by Engel's vision, then? Our King kept tha peace, an' 'is son is every bit th'man to do it again." A hand extends with surprising grace behind. "Hans, mate. Th'heavy one, if you would?" When Angus' eyes revisit Ywein, they hold a steady stare. In attempting to convince his enemy, the knight convinced himself. "You'll turn from this fight, or turn from the light. I'd pick th'former."

Angus grunts under the force of the two swords, lashing back as best he can. The baron manages to raise his axe before the third foe closes, but he ducks out of range in the blink of an eye. Angus answers with his own blink. "Th'hell did he jus'--ah. Well. Tha's jus' rude, innit, boys?" Understandably, the half-dead maniac doesn't get a response from his animals. With no response yet from the Deirans, either, Angus tries once again. "You c'n still fuck off, any time! You're makin' a mockery o'that lance, an' your boys are dyin' for it!" Angus lulls for a moment (nothing at all to do with beating on death's door again!). With the more threatening enemies at bay, he can only think of Dettard's regulars. Good men, perhaps. His own, and Doug's, had they lived. Smart, organized, and fighting under a delusion... they really were alike. Before he knew it, Wyke's motley crew rallied around Angus, and made good on his words.

Angus watches his comrades move, conflicted; the sight of Doug running through that wyvern rider boded well, but these "Reliants" weren't so receptive to the baron's offer. It was time for Angus to do as Angus did best--charge. Only three words clued his allies in to his intentions, though a good half of them might be able to recognize the signs by now. "Takin' the mage!" Angus to (9,16), attack Mage #2 with Bronze Axe

Angus' gaze is focused out onto the battlefield. That many wyverns was... well, Pa called some fights "bailin' out a barge on Shit Creek", and this was one of them. Giving them any chance to swoop in and do as they choose was bad news, so that really only gave... [i must be dreamin'. Never thought I'd be on th'business end of a Holy Diver.] But there it was, clear as day. Even from such a distance, the thing was indistinguishable. [Maybe he c'n be reasoned with, but sure as hell not from out here.] He gives Alain a nod--he has an idea. Engel save these men and women, Angus had an idea. "Righ'. We can't let 'em do as they wish, so here's the bit. Doug an' I, we'll charge in an' out, keep 'em at bay. What gets through us--an' some will, there's too many for us to hold off--you lot tear 'em to shreds. Serge, I need you t'handle the particulars on that. Lizards first, mages second; anyone runs, let 'em. We don't got the manpower to take prisoners." He finishes his commands by turning his head to Alain. "An' you, mate--don' be a hero. Tha's our job." Angus leans almost entirely off the saddle, scratching his pet's ears. [Nowhere to run--guess he's comin' with.] On a whim, Angus makes a small roar at his pet. Perhaps it could be encouraged? Not much was better for intimidation than a roaring bear... probably. "Aaa." "Aarr." [Hell yes!] "Raaaa." "Raa!" "Raaar!" "Raaaar." Now, his eyes on the enemy, he tries the full bore. "RAAAAARGH!" "Raa." The bear mother chuckles. It was close enough. Now, the roar that actually mattered. "You lot can book it, or you c'n kick it! We ain't interested in takin' prisoners or dyin' today!" Angus deploys to (4,18)

Angus nods in relief, gladly allowing Serge to turn; the last word was almost never worth taking. Instead, he motions the Reliants over to his mount. "Your kit seems a bit ligh' for this; we've got spares in the convoy we won' miss much." Angus gives a Steel Sword (30/35) to Morganna! Angus gives a Vulnerary (1/3) to Emily! Angus gives an Iron Axe (17/45) to Hans! Angus gives a Vulnerary (1/3) to Hans! Angus gives a Vulnerary (1/3) to Lars! "An' Larissa--mind gettin' this to your boss?" Angus gives a Steel Blade (30/30) to Larissa!

Angus shakes his head--Serge really didn't know him well, did he? Nor did any of the Reliants, for that matter... "Nah, I didn'. A bit too busy thinkin' if that fight happened in the open, with those other blighters about, it'd be a far sight worse." He rolls up his right sleeve, revealing a horrendous scar left by the very Wingclipper that Serge now held. "It did, an' it was a circus. It took what might've been a miracle t'get all of us out!" Angus turns, takes a step back, and pivots towards the Serge once again; he couldn't let it lie, not like that. "I march at th'head of the group for a reason. I charged a giant th'size of two men for a reason." He stands tall, gazing intently at Serge. His repeated announcement comes slowly, and crashes heavily. "Th'name's Angus Kearney. An' it's my divine an' personal duty. T'keep you, an' your merry band, from bloody death." The knight sighs. All this bluster wasn't him, and it certainly wasn't getting him anywhere with the Reliants. "I've barely a damn clue what I'm doing, honestly. I've only ever had t'be strong, an' just this far from daft." Angus frees a massive sword from his mount's side. He grunts approvingly at its weight, continuing with his back turned. His posture is deflated, but perhaps more relaxed; the imperious look suits a hick very poorly. "Now it ain't just me thinkin' it's my job t'bring everyone back. Worse, I'm the one judgin' for the Crown." The baron turns, hilt rising to meet Serge. "It c'n be done, but I need some faith from you, Commander. Just for th'one fight." [if he can hold 'is temper, we'll win the day. Come on, man. Give me an "aye".]