mr_e_s

Yeah, the post was just a this morning thing, it was all the reading that kept me up, and you know, that real life thing. Also, only 4 chars juggled. Kept The Brute out of that post. I was gonna write a section for him, but I was all "....eh, this is going to cluster up a bit as is, might as well leave him for later."

Sorry that took so long guys (like a week, wow) but I finally got caught up in all RPs I'm involved in and posted around the lot of them. thanks for patience. Unless your name is Fush, then no thanks to you, you impatient bastard.

Stark Drin excused and introduced his friend. Stark was still ill at ease with a sudden new face, but he was willing to put up with it, if only for how useful the last two answers had been. Information was swimming around his head, trying to match anything that happened recently, anything that happened with Eltiar. Was this organization responsible for that fight in Alabaste, or was that just something between the two men? Did they have something to do with Oakheim? If so, why? These were valid questions, but they weren't questions to be asked here. For one thing, Stark had the feeling he didn't have many more useful answers to give Drin, and for another, he wasn't sure Drin had the answers to those questions. From what he had said, this group seemed to operate with some kind of autonamy, these cells not interacting too much... Oh, right, he'd have to answer Drin's question too. He supposed he'd been sitting there a while, lost in the thoughts presented by this new knowledge. That his old friend was... a spy? Or, a soldier. Still so much was unclear. Stark would share what he knew. Maybe if he was lucky, him and Drin could piece together, between the two of them, just who Eltiar/Eisig was. Funny how hard that sounded, given how much Stark thought he already knew the man. "He's....he's saved me a lot, over the years. He was there when my depth perception issues came up." Stark gave a grim smirk as he pointed to his missing eye, albeit without lifting the patch, and finished his drink. "He actually saved my life when I met him.. Yeah, though. He did save me just recently. Twice, actually. In Alabaste, this guy with some kind of Lightning powers hit me right here." In the space of ten seconds, Stark was showing a second wound to the two men at the table. This one the heavily worked on, both magically and directly by actual doctors, wound on his shoulder. They actually did a rally good job. You could still tell the flesh had been burnt, but it didn't hurt beyond kind of a consistent soreness. Stark really could live with that. "And before that." Stark was recalling some things he might have rather left forgotten now, he'd subconsciously been burying the fall of Oakheim in his head ever since he left there. "When Oakheim burned to the ground because of that fire elemental. I was there. And it followed me out of the town. Eltiar showed up and took care of it. Maybe a little late for the town, but I still owe him my life another time over for it." Telling these stories actually made him feel better. He'd been so full of doubt over his friend's character, but all these stories in which his life had been saved b that same friend, it felt better. Still, there were things he had to know. And it was his turn. "...So why are you here, in Corthrone? You said this city was good for his work." Stark pointed to Andy, whose arrival had given him an unintended piece of information. "You obviously aren't regularly in this city then. So why is your whole group here? And why are you so interested in Eltiar?" Stark felt he was onto something with this one. He didn't know why, he was just following his gut. He flagged down the bargirl and ordered another drink after his question. It was possible he'd need it. Fuego To say Fuego was not happy would have been akin to saying there had been a small fire at Oakheim. He was so tired of putting up with the bullshit of his partner, of his underling. Of that idiot! He wanted to kill him, and not in any kind of painless way. He wanted to put a bag over his head and watch him suffocate. He wanted to keep putting sharp things into him until there weren't any more places to do so. He wanted to...You know what, fuck it, he wanted to burn that bastard alive. This whole thing was suposed to be secret! Covert! He was probably wearing golden armour chanting out his real name and telling everyone he was from 'a super-cool secret organization spanning the globe'. He'd have to be silenced. Fuego'd be happy to do it, too. Unbeknownst to Fuego, delicious irony in the form of bits of lit cigarettes, and pieces of fires from kilns and ovens and the like moved about of their own free will, breaking off from whatever job they had been set to before and came to him, with a new duty, with a new purpouse. A few people he passed took note of the little sparks floating through the air after him, but it wasn't until more joined him, and they began to merge together that he became a spectacle himself. He didn't care or notice though. He was looking for Klints, and none of those people gawking were Klints. He just needed a better way to find him then walking the streets. As the fire behind him grew enough to take it's own shapes, it began lighting up corners to give Fuego a better view, n case Klints was hiding or dead in one of them, and getting people out of his way for him, o he needn't navigate the crowds. Fuego stopped suddenly, as if an idea had hit him with enough power to actually halt his movement. He turned and walked into a stand, his ever-growing servant following him in. The merchant inside looked like a mouse, meagerly shrinking into the corner as Fuego loomed over him like a hawk with an appetite. "Some idiot's been dirt surfing around town, I'm sure you've seen him. Where is he?" Fuego asked almost calmly. That was quickly ruined by the shopkeeper's stammering. "I...I-I...I-" "WHERE IS HE?" Fuego screamed and point to the fire, which had formed a crude portrait of his partner, but was now morphing into a spear. Fuego wasn't sure when he became aware of it, but he didn't really care, either. The flames were his partner now. No one else could be trusted. They were all failures or traitors. Everyone was... Whistler I'm no boyscout, ain't never been one, actually. Didn't really have the constitution or love of the woods for it. I've always been a city type of guy. Anyways, the point is, I ain't the most honourable of guys. No scout's honour, you get it? So when Beaker told me he wasn't too keen on his job or the organization, I kinda took that information and filed it away in case I'd need it later. I ain't none too proud of that, he's one of my few friends in the world, and I actually kind of regret it. If I could go back in time, I'd have just told him to watch his mouth, you never know whose listening, and that he didn't want to get a visit from internal affairs. Actually, there were a lot of things I would have changed or said different. I know no one lives a perfect life, but I figure I'm doing worse then the average so far. I ain't got no one special, and my few friends... Yeah, I could be doing better, I think. So Beaker, he makes this vase merchant really uncomfortable, and I smooth things out, as per usual, then we start looking for Cog and Tinker, cause we figure it's about time we all sat down and worked out just what it is we wanted to do here. Beaker figured we could just ignore this job, cause it was a pretty vague one, but I had that feeling it was one of those jobs the higher-ups would be paying close attention to, and I'd rather impress then the other thing, where I'm stuck playing lookout for the next decade or two. My first thought on finding the two of them is somewhere where they'd sell machinery. It's funny looking back on that, how little I really knew about them, or still do, actually. All that time I'd known them, and they were just machine guys. I wonder if I was like that to them. If all I ever was to them was that invisible guy. Maybe that's the kind of thing a guy should ask his friends, but I swear it didn't occur to me until just now. For all my ability and style, and don't think I don't have those in spades, I can be pretty thick. But yeah, we checked out some machine shops and came up with pretty much nothing. One guy said he saw guy with fake arms, but that was mid day and it was getting later already. Beaker seemed pretty uninterested in the machines, I think. I figure it's just not his kind of science, you know? Like, if it doesn't bubble or explode, it's not up his alley. None of the stuff was real cool like Tinker's creations anyways. Beaker and I, we made a lot of small talk in the mean time, the weather, politics, the chemical formula behind some kind of substitute for flying magic he was working on. You know, the usual chatter. Remus "Hello there, old fiend." Remus knew it was a little cliche, but he couldn't help stepping out of the shadows while he said it. He wore a halfhearted smile over his surprisingly boyish face, given the age of the man. His white hair was currently tied up in a pony tail, and he was wearing some small wire-frame spectacles which were just barely balancing on his nose. He wasn't strictly speaking handsome, but you could tell he had been, at one point, and while age had taken a good measure of that away, there was still an air of it there. He was the senior of the man he was addressing, but you might not be able to tell that right away looking at them. He reached into his robes, very standard garb for a scholar, and pulled out a very average looking piece of paper. He gave it a good look, whispered something into it, and handed his friend the sheet. "You're a very wanted man these days." Remus almost feigned a bow, but decided that would be disrespectful,m given the situation. "You know, if I found you this quickly, some more serious individuals won't be far behind. Are you even trying to lay low?" He was speaking more out of genuine concern then any kind of condescension, but all the same, he was worried it came off too harsh. Sometimes words had a way of imbuing a meaning all their own to their recipients. Be it through unintentional intonation and inflection, or the pre-supposition of the listener, the same speech could be heard an infinite number of different ways. Fascinating, really.

Yep. That was the reference I made, alright. Also Janaff: hey there, Marcia! Marcia: Oh hey there, chicken wings! Janaff: Did you hear the urgent news from Turino? Marcia: Let's...just not go down that road, okay, drumstick? Janaff: Okay... Anyways, you'll never guess what I saw today! Marcia: Ooh, gossip! Lay it on me, extra crispy! Janaff: This guy Makalov, he had a bunch of cash on him- Marcia: He had a bunch of money? So he can pay off his debts? Janaff: Well no, he kind of went to this gambling house... Marcia: Oh! That clam chowder head! I'm gonna go smack some sense into his broccoli face! *Marcia storms off, almost at the same time as Makalov steps out of a tent nearby* Makalov: Thanks dude. Janaff: No worries, but why did you want her to think you were gambling money away? Makalov: Cause if she's looking for me at a seedy gambling establishment, she's not going to be looking for me at an even seedier brothel, high five!

I actually like that, Skewers. But yeah, I don't consider myself an SQer, either. More a LotEr.

so when they fight bandits, they do it for days at a time? Seems...unlikely.

This is already getting more technical then I'd generally care for. I opt to avoid the issue of blood altogether, at least for my chars, let the others get their boosts in whatever, I'll let my writing do the talking, you don't need a strong character to have a good character.

So hey, thought occurs, this isn't going to be stat-based is it? Cause I may have to respectfully withdraw my promise of application in that scenario.

You have managed to quell all my fears about this with your well written answers to Kanami's questions. I have little to no prior knowledge of the SNES FEs, but I'll gladly sign up the titular character of Shu's Quest in a less deceased format, and play it by ere from there, should you be willing to have me.

Now you're pointing out things your own characters say as though they were irrefutable logic. I've never seen magic cure a disease, so medicine has very real reasons to press on. I've never seen any kind of advanced movement apart from like the three people in any FE verse who know how to teleport places. The need for travel is ever present, everything else follows, if you need, absolutely need to improve somewhere, it's not going to be the only place anything ever gets done. Just because magic can make a very specific set of things simpler, is no reason to disregard the advancement of technology. If you're RPing in a world where tech doesn't get taken care of because a small subset of the population can read a book to throw a fireball, then it's a pretty dumb world. Sorry for this taking place in your topic, Astelaine.

Yeah Snopwy, no need to be so elitist. Not everyone can make fireballs out of nothing, and in an FE setting, at least, those people don't seem worlds more useful then your average swordsman anyways. Magic isn't an alternative to science, necessarily.

mr_e_s Tormod: Marcia! I have urgent news! 16:31 mr_e_s Marcia: Well, spit it out, appleseed! 16:31 mr_e_s Tormod: Tororono said that- 16:31 mr_e_s Marcia: That's not how you say his name. 16:31 mr_e_s Tormod: Torono? 16:31 mr_e_s Marcia: Nope. 16:32 mr_e_s Tormod: Tuarenio? 16:32 mr_e_s Marcia: No 16:32 mr_e_s Tormod: Topokono? 16:32 mr_e_s Marcia: Wow, no. 16:32 mr_e_s Tormod: Tuarin-o? 16:33 mr_e_s Marcia: Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there kid, it's Tauroneo 16:33 mr_e_s Tormod: Oh...I could have sworn there were more syllables... 16:33 mr_e_s Marca: Yeah, so what was the big news? 16:33 mr_e_s Tormod: Right, well, Torpio was saying that- 16:33 mr_e_s Marcia; you know what, fuck it, I'll take my chances and not put up with this, later, hayseed. 16:34 mr_e_s addendum 16:35 mr_e_s Tormod: *walking off* Toronoa Zorro, Toro Neo, Toragami...

I'm not unsold on it. I'd need to hear more first.

If a large amount of characters is allyou want, play MUGEN.

Official greeting to Kanami, I always saw you as one of the better LoAF people. Was disappointed you were gone, if only because you gave Snowy a hard time so I didn't have to. Also, thanks for saying I am greater then Snowy, if only numerically. I mean, I don't think that's a very high bar to jump over personally, but better to clear a low bar then miss a high one? PS: My offer still stands about joining Shu's Quest, however unlikely the chances of you actually joining are, you'd be welcome there, criticisms and all.

zpurg, whenever we bring up story quality, they tell us it's not important to them. Just let them do their own thing. They'll work it all out eventually. Let them have their own Short Circuits, their own Lucifers, their own Miors and Dwarfguys. Besides, they're not listening, so don't bother helping.

whase, you just strike me as really... uninformed would be a good word, I guess. Ignorant seems too insulting.

Man I am such the on the fly guy. Also, Approved.

Stark So that was the game, trading answers, shot for shot. Stark would be careful with his questions then. And more careful with his answers. If he wanted to get something out of this exchange, he'd have to answer the questions satisfactorily, but not over-answer. If there was a follow-up question, he didn't want to have answered it before there was a chance to ask it. With that in mind, he thought about what to say on the subject of his arm. "We were in the local arena of Alabaste, fighting the current champions. After we won, this guy shows up and hurls a lightning bolt at me. I'm not gonna lie, I didn't see it coming. He clipped me here, and things got kinda fuzzy. I remember Elti-... Eisig showed up and saved me... again. Him and this other guy, they had a big duel or something, and when I woke up, the lightning hurler was dead and Eisig was gone... again." That was probably more then he needed to say, but breaking rules he made for himself seemed to be a recurring theme of his life. "Now, what I want to know is, What is this group you and Eisig are both in? How many members does it have? Is it just a social thing or is there some grand purpouse to it all?" Stark was actually kind of offended he had never heard about this group until now. He counted Eisig among his closest and dearest friends, and there was this whole second life that he... Stark couldn't think about it right now, it just wasn't a healthy train of thought. And right then, a guy with short black hair sat down at the table and acted like he was invited to the gathering. Stark took not of the fact that this guy was a bit bigger then him, both in height and muscle mass. It took a few seconds for it to sink in that this guys armour was similar to Drin's, and that his arms were different somehow. There was no way though... Unless Drin was a really really good prosthetic guy. "A friend of yours?" Stark asked coldly, still not too happy with the intrusion into his chance at some kind of resolution. Whistler Beaker, he has a sense of humour. Most docs don't. They're all about their craft or saving lives or whatever it is they do, and I guess Beaker is too. But he don't mind taking the time out for a nice dinner, to hang with the boys, as it were. I always kind of liked that about him. Not at first, you know, at first I was pretty made at him, for what I'd hope are obvious reasons. A guy's gotta grow, gotta move on though, you know? I did, too. I got over my own bullshit, I accepted it was an accident, and I moved on. Speaking of moving on, though, I decided not to ask Free what was in the vial, cause you know, it'd have probably been something I wouldn't have understood, and he'd hav egone on and on about it. I don't have to make faces like I pretend to care, but I can't just slip out of my clothes and walk away to go drain the lizard or something either. So there I am, enjoying this fine piece of boar, nursing an unrelated wound, and doing my best to have a non-sciency conversation with Beaker. I tell a few stories to keep the focus on the interesting end of the spectrum, and before you know it, I got the whole place riveted as I tell 'em about the time I fought this deadly group of thieves that had this magistrate's daughter held captive., have you ever heard that one, by the way? I was walking through the forest one day when I hear a scraping that I knew all too well as the sounds of a prisoner scratching at the walls of their cage, but I think to myself, there's no buildings around, maybe it's just a squirrel who locked himself out of his tree, and then-okay okay! No need to get pushy about it, I'll get back to the other story. So anyways, the owners are so happy with my story telling that they offer us the meal free of charge, adn ask me if I'll come back again and tell them the tale of the mermaid's of Abercorn Cove. But Beaker (pretty rudely, I might add) declined for me, saying I had important affairs to attend to and wouldn't be in Corthrone much longer and all those things that are pretty good reasons but suck right then and there. So we get out and start walking the streets that weren't there when we walked in, and it finally hits me that he asked what business I had with him. "You didn't know?" I said, a little more surprised sounding then I actually was. Not cause it wasn't surprising, but emotions don't come as easy as they used to, I find it helps for me to emphasize 'em more'n I feel 'em. "The four of us are all here to gather info for the mucky-mucks. Apparently one of the guys in another cell took this cube thing and we all want it back or something, and there's a chance it might be here. Some other guys have been sent to other places around here too. It's a like a convention in this part of the country right now. If we spot this guy, whose apparently missing an eye and pretty banged up besides, we're to drop whatever projects we're on and make that priority one or something. Personally I'm not too interested, but if I do see him, I'll go to town and get this thing. Could be promotion worthy." I know, I'm an idiot sometimes.

Yuki: Approved Noah: Approved

Yeah, we've evolved past FE RPing a good while ago.

God damn it, Sam. In other news, we're derfinitely having some currency value issues. So, let's set a standard for the value of Ducats. How does 2$ to a Ducat sound?

Stark For a tent restaurant, it was nice enough. Stark was always amazed what people managed to pull of in Corthrone, how much style and class they could maintain while operating businesses out of a moving tent. Truth be told, he'd have preferred to have tried this restaurant he'd heard of on the outskirts of town where they let you hunt your own dinner. It sounded like fun, and Stark hadn't had any real fun in a while. Unfortunately, berserker armour aside, this guy didn't seem like much of a hunter, besides, despite how pleasant this encounter seemed, Stark knew it wasn't just a social visit. This man said he hadn't seen Eltiar in a while, over a year, he wanted some info on him too. Stark knew he'd be trading info here. A pretty girl came up and showed them to her table, Stark didn't give her much notice, except to note that she looked kind of overworked. looking around at the 5 table establishment, Stark was amazed they didn't have a wait, considering every table was full, and...wasn't there a line outside? He hadn't paid it much mind, but maybe this guy was important around here. He'd have to keep an eye out for any tells about that from here on out, be it respectful looks, just stealing glances at him, or a hint of fear when people address him. Sometimes how people react to someone can be a better sign of their nature then the way they react back. Everyone puts on faces, after all. Not that it mattered lots right now, Stark really just wanted that info. Stark was going to ask if there was someone he was avoiding, but he had other answers he wanted, and he didn't want to try the man's patience before he even got to really ask any of the pressing matters about Eltiar. Still, places to start off tended to be the same. "What's your name?" That seemed like as good a place as any to start. It might be a little straightforward for just sitting down, but on the other hand, he did just sit down for a meal with a guy he didn't even know the name of. Thinking about ti a second, he added. "And if you have another name, like Eltiar, what is it?" Fuego He landed relatively smoothly. He was still working on it, if he had to rank it, it would be an 8 out of 10. The grass in a 5 meter radius from him was pretty dead, torched all to hell. It was a better option then breaking his ankles trying to avoid damaging mother earth though. Fuego had only been to Corthrone once before, at least, in more then just a passing through capacity. He didn't care for the town. t didn't have any sense of order. It would be hard to find anyone here. It wasn't the kind of place a guy with burnt up shoulder really stood out. It took a really successful merchant or a really big idiot to stand out in this kind of place. Fuego had the feeling he'd have no problem finding Klints in this mess, at least. ...Except he did. He was amazed, maybe Klints was actually learning to keep a low profile. That would be something else alright, considering last he checked, the odds were 3 to 1 he'd be getting a visit from internal affairs to straighten him out. It was actually pretty refreshing not to have to clean up after him for once. Somehow Fuego got stuck with that even though it was Mr. Lightning that was training him... Man this place was confusing. He was pretty sure the road just closed off behind him. He'd passed this same poster of a smiley on an apple, announcing the upcoming postmodern artistry meeting. It was like the city was conspiring not to let him leave unless he traded his life savings for an armload of crap and safe passage outside of this city. He was tempted to just use one of the restaurants oven's to gather a bit of fire and throw up a flare, but he thought better of it. he started asking around, everyone from a one armed man to a man who seemed to have that problem solved with some kind of advanced prosthetics. No one saw anyone matching his description,. Maybe he would have had more luck if he described the geomancy Klints used, but Fuego assured himself that would be dumb, as Klints was laying low, that's why he was so hard to-were those tracks from dirt surfing? Fuego was going to kill him, really, he was.

Stark This man introduced himself better, stating that he wasn't in fact a merchant. Stark curiosity was mildly piqued there, as at any given moment, at least a third of the people in this city were. Were it not for the steady convoys in and out, there would be no way it could sustain itself. But for a city with almost no buildings, Corthrone was actually one of the largest economic powers of the country, as sad as that was. Stark had heard they had elected officials sitting in Carthica arguing for causes that would help the merchants of the tent city now... None of that was important right now, though. Stark was grabbed from his brief distraction by a name, a name he'd heard long ago, but had forgotten. Eisig. Did he know an Eisig? If so, from where? As the... inventor went on, and clarified that he'd meant Eltiar, that Stark would know Eisig as Eltiar. Was Eltiar not his real name? Stark had never really questioned it before, but there was some nagging memory at him. Eltiar excusing himself and talking to a man. A loud man, who used the name Eisig. Stark hit something like a wall in that memory. What did he really know about his old friend? All these years, he'd been so unquestioning. But then, he really had no reason to suspect it was something malign. Sometimes he just jumped to the wrost conclusions... He quickly dispelled the notion of Eltiar excusing himself and slapping on a fake evil moustache to leave a girl tied in front of a cart, unless she told him where Her knight in shining armour had run off to. "I..." Stark was at a loss for words. Something that was getting too common lately. "He... saved me not too long ago, and the last time I saw him, I got this." Stark pulled the sleeve on his shirt up, revealing the very obviously damaged shoulder. Stark hadn' thought about it recently. The doctors must have done a great job. He wasn't sure why he was being so open with this man, maybe he was just knocked off guard with the sudden mention of Eltiar... Or was it Eisig? Either way, Stark was hooked, he wanted to know more. "I'm Stark." He held out a hand, not his main sword hand, the injured one. "If you want, I'll buy you a drink." Whistler Beaker ain't never straightforward. He always says something, and it's sort of true, but it sort of ain't. Maybe he's real good at it, or maybe I'm just dumb, but I always fall for it. He says we gonna go to a great restaurant, and now we've gotta go kill our own food. I wasn't too happy with him. I didn't make a face or anything, cause really, what's the point? Ain't had no use for dirty faces since back when I had a face to dirty up. I was wearing some clothes then, i think I said so already, but just so you know, everyone could see me, I even had one of those one way masks, you know, like people wear for costumes. Some people where 'em, what are disfigured or half rat or somethin'. You know, people what don't want to be seen. I even got gloves covering me, and all that. Let me tell you, there's a large frame of time in the year when that get up is downright uncomfortable. The difference between me and those other folks wht wear that kind of get up is, they wear it so people can't see 'em, and I wear it so people can. Sometimes I envy those idiots, but it probably goes both ways. So anyways there we are, out in this forest, and Free as giddy as a school kid with one of them textbooks with naughty parts in it, and me just doing my best not to shoot myself in the leg. I can't stress enough how I'm not much of a fighter. I mean, in a straight up situation, where someone can see me, and we both have similar weapons, I'll probably lose. I can't even remember shooting a crossbow ever before that. Maybe during this evaluation thing I had with the Order, but that seems like so long ago. Can hardly remember. You can imagine my surprise when I shoot this monster of a boar with my first shot then, right? Cause, he was like, waiting to pounce, on the other side of this bush, and he was a beast. Guys who ran the whole shoot your own dinner thing said they'd been hunting him for three months now, couldn't catch him. Said we could have our meal on the house, Even put my name on this list of master hunters they had for people that made really good catches. I know Beaker was real jealous of me, even though he didn't show it. He's a sly one. As we sat down to eat that mammoth of a boar, I knew what was coming next, too. Beaker, he's a sly one, he ain't never straightforward.