"Well, I'm sorry I robbed of you of a good story then Lysander." Derrick smirked, enjoying for once having the bard's attention. He was never particularly bothered by Lysander being the focus of matters with his genuinely incredibly storytelling, but because of that he was pleased with himself for flipping the table on this occasion. "Now you know, I'll expect to hear it sung in a day or two." Knowing the bard he could probably come up with something that quickly. Miss Secret was also evidently curious. "We Witchers have our own secrets I'm afraid." He answered. "Besides, our potions are toxic, only slightly less to us." Also, he was out of Veceslav's more potent Swallow potions. So she wasn't going to find out anything about those from him. Before conversation could go any further, the door opened and another woman swept in. His medallion vibrated a little more intensely, but he didn't have time to focus on that right now. There was a thing at the dock. Considering Miss Secret was being called, it was probably serious. He slammed the teacup down on the counter, splashing a little of the drink left in the cup and looked at her, ready to sprint off to the docks. Apparently this was Miss Secret's sister. That meant she was probably a sorceress as well. As their host made their way out the door, Derrick rushed out after them. "I'll go ahead!" Derrick shouted, sprinting towards the docks. Considering the sorceress sister's reaction, it was probably a monster. She likely had power of her own, meaning that it was more than she could handle. That meant that it was bad news. The silver sword at his back flashed out of its sheath and into his hand with a swift and elegant movement. It was time for business.
Mira did not have to wait long at the door for it to be answered. The door swung open and she put her best smile on for him. Before her stood a man. At first, he was exactly what she expected from someone who was an Investigator. He wore a trench coat, a little worn, speaking of experience. He wore a smart black waistcoat and a grey shirt and tie, with smart trousers and shoes to fit the image of the detective. His hair was green and swept to the right, indicating that he was a New Havenite man. That fit. But there was something about this picture which did not quite fit. Out of his mouth hung a slice of toast. His eyes studied her as he spoke through the toast, chewing with a gormless expression on his face. She met his eyes, although he was not exactly meeting hers. The man seemed to be studying her quite intently. Finally, after what felt like a minute of being stared at, he spoke. "Are you from the ministry? I've already paid the rent." Mira looked at him, and stopped maintaining the smile. Is that really what this man is assuming? She almost thought that this was not in fact the man she was looking for. But he said "I've". That meant, unfortunately, that this could only be one man. "Hello, Mr Haytham. I'm not from the ministry and I'm not looking for your rent money." Mirabelle smiled at him, trying to offset the awkwardness of this situation. "My name is Mirabelle Autumnfield. I'm here about your advertisement. I hear you're looking for investigators?" Aspire thought a little while. Both of these places could wait, for looking at buildings took no time. He considered them carefully, meticulously. Their advantages and disadvantages, though he knew little of these. One thing did spring to mind. It was possible that he could enter Saviour's Spire, but the Royal Palace would not be accessible to him. Aspire was but a Golem. He had no significance. He could not enter. Therefore, he concluded, he would first look at the palace. Then he would visit the Spire and enter it. He had no other plans for the day. That meant he could spend as much time as he pleased there. Additionally, visibility was currently good. He should not waste this chance to see the palace in daylight. Aspire, who had stood still in the street outside the station for some time, whirred into action. He turned South, relying on his memory of a map he had seen in the station, and strode towards the Royal Palace. Small areas of a crowd would part as Aspire stomped through Eredan. He was much bigger than all of them, standing perhaps two heads above the average person. He was large, bulky and made of strong metal. It was no surprise that the fleshy, less durable humans would move out of his way. He would do the same if he were them. He passed by a large building, from which men with bags full of envelopes scurried from. A large building proclaiming the name 'McDavos' caught his eye too. It was a hotel. He would consider its prices later. He needed a place to stay while he was in the city. As Aspire walked, a curiosity appeared. He observed a woman with a Clockwork arm fleeing a policeman. A criminal it seemed. She soon disappeared into the crowd behind him and the policeman passed as well. In his mind, he wished the officer luck. He crossed over a bridge into another busy district. Men carrying papers and parts of printing papers shuffled by as he moved at a brisk pace. Another bridge passed and he reached what a sign called 'Dragoncest Plaza'. And another curiosity. From around the plaza, purple and gold guards with sub-machine guns appeared from seemingly nowhere. Aspire stopped, just a few meters off the bridge in the middle of the square. The Golem observed as a scene of great interest played out before him. These guards were not the same as the police officer he had seen earlier, there were others more like him around. They were unimportant. The purple and gold ignored them and marched into a building. 'The Ministry'. Eredan's government building as he understood. People around him were filled with a mix of fear and morbid curiosity. His own curiosity lacked such morbidity. What had he to fear? He had done nothing wrong. Soon, emerging from the building was a woman. She was covered in blood and seemed... The word he believed was applicable was shocked. Perhaps she had been injured? That was cause for worry indeed. For both herself and Eredan. She was clearly important. People whispered around him. He could gain information from their words. "Who is that?" "That's the Grand Minister!" "What happened to Draycaster?" Grand Minister Draycaster, the political leader of Eredan. Someone of great important indeed. Something had happened to her. She may have been injured. Something had happened in the centre of Eredan's government. But what? And why? This was unusual. He had made the right decision indeed. Aspire was seeing something interesting. All he could do was watch for now, but he knew that events were afoot in the city. He had to find out more. If only to sate his own curiosity.
Whatever was going on was obviously so serious that his arrival was mostly unnoticed by the staff. Or the woman. He was however noticed by one of the other newcomers like him. He looked over as the other student sidled over to him. He was about to say hello, but then the conversation was immediately opened with him bragging. "Yeah, sure. Let's say that's how it worked." He said dismissively, trying to pay attention to what was being said. Much to his surprise, they were talking about the story of the Guardians, a tale he was relatively familiar with from home. Anyone in his village could have told them this story. So how was it relevant? What was the point. They weren't about to tell them that the Guardians were re- She just told them that she was a Guardian. And this idiot was just making light of that. He rolled his eyes. "Hey, this is important you know!" Lloyd hissed. He stepped forward, away from the idiot and looked at the Guardian of Air who stood before him. And the Professors. Not everyone in this room was brain dead, one guy was asking how many more would be arriving. But there was a more important question than that at hand. He met the Guardian's eyes, out of respect sparing her the ogling that he was certain the idiot now behind him was giving her. "Wh- What does this have to do with us? Nobody knows that the stories are true. Why tell us now?" Damn it, I stuttered. Hearing that the stories were true was... Amazing. And... Terrifying. Why tell a bunch of students? Was this a test? Not everyone knew this. Everyone's parents and grandparents told the story of the Guardians in the village, but none of them ever said that the Guardians were really out there. What was the purpose?
"My friend is too kind Miss Secret." Derrick corrected. Lysander probably wasn't paying attention to time at the time, or maybe he was just exaggerating his abilities. Ordinarily, he would not have been wrong. An hour it would have taken usually. But that was a special case. "It was more like several. Most of the night." He couldn't say that he understood Lysander's reference to art and such, but by the sounds of it, it was an accurate picture. He had got back to Lysander later than expected that night on account of receiving medical care. He saw Aaron leave to outside. He suspected that the young Witcher felt slightly upset that he and Lysander had interrupted the conversation. He almost felt bad, but he was enjoying the tea he was being given and the conversation. The sorceress then asked a question, though it may have been rhetorical. "There is. I wound up looking like Lysander's painting because of it." Derrick answered. He hadn't ever told Lysander the details of what happened then really. He had only half completed the job. It was lucky that Veceslav would go on to finish it. The Witcher sipped his tea "Strigas have an unusual cure. The crowing of a rooster at dawn will disrupt the curse. If you prevent the Striga from returning to its coffin until the rooster calls out, then you can turn it back. If it was a matter of killing the creature then I wouldn't have faced as bad a situation as I did. Her parents wanted their daughter back as unharmed as possible. I held the damn thing off from midnight till dawn." He remembered the intensity of that time. Two killers, but one whose blade was stayed. Axii kept the Striga down for a while, but it could leap up suddenly. He thought he had disabled it with his first cast, but it leaped up and almost disembowelled him. Time had never passed so slowly. "I've never had a job like it. I fought for hours, catching breaks only when I could disable it with a sign, but only for a while. It's only because I kept some of my teacher's most potent potions that I actually survived the night. Heh, I've never been so happy to hear a rooster." He couldn't recount the whole event as well as Lysander could, and in truth he didn't want to talk about it much. He was a professional, and the fact that he forgot to give an amulet to suppress the curse's return was an oversight on his part. "It was worth it though. The family awoke to a young lady screaming that a Witcher was dying in the crypt. I was well compensated for the effort. Honestly, that job paid for this armour and the next month or so of getting around." The latter part was true in more ways than one, a thought that made him smile. He never grew up.
Mirabelle woke that morning nestled under the covers of her bed. She was comfortable and warm, her head clear after a refreshing nights' sleep. She lay there a while, staring at the white ceiling of her sizeable room. She rested there a while, while the sun spilled in underneath the thick pale walnut curtains that kept the sun from shining into the room fully. She rolled on to her side, allowing her cheek to rest against the velvety feather and duck down pillow. She could have stayed in bed much longer, swaddled in her goose down duvet, but a gentle rumble of her stomach informed her that she would be needing to eat breakfast. Mira laboriously dragged herself out of bed, pushing the thick sheets off her and stepping on to the gentle pale white carpet. She padded barefoot across the room, her shift drifting along the floor behind her, stopping to inspect herself in the mirror briefly. She met her own emerald eyes, and scowled at the sight of her hair. Crossing the room to the door, she opened it to see her faithful maid awaiting her outside as she did each morning with a soft smile on her face. "Good morning mistress." Mira returned the maid's smile quickly. "Thank you Anna, and good morning. I'll be wanting breakfast, and the paper." The maid curtsied. "Of course mistress." She started off down the corridor, rendered in a light brown, the sound of her footfalls against the hard wood floor muffled by an extravagant rug. Mira strode over to a neat dark wood dresser set against the wall opposite her bed. The wall was white, like the ceiling with tall rectangular inlays highlighted with gold and lateral columns in between. Mira opened up a couple of drawers and busied herself with becoming presentable before Anna returned with breakfast and the news. The door soon opened. The mess that was her hair in all of its strands and knots had been straightened, put into her bangs and a practical though not elegant ponytail and was mostly free of loose ends. She was sat at the small table in her room, placed by a window so she could look out on to the city. It was a jarring sight. Buildings thick as the jungles of Hirokir were massed before her eyes, only separated by the large front lawn of the manor. She watched the cumbersome metal train chug its way across the metal rail that crossed the skyline of the city, frankly ruining the view. It would have been a nice day out for people over there if the sun could even reach them over the iron monstrosities the city of Eredan was filled with. The king of them all, Saviour's Spire pierced the heavens, a monument to mankind's conquest over the mortal realm and magic. In her head, Mira was often critical of the sights of Eredan, but she couldn't help think that it was certainly impressive and quietly took pride in the city. This was a monument to progress. The centre of Tyrranean power, with a statement in Saviour's Spire to match. She was broken out of her gaze at the morning view by the sounds of breakfast being placed on the table beside her. A broad sheet of paper, tightly packed, was held before her and she took it. "Thank you Anna." Mira began to study the newspaper, sipping from the cup of tea that had already been poured out for her. The maid retreated, closing the door silently behind her as her mistress read the news intently. More talk of Oracles, another report on Saviour's Spire and an amusing jab at the Gallows Gazette. She had both papers ordered for perspective, though she had to admit she preferred the Westwood. Finally, she saw circled the most significant thing. Clearly Anna had marked it for her attention, knowing what she had been seeking of late. "Haytham's Investigations...?" She read on. About an hour and a half later, Mirabelle Autumnfield walked the streets of Eredan towards the building where she could locate the latest attempt at compensating for Constabulary incompetence. Her hair was washed and as close to perfect as she could reasonably get it, now with an elegant ponytail tied with a blue band instead of her serviceable one from earlier. She was dressed sharply, a black suit and smart shoes to go with. She did not wear heels like other women of her status did - When one walked the streets of Eredan you wore something practical. Her cane clicked against the cobbled streets as she strode quickly through the city. She had looked at a map of the city to determine where exactly the address was, and it had not been easy until she realised that Stokeworth Rail Station was close by. Narrowing down the building was more difficult. She scanned the street, looking for the particular building. After looking at every other building in the vicinity, it hit her. Almost right underneath the railway and cast into shadow by it and the surrounding buildings, looking almost as if it were going to throw itself into the canal in a fit of depression over its sorry state, was the building containing Haytham's Investigations. "Oh." Was about all that she could say about it. Mirabelle closed her eyes briefly while she took in a deep breath. She gave herself a small smile and strode up to the door and knocked. It was time to see what sort of man advertised his new detective agency in the city's most expensive building, despite being in such sorry lodgings. Dylan Haytham had piqued her curiosity. Eredan. A Tyrranean city. One that he had only briefly passed through on his way to the Shattered Sea. One that had not interested him much, until now. Until he had been given... Perspective. The lands of the desert did much to make one realise that this enclosed nation was idyllic indeed, and full of wonders of its own. Varewyn sprung to mind, but that city was of a different type of wonder. Wonders of science and such, miracles of creation. Miracles like Aspire. They were the true wonders of Varewyn. But this place did not make those things. This place was not famous for its military, nor was it famous for its magic. Yet here resided the royal palace of the humans. Much focus was given to this place. Politics. Such a curious concept. One that he had not fully grasped. He watched the people around him, all sat. Around him was a cacophony as the train screeched along the tracks. This did not bother him as much as it seemed to bother some of the humans here. A few seemed to wince. They looked uncomfortable. Others sat there, reading newspapers. Clearly this was a part of their daily routine. The train halted at Stokeworth eventually. The Clockwork Golem reared up to his impressive full height and ducked his head as he exited the train, stomping on to the platform. He. Gender. A human construction. It was an accepted thing, based on the forms that their bodies took. He was made in the image of a 'male' he believed. He lacked the typical physical characteristics of a 'female' of the species. Aspire, for that was the name he had chosen in the dunes of Izir, decided that he would insist on being referred to as 'male' for now. He questioned the necessity for it, as he was not a human and therefore did not necessarily need to obey the same standards, but it was difficult to decide what else he should refer to himself as. It? It? They? These seemed neutral. He would consider this. Aspire was different. And Aspire was lost. Which meant that he would find himself in his exploration. Once outside the station, the crowd bustled past him. Men and women in various types of clothes rushed past to attend to their jobs or other myriad errands. Sometimes he would pass one like himself, another Clockwork Golem. Yet were they like himself? Some dressed like humans. They even wore top hats. They were gentlemanly things, so he had been told. Aspire did not wear top hats. Aspire did not dress like humans. He was not a human. Humans wore clothes to preserve their dignity but he needed to do no such thing. His dignity was in his metal plates and joints. Aspire refocused himself. There were things to do. There were two destinations that he knew of so far that interested him. Firstly, Saviour's Spire was a matter of curiosity. It was large and commemorated some particularly excellent humans. This was probably worth looking at. As a feat of engineering it was worth looking at. He was also keen to learn about what made these humans 'great'. Aspire was not human, but he was a reflection of humans. He could not look himself in a mirror and deny that he was made in their image. His mind was modelled off a human mind. He had realised in the sands that he had to aspire to be something. He had to be great. He had to decide who he was and what he wanted to do with his life beyond wandering. Perhaps an examination of the Saviours that Vincent had told him of long ago would answer some questions. The other option was to look at this royal palace that he had heard was important. There were many hours in the day and Aspire had some money to afford lodgings. And perhaps some cleaning up. His plates had been scratched by the sand and he was certain that the irritating and coarse substance had infiltrated him. He would find somebody to fix him. There were a great many decisions to make. Aspire had to use his head and think.
Name: Aspire Age: 7 years old Race: Clockwork Golem Nationality: Southern Tyrrus Faction: Independent Job: None in particular Appearance: Here Weapons: His body is his weapon. Magic: Shadowlight. His quest for discovery expresses itself in his magic. There is a black and gold swirling cloud and out of it appears up to four reflections of himself. These are unable to do physical harm but deceive Aspire's enemies. Each reflection will disappear after being hit. Additionally, Aspire can channel his determination to discover himself into his body, allowing his blows to be charged with deadly Shadowlight. This even allows him to strike incorporeal targets such as ghosts. Religion: Follower of The Walking God Augments: N/A Skills and Strengths: Aspire was made to be strong. His body is strong and relatively fast. He has an exceptionally strong will and is a powerful practitioner of Shadowlight magic. Personality: Aspire is proud of being a Clockwork Golem. He sees his species as a wonder of science and an amazing creation. However, he finds that he is often confused in his place in the world as he was never given a true sense of purpose or identity by his creator. He does not feel like he fits in properly with humanity. He is interested in learning and exploring to discover who he is and what he should do with his life. He is deeply religious and devoted to the Gods of Shadowlight as he believes that these psychic beings that transcend all normal existence are the key to his self-actualisation. He is interested in philosophy and will happily openly discuss matters with humans and other Clockwork Golems, using the rest of the world as a frame of reference to uncover his own purpose. Flaws/Weaknesses: Aspire does not understand humans and may misinterpret their actions if their intentions are unclear. History: Spoiler NOT FINISHED YET Aspire was created in Varewyn as an experiment by his creator, Vincent Blackmont. He was made as an adult mind, and to see what a principally mature mind would do when not given any particular aim in life. The scientist wanted to see what he would do with himself. For the first year of his life, Aspire stayed in the house of the scientist to learn about the world. The man taught him diligently, answering questions that the Golem posed to him, but refused to answer certain ones. For instance, he wanted Aspire to decide his own name, to see what he would choose. He would not give Aspire any obvious answers to philosophical questions. After the year had passed, Aspire elected to leave to find his own purpose and said that he would return once he found one. To help find his purpose, Aspire turned to the only thing that he could think of. Humans, as he had learned from Vincent, humans often turned to the Gods. Aspire thought on this for some time as he walked the streets of Varewyn. When he visited the temples of the Light Gods and listened to their priests, he found their doctrines wanting. The Dark Gods had no obvious temples, so he searched for a while. He was aware of Shadowlight of course; he had been informed of the pantheon's existence. With the Dark Gods presently unavailable, and not quite understanding how worship worked, he found his way to a Shrine. He spoke to a worshipper there and heard of two Gods that interested him. He sat at the Shrine and began to think. He prayed for guidance as the helpful worshipper suggested he did. He received an answer. What he believed to be the Wandering King spoke to him as he sat cross legged before the shrine, deep in thought. It was suggested to him that he should explore the world, and in seeing the variety of life, he may find himself. Aspire went on to visit the Shattered Sea and the Attributes: Vitality: 18 Agility: 14 Dexterity: 12 Intelligence: 10 Will: 18 Wits: 12 Charisma: 6
Name: Mirabelle Autumnfield Age: 24 years old Race: Human Nationality: South Tyrranean Faction: Haytham's Investigations Job: Investigator Appearance: Here Weapons: Mira carries a straight cane made of hard wood, with metal vinework winding up it, ending with a steel knob with a rose embossed into it. Magic: Mirabelle owns a pocket watch imbued with Chronomancy, allowing her to create concentrated pockets of sped up or slowed down time. The watch is silver with a rose emblem of Old Haven set on the spring lid. The face of the watch is white, with black Roman numerals detailing the time. The hands are simple. There are two buttons, one either side of the spring switch. One enables the slow time function and the other the speed time function. Combined with the user’s intent to direct it, a bubble two meters in diameter (maximum) of slowed time or sped up time is created. In a bubble of slowed time, events pass at half speed. From inside, events outside will appear to pass twice as quickly. In a bubble of sped up time, events pass at twice normal speed. From inside, events outside will appear to pass half as quickly. Using this ability Mira can control the speed of events in a certain area, whether it is to speed up her own actions while inside a bubble or to slow down an enemy by trapping them inside one. Mira can variate the size of the bubbles depending on her wish, but 2 meters is the absolute maximum diameter which may be achieved. Religion: Mirabelle is a follower of Aysa. Augments: A clockwork left arm to replace the physical one that was burned. Beginning at her upper arm, her arm is incredibly expensive and ivory-coloured, with enamel swirl patterns wrapped around the creation the whole way. It is sleek, following the shape of a human arm perfectly with no sign of crude machinery showing and is the apex of Varewyn craftsmanship, even able to hide the machinery at her elbow joint. It moves as naturally and silently as any flesh and blood arm. Skills and Strengths: Mirabelle is an adept melee fighter, able to wield her cane with enough proficiency that she can usually knock her targets out without dealing lasting harm. She is able to pick locks rather proficiently. Mira has decent street senses from the time that she has spent in Eredan, personally looking into matters which caught her interest. Personality: Mirabelle is humble and good natured, with a natural curiosity and upright sense of morality. She is often frustrated with the rumours of corruption and the crime present in Eredan, and expresses this frustration through trying to expose it where possible. Mira will take a stand where she can. She believes wholeheartedly in the city of Eredan as her father did and takes a great deal of satisfaction from handing her targets off to the police. Mira does not believe in murder, as she believed in the teachings of Bartholomaus Steiner, a notable priest of Aysa who practiced non-killing where possible. Despite this, she finds it difficult to forgive people when they cross her, and will hold quiet grudges. Flaws/Weaknesses: She has limited training with firearms and does not use one as a result. She uses her cane with finesse, striking at vital areas, rather than with brute force leaving her wanting when it comes to contests of physical strength. Mira often becomes frustrated if she loses her targets and can lose focus as a result. Mira is incredibly protective of her pocket watch and will protect it with her life, and one of her biggest fears is losing it. History: Spoiler Mirabelle Autumnfield was born to a relatively wealthy family in the House of Silk. She was raised in a wealthy environment by a good family, and for the most part lived a normal life. When she reached the age of ten, she was gifted a special pocket watch by her parents who told her that it used to belong to her grandfather. She was an adventurous girl, always running around in the lawns outside and climbing the trees that they had cultivated on garden grounds. As such, they saw fit to give it to her and explained its functions. Her grandmother who died the year before, used to be a powerful Archmage from Old Haven who helped maintain security in the city as it recovered from the Undead Invasions. She had imbued the watch, an expensive one from Varewyn at the time, with Chronomancy. To this day, it maintains a similar shine to the day it was bought due to the time and care given to it by her grandmother and her parents and now, herself. Her father taught her roughly how to use it, based on what her grandmother had explained and soon, she came to become adept with its use. This talent would become useful when business rivals of her family hired thugs and set the mansion on fire in the night. Mira was asleep at the time and woke in her bed, aged twelve, coughing and spluttering from smoke. She scrambled out of bed and to her door, only to find that flames had overwhelmed the corridor and now that she had opened the door, they began to spread over the door and into her room. She huddled from the fire, as it drew closer. In desperation she used the watch, creating a bubble of slowed time around herself. It slowed the flames, but even still rescue attempts were slow and the family had not yet realised where she was. When she noticed a hand reaching into the bubble from the window, spraying water to combat the flames, she rushed to it, in tears with a burning sleeve on her left arm. The bubble was cancelled and the water mage pulled her away from it. When the truth of the incident was revealed, she was angry and wanted revenge. She turned to Aysa, confused by her overwhelming feelings of vengeance. Through the priests at the temples, and what she believed was the guidance of the goddess, she learned that to kill was wrong and would only bring the same despair that she had felt. What she realised was that she did not want revenge, but justice. After the incident, her arm was scarred from the burns to her upper arm, and barely functional, so her father looked to the inventors of Varewyn. Using the wealth that he had obtained from a successful business, he commissioned a temporary clockwork arm that she could use while she was young. Upon reaching eighteen and therefore adulthood, he commissioned for her an exquisite clockwork arm she could use for her adult life. In the intervening years, she had grown to rely on her right arm for most physical tasks. She could not be as strong as she'd have liked without the use of both arms, so she chose to adopt finesse and dexterity. She did not find a fondness for firearms as they were too lethal and rejected them before considering that there could be other ranged options. Instead, she became fascinated with the Dark Monks who used quarterstaves to dispatch foes, and picked up a shorter cane for use in one hand to achieve similar results. She began to learn other skills, vowing to go to any means necessary to stop people like the ones responsible for attacking her family. They were never caught. This mystery propelled her onwards. She spent time outside at night, watching lowlives in the slums and attempting to follow silently. The constabulary were failing, and she couldn't act alone, no matter what she did. She needed another option. And then an advertisement for a certain Haytham's Investigations appeared... Attributes: Vitality: 8 Agility: 12 Dexterity: 16 Intelligence: 14 Will: 12 Wits: 12 Charisma: 16
As expected, Lysander did an excellent job of recounting their first encounter. While he appreciated the touch about kicking the Basilisk off a cliff, as far as he remembered there were no cliffs nearby and kicking a Basilisk, even a dead one, would have been a tall order. But either way, it sounded great. He picked up the tea offered by the sorceress and thanked her while listening to what she was saying. Drowners in the sewers, unsurprising and a Noonwraith outside the city. The fact that she knew what the latter creature was spoke to her credit. Miss Secret was obviously well learned about monsters, few bothered to study them even amongst Sorcerers as far as he knew. "Damn. I was hoping to get paid while in town." Derrick grumbled. He chuckled at the suggestion to go plough some bored nobles. Even though it was a joke, the idea did somewhat appeal to his... Baser desires. Although where to start was another question. One that didn't merit answering. As much as he enjoyed the act he didn't exactly want to become a prostitute. "I'm sure, but I'm primarily a monster slayer." Not any other sort. The conversation soon turned back to a sensible topic. To his business in Vizima. "The same thing Witchers are doing anywhere. Looking for work. I'd heard some rumours that one of the noble families was having trouble with a curse, so escorting Lysander that far wasn't trouble at all. Took me to a decent job actually." He patted his armour. Lifting that one had paid for this armour, and it had served him well. "Glad they paid well. Facing a Striga isn't exactly an easy day's work." He remembered the tense moment when he faced her in the crypt the young noblewoman had hid herself in. Axii wouldn't stick. He nearly died several times that night. He had a scar where a claw had torn through his old leather jacket and damn near gutted him. He involuntarily winced at the memory of pain.
"Miss Secret it is then." Derrick agreed, returning the smile she gave him with one of his own. She was playing coy with them it seemed. He was pretty fixated on sorceress. "If I may Miss Secret, I'd also like a promise that we won't be burned us alive with magic or some other such thing. Having our blood sucked or fur growth included." He decided to gauge her reaction with a little joking promise, but also to secure his companions' safety. The vibrating of his medallion beneath his armour was not at all lost on him, and though he liked joking around and entering the homes of beautiful women as much as the next man, a sorceress or other creature did not let two Witchers and their friend into her house without some sort of plan. Especially one so concerned about her own safety with those promises. He was in decent company, but what if it was someone of the disreputable character she anticipated? The Witcher followed Miss Secret into her house, not far from where they were. It seemed that Aaron had caught her outside her house or something to that effect. He watched her run her fingers through her hair, as elegant as to be expected from a sorceress. It was a modest city home, nothing too grand. He watched her move across the room, put a kettle over the cooking fire and set the wood alight with magical fire. He smirked to himself. "Knew she was a sorceress." He whispered to Lysander, then leaned against a wall in the kitchen area. She seemed curious about who they all were, so he took the initiative on answering. First, he cocked his head towards Aaron. "The young pup here is from the same Witcher School as I. He recently passed his Trials and completed his training. I helped teach him." True, but Veceslav did most of that work. He did help though. Mostly with Axii training. Then he waved a hand in Lysander's direction. "And this one is a friend I picked up around Toussaint a while back. He had a basilisk on his **ss, so I stepped in and saved him. We travelled together a while, I'm sure that he can recount our adventures better than I can." Derrick explained. He'd let Lysander do the storytelling. While it pained him that he wouldn't be able to impress her with a story personally, he knew that the bard could do it. He'd make them both sound way cooler. Don't let your old friend down!
Derrick knew, as soon as Aaron started talking, that a few things had happened. Or not happened as the case may have been. He obviously hadn't asked the woman her name. This disappointed the Witcher greatly. One of the first things to do when meeting a beautiful woman was to at least find out her goddamn name, but apparently Aaron never got the memo. He resolved to give the boy some lessons on how to handle women some time. However, he had more pressing matter than his young compatriot's failure at womanising. He took the hand profferred and shook it firmly. Sorceress. Definitely. "It usually means trouble, but this time it's coincidence. I was as surprised to see another Witcher here as you. The name's Derrick, you've obviously already met my friend Aaron. Who might you be?" He replied casually, and truthfully. She did not seem as casual, and soon she started demanding promises. Nobody under her care? Had he called it wrong? Perhaps she wasn't a sorceress after all. Most sorceresses, he reasoned, would realise that Witchers generally meant no harm and merely did their jobs. If this wasn't a sorceress, she'd have to be an incredibly proud Doppler, more likely a Vampire in that case. Werewolves didn't tend to have that level of pride. But, her exhaustive list of things Lysander shouldn't do led him back to the possibility that she was indeed, a sorceress as he had expected. Obviously she was an unusual one. As if there was a 'usual' sorceress. "Huh, Witcher's honour. You don't hear many people referring to that. But on it I shall swear."
"I wonder where people get all of these strange ideas from. As a Witcher, you realise that it's not just Rennez who's full of sh*t, it's most others." Derrick replied in agreement. He didn't really know anything else that Lysander talked about. He wasn't a big reader. He could read of course - That was something that he had learned under Veceslav so he understand the manuals that real experts had written on monsters. It wasn't long before they ran soon into a familiar figure. Derrick's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Aaron? What are you doing here?" It was rare to see another Witcher around in general, let alone happen to run into one in the city while he was here. Novigrad was big enough that if you knew someone you weren't likely to meet them unless you arranged something beforehand. After he was done being surprised at seeing his junior, he noticed his fellow Witcher's companion. "And who is this?" He asked. The woman that accompanied Aaron was nothing short of beautiful, and the vibration of his medallion led him to believe that she was probably a sorceress. The near perfect features indicated it strongly. Internally, his mood picked up quite significantly. He had no idea how old she was but that did not matter in the slightest, because she did not look whatever age that might have been. Unless she was a werewolf or higher vampire. But he was sure that Aaron, while young, had probably noticed his medallion vibrating and done at least some work to figure out who he was talking to. Surely he had paid attention to the old crow's lessons.
"An elf huh? Running a bar in the city no less? And beautiful? Well by all means Lysander, lead the way." Derrick grinned. He was surprised. Few elves chose to take up such a direct role in society as he understood it. They often worked of course, but to step out and own a business surprised him a little. He felt that, especially these days, elves tended to keep their heads down to keep the mobs from bearing down on them. "And I'll pay for a night for you if you can't get something for free. But I can't keep it up indefinitely. Now that I'm in the city, I'm less likely to find work so I've got to live off what I've got." He hoped that even if something did come up, that his equipment didn't get too damaged. He couldn't afford to repair it too often. It was the armour he was most worried about. Between the breastplate, pauldrons, vambraces and gauntlets he had a lot of steel to pay to repair if things went south.
Lloyd was not in the habit of being late. Generally he tried to avoid it on principle. It was more than a little disrespectful he thought, so he rushed as quickly as he could to where he thought he needed to go. He was very conscious of time as he rushed through Beacon as quickly as he could, the mail ringlets on his jacket rustling as he went. "Hey, where did the new arrivals go?" He'd ask as he ran. "See where the new people went?" He was annoyed at himself. In the time he'd taken to go to the restroom after the journey, he'd managed to lose track of where the other new people went before he had a chance to even speak to them. It annoyed him that he wasn't sure if they'd even noticed he was there, or that he disappeared. His mouth set in a hard line, he followed the directions as quickly as possible. The directions he was given led inexorably to the elevator at the bottom of Beacon Tower, leading up what he assumed was a meeting room or office of some kind. He sucked in a deep breath and hit the button, waiting for the elevator to come back down for him. It probably didn't take long, but it felt like a huge stretch of time passed by the time it arrived and he got it to ascend. "Sorry I'm late professor-s." Lloyd paused a moment as he spotted a man who he'd seen many times at Signal. Professor Branwen? He'd expected to see Professor Ozpin, the legendary headmaster he'd heard so much about at his previous school but Qrow was an unexpected sight. The man had even taught him on a few occasions, not that he expected him to remember. Lloyd was just another face in a crowd of upcoming Huntsmen. He didn't recognise the woman in the room though. She didn't look like a Professor, but what did he know about Beacon professors? Huntsmen and Huntresses all presented themselves differently. Lloyd finally took some time to examine the office he was in, and it was a truly fantastical scene. The floor looked like a clock face, huge cogs and gears turned above a green glass ceiling held up by pillars. Over on one of the walls, what he expected would be a mural or something was instead another display of turning gears. It was cool but... Not a welcoming sight for someone who had just arrived late.
Derrick smirked with the bard as he recited his short adventure in the tavern and that he managed to avoid paying for anything. It was an art that Derrick very much appreciated, being a Witcher. Money was something in short supply in his trade, and he managed to save it up by managing to not pay at all. His coin would see him through for a while usually, but in the city it was a lot harder to argue for being let off payment for services rendered. After all, work was scarcer for the most part. The Witcher chuckled at the latter part of Lysander's speech. "Well, for one I'm staying out of the whole getting 'f*cked by pirates' business, so that shouldn't be too much of a problem." He replied, then gestured to the falling snow. "It's getting cold and I didn't have the will nor chance to get back home for the winter. Snow is going to be coming down hard around the pass through the mountains and even for a Witcher that's a risk to take." He decided not to elaborate further on the particular details of why he couldn't go back. He didn't need a bard knowing that he got lost in the woods in a strange reverie. Knowing Lysander he'd make it into some sort of improvised ditty. "Know any good places to stay around here?" Derrick asked, patting his horse. "As much as I like her, I'd really rather stable her somewhere and not have to lead her around town. After that, we can sit down at a table in some place and you can warm up."
Character Name: Lloyd Ashen Nickname: None (yet) Gender: Male Race: Human Age: 18 years old. Personality: Lloyd is brash, quick to anger and quick to act. He is confident in himself and his abilities. He likes people in general and wants to do his part to protect, and is keen not to sit idly by. He harbours a small amount of guilt for leaving home on bad terms, but feels that he was correct and so is unwilling to apologise. Appearance: Lloyd's hair is black with grey highlights, loosely gathered and tied behind his head in a ponytail with a single bang that falls to his left shoulder. His hair is bound at the back by a faded red tie with a black pattern weaved in, a gift from a friend from his village. A couple of errant strands of hair hang over his forehead. Lloyd’s outfit consists of his high collared thick dark brown jacket which is inlaid with long strips of chainmail sewn into the leather all the way down. The shoulders have an extra layer of studded leather to protect them, though cut off at the arm joint to preserve freedom of motion. A red cloth is wrapped around his left arm. Beneath that, he has a light grey shirt with black specks resembling ash and a black trim around the collar. His trousers are practical hiking trousers with several pockets and a red cloth tied around his right thigh. His boots are a dull grey with a white trim around the edges. Bio: Lloyd lived in a village outside the city of Vale with his mother and father. The village was a well protected one, being set at the foot of the mountain to protect one side with a river covering the Eastern side, leaving only two angles of attack for Grimm. The villagers knew how to protect themselves, but Lloyd's father foresaw the necessity for a trained Huntsman for the village and sent Lloyd to Signal Academy. Over the course of his time there, Lloyd forged Firebrand and developed his unique style of melee combat with both Firebrand and the individual swords. When he graduated Signal he returned home for a year, however things at home were tense afterwards. He grew irritated with his father at times as he was expected to remain in the village, but he wanted to become a fully fledged huntsman and go out in the world. He resented the thought of doing nothing with his life and burning out in silence in a quiet village somewhere in Vale. The issue came to a head and Lloyd applied to Beacon Academy despite his father's disagreement, though his mother supported the decision. Weapon: Firebrand - Firebrand is a twin bladed weapon, made up of two paired longswords attached at the pommel. The swords, Fire and Brand are 125cm long with a pistol set along the crossguards which can be loaded with a variety of Dust ammunition. While they can be used for limited ranged combat, Lloyd typically uses them for rapidly changing his attacks' directions or adding further power to an attack. The two weapons can be quickly attached and reattached at the pommel of each in the middle of battle, or he may choose to employ only one. The weapons are kept sheathed across his back. Other: Inspiration - the Witcher saga by Andrejz Sapkowski. Lloyd comes from the old Welsh word Llwyd roughly meaning grey haired, and Ashen referring (obviously) to ash, the remains of a fire.
Derrick had well and truly lost track of time out there. He had been travelling the wilderness for some time, so long in fact that he had forgotten where he was going exactly or why. He was sure that he was travelling with someone before, but there seemed to be no sign of any such companion. Perhaps the thought of another person was him mistaking a vivid dream for reality, but it was unusual for him to be so deluded. He had resolved earlier that week, that he needed to return to the city. He needed to get back to people. He had wound his way back towards Novigrad, passing through villages and solving their monster problems as he went. An endrega nest here, a pack of ghouls in the graveyard there, the standard Witcher's fare. He'd wound up with a tidy pouch of silver in the end. And now, here he was. Derrick smiled as he passed through the gates of the city of Novigrad, leading his horse through the streets. It was cold out and snowing, much to his surprise. Winter was here already, he lost track of time so easily out on the Path. Things were grim in the city. Nobody looked particularly happy as he rode through the streets, but it came as no surprise. He had picked up a bit of news as he rode through the countryside around Novigrad. The city was being blockaded by pirates from Skellige, cutting off trade from the sea, where as he understood the most profitable trade came from. He decided that the best course of action would be to head towards the nearest tavern and get some drink down him, maybe see if anything interesting was going on. Perhaps there would be a need for a Witcher in the city. Considering the state of affairs, it wouldn't be out of the question for a Zeugl to have taken up residence in the sewers. Derrick spotted a tavern as he scanned the buildings along the street and rode for it. As he drew closer, a familiar figure strode out dramatically, then apparently noticed the weather and covered himself with his cloak. Derrick dismounted and waved. "Hey, Lysander!" He called. It was a remarkable coincidence, but not an unwelcome one. He remembered meeting the bard when he'd just set out and almost got himself eaten by a Basilisk. The Witcher assumed that he'd grown wiser since then. "Thrown out of another tavern?" But not that much wiser.
None of you reading this post understand how much effort this took to happen. Stupid DNS server nonsense... You were named? Derrick of Kaedwen You have been alive for? 37 years You were born as a... Human, but I became a Witcher. You chose to be... A Witcher, but it wasn’t exactly a choice. You were gifted with... The five signs a Witcher learns and the swordsmanship practiced by my kind. I’m a veritable master with Axii. I can also create the potions that we’re expected to make as Witchers, but I’m less reliant on them, despite being reminded constantly that we developed them for a reason. You fear... Being alone for long periods of time and losing the few friends I have. The other Witchers are like my new family. I think losing them would be too much. You love... “Adult activities”. You know what I mean. On a totally different note, I like the outdoors and the sky at night. You may have heard of them... I know Veceslav well enough, he was my teacher. I know Aaron and Lumen, they’re fellow Witchers at Kaer Morhen. I also know a bard named Lysander who I've struck up a friendship with after saving him from a Basilisk and helping him along the road a little. Who will you fight for? Witchers remain neutral, and so do I. We go where the money is. What is your history? I was born in Kaedwen before the whole annexation by Redania thing happened. I had two other brothers and I was the youngest. Food was scarce in our village due to a few years of bad harvests. We all struggled on the brink of starvation and then the monster attacks started. Something occupied one of our fields and the adults couldn’t get in there to farm. I now know that it was a Noonwraith from the Witcher the village hired. When one came riding through town, my parents hired them. But they didn’t pay conventionally. The Law of Surprise was invoked. But there wasn’t a surprise. Not for my father. It just so happened that mother told me to go outside for a while when the Witcher was about to return for his pay. As soon as father got back with him, I was what he saw. Now I’m older, I know they set me up to be sent away. I was taken to Kaer Morhen where I trained as a Witcher. I’d know a few throughout my time, some of them are still around. My old teacher Veceslav is still around, and even now that I’ve gone through the Trial of the Grasses I’m still learning things from his years of experience. The others I’ve just trained with. I’ve been a full Witcher for just short of twenty years now, and I’m still alive. I’ve hunted spirits and monsters of many kinds. I hope to keep doing so. What are your weapons of choice? A steel sword for humans, a silver for monsters. Who is your puppeteer? Some British guy. al215 is his name I think?
Is it too late to join this? I see you've already started so...
"Thank you, King Yuri." Corvo spoke, his voice laced with gratitude. He exhaled a breath that he had only just realised that he was holding. He had done it. He had managed to negotiate with the King of Vampires himself. There was more business to be done, but this was a strong start. "Once Titania is defeated, we'll need to find a new Seelie Queen or someone to take up the mantle of rulership. It will-" He paused as the small white haired child appeared at the side of the fearsome leader of the Vampires. Hestia was under attack? By a demon? That was bold, bold indeed. "Agreed. We will go to her and provide assistance." He nodded. The Vampire King turned into a monstrosity of a bat and hissed a promise of revenge. "When all of this is done, I swear that we will have justice done." He looked pointedly at Roxanne. "What you do now will influence what happens to you in the future. I suggest that you make the most of the time that you have." As much as he didn't want to sacrifice another Shadow Hunter life, once all of this was over he would have no choice but to sentence her. Death, imprisonment for life... He wasn't sure how he was going to sentence her yet. He called to the white haired child that had approached the King. "Can you direct us to Hestia's location?" The Inquisitor, still being new here and not having access to the materials in the Institute, had no idea where to find her. When they arrived at the Institute, it was a scene of chaos and destruction. The headquarters of the Shadow Hunters was gone, brought to complete ruin. Plants writhed along the ruins, and it was clear to her as to what had occurred. But, notably there was no sign of her target. She frowned. She would have expected the girl to be here by now, but there was no sign that she had even made it. "Spread out, find her." She ordered the knights. She kept two with her while the others branched out in search. Those two were necessary to make sure that she could be put under no suspicion. She couldn't afford to seem against the Queen at this stage. She was daring enough to destroy the home of the Nephilim, she was far too dangerous to anger now. She strode for the nearest source of water. She made her way towards the banks of the Hudson and held her hands over the water. A group of five tiny crystalline figures materialised on the water's surface. "Watch the waterways, the bridges and the streets you can see. Tell me if the girl I seek comes this way. Tell me everything that you see that involves the Nephilim and Downworlders." The ice fairies hummed in unison and sped off across the surface of the water to fulfil their duty. The Ambassador stood up. "We're continuing the hunt." They moved out in search of Luce once more.
Adolin took this as his cue to step forward in front of Tessa and Seth. "I take it you're the one named Sigmund. You know what we are. We need help getting out of the city. And as many of our kind as possible. They seem to think you might be able to help." The Doppler narrowed his eyes at the sorcerer. "Can you?" "I'm not sixty! Actually, how old am I now? I stopped counting really. Last I checked I must be... About thirty nine or forty." He started to lead them out of the city, urging his horse to move at a fast trot. They couldn't exactly gallop through the streets, there were too many people around for that and he didn't want to find an issue with a guard about irresponsible riding or something. "I don't envy you in that case. It's a miserable life, but it is a life I suppose. Find something better to do some time though. Unless you have a death wish, the monster slaying life isn't the best one." "Hmph, in that case... Oh." The general watched as the abomination formed at the castle ahead of them. He couldn't tell much from a distance, but it looked like a giant pile of corpses. And it must have been large, as even with the distance it held an impressive stature. He looked to a nearby officer. "Form up a small unit of Knights, the bravest ones! We might have to intervene down there! I'll be accompanying them personally! Lieutenant Oesterlen you have command in my absence!" Huge it may be, but could it withstand the many blows delivered by Nilfgaardian Cavalry? "I assume you'll come Witcher?" The general wheeled his horse around to join the squad of ten knights and started to ride down with them, expecting the Witcher to follow. He put on a magnificent winged helmet with a large white plume, then drew a longsword from the sheath on his horse and a shield. The group rode hard to support the two figures facing it down. "It's been too long since I rode with the battle line..."
