𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅.

He decides to ignore for it now. There is no use in puzzling over such a weird feeling settling in his chest when there is work to be done.

"Yes... I'm sure that will work very well," Nasir says with a sigh, schooling his expression into a tight, but polite, business smile. Had he been on his own, it would have been no trouble to sneak past all of the guards, or at the very least to persuade them to let him in. He had not shortage of tricks up his sleeve. Of course... that was only when it came to himself.

He glances at the beorc boy once more. Balthus was a hulking man, a few inches taller than Nasir himself, and certainly lacking any subtleties in appearance. Not the type of man who was easy to sneak around in places.

Ashera bless him, because he had no idea how he was going to get through this one.

He narrows his gaze at the entrance. An air of seriousness washes over Balthus. Very rarely does he stop to think about something. Usually, this means it’s got something to do with home, or a trick Yuri’s set him up to. But thinking about what his fellow Wolf would do in a situation like this, his mind begins to wander. A scene plays out before him–one he knows all too well. 

Snapping his fingers, Griss tried to coax something out, but then he shook his head and gave up.

”Never mind. All I know is that you were at the ball wanting a cheap shirt, yeah?” With a snort, he waved the effort away with his hand. “Looks like you’re still outta luck.”

Not that he had any room to talk, anyway, but self-awareness tended to lurk deep beneath the Hound’s rough surface, surprising even himself on occasion. Right now though, he was too invested in rooting around in the pockmarked rock for interesting sea life to think about what he was - or wasn’t - wearing. Hiking up the tattered and soaked hem of his robe, he knelt down to peer through the crystalline surface of the puddle he was standing in. He’d been watching birds do this for the better part of the week, until his curiosity had gotten to him and he’d slunk away from the tedious repairs he’d been hired for to take a look at the tide pools himself. On the frigid shores of Elusia, there weren’t usually things living this close to the surface.

Then, like the fishing birds, he darted his hand through the water with a noisy splash and grabbed - well, nothing that was moving, that’s for sure.

”Anyway, take a look at this!” Flying ahead of Griss’ rasping laughter, a spiny, purple urchin soared through the air straight for the big guy’s head.

His profits sank as he put his fists up, scanning the horizon until he saw…

“Yeah, I remember you too,” he replied, easing the tension in his shoulders, “you were that fishing guy who hadn’t been on a boat before. Weird dude…” And an even weirder costume, if memory served. Still, the two were on equal grounds in their second encounter. They felt nice to stand on–a little warm. Or maybe that was just the sand. 

“Lady luck hasn’t left me hanging today, actually. Out here, anything that covers your chest is a waste of money. Why even bother with armor when you’ve got a gut of steel?” He turned his shoulders square to Griss just in case he’d like to inspect. Without his trademark Ashen Wolves coat, his entire physique could be studied–admired. But look too close and Griss might notice the tan lines running down Balthus’ torso. It turned out regular trips to the surface with an exposed chest was an uneven way to color his skin. Who’d have thought.

Before he could get back to trawling the watery depths at his feet, that urchin came for his face. Good thing pulled his forearms up to block the blow–thinking it a rock at first–because otherwise a spine would’ve nailed him in the eye. It stuck into him, instantly swelling and leaving a reddish-blue blotch of skin. Honestly, not a good look with the sunburns. “This your idea of a good find, or something?” It must be true what they say: one man’s treasure is another man’s trash. It was completely worthless to Balthus. “It’s an urchin, pal. Street kids get their names after them.” Dislodging the spine, he lobbed it back to Griss. “You can’t keep ‘em out of water, though. And be careful putting that back. Thing’s got a nasty sting if you step on it.” 

The hired hand at his side had been a precaution, that’s all. The way the man’s eyes had lit up at the sum he offered reminded him of his father’s old hired hands, that man Dieck’s mercenaries, that had helped him on his journey. Dieck had been a comforting presence as the campaign had strolled ever onward, after all. He had come to know a more reasonable man than one who was as battle hungry as his scars suggested, or as greedy as those of his profession could be. This student was no Dieck (that’s for sure), but he at least had a similar physique; and for that comfort, Roy found that spending some of House Pherae’s coin was worth it.

Now as for the matter of his query in question. As the unlikely pair made their way along the dormitory building, Roy reviewed the facts of the case: a music note was played really loud, and then a student disappeared. Roy was no music expert (especially with his Ostian education being cut short), but he knew what a C# note meant, vaguely. After all, his parents had required violin prowess as part of his upbringing, in order to entertain guests. He hadn’t disliked playing it, but well, he didn’t exactly regret being unable to progress further. Roy was amicable and sociable, but he wouldn’t pretend that such events were his specialty. His reminiscence was cut short by Balthus’s directions.

“Alright, I’ll be ready. We’re waiting for a C# note.” He paused, looking for any sign of incomprehension in his companion’s face, ready to clarify.

Bracing himself for a long wait, he lowered himself against the wall of the alley. The sounds of the night leaned in around them, whispering winds speaking right over his head. Despite the assignment, Roy’s eyes remained alert, staring ahead as best he could.

Just, maybe get someone actually stealthy to run behind the scenes. 

“Alright pal, we’ve got to be close now. The gold’s as good as ours!” Rubbing his mitts together, he envisioned all the useless garbage he’d get for that gold. Drinks up to his knees, the company of whoever he pleased–maybe some novelty goods to keep him entertained for a week. Abyss’s got all sorts down in its merchant district. One only needs to know where to look. 

Spurred on by the promise of reward, he charged forward. His bulky body nearly pulverized Roy as he moved past. But if the noble had enough constitution to pull himself together and round the corner with his partner, he’d find the Wolf in a distraught, disorderly state. “Oh man!” he cried, hands on his head, eyes glued to a plaque in front of a triad of doors. “You might wanna check this one out… It’s arithmetic!” 

Indeed it was. A maths problem presented itself on an old piece of rubble, carved rather neatly by the supposedly rodent bunch. At the very least, they’ve confirmed that this was some sort of hideout of theirs–maybe where they’ve been taking those students? “No wonder they don’t come back. Argh, my brain’s burning just thinking about this stuff!” 

When the stupid bird turns back to him, Beowolf could fairly feel the swell of warmth and brightness that coursed through his heart, chasing and tangling with the adrenaline.

Beowolf 10/10HP recovers +0HP from Bond! Beowolf 10/10HP recovers +0HP from Amaterasu!

"Yeah, yeah." It wasn't a grumble, didn't hold that same gravelly thickness to it, but he shook his head as though he were a parent, exasperated at a child's recklessness. Jogging forward, he raised the staff, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed his emotions to surge out of him.

Beowolf 10/10HP hits Naesala 2.5/10HP  with Physic [Roll: 18 - 2 = 14] +4HP, Naesala 6.5/10HP Live to Serve! Beowolf 10/10HP  recovers +0HP

"Ay!" He said brightly, watching Naesala's feathers ruffle as the mended, bringing the flush of life back to his friend. Tapping the bird on the nose with the tip of his staff, he grinned. "Gettin' the hang of it."

But there remained the drain, which he had not expected, the sharp plummet of his own life force that he had not expected - was that right? No, it was no void of his energy, not quite, but there was a pitch to his essence that was undefinable for him.

Beowolf 10/10HP activates Fast of the Charities!

He whistled, sharp.

"Ain't you tired o' going after them?" he called across the field, the eyes of those that remained swiveling to him blankly. He didn't truly think that taunting them would have made much difference, but he strode forth anyway, spreading his arms for them to see.

His form wasn't so slight as many of the holy men he'd seen, but the robes he wore made for a nice illusion, and his hands, empty, had seemed diffused and softened by a light form within..

"I will keep healing them, and we will keep takin' you down - and don't that just piss you off?"

Swordmasters Battalion hits Survivor of the Curse 7.5/10HP with Silver Sword! [Roll: 17] -2HP, Survivor of the Curse 5.5/10HP Survivor of the Curse is Silenced and cannot counterattack!

As though in demonstration, those at his back rushed forward and piled onto the quiet holy woman on their own side, striking her in her moments of weakness.

"Come on, then!"

In any case, he’s been sitting with his finger to his chin for long enough. ‘Hilda’ has gone rocketing past him and hunting for dragon skulls again. Her axe comes within an inch of Nel’s neck–

Idle Maiden 10/10HP crits on Nel 5.5/10HP  using Basilikos! [Roll: 18] -2HP -1.5HP Flat DMG Hunting Whip: Balthus 10/10HP stops Idle Maiden 10/10HP  from attacking Nel 5.5/10HP 

–And on instinct, the Wolf’s whip leaps from his hand. It snags his family friend by her wrist, pulling her arm taught until it won’t budge anymore. Balthus grimaces. “Promise I’ll go easy on you! Just uh, lay off, ‘kay? Thought you were supposed to be good at being lazy...”

For the briefest of moments, she looks his way. Her face is featureless, but Balthus gets the impression that–had things been reversed–she wouldn’t have pulled any punches. It’s a scary thought. Almost scarier than the possibility of their dreams being linked in some way, and Hilda being able to experience the same fight as Balthus.

He’ll have to talk to her when they wake up.

For now, he yanks her limb back far enough to grant Nel escape. Blubbering bum he may be, Balthus has every intention to make himself useful here. In this day and age, you never know when you’ll be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with some stinkin’ rich nobles. 

“No need to thank me, pal. Although, if you’d like to, I do accept tips–”

Balthus 10/10HP uses Hunting Whip! Balthus can stop one turn on enemy phase Alert Stance: Balthus 10/10HP gains +8 avoid during enemy phase

He retracts his whip and resets it in his hand. Though the leather is starting to wear, it’s in good enough shape to continue disabling their enemies’ attacks. 

( yet is it not always where vitality flows the greatest that she has felt the most estranged? human emotion and energy, and their penchant for coming and calling together, so different from the comfortable isolation bred by her kind. it remains a portrait of a different, so cursory, existence secluded on the other side of an impenetrable glass — perfectly visible yet alien.

(AMATERASU triggers!) NEL recovers +1HP. 　　　↳⠀NEL 9.5/10HP.

their banter washes about and past her like mercury, parting in waves around a dragon's silence. )

—broken only when one addresses her directly.

head turns, catching the glow of a healing stave followed by the balm of its magic knitting sinew and mending flesh. eyes flutter in surprise, but are not fazed ; instead, she watches the hoard of ghostly swordsmen distract the adversary, cutting blades failing to land amid his weaving movements. "my thanks. but you would do better to concern yourself with the others." she possessed other means at her disposal, and the sleek-winged individual placed himself far closer to the line of danger, and against a bow's ability to clip his wings no less.

him. ivy. the gambler, and this blond. and beyond them, lurking likewise in the shadows of the opposing side, a figure standing almost motionless. they too had been quiet, but she catches lips moving in a muted chant.

"stand back."

NEL crits SURVIVOR OF THE CURSE with SILENCE ( 20 ) 　　　↳⠀SURVIVOR OF THE CURSE is inflicted with SILENCE and VOID.

arrested suddenly, they start with alarm, then grasp at their throat as mouth opens and closes, feet staggering in sudden blindness. wide, darting eyes search as though for light in the dark, the desolation of void robbing one of a sight beyond physical. they will be lost even as they are grounded, forcefully sundered from a sense of self. impassively, nel looks away again.

"that will buy us more time."

“The Gonerils are not a nest you wanna go poking, pal.” 

Satisfied with that bit of chit-chat, he turns his attention back to the battle. The runt of their group begins to load what Balthus assumes is some sort of heavy cannon. It gets a chuckle out of him–someone so small operating a device so massive. Maybe he’s a pirate? But whatever he is, the Wolf doesn’t want to see what his weapon can do. So, brandishing his whip–

Plucky Freedom Fighter 10/10HP hits Nel 10/10HP with Silence Blast [Roll: 14 + 2 = 16] Hunting Whip: Balthus 10/10HP stops Plucky Freedom Fighter’s turn against Nel

–He snatches the thing by the barrel, pulling up until it’s way out of sight of any of them. “Oh no you don’t!” he sneers, more than enough breath to spare on dialogue. His foe, on the other hand, isn’t as chatty. 

The tug-of-war lasts long enough for ‘Hilda’ to go blazing by him. As he whips his head around to watch, he catches her gunning for Nel, and the rest he turns a blind eye to. It doesn’t take a sage to know that Nel will be minced into meat once she's done; Balthus doesn’t need to watch the show to know its ending. Still, there’s just no way he could raise a hand to his childhood friend. It’s better that he pretends she isn’t here.

Given enough struggle, the shade of the cannoneer breaks free, albeit spilling its ammo in the water. As he watches them scrape their shells back together, surprise colors his face. A bit like Hilda in that looks-to-brawn department. Deciding it had earned enough respect for him to back off, he faces another with his whip. ‘Nasir,’ Naesala had called him.

“This guy giving you trouble, birdface? I’ll wrestle him down for you. Just so happen to also be the King of Grappling, so it’ll be no sweat!” 

Balthus 10/10HP uses Hunting Whip! Balthus can stop one turn on enemy phase Alert Stance: Balthus 10/10HP gains +8 avoid during enemy phase

Naesala does not see the enemy as Nel does, but sees them all the same: shadowy figures in the distance, looming and threatening to come towards them. Naesala does not care who they might be, only cares to get out of this arena as unscathed as possible.

(one of them, he notes, has a bow. that one is quite terrifying, he must admit.)

The thought occurs at the same time that Naesala feels a pang of jealousy. Why does Nel get to wear a pretty dress? His own outfit is far more practical, but it does nothing for his appearance.

He looks down and finds he's dressed almost like Tibarn of all people. He does not have the muscles to pull it off, there's a reason that his shirt does not open at his abdomen thank you for noticing, but it somehow looks fitting. A red sash is beneath his trusted hat, bandages up his arms to protect his wrists, and a deep green coat atop his grey trousers.

He considers that a moment and decides he probably looks good too, since Tibarn can pull it off there's no reason Naesala can't. Naesala is way prettier.

Nel's voice brings him into focus. His fists are gloved, and he doesn't need any more prodding to attack.

Naesala 10/10HP crits and hits Seer of Truth 10/10HP with Flashing Fist Art [Roll: 20-2 = 18, 3-2 = 1] ((1.5 x 2) +1 (Merciless) +4 (DEF) )= 8, (1.5 + 1 + 4) = 6.5 Seer of Truth 0/10HP Seer of Truth has been defeated! Naesala loses 1HP after combat! Naesala9/10HP

"Shit," he hisses, and shakes out his hand. Are these supposed to protect his knuckles, or make them hurt more? He frowns just a little, and decides that it was probably worth the pain to get one less foe on the battlefield.

"Well, go ahead," he waves to the others. "Don't make me do all the work."

But something about this unending, if shallow, ocean doesn’t even seem possible to clean up. He chases the thought out of his head. As he wakes on the back of a giant monster? Bird? Monsterbird? He sighs with relief, knowing it sure as shit won’t be his boots getting soaked today. 

(Though the feathers they’re lined with are a tad uncomfortable. As are the ones in his cowl, and around his armor–which again has left his chest open to attack.) 

“Mm? Oh, yeah, sorry to keep you waiting! I’ll swoop in and save the day with this sweet whip they gave me–” 

Balthus 10/10HP uses Hunting Whip! Balthus can stop one turn on enemy phase ! Alert Stance: Balthus 10/10HP gains +8 avoid during enemy phase !

Balthus does indeed swoop in, and he does indeed brandish his hunting whip. Holding it by the crop, a quick tug to its thong produces a loud snap! Loud enough to put their enemies on edge, shadowy eyes drawn to the man like maggots at a hunk of meat. He’s all content to smile and smirk at them, but one silhouette in particular catches him off guard. 

Pig tails, rounded features, an axe…

“Oh man… Is that Hilda??” 

Panic settles into the Albrecht as he trades looks with her, this ‘Hilda’ stony-faced and unresponsive. But he isn’t reading it that way. This looks like disappointment to him–that he would even think of standing opposite her. He trembles, taking his mount by the reins and backing up until his shoulders are square with Naesala’s. “Holst’ll kill me if I hit you! I’m just picturing what he’d say if he found out…” Balthus, you knave! My darling sister is too cute to lay a finger on, even in simulation. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! …Something like that, probably.

“Change of plan, pals. The one with that hair there? Not touching her. No can do. You’ll have to throw every other one of ‘em at me.”

(Multi Healthbar triggers!) (Unbeaten triggers!) Terrain changes to Bacchanalia. Maddest Hatter 25/25HP triggers The Grandest Party! [Roll: 5, 5]

Adaptable as ever, Naesala takes his chances as the dice land. His wings unfold and he braces himself as he calls out in a sound harsh and high-pitched both; a very corvid sound, an unhealthy mimic of what the hatter sounds like.

Naesala 10/10HP hits Dordice with Banshee [Roll: 13 + 4 = 17] [Roll: 7] Naesala wins the gamble! Naesala gains Card Suite: Lucky Diamond.

It throws the dordice off balance enough to give him a winning edge, enough of an unsettling sound that it makes their host ignore him for the moment. It is the other four who are attacked, and Naesala blissfully avoids any and all consequence of his actions.

The barrage of attacks on his teammates shines in the gaudy light of this arena. Each of them is struggling to hang on, and the momentary distraction brings Naesala back into the fray.

Maddest Hatter 25/25 HP  attacks with Winner Takes All! Targets: Beowulf, Naesala, Balthus, Balthus

The relief that the attacks are not aimed at him is short-lived. Bracing himself as the gambler raises an attack, he spirals out of the way and avoids harm yet again.

Misses Naesala [Roll: 3 - 4 = -1, miss!] Naesala 10/10HP

He does not know when exactly he shifted into his bird form. Sometime between the screaming at the dice and the Hatter's attack, for sure -- but it doesn't matter. He's faster now, better at aerial acrobatics but still with the same unique musical quality to his voice.

♫ "Just when I believed / This stupid Hatter wouldn't fight us more / This ever-changing world / Pushes me towards another door..." ♫

Naesala 10/10HP heals Beowolf 3.5/10HP with Physic! [Roll: 7+6 = 13, hit! +4HP] Beowolf 7.5/10HP

His healing voice soothes(?) his target, and he begins to think that maybe he's actually really good at this. He's probably the most important person on the team, and he's providing such a high quality performance?

(he's not.)

They're all so lucky to have him here, truly.

Naesala 10/10HP uses Restore on Beowolf 7.5/10HP! Enemy inflicted debuffs removed.

And for his friend, his right hand man, he sings in a screechy tenor saved only for Beowolf the Gentle of Dieksük Island.

"And my mind could not erase / The pathetic look on your face / Just for awhile / Won't you let me restore you?"

Pulling himself up by the polearm, he smirks at the Hatter. Ain’t dead yet, says his shining teeth and copper eyes. The blonde, in turn, has a response ready for him. A projectile bounces his way.

Maddest Hatter 25/25 HP  attacks with Winner Takes All! Misses Balthus [Roll: 4+6=10, miss!] Balthus 8/10HP Misses Balthus [Roll: 2+6=8, miss!] Balthus 8/10HP

It whizzes by him, writing shock into his expression. Then a second time it nearly clips his hairdo, stupefying his smirk. He counts it as a miracle that neither arc took his nose off, and stomps back into the fray. 

“Gonna level with everyone here. I’m starting to think hell is preferable to… Whatever this is.” 

Balthus 8/10HP hits Maddest Hatter 25/25HP with Harmony Lance [Roll: 17 - 2 = 15, -3.5HP, Maddest Hatter 21.5/25HP] Harmony Lance: Balthus 8/10HP heals for 3.5 HP [Balthus 10/10HP]

Onward he forges, raising his guando high above his head to come crashing down against that of the Hatter. It’s a straight shot, and it hits–digging into his brim and taking a scrape off his mask. Which is all well and good, because Balthus is ready to go knocking his jaw off.

That kind of vigor resonates deeply with his weapon. From the wound he made on his foe, his own are healed. A pleasant feeling straightens his back and puffs out his chest, sealing his nicks and scratches from earlier. 

Maddest Hatter 21.5/25HP counterattacks, crits and hits Balthus 10/10HP with Raise the Stakes [Roll: 15 + 2 = 17, -1HP, 11 + 2 = 13, -0HP Balthus 9/10HP] Seal Speed: Maddest Hatter 21.5/25HP loses all speed buffs until R4P Adaptability: Balthus 9/10HP gains +1 defense until R4P Adaptability: Balthus 9/10HP gains +1 defense until R4P

It couldn’t have come a moment sooner, as the Amber One is quick on the follow-up. Twin coins dig into each of Balthus' shoulders. One lodges itself a little deeper than the other–drawing a bit of blood from the skin underneath–but it’s nothing he can’t stifle. His armor morphs again, and by now it’s a feeling he’s grown accustomed to. 

“Hey, pals! Now’s not a bad time for a head check. Everyone still got theirs?” 

“It isn’t my first choice,” Ivy admits as they both pull back for a beat. “My father… well, I suppose he did. In a way.”

Metals for weaponsmithing was scarce in Elusia, the strength to wield heavy blades scarcer still — oftentimes, survival in battle came to clawing and clinging to life. Ivy had never found herself with any affinity with martial arts, though when push comes to shove…

Just as Ivy thinks she is growing accustomed to their new surroundings, the gaudiness of everything, she is quickly blinded by massive spotlights shining down on them as Nel staggers the Hatter with a particularly nasty flash of dracoflame. 

Dark spots dance before her eyes; she blinks them away and finds a die spinning before her.

Ivy 10/10 HP crits, hits, hits, and misses Dordice with Brave Knuckles [Roll: 20, 16, 15, 2] [Roll: 3]  Hits Ivy 10/10 HP [Roll: 6 - 2 = 4, 3 - 1 = -2, Ivy 8/10 HP] [Roll: 2, Cornucopia fails.] Ivy is inflicted with Card Suite: Broken Heart.

One, two, three times Ivy roll the die — and in some cruel twist of fate, it is a forboding three that she is met with when the dice still. There’s the tinny, reverberating laugh of the Hatter as he spreads his arms and Ivy only has a split second to look up before she is buried in coins, raining down from above.

No, what’s more interesting to him is Ivy. More precisely, that father of hers.

“You oughta set us up for a match sometime!” he chimes, running in close for conversation but having his path cut off by laughter and dice, “I’ve yet to meet one capable of making a dent in this debonair, but you guys might get close.” With that, he hunkers down to give his die a good thwacking. The blunt edge of the blade will do. It’ll send the thing flying for sky-high value.

Balthus 10/10HP misses Dordice with Harmony Lance [Roll: 1 - 2 = -1]

But mid-stroke, he wavers. A sultry frown works its way over his features. The dice are so… Cute! And he’s a gambling man–a gambling king, even–he can’t hurt one of the things! So his arm goes left, and so too does his weapon, and Balthus’ result is a big, fat, zero. A sigh bellows from him as he braces for impact, knowing the prettyboy won’t take kindly to fence-sitting. 

Maddest Hatter 25/25HP uses Tea Time's Over ! Hits Balthus 10/10HP [Roll: 6 + 2 = 8, 3 - 1 = -2, Balthus 8/10HP] [Roll: 2, Cornucopia fails.] Balthus is inflicted with Card Suite: Broken Heart. Teahouse Distribution: Roll: 1, Seal Speed fails Adaptability: Balthus 10/10HP gains +1 resistance until R3P

He, too, is barraged by gold and swallowed by splendor. It’s a darned lot of splendor too, covering a man his size. “What’s the matter?” chides the hatter as the dust begins to settle, “Got cold feet? Don’t you want to partake in this everlasting serendipity??” 

If he wasn’t busy spitting coins from his mouth, the Albrecht would fire back. Instead, he takes note of a strange kink in his armor. As it takes hits, the metal changes to suit the shape of its attacker. Neat, but not useful enough to dig Balthus out of this pit he’s in.

The lights comes up. The dragon is certainly new. It doesn't take long for Naesala to connect the form to that of Nel and he wonders if she's met the other dragon laguz, or if she even knows about them.

If not, he'll need to introduce her to Kurth.

A thought for later. The bets happen quickly, and it's a little exhausting that this is the second time they'll need to wager their lives to continue to fight. It's not all that different from his past: another thought he brushes under the rug.

It's Beowolf's voice that snaps him to attention. His friend's slurring words and strange demeanor almost makes Naesala laugh. "Oh, does our loyal and steadfast butler have a little pain? Did you get hurt?"

He adjusts his hat atop his head -- a rather fashionable addition to the thigh high boots, loose dark green cape, and many belts he wears. He feels the weight of something on his back (a lute, perhaps?) and swings it around to his front.

The herons could do this, so why couldn't he?

Naesala10/10HP heals Beowolf 6/10HP with Physic! [Roll: 11 + 4 = 15] +4HP,  Beowolf10/10HP

♫ "… If I should stay / I would only be in your way / So I'll go, but I know / I'll think of your grungy ass every step of the way..." ♫

The sound is... offputting and strange. Naesala is an excellent dancer, but not so much musically inclined.

♫ "… And I will always heal you / I will always heal you / You / My best friend, you, mm, mm..." ♫

Naesala 10/10HP uses Restore on Beowolf 10/10HP! Enemy inflicted debuffs removed.

The singing, blissfully, ends.

“What gives with this guy? Thinks he’s some kinda hotshot or something. But he looks loaded…” And he, on the contrary, does not. Everything from the last room is long gone, replaced with some less-shiny, less-opulent armor with the chest punched out. And he’s got a bladed lance. A guandao would be more the appropriate name, if Balthus knew what a guandao was. 

“How’s about we rough him up and take back what we lost!” 

The dreamy haze cast over their surroundings–those memories melded into bubbles and iridescent shadows in every corner of the venue–are completely lost on him. Poor Baltie thinks he’ll walk away a winner somehow. 

Backup: Balthus 10/10HP deals -1HP to Maddest Hatter 18/25HP* [Maddest Hatter 17.5/25HP*]

Launching off his feet, he delivers two brusque blows to the Hatter’s torso, careful not to let his blade bite any of that pricey coat. This opens him up to Ivy’s attack, which the Wolf is all-too willing to step back and let her perform. In fact, the display gets a hoot out of him. Cheering her on, he ebbs back into the fray. 

“Hey, no offense, but I’ve never met a princess-type who can throw a punch like you. Your old man teach you any of that?” 

Balthus 10/10HP misses Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* with Harmony Lance [Roll: 5 - 4 = 1, -0 HP, Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP*] Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* counterattacks and hits Balthus 10/10HP with Raise the Stakes [Roll: 9, -0HP, Balthus 10/10HP] Seal Speed: Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* loses all speed buffs until R2P Adaptability: Balthus 10/10HP gains +1 defense until R2P

On the contrary, he hits nothing but the air with his swing. Having dragged the weapon against the floor to build momentum, he intended to let it fly with the kind of might that’d flatten the top of that poser’s hat. But his opponent reads him with ease, snapping a finger and creating some coin to drop on his head.

Good thing Balthus is so dense, else it might’ve actually hurt.

“Tch… Playing your cards close to your chest? Hurry up and make your wager–opportunity doesn’t knock on its own, you know!”

It had mostly been petty annoyances up until this point - the spitting coins that surely hurt like a bitch, and those weird curling pains that had sprung forward that he still hadn't dismissed as merely superstition.

But that little wyrm was looking mighty writhy, gnashing and seething behind its smile as the flick of its eyes and the lash of its serpent's tongue begged them not to notice that it was startin' to get pissed at them for not sittin' down and takin' it.

Naesala had noticed it, too, and that bird's instincts for danger were as sharp as any's.

"The hell are you talkin' about?" Beowolf laughed, clapped his friend on the shoulder, good-naturedly - a too-loud facade, the are you sure you haven't had enough? jests the people do to tease, and tugged the brim of that ridiculous hat down just a bit tighter over the man's eyes. "Maybe yer head's gotten too big in that hat, hey?"

But the second clap on Naesala's shoulder was firmer, with more purpose, even as Beowolf pushed off to saunter the few steps over to the ladies of their little group, quieter than the men by far - and the smarter for it.

"Now you, though, you ain't been getting those big prizes, have ya?" It was clearer to see with Ivy in comparison to Balthus - the big man had his flashy prizes, and he'd need 'em in the time to come, but the solemn lady seemed adrift and isolated by the exchanges. "Tell y'what, when we get back to the monastery, I'll split my winnin's with you, hey?"

A warm hand on her shoulder, his gaze with a little more intent. "No sense in all of us comin' out of this empty handed."

He knew he was a bit of a lout, all things considered. Knew that his fitting in here, and her very much not, painted a certain picture. But he hoped that, they being colleagues leading toward the same end - not an end, not for them - that when the time came, she could find his presence to be a protecting sort.

Even if he had to guard her with his body.

Beowolf 6/10HP rallies Ivy 3.5/10HP for +4 Defense and +4 Resistance!

His smile widened. "Almost done, I think."

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds ! Balthus 5/10 HP Roll: 2 + 8 = 10, barely hit! -0, Balthus 5/10 HP

A large-bellied laugh follows, the Albrecht pumped up with enough hot air to keep himself afloat. He stomps over to Naesala, adding a hand to the queen’s shoulder. Eyeing his loot, he clicks his tongue. “Bigger’s always better, pal. But I’ll tell you what, once I knock a few teeth off that wyvern, we’ll trade ‘em in and get massive swords for everyone.” That includes Ivy and Nel, who are addressed by a half-turn of his body, and the clunk his armor makes with it.

Sizing up the big boss, however, plants a small seed of doubt in his mind.

Omen activates! 2 - 1 = 1 Balthus 4/10 HP

Call it premonition or just a feeling in his huge gut, but the guy can’t shake a twinge of dread lurking in a corner of his mind. It’s a feeling all-too familiar to him, and that only makes things worse. It hadn’t been wrong before…

But he’s in too deep to quit! Patting himself on the cheeks, Balthus steadies his body. Arm extends, pointing at the wyrm’s face. A verdant string materializes where he places his fingers, nocking the arrow–ready to launch at his command. “Hey, big and ugly!” that earns its attention, “I think I’ll be cashing in my winnings now!” 

He fires.

Balthus 4/10HP attacks Corporate Shadow 30/30HP with Deadeye! [Roll: 1 - 2 = -1, -0, Corporate Shadow 30/30HP]

The magical projectile misses its mark by a hair, whizzing past and leaving embers in its wake. The King deflates with an angry sigh, but he hasn’t seen the worst yet. At the end of its arc, the arrow curves…

Devil Bow: Balthus loses all remaining HP Balthus has been defeated !

…And flies straight back to sender, collapsing into his chest. All its infused energy runs ripples throughout his armor, breaking past the impervious barrier of mana, short-circuiting it, and exploding his entire getup. The result is a charred Balthus gone flying, smacking the ground like a felled oak. His winnings are burnt, his mane singed. Once a source of pride, the equipment he donned is now torn to smoldering shreds and scattered about the casino floor. 

He remains all in one piece, but is in no shape to continue. So he treats himself to a nice, long nap. A consolation prize, if you will.

“Ahahahaha! You LOSE!! Should’ve quit while you were ahead!” 

Addressing the rest of the group, the wyrm prolongs its victorious gloat,

“Try again if you will, but remember that the house ALWAYS wins!”

the answer lies within this game, it seems ; perhaps that is all it is: simply chance. have the others already begun to suspect the same, or are they simply caught up in their own fulfillment? it's difficult to say. but what sort of combat training is this meant to be?

the blond one and the shirtless man sink more investment to the game, then little ivy likewise. anticipating that the crow-winged man will do the same, she's surprised to hear a dull, glancing impact of steel instead and pivots with wide eyes. but nothing appears to have come of it ; the undulating wyrm stares at its would-be attacker levelly. . . and suddenly he flinches back, clutching one shoulder in pain as the creature laughs.

like her, he suspected this game was merely a diversion. but the attempt to strike directly had likewise been useless.

. . .

no. she studies the creature again. not useless.

"what about you, young mistress? you didn't try your luck last time. . . don't think i didn't notice." ball-like eyes slide across to her now, nicitating membrane slicking over them in wet, milky blinks. "our kind should stick together, don't you think?" it leans forward, and there's a ching of the machine containing those chips that had flung at them before. anticipation rises ; time, she senses, is nearly up.

but that time had not been spent in vain.

"allow me to speak with them first," she replies evenly, reading the other dragon's intent. among her siblings, there had been no small number just like this one. "you are aware of how the lesser ones are. their desires are easily manipulated, and we must see to them as their lords."

drawing back from the table, she gestures for the others to follow. surprisingly, the creature lets them go.

NEL recovers +1HP from prayer ring. NEL 6/10HP. NEL rallies IVY. 　　　↳⠀IVY gains +6 speed and +4 avoid. 　　　↳⠀(RUSE activates!) BEOWOLF gains +3 speed and +2 avoid.

she turns first to the elusian queen, intent gaze requesting trust despite her answer to the house's master. "i believe it will strike you again. you must prepare accordingly."

and to everyone, voice quieting and impassive. "that creature is now more corporeal than it was before— do not look. i noticed this when it struck you." a nod at the winged one.

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds Balthus 5/10 HP Roll: 3 + 6 = 9, barely hit! -0, Balthus 5/10 HP ; Roll: 6 + 6 = 12, hit! -0, Balthus 5/10 HP Omen activates! Roll: 1 - 1 = 0 Balthus 5/10 HP

“–is that you’re in need of a real-deal crapshooter. Well, ain’t this my lucky day? Can’t remember the last time I was asked to gamble!” 

After catching a few of the chips with his free hand, he slaps them onto the table–breaking the line of sight the dragon had with Nel. He might be a guest in this house, but a King’s presence ought to be felt with each step he takes. “I do quite like this one,” admits the host, its voice slick like honey and raspy like smoke. But it speaks above Balthus, addressing Nel as though he were nothing more than a member of her entourage, “If his luck ever does run out, I think I’ll keep him as a bouncer!” 

Balthus 5/10 HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 4, Guarantee Rate

A snap of its fingers, and an orb materializes over the Albrecht’s hands. It radiates a resplendent kind of heat. In one, swift motion, it swirls round his body–conferring him a bit of lift as every color of the rainbow coalesces around his form. His eyes shut. His arms outstretch. He receives the blessing of the beast by spinning a hundred times a second, before finally his foot touches the ground. Only, it is no longer clad in its formalwear. 

Guarantee Rate: Balthus loses Hit+ and gains Personal Armor Model DM! Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance!

Balthus emerges with an ornately decorated suit of armor: white plating adorned by gold and accented by a stygian underside. While his extremities are fully covered by gauntlets, boots, and a helm–and his shoulders protrude with geometric pauldrons–his chest remains uncovered. A green aura glosses over it instead, burning bright like plasma and fire.

The malice of his bow lives on in his left glove, its arms magically fused to his armor, and a glowing-green arrow ready to fire.

“Have I beat it into your skulls enough? Balthus is undeterred, unbeaten, unbowed in the betting house! You pals oughta put a little more faith into your old friend, here.”

Hell, some of their group even found some good luck after his piss-poor go at the slots - or at least, it wasn't bad luck.

It was a laugh and a lark, despite that Naesala's squawking needed to be brought down a peg or two.

"Ay, you shut right the hell up or I'll - "

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds Beowolf 10/10HP Roll: 5 + 2 = 7, barely hit! -2HP, Beowolf 8/10HP Omen activates! Roll: 3 - 1 = 2 Beowolf 6/10HP

So then why had it started to hurt?

It was so quick and so thorough, cutting straight through his cocksure facade and that it didn't even wipe the grin from his face, but with an unsettling wave of dread his fingertips fluttered up to his chest as though his uncertainty might have assuaged the whitehot burst of pain.

"Ah?" The murmur left his lips so quietly he scarcely heard it himself, but the wyrm's eyes flicked to his and though it didn't have no damn cheeks, Beowolf coulda sworn he saw that little shit's smile widen.

"Another try, then? Lady Luck might have her sights on you this time, for certain!"

A beat, silent.

Well, hell, what was the harm?

Beowolf 6/10HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 4, Guarantee Beowolf loses Qi Adept and gains Rally Defense Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance!

"Ay! There we go!"

A rush of spirit filled him once more, warm against the grazed area that the pain had left behind, but did not fill him enough that he'd forgotten - merely pushed it aside was all.

Nudging an elbow into the sides of Naesala and the other man, Beowolf tapped his knuckles against the counter. "House always wins 'til it don't, hey?"

Of all the loud and halfwitted things Balthus has ever said, this might just be the one with the most truth to it. Before he can get another word in, he’s by a set-up trade-in table, haggling with the reptile behind the counter for a good deal on his weapon. 

“–but look, the condition’s mint! Surely you could put your thumb, er, claw on the scale?” But the goon isn’t having it. With a stern shake of their snout, they rip the baton from the Wolf’s paws.

“No can do, bub! Boss’s real strict with pricing. We’ve gots to keep our lights on.” 

And with no more debate to be had, they hit a few buttons on their till. With the ejecting end facing Balthus, casino chips spew out at him… Less than gently. 

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds ! Balthus 10/10 HP Roll: 19 + 2 = 21, hit! -3HP, Balthus 7/10 HP

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!!” They sting as they collide with his half-exposed body, each chip feeling like a stone pelted at him from an angry crowd. And he’s dealt with enough of those to be done with this feeling. After scooping them into his arms, he tries to fight the encroaching dread that, at this rate, they’d be here forever.

He fails.

Omen activates! Roll: 3 - 1 = 2 Balthus 5/10 HP

Collecting himself, he shoves the pile back on the owner’s desk. A bright, confident smile paints his features. “Alright, goin’ for round two. This time I’ll make a killing so big they’ll call it Balthus’ Bloodbath!” 

Balthus 5/10 HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 3, Generous Rate

The wyrm sighs, and chucks a duffel bag his way. After catching it with ease, he zips it open…

Generous Rate: Roll 1d5 = 4, Random 5 Star! Roll 1d20 = 18, Balthus loses Shockstick and gains Hoplon Guard ! Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance !

…And a lustrous, prismatic, golden sheen erupts from the bag! Reaching inside, he excitedly pulls out his prize, which sports the enticing glow he had been looking for. He’s quick to show it off to Naesala and Beowolf.

“Gentlemen I hate to disappoint, but I really think I’ve got you beat. Just look at this baby, I bet it’d net me a fortune…” 

“Come to play the long odds?” asks the inky-black wyrm. It sets a foot on its desk, mouth watering with greed, and opens its long coat to reveal a dazzling selection of prizes. They sparkle and shimmer with an otherworldly glow, hues of purple and yellow drawing the eye and screaming ‘rare!’ 

Balthus is the first to step forward. 

“Damn straight I am! The Lucky King of Gambling doesn’t shy away from any bet, no matter how big or small!” He’s hooked. The guy has yet to earn a penny here, yet he already envisions his jackpot. He steps forward, black dress shoe drawn to the offer like a magnet. It’s a nice companion to the rest of his white suit, which is naturally unbuttoned and shirtless. 

He throws his luckiest gold coin at the reptile, which catches it with ease. “So shiny…” It mutters, adoring its gleam between two claws. “But just how broke can you be?! For this petty sum, I offer only my worst game!!” Suddenly roaring, it whistles with its free hand jammed between its jaws, and a train horn blows somewhere in the distance.

Balthus 10/10 HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 1, Abysmal Rate

Feeling the ground rumble beneath his feet, the Albrecht casts his gaze in every which way until finally a locomotive crashes through the wall to his left. The giant of a man holds his bow out in front of him, ready to fight the steel beast, but it means him no harm. Its conductor hops from the side of the vessel and directs him to its front door. A pale, violet light leaks through as it opens, nearly blinding Balthus for a moment…

Abysmal Rate: Roll 1d5 = 4, Random 4-Star !  Roll 1d40 = 6, Balthus loses Luck+ and gains Shockstick !

And some sort of rod falls through. It doesn’t have that golden hue that any of the Shadow’s trinkets had, but it thrums to life in his hand. Electricity crackles from its hilt to its tip, buzzing a thousand times a second. “Huh. Somehow not what I was expecting, with all that fanfaire…” 

Turning to the rest of his group, he holds it by his face. The current coming from it threatens to fry him. “What do you guys think? Could earn a decent sum on the black market, no?”

“Amateurs! Amateurs!! Honestly, you call this offshore talent? With those weapons, they wouldn’t have even made a dent into ███████–”

Balthus remembers little but chastising before the darkness. Just thunder, and claws. A flash of aquamarine. An ear-splitting howl.

And while he feels Vajra-Mushti are having their powers undersold, he can’t deny that the eccentric individual heading these ‘Monster Hunts’ has a point. A scrap of the past comes back to him: punching the beast made a spirit-crushing ‘tink!’ before sending him flying on his ass. 

So he stands, willingly, at the forge with his brother-in-arms. A long line of foreign smiths work tirelessly to make equipment, all their activity seemingly powered by a large vat of magma at its core. Staring apprehensively at everything laid out for them, Balthus hesitates to reach out. There are pieces made with materials in every color of the rainbow, with metals unheard of, bits of fangs & feathers sticking out here and there. He and Ares hadn’t spoken much. Mostly just ran in and got clobbered together, but that had its own way of bonding him close to the blonde. He tilts a head to him. “What do you think, pal? These are a lot weirder than what we’re used to…” 

Finally, his hands land on a weapon. The Albrecht lifts a black-and-red axe above his head. It nearly equals him in size (and that is saying something) while miraculously being light enough to maneuver. Not just maneuver, even. As he changes his grip on it a few times, he becomes willing to bet on the fact that he could swing the thing wildly. “Makes even the heroes’ relics look like pencils in comparison!” 

The sheen of its blade catches the glow of the flame. It illuminates a red-and-black carapace shell, sharp enough to cut, but evidently all chitin past its steel handle. Running a few fingers along its flat surface, he remarks at how much it feels like a crab leg, and even brings it close to his nose to sniff–wondering if he could take a bite. 

But some clattering stops him. He holds it over his shoulders and looks back to the man that had collected them here, who seems irate over the amount of precious time being wasted. He makes a big entrance, evidently. 

“Don’t forget your armor, too!” he spits, directing their attention to a number of wooden mannequins donning exotic plate mails, “If you fall wearing those shambolic rags a second time, I won’t come to scoop you back up!” 

Balthus sets his sights on a long, spongey, cheese-colored coat, but waits first for Ares to select a weapon.

The seated Owain receives a thundering tap against his shoulder. If he turns around, he'd stare up at a man so large he doesn't just tower over him. He Goddess Towers over him, Duma Towers over him.

"You're not the type to turn down a challenge, yeah? Mama didn't raise you a chicken?" He cracks a smirk. There isn't a soul this side of the country who'd take disrespect to their mama lying down. "Arm wrestle me then, here and now! Some other guys got me fired up, and now I've got to take on anyone who looks like a decent fight."

He swivels to the other side of the table the blonde is seated at, clearing away any food, drink, or personal effects with a broad swipe of his arm. Then, after setting his arm down in a ready position, he places a small bell on his side of the counter.

"This's all yours is you can come out on top."

//he rolled a three. a fucking three.

odin turns with calculated flair, locking eyes with an unfamiliar, yet impressively hulking figure. the sight of the man sends a tumult of adrenaline coursing through his veins, akin to a tempest's fury!

the stranger knows how to grab one's attention — albeit in an unrefined manner, but effective all the same. it ignites a grin upon his lips that rivals the gleam of a moonlit blade. "what's this? a challenge, you say? a gauntlet thrown down, daring the depths of darkness that dwell within? HA! i shall seize your challenge with fervor, as a fated one meets the yawning, abyssal maw of a ravenous beast!

an intense gaze locks onto his opponent. odin swivels accordingly to meet his match. "prepare yourself, noble challenger, for you stand against the unyielding might of ODIN DARK, scion of shadows, wielding the arcane power of heroes past and champions yet to come!"

with a deft flourish, the mage retrieves a pristine white feather from the folds of his cape, elevating it like a sacred talisman before placing it beside the bell. "and let this feather," he proclaims grandiosely, "serve as a memento of the strength you encountered tonight. may it stir the embers of your spirit and IGNITE the flames of your resolve, for within the crucible of defeat lies the seeds of future triumph!"

odin offers a smirk of his own as he aligns his arm with his adversary's. indeed, this was the stuff of shadowed lore! "COME! let all bear witness to our dark duel, and let the earth tremble beneath the weight of our shadowed contest!"

/ WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THEY'RE EVENLY MATCHED LMAOOOOO

"Um, shoot... Yeah, what you said! About all that future crucible stuff--You're on, pal!" And with no more words to say, he heaves forward.

But they're two waves barreling into one another. Screw an immovable object: ever wondered what an unstoppable force looked like meeting another? Them. Balthus and Odin. One jacked guy against another, the two pushing against their arms but neither giving in. The fight drags on for a few more moments.

And those moments turn to minutes.

And those minutes, hours.

And the night is no longer young. The ball has ended. Most have gone home--some mixture of tired, elated, and drunk. The few spectators that remain cheer on both sides in equal measure. When church staff comes to usher them away, they protest, claiming that the battle must come to its natural conclusion.

But the two remain locked in fierce, endless combat. An eon may pass before either gives in. Years in the future, a story would be written about them: The Dark Duel betwixt Fighter of Fate and Grappler of Generations. Legends say that their battle brought fire and storm to the venerated halls of Garreg Mach, that its eventual demise was wrought by their hands. Some even claim they are still fighting, each yet to find an opening.