[Celestial Arms Ques 3-1] Rewriting History

[Fletcher]

Fletcher looked to see Sark eyeing off Sylph, curious before noticing that look that the boy had. He knew that look, as any grown man did having gone through puberty and decided to see how things played out. It was a decision that he had immediately regretted for many reasons, but seeing Sark’s go-to pick up line in action made Fletcher realise just how much mentoring this young dwarf needed if he were truly going to woo some bonny lass when he was a tad older. It was definitely cringe worthy, but Sylph of all parties involved seemed a little lost for words to really say anything in response. If she had the time she’d likely respond, but Sark quickly recovered after the few seconds of silence that hung in awkwardness around them.

A few more seconds passed and Fletcher realised what Sark had requested. ”O-Oh! Yes. Right. Sylph.” The older dwarf looked to the fairy and nodded, the fairy giving the younger dwarf one last look before clasping her hands in her lap and fading away. As they recovered from the battle, more and more people seemed to be coming into the space around the fountain as the rubble blocking off the entrances was heaved aside. There was a tense apprehension in the air with a few of the onlookers cautious of the people who had come to their aid. Some were thankful but all in all a lot of the residents were moving to deal with the fires still billowing around and looking to contain them as best they could to ensure it didn’t spread further into the district. It felt like they didn’t belong here, and just looking around the crowd of people who were trying to decide how to act made Fletcher want to just leave now that their task was complete; they had to report back to the sages, anyway. ”Sark, we should go. You well enough to head on out?” There was a tone of worry in Fletcher’s voice, and it was clear what he was worried about with how his gaze darted about the crowd earlier.

Before Sark could properly get his answer across, Fletcher’s attention was drawn to another commotion behind him, and down one of the alleyways marched a formation of knights wearing blue tabards and armoured with plate and chain. If Fletcher had to guess, then these guys were likely to be the law enforcement of the district and likely wanted answers. That said, what could they say to them? Outwardly admitting and declaring that they were, in fact, from the future and came to save them as an act of heroism was a joke as true as it seemed to be. The bigger problem was getting them to trust in them long enough to not just shank them outright for being a public nuisance. After all, if he were in their shoes and some random people appeared and left a town square in ruins after fighting a horde of bees, then the timing of everything would seem at least a little bit suspicious. They marched up before them and Fletcher looked beyond them to Syllabus, noticing the boy retreating away from the scene looking ashamed with himself.

”Hail. What do we-”

“If you’d be as so kind to follow us, we’d like to ask you a few questions about what just happened.” It was a tense speech, formal, and set Fletcher’s hairs on end. He didn’t like it, but at least his fears of being put to the sword then and there were laid to rest. He didn’t particularly like getting cut off though, and he made that clear with the frown he wore as he decided how best to answer the request.

Word Count: 624
Sark

[Sark]

With Sylph gone Sark felt his embarrassment and adrenaline fade. Left behind was exhaustion. It overtook him. The pebble of philosophy dimmed a moment later, its cerulean glow no longer filling the square with unmatched power.

Sark sat on a the shattered remains of a wall. His posture was limp, his posture slouched. He watched sweat drip onto the concrete where its wet stain quickly evaporated in the heat of the many uncontrolled fires. The universal rules that applied to the world has ticked Sark over from 'battle' to 'passive.' His health and mana regeneration had significantly increased, allowing the boy to more fully comprehend his situation. As he looked about, his breathing slowly became more steady.

The city of Lune was saved through individual efforts and the support from the mystical pebbles of philosophy. Sark & Fletcher the adventurers along with the Lune residents Pavi and Syllabus had defeated the monstrous genius, Praesepe. In their defense of the town they had, in truth, damaged large portions of it, but that was besides the point. Collateral was, well collateral.

Citizens were emerging from their hidey holes looking dirty, shaken and confused. The noise of children crying could be heard over the roar of fires, along with desperate shouts for loved ones. A few of those citizens stepped forward, with an elderly lady taking one of Syllabus' hands in both of their own and thanking the child profusely. A few others stepped forward to make their thanks, though caution laced their words.

Sark, dim as he was, picked up on the mood of the citizens. The city had been safe until recently, and now both a monster and some heroes appeared? Were these two dwarves heroes, or had they just taken Lune as the stadium for their battle?

With the return of the citizens Pavi stepped forward.

"I'll need to report this immediately. Rumours travel like the wind, and truth like a Kamaitachi* as they say. The Greens will thank you for this, visitors. Spirits wish we meet again; toodle loo. " And with that the tall messenger loped off. He had long strides which navigated him through the rubble and citizens with well practiced ease.

Fletcher seemed to feel the same way, suggesting that it was time to return to their own time, like now. The samurai still felt too drained to really move, let alone figure out how to reverse the Tricker's portal. He disregarded his wise friend's advice, merely flapping a hand to dismiss the idea.

"Just gimme a sec ... "

Second by second he was improving. Stiff and hunched shoulders were slowly softening to their normal position, the sweat was drying on his brow, and his gaze was growing steadier, but it was taking time. He had given the battle his all. In his rage he had disregarded logic or tactics and had instead relied on flashy moves and chest-beating shows of endurance. It had been stupid bravadery, and the samurai was feeling its results now. The pebble of philosophy pulsed, once.

Before he had a chance to properly heal up a formation of town guards belatedly joined the fight. Their armour matched the government blue of Pavi's uniform, and they seemed to share several bits of armour. However, where the shamanic courier had worn chainmail, these individuals were clearly in thicker plate armour designed to threaten its audience and protect its wearer. The pebble of philosphy pulsed twice. He also could not help but notice their armour was clean, glowing and undented.

A leader spoke up; she was wearing extra elaborate armour that had gold filligree across the gorget. “If you’d be as so kind to follow us, we’d like to ask you a few questions about what just happened.”

The pebble of philosophy began a steady glowing beat. The exhausted samurai eyed it wearily, before reaching out to touch it. That it was warm to the touch made it clear it was preparing for something, and a  moment later knowledge rushed directly to Sark's cranium. He knew what he had to do.

With a groan he stood up, fetching his heavy sword up against his leg. "We would be happy to assist, let me just ..."

Sark raised his arm and opened his hand, palm up towards the sky. The glowing pebble lay there for a second then begun to rise into the air. With his second hand free the samurai bowed his head and took a solemn two handed grip on his weapon. Cerulean light budded at the tip of his blade, growing brighter. Small satellites of light swirled about the blade, increasing in their complexity until the pebble reached it maximum height. There it flashed once before sending an arc of light towards where Praesepe's remains were bubbling away in a data cloud. The clouds froze, and at the same moment Sark took a small hop back, readying his blade. A duplicate arc then shone from his own blade to the bubbles, shattering them into a fine mist. The blade dropped.

"There. We've truly dispelled it now." A proud smile shone forth his tired face.

Turning to face the guards again, he saw that several had their weapons drawn at him. Rage contorted the leader's face, which was at odds with the emotionless tone of her voice. "Please refrain from other such displays of magic within the bounds of the Azure Princess' domain. Now if you'd be so kind as to follow us ... "

The samurai nodded. Once Fletcher agreed in his own way an honour guard formed about them, boxing them in and keeping the pair from the citizens. Perhaps it was less of an honour guard, and more of a precaution against them in that sense.

They traveled for some time whcih gave the samurai a chance to recover, as well as a chance to gawk. This city was leagues in front of Londinium in its technology, looking more like a low-rise Tokyo rather than the standard 16th century English villages he had become acclimatized to. There were freight trains, monorails, glowing neon signs and music blaring from unknown technologies. There were asphalt paved streets and buildings with beautiful, smooth claddings. If not for the variety of races and for the clothing, the gamer would have almost felt home. The honour guard kept them at a stiff pace though, limiting Sark's enjoyment of the sights and sounds that the city offered.

All too soon they reached the Azure Palace. A five story building with thick, medieval crenelations atop a curved, smooth wall. Well maintained metal seemed to be the primary material used, with glass and bricks only highlighting certain features of the building. A walled garden curved away on one side, while the hill dipped significantly on the other, giving the palace excellent views in either direction.

The pair were quickly bundled through a side door, down a large elevator, and into a windowless room, where they were sat down without explanation. The waiting game began.

Samurai:_______ 20 Tailor:__________ 20 Acrobat:_______ 01

Word Count: 1167 To add: x1.2 CA mod

Pokes: Fletcher

OOC: *The ranged attack Kamaitachi moves 3 times slower than walking pace

Skill Descriptions:

Chain 01: "Lightspeed" Denkosetta, "Steel-Cutting Blade" Zantetsuken Chain 02: "Flashwave" Shunsen, "Vacuum Slash" Izunagiri Chain 03: "Blade Clone" Tsuguri Bunshin, "Divinity Slash" Seinaru Shinken Adventr.: Spear Break, Aura Swing Miscella.: Emergency Suture, Magic Light Party Up: Unyielding Spirit

[Fletcher]

As Fletcer was frowning at the position he was put in, Sark seemed to have an answer to what they should do. Granted, the older dwarf could feel the stone in his pocket pulse but decided not to reveal his hand just yet. Sark didn’t have the same foresight that he did and visibly touched his pebble before standing up and using his sword as a support. He spoke in a tired tone, before saying that he’d be willing to help before trailing off. What was the boy up to? Was this where he was about to spring on them and put them down with the power of the Pebble so they could make a break for it? Fletcher’s eyes widened in worry, hand twitching as it inched slower to the pocket in which his own pebble rested.

Sark raised his hand aloft with his palm upwards, pebble presented to the heavens. It began to float gently upwards before Sark took ahold of his weapon, almost offering a prayer to the stone as his sword shone with a bright blue light, smaller particles of light encircling the tip as if in orbit around a stronger force. A light shot from the pebble and intersected where the Praesepe’s remains were still crumbling away, which was soon followed by a second stream of light coming from Sark’s own sword. What was this technique? Was it something that a high levelled samurai could do, or was this just aother boon from the stone itself? Fletcher frowned again, knowing how this could potentially have looked to the locals, and turned to face the knights again. Sark declared that it had been dispelled, which was all well and good to explain what had just happened, but whether or not the townsfolk would see it that way was yet to be seen.

The knights had drawn steel and were not impressed. Fletcher was relieved that he had no follower out lest he be burned at the stake for witchcraft; while not exactly the most threatening in terms of his life ending, suffering through that pain and then losing a memory when he appeared back at the cathedral in Londinium didn’t seem overly great for a conclusion to their efforts during that battle. Either way, it seemed as though these knights weren’t fans of magic, so Fletcher’s mastery of his own arts would have to remain hidden. There was also the fact that Syllabus was a summoner as well, and from what the brat had implied, there were few a far between, if any, summoners at this point in history. Even with swords drawn they were looking to have them accompany them without drawing blood, or at least it seemed that way so far. ”Azure Princess… Huh.” Fletcher’s voice was kept low at his unintentional vocalisation about a princess. If there was a princess, there was bound to be a king; which went against what the Landers in their time had told them about a ruling family. Louder, and more in answer to their desires, Fletcher responded. ”Fine. We’ll follow.”

As soon as they had agreed to follow, the knights formed a guard around them, encircling them and keeping a wall around them from any civilians. There was a heavy atmosphere to how they did it, more so that it was a precaution against further casualties caused by them versus keeping them safe while they were escorted; granted, they didn’t need to be kept safe given the power bestowed to them by the pebble. For some time they were escorted to their destination, given Sark some time to recover back his HP and MP and giving the pair a chance to take in the main differences in architecture and technology to Londinium, noticing that in all they were further advanced than what Landers in their time were. However, due to the pace set by the knights, their chance to take in the sights were limited to what they could see whenever the knights led them around a corner and the pace was slowed.

Before long, they were led to the Azure Palace, a large, grandiose five story building that looked the part of being a place of royalty. It was decorated the part as well, highlighted with glass and bricks with a majority of the building being made of some kind of high quality metal. Taking in the exterior didn’t last very long, for they were hurried off to the side, into a side entrance and down into the depths of the building via an elevator. What awaited them was a windowless room and they were made to take a seat, the knights leaving them to their devices. Was this imprisonment? This was something that Fletcher remembered seeing in a cop drama on television, the feeling and atmosphere of the place only let him to the conclusion that there was bound to be someone walking through the door any minute.

Sure enough, the door opened a minute later and the knights filed back in with what Fletcher could only believe to be the man in charge. Said man took a seat opposite the pair and clasped his hands together, deep in thought and possibly unsure of how to proceed. A brief moment of silence passed before the man at the table looked at the pair of adventurers and placed his hands on the table, sighing. “I believe introductions are in order, first and foremost. I am Magistrate Zaffre, and while I’m sure you two have many questions but know that this,” he gestured around them, including the knights. “…is primarily a security measure due to the coming festival. Before we continue though, I wish an explanation for what transpired at the Fountain of Fate. Don’t try to lie to me, either; I was watching the fountain square before that beast arrived.” His gaze was piercing without being judgemental. Looking to the knights, they by comparison were very decided in who was at fault for the destruction and did not trust the pair one bit.

”I’m Fletcher. This is Sark.” They’d get nowhere sitting in silence, and at the very least he could appear to be civil while planning out their next move. ”As for what happened, we were just in the right place at the right time. As for killing the beast, and what Sark did following, it’s just how we’ve been raised to deal with that problem.” Zaffre didn’t seem to be satisfied with that answer, but continuing eying off the pair in silence.

Suddenly, one of the knights piped up, enraged as to the lack of clarity in Fletcher’s explanation. “Raised by who! For all we know you’re just spies from across the border and you lost control of one of your heinous weapons!”

“That’s right!” Another knight spoke up, fuelled by the rage of his companion. “Blasphemers!” The second knight went for his sword but stopped as Zaffre held up his hand, the pair of rowdy falling back into place but keeping their anger directed to the pair in silence. It seemed that the board meeting about an invasion had referred to something happening recently and just across the border from where Lune ended. It explained why the guards were in a state to jump at anything that could endanger their home, although if anything it made Fletcher more curious as to what was endangering them so. Surely the cause and root of all of the Geniuses attacking them didn’t lay just across the way, could it?

Fletcher looked to Sark, uneasy. ”You got anything to help us out here?”

Word Count: 1266
Sark

[Sark]

Sark and Fletcher sat in the silent, windowless room. It was far below the streets yet Sark did not fret. He was confident that his companion Fletcher would be there to help him, and a quiet excitement burned within him. Now that the battle was over and his MP had recovered he was energised. This was like a holiday almost! He was seeing new sights and sounds and encountering strange customs.

The thing keeping him from truly enjoying himself was the partial destruction of the town that their battle had wrought. He felt responsible for it although he only caused minimal direct damage himself.

The single door to the interview room opened with an electric whirr. It was such a familiar noise to Sark that it took a moment to realise just how out of place it was in this world. A bold, aristocratic man stepped through whom Sark took an instant dislike to. The man had facial hair, which was fine, but of the infinite number of styles to choose from he had chosen to model his hair after a sad face. Mr :( had a certain serious look about his person like someone used to issuing orders that were carried out without question. His eyes lacked the same restrained rage of the guards, who were now following in behind Mr :(. Six of the guards stood rigidly about the back wall of the room blocking access to the only door. The magistrate could not see their faces from his position, so missed the occasional jeer or gesture that the impeccably dressed guards made.

Mr :( began to speak, calling himself Magistrate Zaffre and claimed that the pair of dwarves had been taken in custody to ensure an upcoming festival went off without a hitch. He continued on.

“Before we continue though, I wish an explanation for what transpired at the Fountain of Fate. Don’t try to lie to me, either; I was watching the fountain square before that beast arrived.”

"That's great!" Sark burst out, his sudden excitement beating his vain dislike for the man. Words flowed from Sark like a young child relating a day's activity. "Then you saw how it portalled in and then we came in and then we beat it and then beat its mum and then got captured and then got here? Gooo adventurers!"

He offered a high five to Mr :(, who just looked at the hand in a mildly offended way. One of the guards barked a command to drop the hand and not cast a spell or he would fire. It was Sark's turn to look confused now, who sat back down in his seat with a pout on his face.

After a moment of silence Fletcher spoke up, explaining in the most equivacle terms possible the events. Sark shot his friend a sidelong look. They were playing that game, huh? The ambiguous answer was the final straw for some of the guards who dropped their pretense of detached power and began to hurl insults. Vile words flowed until Mr :( calmly raised a hand. The guards shut up mid word.

'How is Fletcher going to resolve this?' Sark wondered. 'He's always been great with these negotiations, so holding our cards close to us must be the best thing to do.'

He looked sidelong at Fletcher for a second time. The man looked back, unease clear on his face rather than the usual assertive calm.

”You got anything to help us out here?”

With responsibility settling itself on his shoulders the boy looked about the room for inspiration. They were in a cold metal box, with four fixed chairs which sat under a fixed desk. Light shone from indented lights similar to LEDs, and one wall had a certain transparent sheen to it; perhaps a see through wall? Mr :( looked stiff and slightly harried, as if he had been dealing with one drama after another several days in a row. The guards looked like they needed  a scapegoat for their rage. There was nothing for Sark to truly draw excitement from, and he found himself wishing for that rich summoner boy; he seemed like an aristocrat of some type. Inspiration struck.

"Ooh! Hey Mister Sadfa- Magistrate Zaffre! You saw the pair of us join the fight, right? You saw how there were already two local Luners there? One of them was a messenger or courier or something; a tall elf who kept talking about spirits. He said he was delivering a report! That can explain everything right? Right? Then we can go?"

Mr :( nodded curtly to the idea and beckoned for a guard to come closer. They had a whispered conversation until the guard straightened, saluted, then left the room. The room waited in an uncomfortable silence before the guard returned, whispering once again to the magistrate. The man stood.

"The report is from a trusted government representative. I will need to hear it in full from a magitech recorded before I pass true judgement. For now you are released and free to enjoy the one true city of civilization; Lune."

The man fished out a pair of blue bracelets and sat them on the table. Complex patterns marked them, along with a small array of miniature mana shards.

"This will allow access through the guarded portals between suburbs. They show you are the guests of Blue and that we are liable for your actions. Take care of the rough Reds, and do not stray into the Black if you value your life. For now go in peace, but know that I shall personally be keeping an eye on you ... 'adventurers.'"

Samurai:_______ 20 Tailor:__________ 20 Acrobat:_______ 01

Word Count: 944 To add: x1.2 CA mod

Pokes: Fletcher

OOC:  original post was better but dog comp ate it.

Skill Descriptions:

Chain 01: "Lightspeed" Denkosetta, "Steel-Cutting Blade" Zantetsuken Chain 02: "Flashwave" Shunsen, "Vacuum Slash" Izunagiri Chain 03: "Blade Clone" Tsuguri Bunshin, "Divinity Slash" Seinaru Shinken Adventr.: Spear Break, Aura Swing Miscella.: Emergency Suture, Magic Light Party Up: Unyielding Spirit