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liegeboundâ:
    A lightweight tome in hand with various event planning notes, Kent makes his rounds, there being so much still yet to do to prepare for the upcoming Ethereal Ball and nearly enough hands to afford to it. From one task to another, he recalls the head chef giving a word of warning upon hearing of the riding professorâs next destination.
Cheekiest prick Iâd ever met, they had said. Something about a student that had been utterly disrespectful and hardly knew his place, supposedly.
Kent braces himself for the worst, hearing how the young man put in charge of sorting the dishes was someone arrogant who was eager to cause problems, butâŚ
â âŚYouâre remarkably quiet for how the rumors paint you, â Kent notes with a mild note of surprise as he approaches, seeing all the dishes lined out in quite the orderly fashion. Itâs far from finished, butâŚÂ â Extremely well-organized in your methods as well. I wouldnât have done this any differently myself! â
Inventory might very well not be that arduous an affair to take care of then. Well, heâll be!
â You even know the differences between various dinner forks from what I can see; is that right? â
âMm?â
Blink to attention, though even that is slow and sleepy. Dwyer gives a long, quiet yawn before addressing the guy, though at least heâs the decency to cover that with a hand.
â--Quiet? I always am. Not near enough pep in my step to go running about, hollering.â But, ah, if itâs about some sort of rumors... perhaps he can put two and two together there. Nonetheless, Dwyer continues with work as he talks, neatly sorting.
âI learned a lot from my father, unfortunately. How to sort between dishes, whic utensil to use, in what order, come dinnertime. And yes, how to speak up and point out the correct manner of things. Unfortunate, that last one...â
The young man holds up a spoon to his face, squints. Gloved fingers rub at the metal until whatever tarnished bit is gone from this world. Goodbye.
âHuh. But you also know enough about this type of work, then? Thatâs surprising.â Given this is an institution of war, after all, and even the head chef didnât know shit.
watership weâre going down
starter for @shadoll
If there was any one greatest trouble granted by newfound minisculity, it was the question of travel.
When you are tiny, your feet are also very, very small. Ideally, you still need to travel the same span of distance nonetheless; a foot is still a foot, an inch an inch. Crossing that much distance was already workout for Dwyer enough, much less when meters stretched to miles.
Thankfully, thereâs a parallel solution to be found nonetheless.
Rabbits were much less frightened of you when youâre smaller than them, heâs found. The young man is busy carefully, cautiously easing his way toward one sat in the middle of the expansive courtyard, where the beast nibbles hungrily away at some grass. Heâs sidled on up to it within armsâ length, but...
....
Now what. Just grip the fur, pull up? Potentially the same idea as a horse, but heâs never really ridden bareback either... so close to his goal, and Dwyer now simply stands there. Frozen, thinking.
Hmmmmmmmmmm.

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two stewards walk into a planning committee
starter for @liegebound
This sort of thing was far more suited to him, really. Dwyer almost feels at peace here.
Why even go to all those classes on how to best bash people with a stick, when his skillset was far more suited to looming in a kitchen, here-- offering the occasional, unwarranted advice, to those with far more authority?
Of course, he also isnât rude. Heâs made sure to carry his weight with any tasks set to him, and gladly so. Was sorting through dishes really a punishment for, quote, âinsubordinationâ, when it was a task he truly delighted in? Not his fault the head chef wasnât aware of the best technique in which to mince cloves...
Sorting dishes allows him to doze off easy, anyway. Porcelain, silver, silverware, tankards and miscellaneous........... zzZz... the fancy cups. Each goes delicately into its according pile, with the young manâs head nodding oft in between. But itâs a delightful task, really. No one keeps an eye on him here.
DWYER PLOTTING CALL
GD MISSONS
With your newfound size come newfound troubles with logistics, in particular: how does one get around when youâre as tall as a thumb? The world itself is as grand as itâs ever been. There are, however, those among you who will no doubt see your fresh perspective as an opportunity. After all, how often is it you get a chance to ride a bird, a rabbit, or a squirrel? [ Grants Riding/Flying +1] SARA
You notice things you would never have picked out before. Seeing the world from down here, you occasionally find odd tokens in the grass, in pots, in other such hidden places. Trouble is, they appear to be but half of whatever treasure youâve found. Not to worry! One of the fairies captured in a recent mission is all too happy to take them off your hands, promising good luck and miracles for every complete match. Who knows if the âgood luckâ is real, but there does seem to have been one small side effect after the fact: youâve learned, quite incidentally, that you can now speak with mice! And hoo boy, do they have a lot to say: they humbly request your help, O strange near-hairless rodents, in order to defeat the threat of other mice invading their (your) territory. Teach them, they plead! Teach them to fight! Well, all right then. Surely nothing untoward will come of you showing one or two of them how to swing a stick⌠[ Grants Any Skill +1 ] CELINE
FREE TASKS
The Ethereal Ball is nigh! The planning committee is hard at work preparing for the second biggest event of the year and asks for volunteers to help make it happen! Thereâs plenty that needs to be done, from picking out the menu to securing the supplies you need for the dance cards. KENT
My pillow is a mess and brother, I'm cleaning up every day
"winners were given cookies," she comments conversationally not long before snapping the sugary treat she was handed earlier in two and holding out the smaller half to him. "i didn't see you out there today. if you did take part, you must not have gotten very far."
Ah? Sharing her apparent one treat? How generous, even if it did seem to be the smaller end of the halves. Dwyer does accept the cookie shard gratefully, soon munching away.
"--Nah. Got a single hit, though. I do think that's good enough for me." Can't say he really gave it his all, but... bare minimum participation, that's still a lot, right?
"You did get far then? That's good. I hope you gave everyone a run for their money." Nod, and... his acquaintance is then handed another juice box, to help wash down her half of the cookie. Dwyer had grabbed plenty.
"Think I'm only in this for the snacks, anyway."

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đ§"Hm... At least you aren't Jakob."
"... And what's that supposed to mean?"
Still, juice is juice, and Dwyer will never be one to pass up a delightful little beverage. The young man takes a nice, loooong sip of the box, focusing on that for a moment. Let the sweet taste of citrus soothe his wounds.
Smack smack. Anyway, yeah, he does know exactly what that's supposed to mean.
"Rather impolite to go comparing people to their fathers and all. Much less when I'm down. What if I did that to you?"
Camilla chuckled and lean in close, her smile dangerous. "I'm much more like King Garon than some care to admit." She leaned back and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Take it as a compliment. I find Jakob to be insufferable." She tossed him another juice box before walking away.
Ah. Well, to be fair, sheâd definitely hit a sore spot, even if unintentional. But in pure hypocrite fashion, Dwyer himself had hardly been thinking when heâd retorted right back. That blunt nature tends to come off as more mean-spirited than intended, and...
Well, whatever. Far too sore to be leaping up after her and apologize proper, so heâll just have to do it another time. Sheâll live.
And maybe heâll add on a proper thanks for the juice boxes too, whenever heâs at it. But for now, Dwyer remains in place to sip his cares away.
đ§"Hm... At least you aren't Jakob."
"... And what's that supposed to mean?"
Still, juice is juice, and Dwyer will never be one to pass up a delightful little beverage. The young man takes a nice, loooong sip of the box, focusing on that for a moment. Let the sweet taste of citrus soothe his wounds.
Smack smack. Anyway, yeah, he does know exactly what that's supposed to mean.
"Rather impolite to go comparing people to their fathers and all. Much less when I'm down. What if I did that to you?"
This is all a bit daunting⌠maybe he really shouldn't be here. But "what-ifs" and "this sucks" don't really matter when it's already too late. Dwyer sighs and shuffles out his tome, squinting to take aim of Farina in the near-distance. He mutters quietly, something half-lament and half-incantation⌠before a blast of dark purple bubbles at his fingertips. And then it goes firing off into the flier's direction.
[ HP: 6/6, Roll:12-2 = 10, Hit -1.5 ]
â - Alright, so she might've missed the timing by a little and arrived ...fashionably late. Not by much but more than enough to have arrived flying over a tiny quiet corner of the battlefield.
Where she was promptly shot at by some mage with some dark magic-ky stuff. Well, sue her. She doesn't magic.
"Ack!", the pegasus knight screeched out in alarm, pulling back hard on the reins and ordering her mount to a fluttering halt. Couldn't say that shot didn't hit her. Though, uh, that really could've been worse.
Farina HP: 3.5/5
As for the culprit.. Well, it didn't take her long before she managed to spot gloomy-looking mage over in the corner, who didn't particularly looked like he even wanted to be there. Should be an easy take-down!
"There you are!", she declared. "Thought ya could get the drop on me, didn't ya? Well, think again! Ha!" She punctuated that statement with a sudden dive and a swing of her spear. Not an entirely serious swing but should be more than enough for a warning.
Farina counters with Short Spear - Roll: 12! Hit! -2!
It seemed to hit well enough, which just goes to show how much his heart wasn't in this. Farina gave herself a triumphant grin. At this rate, she may as well finish this round in one go! Nudging her mount to flutter back a few hops, the mercenary wound up her spear and prepared for a finishing charge.
Farina attacks with Knightkneeler on Short Spear - Roll: 2+2! Miss!
Which...may have ended up given itself a little too much away, for that swing went well over his head and ended up causing her to fly comically right past her foe. She had ended up needing a few more fly-bys before she could stabilize properly.
Alright, maybe she'd underestimated him a little. Looking suitably chastised and red-faced, the mercenary muttered out a very quick "That, uh, thatneverhappened!" Alright, maybe she could give to take this just a tiny bit more seriously.
making-doughâ:
â Â -Â To say his heart wasnât in it was truly an understatement. Aside from that first blast, the rest of those blasts didnât come anywhere close. Dodging those was practically childâs play. In fact, was he even trying?
âHey, hey!â, Farina called out, sounding slightly ticked off. âArenât ya lookinâ down on me just a bit much there?â Really, sheâs heard of easy but this was way too easy! Oh, forget it, itâll count enough for battlefield lesson! No enemy will just sit there and let you get yourself ready.
Besides, the way heâs got his hands upturned like that, he did look as though he was surrendering so she may as well oblige him.
She dived.
Darting Blow activates! Farina attacks Dwyer with Short Spear - Roll: 14! Hit! -2HP!
Farina counterattacks Dwyer with Short Spear - Roll: 12! Hit! -2HP!
Farina attacks Dwyer with Short Spear - Roll: 9! Hit! -2HP!
By the time sheâd pulled out her dive, her opponent was, well, if he wasnât flat on his back already, he was practically there. Clearly, not a whole lot of fight left in him. Nudging her mount to flutter down next to him, the mercenary asked the apparent dark mage a simple little âWe good?â The following âor if youâd like to keep going?â she left unsaid. Well, it wasnât as if she was going to expect a 'yesâ on that front, anyway.
Should she offer him a ride back to the camps? They were meant to keep all this friendly, right? Somehow sounding as she was swallowing poison, Farina managed to grumble out a âYa, uh, ya need a lift at all?â Keeping it friendly was one thing but sheâd rather she didnât make a habit of this. Unpaid labour was a sin, after all!
Ah, in his defense... magic of this sort still isnât even really his thing, much less combat. Dwyer is built either for healing and yawning on a horse from afar... or a sudden backstab with a knife. And canât really do that when your opponent is flying around, anyway.
His expression notably drops when Farina dives right for him. Uh Oh.
Dwyer is subsequently hit once, twice, THRICE, each blunt end jabbing into his bony little body with full aplomb. Thereâs a comical, choked sort of cry as he hits the ground... again. And once the dust cloud settles this time, thereâs sure no quick leap to feet.
â... Guh. Bit overkill there, I think.â Sighhh... but such an end was to be expected, really. Least he got in a hit at all. He can be content with that.
A skinny arm lifts upward, reaching. Yes, he would very much like that ride, thank you. Far too long a walk to the meds tents in general, much less with these brand new bruises.
âGood match. Thanks.â
This is all a bit daunting⌠maybe he really shouldn't be here. But "what-ifs" and "this sucks" don't really matter when it's already too late. Dwyer sighs and shuffles out his tome, squinting to take aim of Farina in the near-distance. He mutters quietly, something half-lament and half-incantation⌠before a blast of dark purple bubbles at his fingertips. And then it goes firing off into the flier's direction.
[ HP: 6/6, Roll:12-2 = 10, Hit -1.5 ]
â - Alright, so she might've missed the timing by a little and arrived ...fashionably late. Not by much but more than enough to have arrived flying over a tiny quiet corner of the battlefield.
Where she was promptly shot at by some mage with some dark magic-ky stuff. Well, sue her. She doesn't magic.
"Ack!", the pegasus knight screeched out in alarm, pulling back hard on the reins and ordering her mount to a fluttering halt. Couldn't say that shot didn't hit her. Though, uh, that really could've been worse.
Farina HP: 3.5/5
As for the culprit.. Well, it didn't take her long before she managed to spot gloomy-looking mage over in the corner, who didn't particularly looked like he even wanted to be there. Should be an easy take-down!
"There you are!", she declared. "Thought ya could get the drop on me, didn't ya? Well, think again! Ha!" She punctuated that statement with a sudden dive and a swing of her spear. Not an entirely serious swing but should be more than enough for a warning.
Farina counters with Short Spear - Roll: 12! Hit! -2!
It seemed to hit well enough, which just goes to show how much his heart wasn't in this. Farina gave herself a triumphant grin. At this rate, she may as well finish this round in one go! Nudging her mount to flutter back a few hops, the mercenary wound up her spear and prepared for a finishing charge.
Farina attacks with Knightkneeler on Short Spear - Roll: 2+2! Miss!
Which...may have ended up given itself a little too much away, for that swing went well over his head and ended up causing her to fly comically right past her foe. She had ended up needing a few more fly-bys before she could stabilize properly.
Alright, maybe she'd underestimated him a little. Looking suitably chastised and red-faced, the mercenary muttered out a very quick "That, uh, thatneverhappened!" Alright, maybe she could give to take this just a tiny bit more seriously.
Thankfully, they are only in training for the moment. So even as Dwyer flinches with arms crossed before his face, the damage is minimal... minus careening backward into the dirt, a cloud of dust poofing from impact. Big OOF. But not over yet... unfortunately.
Farina swings next right as he's getting back up, weapon WHOOSHING over the young man's head while he dusts off. Bit too much of a breeze there. He blinks, and... shuffles back around to face his opponent again.
"Got drop enough, I think. Good enough for me." Itâs the little things.
He's still only got one attack, unfortunately... so again, a flurry of purple, buzzing and humming low. A flick of his gloved hand to send it shooting off...
... Where it sails right past the nimble flier, and crashes somewhere into the mountainside. His eyes follow it throughout the full launch, arc, and subsequent pitiful end.
"Ah."
Uh oh.
He quickly fires off another shot purely as a hail mary. It shoots off at a completely different angle, also missing.
..... Dwyer gives a big shrug from the ground, both palms upturned.
[ HP: 4/6, COUNTER Roll:1d20-2 = 1, FULL MISS ]
[ ATTACK Roll:1d20-2= 3, FULL MISS AGAIN]

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the plentiful feast promised to the house that prevails over all others is all well and good, but students who have participated in the battle of eagle and lion prior know the refreshments provided by the staff is the actual highlight of the event. it goes without mention that the busy healers volunteering in the medical tent have already shooed sara away from the supply of juice boxes, insisting it is far too early to be handing them out.
"juice box," she demands, hand upturned in a receiving position. dwyer should have no trouble retrieving one from those stingy clerics that denied her. "in the past, they have been distributed among the defeated as a consolation prize. i would like mine now, seeing as i do not have any intention of losing."
Dwyer himself is already sipping noisily from a one such juice box, the crackling sound of bubbles through his straw ringing loud and clear.
"Don't have any."
But despite what his flat tone would indicate, the young man surely jests-- as action gives such contrast as to have him shuffle through his belongings, pull out a second juice box, and place it into her outstretched hand.
"Good luck."
stalarmoniosâ:
Contrary to what Shigure had initially expected, these wolves look quite sweet. They may not be small creatures the likes of which he tends to befriend in every forest he visits, but the principal of approaching them is, no doubt, the same: be calm and quiet and show them you mean no harm. The bluenette slips into the yard and spots a familiar figure nudging one of the lupines with his staff. He chuckles at the sight.
âI donât believe theyâll get up if you do that,â he remarks, drawing closer to the older teen. âHello, Dwyer. Itâs lovely to see you here in FĂłdlan. How have you been?â
He takes a seat near another wolf, this one with a lovely snow-white coat. Best to take it slow when earning an animalâs trust, as he knows well from experience. Glancing up at the other, Shigure once again finds himself glad for the possibility of meeting his friends here; even if heâs made some new ones, seeing his old ones and knowing theyâre alive and well sets him at ease. They had all gone their own ways after the war⌠itâs nice, to meet up every once in a while.
Reaching out, Shigure strokes the wolfâs fluffy side. The wolf snuffles but doesnât move away, so the bluenette inches closer until heâs smoothing the fur down on the canineâs head. A thumping behind him makes him glance back and find the wolfâs tail wagging heartilyâseems heâs taking the correct steps. He turns back and strokes the wolf on its head and neck, scratching behind its ears. The wolf pants, tongue lolling out, before flipping onto its back and whining, pawing at Shigure. The teen laughs and rubs its belly, and it give a happy bark. âGoodness, arenât you a friendly one! What a sweet and majestic creature you are! Oh, what a darling companion you must make, yes, how delightful!â
âRarf!â Well, the wolf must be extremely pleased by the praise heâs showering on it. Giggling, the bluenette turns back to his friend.
âDid you see how I earned its trust? Simply respect it and show it you mean no harm and you will no doubt befriend one by the end of this afternoon. Itâs really quite simple, if you think about it, isnât it?â He smiles at Dwyer in encouragement. âWhy donât you try?â
Ah. Shigure. Yes, they knew each other quite well. You really do grow to make quite the connections with your comrades in literal war.
Shigure is, and always has been, quite a pleasant presence, pleasant young man. Heâs never too loud, never too boisterous in movements, and... kind of perfect in just about everything, seemingly. That last part would probably contrast and overshadow the other bits, give him a sense of bitter distaste, if Dwyer actually cared.
âShigure. Iâve been... well, Iâm here now.â Not sure if the question was asked for sake of a genuine answer, or just for sake of pleasantries. Meh. âSure I could be a lot better if I was having a nice tea before a nap.â
Casual, ever-so-gently distant. Not willing to even try and touch at the baggage surrounding everything behind.
But Shigure makes fast friends with a capricious wolf, and Dwyerâs face scrunches immediate. Really? That easy, already? Or, maybe the dogs were actually far more amiable than heâd realized...
Wellp. Dwyer shuffles into taking a seat beside one, reaches out a hand to pet it...
--Only to yoink it back before the snap of jaws. The young man then keels over to the ground, fabric to dirt with a loud POMF, and quickly crawls away in practiced speed.
â--Nope. Nah. Unfortunately, youâre just a special case.â