Era 7 Episode 3

[Stormlightsong]

On 6/19/2024 at 10:56 PM, Stormlightsong said:

Asylum, Smokestack, Smokestack Constabulary.

Asylum sat in their cell. It was an okay cell, they’d been in worse. It was quiet, and Asylum started thinking, that was never good. What brought me to this point, Asylum thought, reflecting on their past. Did I cause my misfortune, or was it someone else? As Asylum sat in their cell, they remembered that night, the night that changed everything.

@Lunamor @TheFrugalWizard @Scars of Hathsin @Koloss17 

Asylum, 7 years ago, Friday, October 13th, London.

People say that on your eighteenth birthday everything changes. ”I’m very sorry sir.” Asylum yelled as they ran away from the 3rd burning building of the day. They rounded the corner as fire trucks streamed in. The noise was so distracting that Asylum only noticed the ladder after they had passed right under it. They kept running as the burns and scrapes started throbbing with pain. Their vision blurred, but they snapped out of it just in time. To slam full force into a glass window. 
 

As Asylum fell they saw themself in the reflection from the remaining shards. But it wasn’t them. It had the same outline but It was pitch black, and, most importantly, it wasn’t falling. The shadowy figure bent forward as Asylum fell backward in slow motion. Even though they couldn’t see its features, Asylum could tell it was smiling.
 

Asylum hit the pavement, and kept falling. They fell through the earth, saw the shards of glass surround them. But in the glass they saw different worlds. They looked around to see they were surrounded by the void of space. The glass arrayed itself into a mirror directly beneath them. And as they hit it, Asylum thought, I don’t think I’m in London anymore.

________________________________________
Asylum, 7 years ago, Mistwarrens.

Asylum hit the pavement and got their wind, and breakfast, knocked out of them. A couple of men walked towards them. 

“Rusts, are you okay there?” One of them said.

Asylum tried to stand up, regretted it, and lied back down. They jabbed a hand up with a bloodied thumb pointing to the sky.

As the men conversed on what to do, Asylum took a look around, as much as they could, to see where they were. It was daytime, they were in an alleyway, and they definitely were not in London. They didn’t feel unlucky anymore, so that was a good sign. “Where am I?” Asylum said

”Ah, so this is your first time here. Well, welcome to Alleycity. Where are you from? Scadrial? Nathis?” One of the men was now leaning over them and smiling. Apparently this was more commonplace here.

”Europe?” Asylum said weakly. “I was last in London, but I move around the place.”

the man rubbed his chin as he thought. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.” He looked Asylum over and asked. “Do you need to go to a hospital?”

Asylum finally started the painful process of standing up. “No, I think I’ll be fine.” They were surprised to find they were significantly taller than both men, so, politely, wobbled and bent down to make up for the difference. 

the two men looked around for a second before looking at each other and then to Asylum. One of them finally said, “Since you have nowhere to go you could come with us. We were just heading to the casino.” 

Asylum had never gambled, well not legally, but with nowhere else to go, it was worth a shot. “Sure.” They said with a painful smile. “Why not.”

________________________________________
Asylum, Smokestack, Smokestack Constabulary.

Asylum woke in their cell and stared at the ceiling before wiping their eyes with both hands. Even in my dreams that demon haunts me. They stayed with their eyes closed for another few minutes before suddenly siting up and opening their eyes. A smile crept across their face as the plan fell into place. Watch out radiants, they thought as they started to laugh, and soon cackle. I will make you all pay.

Edited June 23, 2024 by Stormlightsong

[Lunamor she/her]

42 minutes ago, Longshot97 said:

Eighth of the Eve looked his assailant straight in the eyes. Inwardly, his mind toiled to process everything that was being said. None of what Fall was saying was right. Indeed, he'd never heard her speak so much. But why...

Oh. Oh, Distant Father.

This wasn't Fourth of the Fall.

And she was not speaking truth.

It had been years since Eighth had been forced to lie. Not out of choice. Years of solitude gave a man little reason for falsehood. He had lied, once. Every man begun life as a youth, and before that as children. But still. It felt...odd. Not wrong, just not quite right, either.

Eighth deliberately slid his eyes out of focus, assuming a vacant expression. He looked around, noticing the bystanders as though for the first time, then down at Fourth of th-at the young girl.

"E...lani," he said, sounding out the word. What a peculiar name. "What are you doing outside?" He attempted to assume a stern expression. "You know you aren't supposed to...be out alone."

He looked back at the constables. The younger men looked stricken, the graybeard pensive. His eyes flickered between Eighth and the girl. Probably for the best that they had aimed for the face. His features were now indistinct enough that no one would wonder at differing appearances.

"Thank you, constable," Eighth said, voice slurring slightly. Really, his head was clear now, but it could not hurt. "Thank you for returning me to my daughter." He held out his hands, still bound before him. He could have freed himself, but the move felt significant. "I would appreciate one last gesture of help."

He locked eyes with the graybeard. The man looked firm, but his eyes betrayed him. Uncertain, darting back and forth. He took in Eighth's stature, then his clothing, then his gear. Then he finally examined Eighth's injuries.

His eyes tightened at the edges, and his lips compressed. Then, slowly, he unsheathed a knife and stepped forward to cut Eighth's hands free.

Eighth of the Eve said nothing. He merely clutched his gear as he turned, slowly walking away. Entrusting his fate to the one who led him, one hand on his arm.

@Lunamor

Eza sighed with relief. The emotion was real, but it also conveniently lined up with her act. The man seemed to be catching on to what she was doing; he was doing a decent acting job. Either that, or he really had hit his head too hard. With all of the swelling, that honestly was pretty likely.

”Thank you, sir,” she said to the constable who had cut him free. She didn’t stop walking, however, wanting to get distance between them and the police in case they figured out the ruse. She didn’t look back to see of they were following; that would make her seem shifty.

Instead, she pretended to sneeze once they got a few yards away, causing her to face perpendicular to the constables. Burning iron and keeping her eyes closed to hide their movement, she focused on the tiny blue lines in the side of her vision leading to the thinly metal-plated decorations on the police uniforms. They weren’t moving, indicating that they were staying put. She ended her fake sneeze and looked at the man again.

“We’re gonna go home now, Dad. It’ll be alright,” she said, wanting to keep up appearances so long as they were still in ear and eyeshot of others. They turned a corner, moving out of sight, and walked forwards for a moment more. Then, Eza pulled him into a side street and around another corner. It wasn’t too far from the constabulary building so that she could still hear a commotion, but it was in a spot where they would be difficult to find were the constables to go search for them.

Eza then proceeded to unsheathe a dagger and back away a few steps. She wasn’t about to risk getting hurt by assuming this potentially violent criminal would be grateful enough for being rescued to not attack her. She started talking quickly and quietly before the man had a chance to speak, completely dropping the daughter act.

”I don’t wanna hurt you,” she said, waving the dagger around a bit to indicate that she was talking about it. “This is just in case you wanna hurt me. I got you outta there because I need help. They also seemed like they were hurting you more than they needed to, and you looked really bad… still look really bad…”

She squinted at him. “Do you need to go to a hospital?” She immediately regretted that question. That would render her new plan dead before it could even start. “Wait, no, you can’t help me if you do that, um…”

He didn’t seem to be actively dying. “I can take you to a hospital after this, maybe?” Now she just felt bad about all of this. She didn’t try to hide that, preferring that she be perceived as sympathetic rather than cruel.

“Oh, and if you try to not help me, I’ll tell the constables I’m not actually your daughter.” Blackmailing a guy who had just been beaten into unconsciousness felt dirty, but she’d committed too much to stop now. She needed to be careful not to make a habit of doing stuff like this.

Eza finally stopped talking, feeling that she had gotten all of the important information out. She didn’t want this guy to get the wrong impression of what she was trying to do.

[Longshot97 he/him]

On 6/23/2024 at 11:57 AM, Lunamor said:

Eza sighed with relief. The emotion was real, but it also conveniently lined up with her act. The man seemed to be catching on to what she was doing; he was doing a decent acting job. Either that, or he really had hit his head too hard. With all of the swelling, that honestly was pretty likely.

”Thank you, sir,” she said to the constable who had cut him free. She didn’t stop walking, however, wanting to get distance between them and the police in case they figured out the ruse. She didn’t look back to see of they were following; that would make her seem shifty.

Instead, she pretended to sneeze once they got a few yards away, causing her to face perpendicular to the constables. Burning iron and keeping her eyes closed to hide their movement, she focused on the tiny blue lines in the side of her vision leading to the thinly metal-plated decorations on the police uniforms. They weren’t moving, indicating that they were staying put. She ended her fake sneeze and looked at the man again.

“We’re gonna go home now, Dad. It’ll be alright,” she said, wanting to keep up appearances so long as they were still in ear and eyeshot of others. They turned a corner, moving out of sight, and walked forwards for a moment more. Then, Eza pulled him into a side street and around another corner. It wasn’t too far from the constabulary building so that she could still hear a commotion, but it was in a spot where they would be difficult to find were the constables to go search for them.

Eighth of the Eve trudged behind the girl. Such a jumpy thing. She set a pace that turned his trudge to a clumsy shamble, and a simple sneeze nearly made her jump out of her skin. She led him a short distance from the constabulary, though far enough that he could no longer make out their discussion. He caught sight of a window on the way, grimacing at his reflection. Then she pulled him into a sidestreet.

On 6/23/2024 at 11:57 AM, Lunamor said:

Eza then proceeded to unsheathe a dagger and back away a few steps. She wasn’t about to risk getting hurt by assuming this potentially violent criminal would be grateful enough for being rescued to not attack her. She started talking quickly and quietly before the man had a chance to speak, completely dropping the daughter act.

”I don’t wanna hurt you,” she said, waving the dagger around a bit to indicate that she was talking about it. “This is just in case you wanna hurt me. I got you outta there because I need help. They also seemed like they were hurting you more than they needed to, and you looked really bad… still look really bad…”

She squinted at him. “Do you need to go to a hospital?” She immediately regretted that question. That would render her new plan dead before it could even start. “Wait, no, you can’t help me if you do that, um…”

He didn’t seem to be actively dying. “I can take you to a hospital after this, maybe?” Now she just felt bad about all of this. She didn’t try to hide that, preferring that she be perceived as sympathetic rather than cruel.

“Oh, and if you try to not help me, I’ll tell the constables I’m not actually your daughter.” Blackmailing a guy who had just been beaten into unconsciousness felt dirty, but she’d committed too much to stop now. She needed to be careful not to make a habit of doing stuff like this.

Eza finally stopped talking, feeling that she had gotten all of the important information out. She didn’t want this guy to get the wrong impression of what she was trying to do.

Eighth blinked at the torrent of words. He hadn't had the chance to even thank her before she began waving that knife around. How could anyone talk that swiftly?

Eighth knelt, unrolling his bundle and laying out his gear, gaining himself a moment to process. He shrugged on his coat, wincing as he moved his arm, working through her words. Slowly, yes, but faster than before. His reflection looked absolutely frightful, but he would survive.

"Hurting me? Perhaps," he said, belting on his sheath and reaching for his waterskin. He hesitated at the glove, then pulled it on. He would not be caught unawares again. The silver veins glittered - fittingly - like liquid metal.

Of course, your 'confession' would be just as convincing. Eighth thought. No one would question it. He began the laborious process of strapping his blowpipes to his arm. Loaded, of course. "As far," he said, around a mouthful of leather strap, "as my health, I look much worse than the reality."

That done, he undid the hidden latch of his lightline. "Though I appreciate the concern," he finished, clipping on the bracelet. He eyed her as he bent slowly to retrieve his machete, gripping it harmlessly between two fingers.

"Threats or no," Eighth said, guiding the blade carefully into the sheath, "I am in your debt." He snapped the blade down, harder than intended. "And the debt of a trapper is no idle promise."

He retrieved a small ceramic pot - carefully padded - from his coat, and began gingerly applying salve to his face. A gift from the nomads of the world of ash. He caught a colorful flash of movement, and saw Seiju land nearby out of the corner of his eye. She hopped nervously, but remained where she was. Eighth smiled. Still obeying my command for distance? Thank you, friend.

He tucked the salve away once more, then drew himself to his full height - almost, he noted amusedly, a full armspan over the girl. A cool breeze blew in, soothing the abraded skin of his face, rippling his coat about him. He lifted his gloved hand, then whistled, high and sharp.

Seiju fluttered down, her wingbeats momentarily seeming the source of the wind. She landed on his arm, cooing softly, then turned to regard the young girl.

"Elani, was it?" Eighth of the Eve asked. "How may we repay your kindness?"

@Lunamor

Quote

It occured to me that it might be useful to have Eza and Eighth go steal the Rtich from Plutus the NPC, in order to give Stormlightsong time to wrap up their flashback sequence. Or I can simply assume it's been a day, and Eighth already stole the motivator back. Thoughts?

 

Edited July 8, 2024 by Longshot97

[Stormlightsong]

2 hours ago, Longshot97 said:

It occured to me that it might be useful to have Eza and Eighth go steal the Rtich from Plutus the NPC, in order to give Stormlightsong time to wrap up their flashback sequence. Or I can simply assume it's been a day, and Eighth already stole them back. Thoughts?

Quote

I am mainly waiting for everyone else to rap up because, trust me, when my solo section is over, it will effect everyone.

[Longshot97 he/him]

2 hours ago, Stormlightsong said:

I am mainly waiting for everyone else to rap up because, trust me, when my solo section is over, it will effect everyone.

Quote

Duly noted, and eagerly anticipated. Eighth will now have the Rtich motivator. Would you then prefer a prison breakout to happen sooner rather than later?

 

Edited June 24, 2024 by Longshot97

[Stormlightsong]

5 minutes ago, Longshot97 said:

Duly noted, and eagerly anticipated. Would you then prefer a prison breakout to happen sooner rather than later?

Quote

You can make a plan. I don’t want to spoil anything, but that won’t be entirely necessary.

 

[Koloss17 She/They]

On 6/19/2024 at 7:34 PM, RoyalBeeMage said:

“Perses?” Eleos said looking at him with confusion “I thought that you were just a rumour. a story the commoners made up to scare their children.” He took a step back. “What would happen if we refused to move? What if we wanted to work together?” eleos said with a smile as he held out his hand for a hand shake.

@Koloss17

Quote

For the sake of continuity and really not feeling the need to keep trying to edit it to be something that would be accurate, I will just ignore the first remark in this paragraph.

Perses rescinded his hand. Him? Work with radiants? Hold on. Radiants, wanting to work with him? 
 

Perses stepped back. “I’m sorry, what? You hear that I have killed numerous people, and plan to kill refugees if you don’t comply with my demands, and you want to work with me?”

Perses just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

”what kind of Radiant are you?”

[Lunamor she/her]

6 hours ago, Longshot97 said:

Eighth of the Eve trudged behind the girl. Such a jumpy thing. She set a pace that turned his trudge to a clumsy shamble, and a simple sneeze nearly made her jump out of her skin. She led him a short distance from the constabulary, though far enough that he could no longer make out their discussion. He caught sight of a window on the way, grimacing at his reflection. Then she pulled him into a sidestreet.

Eighth blinked at the torrent of words. He hadn't had the chance to even thank her before she began waving that knife around. How could anyone talk that swiftly?

Eighth knelt, unrolling his bundle and laying out his gear, gaining himself a moment to process. He shrugged on his coat, wincing as he moved his arm, working through her words. Slowly, yes, but faster than before. His reflection looked absolutely frightful, but he would survive.

"Hurting me? Perhaps," he said, belting on his sheath and reaching for his waterskin. He hesitated at the glove, then pulled it on. He would not be caught unawares again. The silver veins glittered - fittingly - like liquid metal.

Of course, your 'confession' would be just as convincing. Eighth thought. No one would question it. He began the laborious process of strapping his blowpipes to his arm. Loaded, of course. "As far," he said, around a mouthful of leather strap, "as my health, I look much worse than the reality."

That done, he undid the hidden latch of his lightline. "Though I appreciate the concern," he finished, clipping on the bracelet. He eyed her as he bent slowly to retrieve his machete, gripping it harmlessly between two fingers.

"Threats or no," Eighth said, guiding the blade carefully into the sheath, "I am in your debt." He snapped the blade down, harder than intended. "And the debt of a tracker is no idle promise."

He retrieved a small ceramic pot - carefully padded - from his coat, and began gingerly applying salve to his face. A gift from the nomads of the world of ash. He caught a colorful flash of movement, and saw Seiju land nearby out of the corner of his eye. She hopped nervously, but remained where she was. Eighth smiled. Still obeying my command for distance? Thank you, friend.

He tucked the salve away once more, then drew himself to his full height - almost, he noted amusedly, a full armspan over the girl. A cool breeze blew in, soothing the abraded skin of his face, rippling his coat about him. He lifted his gloved hand, then whistled, high and sharp.

Seiju fluttered down, her wingbeats momentarily seeming the source of the wind. She landed on his arm, cooing softly, then turned to regard the young girl.

"Elani, was it?" Eighth of the Eve asked. "How may we repay your kindness?"

@Lunamor

 

The man stood up to his full height, and Eza instinctively took a small step backwards. It was too familiar. He was just as tall as the stranger was, facing her in a narrow alley. This could've ended so much worse. It still might end awfully. This had been an incredibly stupid idea. It was best that she flee now, cut her losses and just get away from the situation. He was injured, so she could outrun him without too much trouble at this point.

But she'd promised herself that she wouldn't run away again. This guy was different, anyways. He wasn't the same person and seemed to be at least somewhat nice. He'd sheathed his machete instead of keeping it out, although she'd jumped slightly when he'd suddenly moved it so loudly and quickly. She burned her iron anyways, checking for lines she could pull on to aid in an escape. Some lines leading to the glove on his hand caught her attention. Inspecting the blue lines closely, she realized that the shining veins in the glove were made of a metal she'd never encountered before. That was incredibly odd, to say the least.

She gazed curiously at the glove for a moment longer, then remembered what was going on. She put her knife away, then glared at the bird. You couldn't trust those flying jerks. The man's apparent ownership of one wasn't a point in his favor. "I'm Eza, not Elani," she said. "I didn't want to use my real name in front of the constables. I'm not sure how much they know about me." That sounded really suspicious to say out loud, so she decided it was worth explaining her situation. "The police think that I committed crimes that I didn't. I was there on the scene of a crime both times, but I didn't do anything wrong. I was trying to stop the first one, and the second one I couldn't do anything about." That wasn't a lie. Technically, she was innocent in that specific situation.

"I need help with getting someone out of that jail," she continued on, gesturing in the direction of the building they'd just been at. "I don't know if I can do it by myself. Chances are they'll try getting out by themselves, and they might be able to partially succeed. I'd like to try and help them with that."

She looked over the imposing figure standing before her, and realized that he probably wasn't able to be particularly stealthy. His height and injuries would make staying unseen incredibly difficult. That meant he likely couldn't avoid putting a target on his back again for arrest if he attempted to help with the breakout. It was hardly fair to make him do that. Eza would rob someone, sure, but making them be imprisoned was a step too far. She ran a hand across the side of her face in frustration, wiping away some of the soot. That revealed her pale skin and the large scar stretching from her temple to her chin. At least he didn't seem to be hurt too badly.

"Rust, I didn't think this through..."

[Longshot97 he/him]

On 6/23/2024 at 7:33 PM, Lunamor said:

The man stood up to his full height, and Eza instinctively took a small step backwards. It was too familiar. He was just as tall as the stranger was, facing her in a narrow alley. This could've ended so much worse. It still might end awfully. This had been an incredibly stupid idea. It was best that she flee now, cut her losses and just get away from the situation. He was injured, so she could outrun him without too much trouble at this point.

But she'd promised herself that she wouldn't run away again. This guy was different, anyways. He wasn't the same person and seemed to be at least somewhat nice. He'd sheathed his machete instead of keeping it out, although she'd jumped slightly when he'd suddenly moved it so loudly and quickly. She burned her iron anyways, checking for lines she could pull on to aid in an escape. Some lines leading to the glove on his hand caught her attention. Inspecting the blue lines closely, she realized that the shining veins in the glove were made of a metal she'd never encountered before. That was incredibly odd, to say the least.

She gazed curiously at the glove for a moment longer, then remembered what was going on. She put her knife away, then glared at the bird. You couldn't trust those flying jerks. The man's apparent ownership of one wasn't a point in his favor. "I'm Eza, not Elani," she said. "I didn't want to use my real name in front of the constables. I'm not sure how much they know about me." That sounded really suspicious to say out loud, so she decided it was worth explaining her situation. "The police think that I committed crimes that I didn't. I was there on the scene of a crime both times, but I didn't do anything wrong. I was trying to stop the first one, and the second one I couldn't do anything about." That wasn't a lie. Technically, she was innocent in that specific situation.

"I need help with getting someone out of that jail," she continued on, gesturing in the direction of the building they'd just been at. "I don't know if I can do it by myself. Chances are they'll try getting out by themselves, and they might be able to partially succeed. I'd like to try and help them with that."

She looked over the imposing figure standing before her, and realized that he probably wasn't able to be particularly stealthy. His height and injuries would make staying unseen incredibly difficult. That meant he likely couldn't avoid putting a target on his back again for arrest if he attempted to help with the breakout. It was hardly fair to make him do that. Eza would rob someone, sure, but making them be imprisoned was a step too far. She ran a hand across the side of her face in frustration, wiping away some of the soot. That revealed her pale skin and the large scar stretching from her temple to her chin. At least he didn't seem to be hurt too badly.

"Rust, I didn't think this through..."

Eighth started inwardly at the flash of pale skin. Of course she'd darkened her complexion. It, more than anything else, drove home the fact he desperately tried to ignore. He had to acknowledge it. This was not Fourth of the Fall. He had nearly thrown himself in prison for Patji knew how long over someone he had never known. 

With great effort, he kept his emotions far removed from his expression. The girl was uneasy enough without him revealing any eerie resemblances. Even now, she stood poised on the edge of flight. Like an Aviar, hearing the approach of a prospective trapper.

"Ee-ZUH," he said awkwardly, mouth contorting around the syllables. "Very well. If I am to help in this, there are things I must know." Seiju shifted to his shoulder as he knelt to the paving stones. From his coat, he removed a piece of chalk. He still had some, left from his time in that strange land of living pictures.

He began sketching a layout of the constabulary office. Or rather, the outside, and what he had seen of that. He talked as he worked, drawing carefully.

"Who is it you must help escape, and how could they help us? How long have we to do so? Where would they be within the building? How careful need we be in this process? Where can we safely go afterwards?"

He paused, looking the girl up and down. Something about her prompted him to add one final question. "And how much are you capable of doing?"

Edited June 25, 2024 by Longshot97

[Lunamor she/her]

10 minutes ago, Longshot97 said:

Eighth started inwardly at the flash of pale skin. Of course she'd darkened her complexion. It, more than anything else, drove home the fact he desperately tried to ignore. He had to acknowledge it. This was not Fourth of the Fall. He had nearly thrown himself in prison for Patio knew how long over someone he never knew. 

With great effort, he kept his emotions far removed from his expression. The girl was uneasy enough without him revealing any eerie resemblances. Even now, she stood poised on the edge of flight. Like an Aviar, hearing the approach of a prospective trapper.

"Ee-ZUH," he said awkwardly, mouth contorting around the syllables. "Very well. If I am to help in this, there are things I must know." Seiju shifted to his shoulder as he knelt to the paving stones. From his coat, he removed a piece of chalk. He still had some, left from his time in that strange land of living pictures.

He began sketching a layout of the constabulary office. Or rather, the outside, and what he had seen of that. He talked as he worked, drawing carefully.

"Who is it you must help escape, and how could they help us? How long have we to do so? Where would they be within the building? How careful need we be in this process? Where can we safely go afterwards?"

He paused, looking the girl up and down. Something about her prompted him to add one final question. "And how much are you capable of doing?"

Eza was genuinely surprised by the man's reaction to her request. Instead of acting upset at the idea of breaking into a place you'd just been rescued from, like most people reasonably would be, he went right into planning. She supposed that he might still be upset, but he was handling it quite well. That just made her feel worse for taking advantage of him like this. He didn't seem to deserve it.

She decided to answer his questions rapid-fire, the same way he'd asked them. "I need to help someone named Asylum Smedry escape," she said. "They have this thing they call a Talent that makes them lucky. Also unlucky. I don't really understand how it works, but basically it increases their luck supernaturally in both directions. They got out a bunch of bad luck recently, so they are probably pretty lucky again right now. I don't know what that's gonna look like, just that it'll help them in some way. I'd prefer to rescue them sooner rather than later since the constables might move them somewhere else at some point. I know where the cells in the building are."

She pointed to a section of the constabulary towards the side where she'd noticed a suspicious lack of metal. "I don't know which cell they'd be in, though. I think we should be pretty careful about this; getting arrested wouldn't be very good, especially since we've both already clashed with the constabulary before. I think I know of somewhere we can hide after helping Lum escape. They have a friend who runs a gambling emporium who's sheltered them from the law before." Hopefully Lucky wouldn't hate them for that- Lum was in quite a bit of trouble this time, more so than during their previous stay.

She then burned iron and sent a discarded hammer towards the back of the alley flying into her hand. "I've got iron allomancy. It lets me pull metal things towards me if they're small enough. If they're big enough, I can pull myself towards them instead." She hadn't known much about other magics when she'd arrived to the Alleys- she still didn't- so she figured it was best to explain everything in case the guy hadn't been there very long. "It lets me steal stuff and move around really quickly. The area with the cells has very little metal, though, so I'd be less useful there. I'm good at sneaking too. I'm really quiet."

After answering the man's questions, Eza realized that she had forgotten something important. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name," she said, feeling rather bad about that. She hadn't even bothered to learn the name of the guy she was blackmailing yet.

[Koloss17 She/They]

Phemus, Smokestack, Smokestack constabulary.

”Put ‘em in the solitary confinement cell. Station two men on the cell, but at the end of the hall. Give em rations like the rest, but nothing else! And whatever you do, don’t let anyone talk to them except for their lawyer. And that includes the guards you station!”

Phemus had to be thorough. The rascal’s powers were unpredictable, but it needed people or objects to work. Without those, the fool’s staying put. 

The solitary confinement cell was on the opposite side of the constabulary from the standard cells. It was ten cubic feet of solid concrete, with only a barred window for light. Of course, there was a guard stationed along that perimeter, so nothing should get smuggled in that way. Hopefully.

Sweating, Phemus sat down at his desk. He still couldn’t believe he caught the bastard. Now to keep em in there…

@Lunamor @Stormlightsong @Longshot97

Quote

A bit of scene setting!

 

[Longshot97 he/him]

On 6/23/2024 at 11:50 PM, Lunamor said:

Eza was genuinely surprised by the man's reaction to her request. Instead of acting upset at the idea of breaking into a place you'd just been rescued from, like most people reasonably would be, he went right into planning. She supposed that he might still be upset, but he was handling it quite well. That just made her feel worse for taking advantage of him like this. He didn't seem to deserve it.

She decided to answer his questions rapid-fire, the same way he'd asked them. "I need to help someone named Asylum Smedry escape," she said. "They have this thing they call a Talent that makes them lucky. Also unlucky. I don't really understand how it works, but basically it increases their luck supernaturally in both directions. They got out a bunch of bad luck recently, so they are probably pretty lucky again right now. I don't know what that's gonna look like, just that it'll help them in some way. I'd prefer to rescue them sooner rather than later since the constables might move them somewhere else at some point. I know where the cells in the building are."

She pointed to a section of the constabulary towards the side where she'd noticed a suspicious lack of metal. "I don't know which cell they'd be in, though. I think we should be pretty careful about this; getting arrested wouldn't be very good, especially since we've both already clashed with the constabulary before. I think I know of somewhere we can hide after helping Lum escape. They have a friend who runs a gambling emporium who's sheltered them from the law before." Hopefully Lucky wouldn't hate them for that- Lum was in quite a bit of trouble this time, more so than during their previous stay.

She then burned iron and sent a discarded hammer towards the back of the alley flying into her hand. "I've got iron allomancy. It lets me pull metal things towards me if they're small enough. If they're big enough, I can pull myself towards them instead." She hadn't known much about other magics when she'd arrived to the Alleys- she still didn't- so she figured it was best to explain everything in case the guy hadn't been there very long. "It lets me steal stuff and move around really quickly. The area with the cells has very little metal, though, so I'd be less useful there. I'm good at sneaking too. I'm really quiet."

After answering the man's questions, Eza realized that she had forgotten something important. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name," she said, feeling rather bad about that. She hadn't even bothered to learn the name of the guy she was blackmailing yet.

"Eighth," he said absently, "of the Eve. And this is Seiju." He gestured vaguely at the Aviar, who had now stepped to the street to examine the sketch. She pecked his hand gently as he began a line, squawked, then tapped a spot slightly farther than he’d begun. He did so, trusting her vision better than his. More enthusiastic, she hopped forward and dragged a talon in a shallow curve. Eighth followed her motions.

Hmh. Pulling on metal. Either it moves, or she moves. Sounds…useful? Not only could she retrieve tools at a moment's notice, but she could use anchors to move quickly. His mind flashed back to watching her run off at inhuman speeds. With that, she could scale walls, cross the underside of rooftops, even…could she fly? Eighth paused, staring at her, then moved on. He’d seen stranger powers. Father, he wielded stranger powers.

She was a good liar. He had witnessed that firsthand. If she was quiet as well, that gave them an opportunity. That they knew the cells’ general location gave them a chance.

Finishing the layout, he stepped back, examining it. It was not promising. The constabulary was open to the surrounding denizens on all sides. Any attempts at entry would be noticed, and commented on, if his own experience was at all the norm. Seiju looked up at him, and he felt certain. There was no safe path in.

Except, maybe, from above.

“There is no way in from the ground,” Eighth said. “But there may be a way in from the rooftop. At the very least, a forced opening is less noticeable from above than below.” He scanned their surroundings. The buildings were not especially high, but should serve to conceal their scrutiny. It was a long jump from the rooftops here to the constabulary, however. One problem at a time.

Swiping the diagram clear, Eighth felt along his upper arm, checking to make sure his weightloss was secure. Satisfied, he reached out and opened himself to its influence. He felt himself growing lighter, then lighter still, until the faint breeze would have buffeted him were it not for his gear. He crouched down, and Seiju chirped in understanding. The path unfolded before him. Eighth breathed, then sprang into action.

Two steps along the closer wall. A two-legged leap across the alley. He grabbed a windowsill, then heaved himself up by one hand to the next handhold. Momentum took over, and he soared on toward the narrow strip of afternoon sky.

Eighth slapped his wrist against the near wall, waited a beat, then retracted the lightline, simultaneously releasing his weightloss. He swung to the side, arcing over the edge and planting his feet on the rooftop.

Eighth of the Eve dismissed the line, then looked over. A moment later, Seiju emerged, preening in a self-satisfied way. Eighth scratched at her neck. It had been impressive. Well done, friend.

Glancing over, he confirmed his suspicion. The rooftop looked promising, the yawning gap less so. He would need the girl’s help crossing over to the constabulary.

Speaking of which…

Eighth looked down over the lip.

“Well?”

Quote

Don't think I officially stated this. For now, his unsealed ironmind is called a weightloss in his head. According to Era 2, he can cut his weight down to 50%, light enough to make walking difficult unaided (AoL), and to drift down safely from high falls (SoS), though external weight hampers this.

 

Edited June 25, 2024 by Longshot97

[Lunamor she/her]

1 hour ago, Longshot97 said:

"Eighth," he said absently, "of the Eve. And this is Seiju." He gestured vaguely at the Aviar, who had now stepped to the street to examine the sketch. She pecked his hand gently as he began a line, squawked, then tapped a spot slightly farther than he’d begun. He did so, trusting her vision better than his. More enthusiastic, she hopped forward and dragged a talon in a shallow curve. Eighth followed her motions.

Hmh. Pulling on metal. Either it moves, or she moves. Sounds…useful? Not only could she retrieve tools at a moment's notice, but she could use anchors to move quickly. His mind flashed back to watching her run off at inhuman speeds. With that, she could scale walls, cross the underside of rooftops, even…could she fly? Eighth paused at that thought, staring at her, then moved on. He’d seen stranger powers. Father, he wielded stranger powers.

She was a good liar. He had witnessed that firsthand. If she was quiet as well, that gave them an opportunity. That they knew the cells’ general location gave them a chance.

Finishing the layout, he stepped back, examining it. It was not promising. The constabulary was open to the surrounding denizens on all sides. Any attempts at entry would be noticed, and commented on, if his own experience was at all the norm. Seiju looked up at him, and he felt certain. There was no safe path in.

Except, maybe, from above.

“There is no way in from the ground,” Eighth said. “But there may be a way in from the rooftop. At the very least, a forced opening is less noticeable from above than below.” He scanned their surroundings. The buildings were not especially high, but should serve to conceal their scrutiny. It was a long jump from the rooftops here to the constabulary, however. One problem at a time.

Swiping the diagram clear, Eighth felt along his upper arm, checking to make sure his weightloss was secure. Satisfied, he reached out and opened himself to its influence. He felt himself growing lighter, then lighter still, until the faint breeze would have buffeted him were it not for his gear. He crouched down, and Seiju chirped in understanding. The path unfolded before him. Eighth breathed, then sprang into action.

Two steps along the closer wall. A two-legged leap across the alley. He grabbed a windowsill, then heaved himself up with one hand to the next handhold. Momentum took over, and he soared on toward the narrow strip of afternoon sky.

Eighth slapped his wrist against the near wall, waited a beat, then retracted the lightline. He swung to the side, arcing over the edge and planting his feet on the rooftop.

Eighth of the Eve dismissed the line, then looked over. A moment later, Seiju emerged, preening in a self-satisfied way. Eighth scratched at her neck. It had been impressive. Well done, friend.

Glancing over, he confirmed his suspicion. The rooftop looked promising, the yawning gap less so. He would need the girl’s help crossing over to the constabulary.

Speaking of which…

Eighth looked down over the lip.

“Well?”

Eza was rather confused by the man's name. Eighth of the Eve? What sort of parents would name their child that? He probably had gotten teased for it. Or he came from a weird place where everyone had terrible names. His bird, Seiju, confused her even more. It was tracing out lines for the diagram with a talon, and they actually seemed to make sense. Birds weren't supposed to be that smart. With their inherently nefarious nature, that meant that Seiju could pose a significant danger. She'd have to keep a close eye on the bird, make sure it hadn't been lying about the layout. You couldn't trust those feathered menaces.

She didn't understand how Eighth had managed to get to the rooftop, either. He moved in ways that were supposed to be impossible, almost as if he was floating. He also used this glowing line thing that reminded her of a grappling hook. She hadn't needed to use one before, having what was essentially a built-in grappling hook.

She peeked her head out into the street and burned iron to confirm that there were no people or moving bits of metal nearby. It appeared that the advent of nighttime had driven everyone back into their homes. That gave her a bit more freedom in how she chose to move. Satisfied that she was out of sight, Eza put up her hood then pulled on the pipes lining the underside of the nearest building, grabbing the lip and smoothly pulling herself onto the roof in one fluid motion. She took a few steps forwards, then jumped and ironpulled on the smithy's chimney as hard as she could. With her light weight and its sturdiness, she didn't need to worry about damaging it.

She noiselessly shot through the air, rapidly approaching her destination in a more direct route than her accomplice's. Before she slammed into the chimney, she pulled on some metal fixtures behind her to diminish her momentum until she came to a stop, silently landing next to Eighth. Had she been alone, Eza would've likely just climbed up the side of the building the old fashioned way. She didn't get too many opportunities to show off to people, though. It made what had almost become routine fun again. Her hood had managed to stay up despite being buffeted by the wind created from flying through the air. That was part of why she liked her cloak so much.

"I was on the constabulary rooftop for a while, earlier," she noted. "I was sitting there when those constables approached to try to bring you in. I didn't see any entrances, so we'll probably have to make our own. Somehow." Hopefully Eighth had a plan for that. He seemed like he was good at this stuff.

Quote

I'm assuming that Eighth went to the smithy's roof, I can change what Eza did if that isn't the case. I also had Eza jump from it earlier to the constabulary building without magic assistance (aside from a backwards ironpull to silence her landing), so the gap shouldn't be too terribly big.

 

[Longshot97 he/him]

16 hours ago, Lunamor said:

Eza was rather confused by the man's name. Eighth of the Eve? What sort of parents would name their child that? He probably had gotten teased for it. Or he came from a weird place where everyone had terrible names. His bird, Seiju, confused her even more. It was tracing out lines for the diagram with a talon, and they actually seemed to make sense. Birds weren't supposed to be that smart. With their inherently nefarious nature, that meant that Seiju could pose a significant danger. She'd have to keep a close eye on the bird, make sure it hadn't been lying about the layout. You couldn't trust those feathered menaces.

She didn't understand how Eighth had managed to get to the rooftop, either. He moved in ways that were supposed to be impossible, almost as if he was floating. He also used this glowing line thing that reminded her of a grappling hook. She hadn't needed to use one before, having what was essentially a built-in grappling hook.

She peeked her head out into the street and burned iron to confirm that there were no people or moving bits of metal nearby. It appeared that the advent of nighttime had driven everyone back into their homes. That gave her a bit more freedom in how she chose to move. Satisfied that she was out of sight, Eza put up her hood then pulled on the pipes lining the underside of the nearest building, grabbing the lip and smoothly pulling herself onto the roof in one fluid motion. She took a few steps forwards, then jumped and ironpulled on the smithy's chimney as hard as she could. With her light weight and its sturdiness, she didn't need to worry about damaging it.

She noiselessly shot through the air, rapidly approaching her destination in a more direct route than her accomplice's. Before she slammed into the chimney, she pulled on some metal fixtures behind her to diminish her momentum until she came to a stop, silently landing next to Eighth. Had she been alone, Eza would've likely just climbed up the side of the building the old fashioned way. She didn't get too many opportunities to show off to people, though. It made what had almost become routine fun again. Her hood had managed to stay up despite being buffeted by the wind created from flying through the air. That was part of why she liked her cloak so much.

"I was on the constabulary rooftop for a while, earlier," she noted. "I was sitting there when those constables approached to try to bring you in. I didn't see any entrances, so we'll probably have to make our own. Somehow." Hopefully Eighth had a plan for that. He seemed like he was good at this stuff.

Quote

Eighth did not originally make it to the smithy. I wasn't sure where the sidestreet they had conversed was relative to the smithy (alsoitdidn'toccurtome). However, getting across would have been a simple matter of Eza going first, Eighth tossing his gear over, then having Eza Pull him over while he drifts through the air at half weight. In the interest of expediency, I vote to just continue on.

Eighth of the Eve, crouching low to avoid a conspicuous silhouette, scanned the rooftop. She was right. There was no obvious way in. Still, at least they were out of sight. He examined the roof closely. He had long accustomed himself to the idea that thatching was a thing of the past. It did not make the swathe of overlapping clay tiles any less unnerving.

The rooftop here came up in a gradual slope of interlocked tiles, likely for rain. He knelt down, grabbing one by the edge and tugging experimentally. Their interlocking nature made shifting them much harder than it first appeared. Eighth slipped out his machete. Wedging the blade into the crack, he applied gentle upward pressure. The tile resisted just a moment before popping straight up. Eighth grabbed it out of the air before it could fall, giving them away.

Looking through the gap, he saw a set of crossbraces rise from the edge of the wall to a peak at the roof. Over them, the tiles were secured, with gaps between braces filled with overlapping segments. Beneath, however, was a seemingly solid layer of wooden planks, presumably over more crossbracing.

Deep in thought, Eighth attached the tile back with a small lightline. It would disappear in a few hours, by which they would be gone, one way or another. He could get through that ceiling. He could even do it quietly. But he sincerely doubted the prison cells would have such easily breached roofing.

He advanced to the section Eza had pointed out earlier. Another quick check confirmed his suspicions. This area had patches of stone - likely the cells - interspersed with narrow lengths of wooden planking. That stone would be tough. Eighth could pierce the planking without issue, but that was all.

Still, this was the place. Eighth didn't know exactly where this "Asylum" was held. But, if he was as lucky as Eza had said, they should locate him swiftly.

Patji let it be so simple.

Eighth turned to the girl. "We cannot break directly into the cells," Eighth said grimly. "We can, however, enter the passageways through the cell block. They will undoubtedly be guarded, or at least monitored. We can try to force our way in. We could still try sneaking in. Or we could capture an official, to question as we like."

He met her eyes. "They have your description. You are most at risk. How we proceed is in your hands."

Quote

How would you like to go about this? A more subtle heist? A straightforward smash-and-grab? A hostage situation, either to gain information or to make demands? A "in we go let's hope for the best" plan?

Side note: It is so very tempting from an omniescient perspective to just give Eza the unsealed ironmind and have her tear the office apart via Compounding. Alas, that would be both narratively unsatisfying and impossible to realistically justify.

 

Edited June 26, 2024 by Longshot97

[Stormlightsong]

On 6/23/2024 at 2:49 PM, Stormlightsong said:

Asylum, 7 years ago, Friday, October 13th, London.

People say that on your eighteenth birthday everything changes. ”I’m very sorry sir.” Asylum yelled as they ran away from the 3rd burning building of the day. They rounded the corner as fire trucks streamed in. The noise was so distracting that Asylum only noticed the ladder after they had passed right under it. They kept running as the burns and scrapes started throbbing with pain. Their vision blurred, but they snapped out of it just in time. To slam full force into a glass window. 
 

As Asylum fell they saw themself in the reflection from the remaining shards. But it wasn’t them. It had the same outline but It was pitch black, and, most importantly, it wasn’t falling. The shadowy figure bent forward as Asylum fell backward in slow motion. Even though they couldn’t see its features, Asylum could tell it was smiling.
 

Asylum hit the pavement, and kept falling. They fell through the earth, saw the shards of glass surround them. But in the glass they saw different worlds. They looked around to see they were surrounded by the void of space. The glass arrayed itself into a mirror directly beneath them. And as they hit it, Asylum thought, I don’t think I’m in London anymore.

________________________________________
Asylum, 7 years ago, Mistwarrens.

Asylum hit the pavement and got their wind, and breakfast, knocked out of them. A couple of men walked towards them. 

“Rusts, are you okay there?” One of them said.

Asylum tried to stand up, regretted it, and lied back down. They jabbed a hand up with a bloodied thumb pointing to the sky.

As the men conversed on what to do, Asylum took a look around, as much as they could, to see where they were. It was daytime, they were in an alleyway, and they definitely were not in London. They didn’t feel unlucky anymore, so that was a good sign. “Where am I?” Asylum said

”Ah, so this is your first time here. Well, welcome to Alleycity. Where are you from? Scadrial? Nathis?” One of the men was now leaning over them and smiling. Apparently this was more commonplace here.

”Europe?” Asylum said weakly. “I was last in London, but I move around the place.”

the man rubbed his chin as he thought. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.” He looked Asylum over and asked. “Do you need to go to a hospital?”

Asylum finally started the painful process of standing up. “No, I think I’ll be fine.” They were surprised to find they were significantly taller than both men, so, politely, wobbled and bent down to make up for the difference. 

the two men looked around for a second before looking at each other and then to Asylum. One of them finally said, “Since you have nowhere to go you could come with us. We were just heading to the casino.” 

Asylum had never gambled, well not legally, but with nowhere else to go, it was worth a shot. “Sure.” They said with a painful smile. “Why not.”

________________________________________
Asylum, Smokestack, Smokestack Constabulary.

Asylum woke in their cell and stared at the ceiling before wiping their eyes with both hands. Even in my dreams that demon haunts me. They stayed with their eyes closed for another few minutes before suddenly siting up and opening their eyes. A smile crept across their face as the plan fell into place. Watch out radiants, they thought as they started to laugh, and soon cackle. I will make you all pay.

Asylum, 9 years ago, Spain

It was hard living on the streets, especially when you had to deal with Catholics. 

“Begone witch!” The priest screamed as he waved the cross in front of Asylum’s face.

”Hey don’t blame me,” Asylum pleaded. “It’s not my fault that woman poured the wine, bad luck that is I tell you.”

”You conspire with the forces of evil and invite demons into our holy sanctum!” They priest proclaimed, reaching for a second cross hung around his neck. “And for that a denounce you as a witch!”

Asylum felt betrayed and indignant, they had put their faith in the church for the past three years, but most of all, they were confused. “How do even know what a witch looks like? Is there a checklist or something?”

“It says it all here!” The priest pull out a book, and, on closer inspection, Asylum was surprised to find it was not the Bible. The cover page read ‘Malleus Maleficarum’ and just below that in smaller text ‘written by Henricus Intitor’

After leaving peacefully, Asylum started regretting what they had done. Not setting the wine on fire, that was an accident. No, they mostly regretted stealing the book.

________________________________________
 

23 hours ago, Koloss17 said:

Phemus, Smokestack, Smokestack constabulary.

”Put ‘em in the solitary confinement cell. Station two men on the cell, but at the end of the hall. Give em rations like the rest, but nothing else! And whatever you do, don’t let anyone talk to them except for their lawyer. And that includes the guards you station!”

Phemus had to be thorough. The rascal’s powers were unpredictable, but it needed people or objects to work. Without those, the fool’s staying put. 

The solitary confinement cell was on the opposite side of the constabulary from the standard cells. It was ten cubic feet of solid concrete, with only a barred window for light. Of course, there was a guard stationed along that perimeter, so nothing should get smuggled in that way. Hopefully.

Sweating, Phemus sat down at his desk. He still couldn’t believe he caught the bastard. Now to keep em in there…

@Lunamor @Stormlightsong @Longshot97

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A bit of scene setting!

Asylum, Smokestack, Smokestack Constabulary.

Asylum was escorted to the wall phone by two officers. After dialing the correct number, Asylum heard Lucy’s familiar voice. “Hello, you have reached ‘Lucky’s Gaming Emporium’ what can I do for you.”

”Hello, this is Asylum.” They heard an audible groan. “Can you put my lawyer Leucine on the phone.”

”you’ve got to be- give me a moment.” After a few moments a similar but more refined voice come on the line. “So, I hear you’ve been arrested. What do you need?”

”Leucine! It’s good to hear a friendly voice, I would like to have some legal representation, But I’m afraid it will be terribly boring, could you bring a book to read to me?”

”Sure,” Leucine said cautiously. “Did you have anything in mind?” 

Asylum smiled, “Henricus Intitor, revised edition.”

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The Malleus Maleficarum is an actual book about how to identify and interrogate witches, but let’s just say Asylum made a few additions. As I stated previously I have a plan with Asylum currently, so try not to interact with them until I am done with this arc.

@Lunamor @Longshot97

[Lunamor she/her]

15 hours ago, Longshot97 said:

Eighth of the Eve, crouching low to avoid a conspicuous silhouette, scanned the rooftop. She was right. There was no obvious way in. Still, at least they were out of sight. He examined the roof closely. He had long accustomed himself to the idea that thatching was a thing of the past. It did not make the swathe of overlapping clay tiles any less unnerving.

The rooftop here came up in a gradual slope of interlocked tiles, likely for rain. He knelt down, grabbing one by the edge and tugging experimentally. Their interlocking nature made shifting them much harder than it first appeared. Eighth slipped out his machete. Wedging the blade into the crack, he applied gentle upward pressure. The tile resisted just a moment before popping straight up. Eighth grabbed it out of the air before it could fall, giving them away.

Looking through the gap, he saw a set of crossbraces rise from the edge of the wall to a peak at the roof. Over them, the tiles were secured, with gaps between braces filled with overlapping segments. Beneath, however, was a seemingly solid layer of wooden planks, presumably over more crossbracing.

Deep in thought, Eighth attached the tile back with a small lightline. It would disappear in a few hours, by which they would be gone, one way or another. He could get through that ceiling. He could even do it quietly. But he sincerely doubted the prison cells would have such easily breached roofing.

He advanced to the section Eza had pointed out earlier. Another quick check confirmed his suspicions. This area had patches of stone - likely the cells - interspersed with narrow lengths of wooden planking. That stone would be tough. Eighth could pierce the planking without issue, but that was all.

Still, this was the place. Eighth didn't know exactly where this "Asylum" was held. But, if he was as lucky as Eza had said, they should locate him swiftly.

Patji let it be so simple.

Eighth turned to the girl. "We cannot break directly into the cells," Eighth said grimly. "We can, however, enter the passageways through the cell block. They will undoubtedly be guarded, or at least monitored. We can try to force our way in. We could still try sneaking in. Or we could capture an official, to question as we like."

He met her eyes. "They have your description. You are most at risk. How we proceed is in your hands."

 

Quote

Eza already feels terrible about blackmailing Eighth, so a hostage situation would be too much for her. I honestly have no idea what a viable plan would be right now

Eza shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like the idea of "questioning" someone. While she wasn't a fan of the constables, most of them seemed to just be doing their jobs. Hurting or threatening them felt unnecessarily cruel. It was hard to find a way of getting around that, though. The guard presence would almost certainly be particularly heavy for a troublemaker like Lum. The metal-less patch inside wasn't very big, so the constables wouldn't have much trouble keeping an eye on everything.

"Do you know of a way to incapacitate the guards without hurting them?" she asked Eighth. "Or maybe just lightly injuring them?" If any of them happened to be one of the ones who'd beat up Eighth, she'd be willing to hurt them roughly as much as they'd hurt him, however. But when your primary weapon was knives, it was difficult to injure someone in moderation. It was fine to stab in self-defense, but using them to attack was a no-go for Eza.

Ironpulling wasn't an exact art when it came to combat, either. Her offensive options were rapidly pulling small bits of metal through a body, giving bruises with larger objects that likely couldn't incapacitate anyone without significant damage, or hitting someone with an even larger object. While the final strategy could potentially incapacitate a person briefly by knocking them over, it would also send them and/or the object barreling towards Eza as well. That wasn't the best idea in a hallway.

She was starting to wonder if this was all worth it. Lum wasn't like Mother. They'd hurt people who didn't deserve it and were arrested for fair reasons. If rescuing them took hurting more people in ways they couldn't heal from, then she'd have to reconsider everything. She wasn't about to give up on her plan quite yet, however. They still had time. It would be best to wait for a while until midnight, anyways, since the guard presence might be weaker or lazier that late.

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

On 6/24/2024 at 7:31 AM, Koloss17 said:

Perses rescinded his hand. Him? Work with radiants? Hold on. Radiants, wanting to work with him? 
 

Perses stepped back. “I’m sorry, what? You hear that I have killed numerous people, and plan to kill refugees if you don’t comply with my demands, and you want to work with me?”

Perses just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

”what kind of Radiant are you?”

“One who seeks to minimize all damage in every possible way,” Eleos replied calmly. “If we work together, we can monitor you while also leveraging your influence to connect with the local populace. We can help you restore order to the Mistwarrens. Isn't that what you’ve been trying to achieve?”

Eleos stepped forward, meeting Perses’s gaze steadily. “Your methods are extreme, but your goal as I understand it is to bring order out of chaos, this is something we share. By working together, we can achieve this without unnecessary bloodshed. You’ll have the Radiants’ resources and intelligence at your disposal, and in return, you’ll ensure the safety of those caught in the crossfire. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “Think about it, Perses. You’ve been fighting alone for so long, carrying the weight of your mission on your shoulders. Imagine what we could accomplish together. You wouldn’t have to compromise your principles or your goals. Instead, you’d have allies who understand the importance of your mission and are willing to support you in achieving it.”

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this is all based upon how eleos has interpreted perses actions up untill now. he could have understood wrong but we will see how it goes.

 

[Koloss17 She/They]

1 hour ago, RoyalBeeMage said:

“One who seeks to minimize all damage in every possible way,” Eleos replied calmly. “If we work together, we can monitor you while also leveraging your influence to connect with the local populace. We can help you restore order to the Mistwarrens. Isn't that what you’ve been trying to achieve?”

Eleos stepped forward, meeting Perses’s gaze steadily. “Your methods are extreme, but your goal as I understand it is to bring order out of chaos, this is something we share. By working together, we can achieve this without unnecessary bloodshed. You’ll have the Radiants’ resources and intelligence at your disposal, and in return, you’ll ensure the safety of those caught in the crossfire. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “Think about it, Perses. You’ve been fighting alone for so long, carrying the weight of your mission on your shoulders. Imagine what we could accomplish together. You wouldn’t have to compromise your principles or your goals. Instead, you’d have allies who understand the importance of your mission and are willing to support you in achieving it.”

 

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It is worth noting that Perses has two spikes through his eyes, and they are quite visible. So his “gaze” is a bit…nonexistent.

Perses felt the radiant’s sincerity. In truth, the words had a good weight to them.

However, he had misunderstood Perses’ motives.

”you’re right, in a way. I do seek to end the chaos of the Warrens. However, you’re wrong about one thing.”

Perses burned his metals.

”I don’t need your help.”

The room itself was littered with metal. Some were there originally, others were placed there intentionally. Metals of all kinds, from needles to knives to a random assortment of a variety of office supplies, flew at Eleos. Not all at once, no. From all directions, via push or pull, items from around the room darted in quick succession. 
 

In tandem, his cloak came to life. The tassles, with their bladed bone tips, began lashing out. Matching Perses’ chaotic attacks, they struck all around him, each blade seemingly acting in their own. 
 

Perses, heart pounding, grinned.

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A reminder that with any physical confrontation, godmodding should be avoided if at all possible. Your character is your own, and any damage or actions to your character are your decision to make. 
 

That said, realism is encouraged, and know that your character is not a god. The odds of your character being unharmed is always possible, but not supposed to be a guarantee.

It is safe to say that for the most part, Perses would prefer to dodge rather than parry or tank a hit. Despite his stature, he is not particularly strong or muscular. However in combat, with all of his senses on overdrive, his hearing, smell, and especially touch, with feeling vibrations in the air, he has very superhuman reaction speed. 
 

Additionally, his lifesense and bronzesense, now with 360 degree steel sight, he will likely see most things coming. That’s not to say you can’t catch him off guard, but it is to say you will need to get creative about it.

 

[Longshot97 he/him]

On 6/25/2024 at 11:13 PM, Lunamor said:

Eza shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like the idea of "questioning" someone. While she wasn't a fan of the constables, most of them seemed to just be doing their jobs. Hurting or threatening them felt unnecessarily cruel. It was hard to find a way of getting around that, though. The guard presence would almost certainly be particularly heavy for a troublemaker like Lum. The metal-less patch inside wasn't very big, so the constables wouldn't have much trouble keeping an eye on everything.

"Do you know of a way to incapacitate the guards without hurting them?" she asked Eighth. "Or maybe just lightly injuring them?" If any of them happened to be one of the ones who'd beat up Eighth, she'd be willing to hurt them roughly as much as they'd hurt him, however. But when your primary weapon was knives, it was difficult to injure someone in moderation. It was fine to stab in self-defense, but using them to attack was a no-go for Eza.

Ironpulling wasn't an exact art when it came to combat, either. Her offensive options were rapidly pulling small bits of metal through a body, giving bruises with larger objects that likely couldn't incapacitate anyone without significant damage, or hitting someone with an even larger object. While the final strategy could potentially incapacitate a person briefly by knocking them over, it would also send them and/or the object barreling towards Eza as well. That wasn't the best idea in a hallway.

She was starting to wonder if this was all worth it. Lum wasn't like Mother. They'd hurt people who didn't deserve it and were arrested for fair reasons. If rescuing them took hurting more people in ways they couldn't heal from, then she'd have to reconsider everything. She wasn't about to give up on her plan quite yet, however. They still had time. It would be best to wait for a while until midnight, anyways, since the guard presence might be weaker or lazier that late.

Eighth shifted to a more secure position, digging his toes into the grooves of the rooftiles. Getting in was hardly an issue. His waterskin suddenly felt a conspicuous weight at his side. Going in discreetly, avoiding injury? Eighth frowned thoughtfully. He had no doubt the quicksilver could take care of any and all foes. If only he could control it.

Idly, Eighth lifted a hand and wiped it on his trousers, careful to avoid contact with his blowdarts. Even residual sweat would begin melting the carapace dart-

Eighth froze. Then, carefully, he flipped the blowpipe casing open, withdrawing a blowdart. He flipped the casing back down, inspecting the dart carefully. The weapon was an arrow in all but name. The weight and balance were similar. Despite the smaller fletching, the blowdart flew straight and true. He had hunted with it, and found its responsiveness pleasingly acute.

Eighth rubbed his fingers together, trying to gather moisture. Then, carefully, he clasped the dart about the head.

A hissing sound rose into the air, and he felt the warhead growing malleable in his hand. Slowly, he applied pressure, compressing the sharp edges into a small, dense sphere. He hefted his new dart. In his mind, he no longer compared it to an arrow. To him, it had roughly the heft of a good slingstone.

Eighth's mind raced. His blowpipes shot the darts with enough force to pierce skin, as well as several layers of clothing. But what if the darts were no longer sharp?

Eighth smiled, certain. He glanced up at the stars, then mentally berated himself. These were not his skies. He shifted to look at the moon instead. If the hours here were anything like his, he had a little less than one hour before midnight came. He would only need half an hour to modify his ammunition. 

"I can subdue any sentries," Eighth assured Eza, withdrawing a handful of darts. "But I will need time to prepare. We strike as soon as we are able. I will enter first, to clear the hallway. You will locate your friend while I deal with any efforts to stop us. We reconvene here, and go up through the roof. Father willing, we escape by midnight."

Quote

Feel free to have Eza do whatever she needs in that time, if you want. I don't want to confine her to just waiting.

Eighth of the Eve, Smokestack, Smokestack Constabulary, 11:30 PM

Eighth slid the last of his knockout darts into his blowpipes. The others he tucked into his coat, within easy reach. He worked the handpump, ensuring all chambers were primed. He was ready.

He nodded at Eza, then knelt to make a wider opening in the tiles. These he stacked carefully to the side, trying to minimize sound.

He tightened his glove about his hand, then reached for his waterskin. He removed the cork, then upended it over the wooden planking.

A stream of liquid silver flowed out, eerily luminous in the moonlight. It puddled smoothly on the wooden planks, then began to run in all directions.

Eighth placed his gloved hand in the center of the quicksilver. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the relic. He had not used it in many moons, but he remembered it well. The pure joy of new experience, of testing muscles he had never known existed. The thrill of accomplishment, of triumphs he could never have dreamt of having. Eighth knelt there, and without looking, he felt the silver veins of his hand glow an ethereal, otherworldly violet.

He moved his hand to the left, and the quicksilver flowed with the motion, eagerly responsive. He moved his hand to the right, and it followed. He had never been able to contain it, but he exulted in its motion, free and unencumbered.

Eighth felt a smile stretch his lips. He quashed it, firmly, settling his expression to one of somber concentration. He reached out to the metal below, and commanded it down.

Many thought that timber was solid. They were right, yet at the same time, so wrong. There existed within the wood tiny flaws, minuscule spaces no solid object could dream of entering. But liquid went where it willed. Water swelled raft timbers, and sap flowed through trees in tiny channels. It was through these crevices that he commanded the quicksilver through. And before his eyes, he saw the pool of radiance dissipate, little by little.

He was suddenly conscious of Eza's scrutiny. Father, he thought. Prayed? Let this work. Let me prove myself. If not to you, then to her. Let me prove my worth.

If only once.

Eighth moved his hand a fraction of an inch away, and heard the planks groan quietly, felt them warp ever so slightly. His eyes tightened in satisfaction. He met Eza's eyes, and held up the fingers of his other hand. Three. Two.

One.

Eighth of the Eve clenched his gloved hand into a fist, and heard the muted crunch of separating fibers. He thrust his hand down, and a smoothly circular section of roof caved in. Below, he heard voices abruptly cease.

Eighth hooked his knees over the opening and swung his torso headfirst into the hall below. Two guards stood before a reinforced door. They had eyes only for the section of roof on the floor below, and he aimed quickly. His blowpipes hissed, and one guard's head snapped into the stone wall behind him. The other made the mistake of looking to the side at his partner, rather than up. The second dart caught him in the temple, and collapsed with a thump.

Eighth extended his knees, releasing his grip on the edge. He flipped to the floor below, landing soundlessly, then approached the guards. Both completely unconscious. Luck had favored them. He stripped them of their coats, then the two securely to each other, gagging and blindfolding them.

On them, he found firearms - which he set gingerly aside - papers that appeared to be identification, cudgels, and a keyring.

He then retrieved his darts, flipping his blowpipes open and reloading carefully.

"Well?" Eighth of the Eve said. "They were guarding this doorway. Shall we?"

Quote

Sorry for the inactivity. I was struggling how to enter this scene, then just decided to go for it.

Eighth does mistakenly assume the door is under guard. It made sense to me, since Phemus had ordered the guards to stay as far away form Asylum as possible, that he would think they were guarding the door. This would lead in the opposite direction of Asylum Smedry, according to Koloss17's description. This gives us a chance to make a mistake to build tension if we want, or else  simply try and enter Asylum's solitary confinement cell.

If this was too easy, we can simply have guards rotate shifts or something, to raise tension in other ways.

Thoughts?

@Lunamor

Edited June 28, 2024 by Longshot97

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

22 hours ago, Koloss17 said:

Perses felt the radiant’s sincerity. In truth, the words had a good weight to them.

However, he had misunderstood Perses’ motives.

”you’re right, in a way. I do seek to end the chaos of the Warrens. However, you’re wrong about one thing.”

Perses burned his metals.

”I don’t need your help.”

The room itself was littered with metal. Some were there originally, others were placed there intentionally. Metals of all kinds, from needles to knives to a random assortment of a variety of office supplies, flew at Eleos. Not all at once, no. From all directions, via push or pull, items from around the room darted in quick succession. 
 

In tandem, his cloak came to life. The tassles, with their bladed bone tips, began lashing out. Matching Perses’ chaotic attacks, they struck all around him, each blade seemingly acting in their own. 
 

Perses, heart pounding, grinned.

 

Despite the chaos, Eleos remained composed. “You may not need our help, Perses,” he said, his voice steady amidst the onslaught. “But think about the people you’re fighting for. Do they deserve this endless cycle of violence?”

As he spoke, Eleos shifted his stance just as a knife cut into his arm. then a small bit of debris slammed into him from behind. he fell to his knees as a new knife started to dig into the back of his left leg. he breathed in some stormlight to begin healing from the cuts. he saw a table being pulled by the nails inside towards himself. he readied himself for impact knowing that it would cause at least a minor concussion.

. “I’m not here to fight you,” he continued. “I’m here to offer a different path. One where you’re not alone in this struggle.”

With a swift gesture, Eleos summoned his ShardBlade. “Together, we can end the chaos without more bloodshed,” he said pointing it towards perses' heart.

He met Perses’ "gaze"(or at least where it would have been if he had eyes[it's just to easy to say gaze when talking about looking at their face...]), unwavering. “But if you insist on this path, know that I will do everything in my power to stop you, not just for my sake, but for the sake of everyone in the Mistwarrens. The choice is yours, Perses.”

22 hours ago, Koloss17 said:

A reminder that with any physical confrontation, godmodding should be avoided if at all possible. Your character is your own, and any damage or actions to your character are your decision to make. 
 

That said, realism is encouraged, and know that your character is not a god. The odds of your character being unharmed is always possible, but not supposed to be a guarantee.

It is safe to say that for the most part, Perses would prefer to dodge rather than parry or tank a hit. Despite his stature, he is not particularly strong or muscular. However in combat, with all of his senses on overdrive, his hearing, smell, and especially touch, with feeling vibrations in the air, he has very superhuman reaction speed. 
 

Additionally, his lifesense and bronzesense, now with 360 degree steel sight, he will likely see most things coming. That’s not to say you can’t catch him off guard, but it is to say you will need to get creative about it.

Quote

i think that you forgot that i have radiatnt healing... i let myself get a few cuts to make it fair. a knife cut deep into his left arm making it useless for the time beeing. i can also use stormlight to heal so i realy should take more ingury... but this is how i feel that a radiant would react to this.

Edited June 28, 2024 by RoyalBeeMage

[Koloss17 She/They]

18 minutes ago, RoyalBeeMage said:

Despite the chaos, Eleos remained composed. “You may not need our help, Perses,” he said, his voice steady amidst the onslaught. “But think about the people you’re fighting for. Do they deserve this endless cycle of violence?”

As he spoke, Eleos shifted his stance just as a knife cut into his arm. then a small bit of debris slammed into him from behind

. “I’m not here to fight you,” he continued. “I’m here to offer a different path. One where you’re not alone in this struggle.”

With a swift gesture, Eleos summoned his ShardPlate. “Together, we can end the chaos without more bloodshed.”

He met Perses’ "gaze"(or at least where it would have been if he had eyes[it's just to easy to say gaze when talking about looking at their face...]), unwavering. “But if you insist on this path, know that I will do everything in my power to stop you, not just for my sake, but for the sake of everyone in the Mistwarrens. The choice is yours, Perses.”

Quote

Oh 100%. You’re a radiant with regenerative abilities, which is certainly going to mean they you tank more than a few hits.

however, I am baffled that your character has plate, as it was not mentioned anywhere on your character sheet. Your character sheet claims that Eleos is second ideal, which would certainly not grant radiant plate, with your character also being cited as wearing a Takama.

Watch yourself, and remember what your character was approved with.

 

[Longshot97 he/him]

On 6/17/2024 at 4:29 PM, RoyalBeeMage said:

Eleos, The Mistwarrens, 0334 Tin Street.

Eleos tried to calm down as he checked and checked again that all of his gemstones were full. 
His earring? Full

his cufflinks? Full

his buttons? Full

his large purses filled with several dozen broams, marks and chips of all types? All but his emerald broam were full. 
 

Eleos spent several minutes quickly searching for his plate spren before remembering that he didn’t have any.

taking a deep breath Eleos knocked on the door 

 

Quote

Not to be rude, but Koloss is right. This is a quote from just ten days ago.

 

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

1 hour ago, Koloss17 said:

Oh 100%. You’re a radiant with regenerative abilities, which is certainly going to mean they you tank more than a few hits.

however, I am baffled that your character has plate, as it was not mentioned anywhere on your character sheet. Your character sheet claims that Eleos is second ideal, which would certainly not grant radiant plate, with your character also being cited as wearing a Takama.

Watch yourself, and remember what your character was approved with.

33 minutes ago, Longshot97 said:

On 6/18/2024 at 7:29 AM, RoyalBeeMage said:

Eleos, The Mistwarrens, 0334 Tin Street.

Eleos tried to calm down as he checked and checked again that all of his gemstones were full. 
His earring? Full

his cufflinks? Full

his buttons? Full

his large purses filled with several dozen broams, marks and chips of all types? All but his emerald broam were full. 
 

Eleos spent several minutes quickly searching for his plate spren before remembering that he didn’t have any.

taking a deep breath Eleos knocked on the door 

 

Quote

Not to be rude, but Koloss is right. This is a quote from just ten days ago.

Quote

both of you are compleatly correct. it has been a while since i read the books and i had forgotten that radiants get their plate at 4th ideal. these last 4 days i had been tinkering on a magic system in which a plate like thing is unlocked at the 2nd ideal equivilent causing my brain to get the 2 mixed up. i will quickly edit it now. sorry the the issue caused.

 

[Stormlightsong]

20 hours ago, RoyalBeeMage said:

Despite the chaos, Eleos remained composed. “You may not need our help, Perses,” he said, his voice steady amidst the onslaught. “But think about the people you’re fighting for. Do they deserve this endless cycle of violence?”

As he spoke, Eleos shifted his stance just as a knife cut into his arm. then a small bit of debris slammed into him from behind. he fell to his knees as a new knife started to dig into the back of his left leg. he breathed in some stormlight to begin healing from the cuts. he saw a table being pulled by the nails inside towards himself. he readied himself for impact knowing that it would cause at least a minor concussion.

. “I’m not here to fight you,” he continued. “I’m here to offer a different path. One where you’re not alone in this struggle.”

With a swift gesture, Eleos summoned his ShardBlade. “Together, we can end the chaos without more bloodshed,” he said pointing it towards perses' heart.

He met Perses’ "gaze"(or at least where it would have been if he had eyes[it's just to easy to say gaze when talking about looking at their face...]), unwavering. “But if you insist on this path, know that I will do everything in my power to stop you, not just for my sake, but for the sake of everyone in the Mistwarrens. The choice is yours, Perses.”

The moment everything started Keshi thought of interfering, but he didn’t. Something was wrong, why was the man not resisting the attacks? As Keshi watched, the man started glowing, and his wounds started to close. Right as Keshi was writing this down, a gigantic hammer appeared in the man’s hand. Seeing the signs that an incredibly dangerous fight was about to break out, Keshi started to interfere. 
 

Sending a message to Goto, Keshi appeared on the big hammer man’s shoulder. Before anyone could react, Goto teleported Keshi and the man a to a roof a block down. “Sorry about this.” Keshi said to the man. “He’s in my jurisdiction.” 
 

Goto teleported Keshi back to the building with the inquisitor. Keshi immediately laid down destructor fire and began to circle the target using light lines and short range teleportation. The target seemed to possess a cloak with a built in defensive system. For some reason, it seemed almost alive. The destructor blasts would only distract his opponent until they discovered it was mostly harmless. So as a nail the side of his arm started flying toward him, Keshi used this opportunity to teleport between the inquisitor and the projectile and attach a light line to the nail now flying away from him. Before Goto fell too much, Keshi sent him an image of the space directly behind the target. After teleporting himself and the nail to the new position, he used the remaining light lines to stabilize himself and angle the nail to swing directly towards the inquisitor’s shoulder.

@Koloss17

Edited June 28, 2024 by Stormlightsong

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

7 hours ago, Stormlightsong said:

The moment everything started Keshi thought of interfering, but he didn’t. Something was wrong, why was the man not resisting the attacks? As Keshi watched, the man started glowing, and his wounds started to close. Right as Keshi was writing this down, a gigantic hammer appeared in the man’s hand. Seeing the signs that an incredibly dangerous fight was about to break out, Keshi started to interfere. 
 

Sending a message to Goto, Keshi appeared on the big hammer man’s shoulder. Before anyone could react, Goto teleported Keshi and the man a to a roof a block down. “Sorry about this.” Keshi said to the man. “He’s in my jurisdiction.” 
 

Goto teleported Keshi back to the building with the inquisitor. Keshi immediately laid down destructor fire and began to circle the target using light lines and short range teleportation. The target seemed to possess a cloak with a built in defensive system. For some reason, it seemed almost alive. The destructor blasts would only distract his opponent until they discovered it was mostly harmless. So as a nail the side of his arm started flying toward him, Keshi used this opportunity to teleport between the inquisitor and the projectile and attach a light line to the nail now flying away from him. Before Goto fell too much, Keshi sent him an image of the space directly behind the target. After teleporting himself and the nail to the new position, he used the remaining light lines to stabilize himself and angle the nail to swing directly towards the inquisitor’s shoulder.

@Koloss17

Eleos found himself on a rooftop a block down, his heart racing with confusion and surprise. The sudden shift left him momentarily disoriented, and he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. The hammer, which had appeared in his hand during the previous moment of confrontation, now felt like an unfamiliar weight.

"What... just happened?" Eleos muttered, scanning his surroundings. He saw Keshi, who had brought him here, vanish once more, leaving him with more questions than answers. His mind raced, trying to piece together the rapid sequence of events.

He felt a surge of urgency and anger, knowing that Perses was still down there, potentially wreaking havoc. But now, there was this new element—Keshi and his mysterious teleporting ally.

Reasserting his focus, Eleos decided that standing idly by wouldn't get him anywhere. Breathing deeply, he drew on the stormlight, feeling its power course through him, healing his wounds more thoroughly and readying him for whatever might come next. He couldn't afford to be caught off guard again.

"granite! I need to get back," he resolved, looking for a way to descend quickly but safely. "And figure out who these people are and what they want. find me the quickest way down there." With his Shardblade still in hand, he began to make his way down from the rooftop, determined to return to the fray and confront these new complications head-on.

@Stormlightsong @Koloss17