genessia | Warrior for Hire [Video/Action, OTA]

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Warrior for Hire [Video/Action, OTA]

[It's been a week or two since the end of the invasion, and someone's finally, finally gotten her feet under her. New world? The concept isn't alien to her. But the only people she's ever met who managed the feat had to give up their corporeal bodies to do it, and she'd know if she'd done something like that, even by accident - right?]

[Regardless, she's now decided it's time to reach out to people. Her linkpearl doesn't work, for whatever reason - odds are good it's waaaay out of range - so she's relying on the 'phone' supplied to her in that little care package. Here, citizens and prisoners of Genessia - have a tiny, blue-haired woman addressing you.]

This is really quite the charming place, when it's not being overrun by ghosts. If I were here by choice, I might even enjoy it.

My name is Aeslyn Blackrose; I doubt it means anything to anyone here, unless Garlemald's reach is far greater than any of us ever guessed. I haven't seen much call for my usual line of work, whether in the 'newspaper' or on this phone thing, so I'm guessing rogue godlings aren't much of a concern here. I am well and truly grateful for that.

That being said, I am at something of an impasse. There are bounty hunters here in plenty already, more than one escort service, and each city has its own Guardian already. There is no war to fight, no empire to overthrow, no god to cast down. Alphinaud would have a fit. [She smiles, but it doesn't last long.]

In short, I need work. I can do woodwork, tailoring, cooking, alchemy, leatherwork, goldsmithing, blacksmithing, and armorsmithing, and I'm quite capable of fighting if that's the only call for my talents. I am a fully grown adult of some thirty-three summers, and I am not above doing odd jobs for coin.

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Oh, go on and enjoy it anyway! Despite its phantasmal, haunting unreality, Genessia has its charms. Really, aren't accidents the best pleasures?

Anyway, hello again, Ms. Blackrose! Still haven't figured out your first name, to my frustration. Glad you're doing all right.

[Then again he's wearing normal (for him) clothes this time, so she'll have to remember by voice.]

Oh, you knew Alphinaud! Goodness, I wish I got to know him a little better. He didn't stay long, sadly. Very noble lad, if a touch effete.

Goodness, dethroning gods? That's some feat. Then again, given the sort of petty deities that pass through every so often, it might do good to have your expertise at the ready. Death gods especially stoke one's ire, don't they?

Oh, woodworking! Say, might you be able to help me finish a log cabin? I was working on it once, but other work caught up to me and I never found the time. [Or the inclination. Not much adventure in architecture.]

And blacksmithing! What, ah, sort of things can you make?

[Please say magic longswords please please please]

Edited 2017-07-07 18:52 (UTC)

Alphinaud has been here? How long ago?

[Considering she was talking to him just an hour before she arrived here, she finds this hard to believe - but stranger things have happened. Hell, she's done quite a few herself.]

Aye, I could help build a cabin - provided you supply the lumber. I don't particularly fancy going out to cut down a forest to build someone else a house, even if the pay would make living comfortable for a year or two. As to what I can make... well, you name it, really. If it can be swung at a foe in anger, I can make it, from daggers to greatswords and axes. I'm bloody awful with horseshoes, though - not much call for them, where I came from. I even have some stock materials already, if you have something in mind.

Oh, about a year. We spoke a little about where he came from. "Elezen" and "Hyur" were dropped, as well as places like "Ishgard" and some others. Are you one of or from one of those?

Ah, heh heh, maybe hold off on the logging, then.

[He knew a happy little tree, once, who would be very cross with him if he needlessly hacked away at a forest.]

Anything I can name!? What about Excalibur, or Durandal? Or some righteous blade yet to be forged! Not swung in anger, though. Wouldn't want wrath to taint it. Justice, perhaps, or something equally, spiritually meritorious.

[Maybe she's not the Lady of the Lake Ted hopes]

A year? Hmm... that's just about when I was wrapping up that mess with Nidhogg and his brood. No, I'm neither Elezen nor Hyur; I'm a Lalafell. I might come up to the average Hyur's belt, or a Roegadyn's knee. Don't mistake size for strength, though; the foremost Thaumaturges in Eorzea are all Lalafellin. As for where I hail from... Limsa Lominsa, island nation of pirates and rogues, and some damn fine people besides.

Durandal I've heard of, and Cortana, but I'm afraid those are a bit outside my skill level. I can forge a blade that will draw on your aether to enhance its power, but each individual's capacity is different - you may find that your aspirations outpace yours. I mean no disrespect - this is simply the truth of the matter. A truly powerful weapon requires a powerful hand to wield it.

Goodness, that's quite the task! Did you stop him from munching on Yggdrasil, perhaps? He must've had to do with that thousand year war Alphinaud told me about. He didn't tell me about Lalafell, though. He did say Elezen could be a bit snooty. I hope they didn't fall beneath his notice.

[Short jokes. He'll be here all week, folks.]

Haha, thank goodness for the fine people besides; sounds like damnation was near at hand for them. I might have to introduce you to someone who, paradoxically, may be a pirate and a fine person.

Ah, the sword of mercy! But then I suppose such legendary blades can't quite be made. Pity. What you can make is only as good as my...aether? What's that?

[Don't worry, she's raising her prices accordingly. She learned the business from some of the shiftiest bastards in Ul'dah, where money is quite literally life itself. 'For coin and country!' indeed.]

Someone had to make them. Think on this, before you cast further aspersions. Being a pirate or a rogue does not preclude one from possessing a pious soul.

[Tread carefully, Ted - you've come dangerously close to insulting several of her dearest friends and fellow Scions.]

Aether is the force which makes life possible. Some call it chi, others mana, still others prana; I merely use the term I am most familiar with, as a scholar of arcanima. It's the latent energy of the soul, and it flows through all living things, including the ground beneath your feet. One's capacity can be raised through diligent training and fastidious living, but there are natural limits which vary by the individual. Unfortunately, one need not be noble in nature to have natural aptitude, though you do need the ability to sense aether in order to wield it. Were that the case, ancient Allag would never have risen to the heights it did, nor Mhach's voidmages achieved the power they wielded.

Do not, however, make the mistake of believing that only a blade forged of adamantite in the fires of Ifrit is capable of killing - I know many, many people who get by just fine with weapons of brass, bone, and even stone. Some have even made it their trademark - the Brass Blades of Ul'dah, for example, are best known for the brazen scimitars they wield.

Edited 2017-07-08 15:47 (UTC)

Someone had to make them...what, turn to piracy?

[He might've missed something]

Nonetheless, I pray you're right. I'd love nothing better than to marry those two things in a friend.

[After sounding more sincere and hopeful than he ever has, he gets right back into his normal, lightly humorous mode]

"Goodness, I hope the ground beneath our feet has the same sort of feeling you felt back on...what was your world called, again?

Hah, 'brazen' blades. That's great."

[But he's a little materialistic and has his heart set on Neat Stuff]

"But I see what you mean; swords don't make the Lalafell, but the reverse, as you're so eager to demonstrate.

Say, why not advertise? Boast about the impressive wares you can make. I don't mind listening; I'm sure to have more definite desires once you tell all. That alchemy business sounds especially fantastic."

Someone had to make the blades. [She is giving you a look, Ted.] Or did you mayhap think they sprang from the primordial aether?

The name of the planet? Hydaelyn, though few who live there use it. To them, it is the only world - and, indeed, they're probably happier that way. A smaller world is... comforting, to most. I was disabused of that notion, however, very early in my career as an adventurer, by Hydaelyn herself.

[Advertise? Why the bloody hells should she do that? Her wares speak for themselves - though, if she's to find her own place in this world, a bit of upselling might not be amiss.]

I have slain gods with the weapons made by my own two hands, everything from brass and iron to mythril and adamantite. I have bested in fair competition every competitor in Eorzea, my wares against theirs. I have forged plate that can stop Titan's wrath, sewn robes that will not burn in primal hellfire, brewed potions and elixirs that can bring a man near dead back to full fighting strength, and strung bows that can pierce the eye of a dragon in flight.

[If only he were detail-oriented enough to notice said severe looks. His teacher gives him them all the time, to no avail.]

Haha, well spontaneous generation from crude matter would explain a lot about some pirates, certainly.

Oh, a female planet eh? Mine too! 'Mother Earth', we'd sometimes call it.

[He listens raptly to the pitch. He can already feel his wallet growing lighter.]

Haha, suppose I did ask for boasting. May God forgive me for inflaming pride, if I've done. Those elixirs sound especially fine; I've a friend who seems to sleepwalk always. I'd pay handsomely for some tonic that could rouse his eternal half-slumber. Well, so long as there's nothing illicit in the substance, of course.

[Performance-enhancing drugs get a bad rap outside of the MMO world]

Goodness, all of that sounds lovely. Say, do you ever work in reverse? I mean, the usual way is to commission a product and leave you to the materials, but could it work the other way around? You mentioned bone weapons, right? I've some wondrous teeth I've acquired that I'd dearly love to fashion into a longsword, if at all possible.

Hydaelyn is both the planet and an entity - we call her the Mother Crystal, because that is the form she takes when she speaks to us.

[She ponders his request - she's done similar work before, so it's certainly not a new idea to her.]

It isn't boasting if it's true. I can work with provided materials, but you should be aware that they might not be up to the task. What sort of teeth have you acquired?

Hah, such a vocal planet too! Ours was, alas, more subtle than that. Suppose when something falls it either stops singing altogether or...makes noise.

Haha, the teeth of a pirate! You might be familiar with the material. A magician pirate, at that. Which is to say I'll be very disappointed if you can't suss out something mystical in them. They've even got the blood dried on; that ought to lend something.

[The look she is giving you now, Ted, is best translated as 'What the fuck?' except she's at least enough of a lady not to use that particular word.]

...Aye, I could probably work them in somehow. How large are they?

[His hand shoots to his bag and digs. Expression triumphant, he produces a tooth, an inch-and-a-half tall, then flourishes in front of the screen. Not even Roegadyn have chompers that large.]

"Yea high. I'm due for seven of them altogether."

Edited 2017-07-12 04:13 (UTC)

[Seven teeth. Presumably magical, bloody. Blood stained by this point, she had no doubt.]

I can work with those, yes. Would you prefer them kept whole, or can they be cut and shaped?

[Hey, they're only a little bloody cause they came from someone's gums! That's it!]

"Mm, well I certainly won't have you forging some ghastly serrated blade! As there's only so much point to go around on a longsword, the pointy ones, I fear, will have to be altered and changed into edge."

[If one can do that. He's not a smith. Still, he is getting visibly excited at the prospect of a Build-a-Blade workshop.]

Ah! Could this medallion

[He says, unwrapping it from his neck]

be worked into the crossguard? Indeed, the sword must make a cross when you hold it the wrong way. A blade straight and narrow as the path every soul should walk! 'Tis a medallion of St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers and, haha, toothache. I got it from a priest! That, haha, should suffice to make it a sacred sword; a blessed blade.

Oh! So long as we're about bones, I may be able to secure the blessing of Death himself and get some of his. Hopefully that doesn't hold up the process too much.

Any other materials you'd like me to procure? I suppose we've still the hilt and the pommel to contend with. Oh, I can't wait, this is going to be delightful!

[Someone's a sword enthusiast]

Edited 2017-07-15 02:33 (UTC)

[Hmm... A blade shaped base, channels cut into what should be the cutting edge, and these teeth cut and shaped to form the actual cutting edge. Seven teeth wouldn't make for much of an edge, though... Ah well. They could be used to make the tip and about six inches of the edge on either side, leaving the rest to more traditional materials. The only other option would be something like a macuahuitl...]

Do you want the medal itself worked in, maintaining its form? Or do you want the material it's made of worked in?

As for other materials, I think I have most of what I'll need.

Ah, tough one. I'll leave that to your own caprice, or expertise. I believe whatever its accidental attributes, its essentials will remain the same. So long as that endures, all's well.

All right! I'll seek straightway to gather every favor, and drop off all the materials for you. Make it immortally sturdy, now! I plan on inspecting the blade and conducting a singular torture test of my own, if you don't mind.

You'll not want for a sturdier blade, of that I can assure you. Before I construct it, however, I would like to take your measure - is there a place in these cities where combat is permitted, or perhaps can even be simulated?

Certainly! There's the arena in Attleton, where even death is thwarted should the bout prove too brutal. There's also the Holodeck in Nova City, which is fake.

[Hold on, he'll think of a more flattering description soon.]

That is, none of its foes are real, but...hard light projections, or something. Very like; a sinister simulacrum.

Now, in taking this measure, what's allowed and necessary?

[Just so he knows how much cheating to do.]

I'm familiar with simulation battles. [No, she's not going to go into detail there. Suffice to say, Allagans were probably involved.]

You may use whatever equipment and abilities you possess. I wish to see the limits of your capabilities, not hamper you with unnecessary rules.

Ah, all right...

[The holodeck, distasteful as its felt falseness was, is probably best. No one but himself could get hurt, and its privacy was preferable. Assuming no recordings were kept.]

To be clear, you can make a better blade if I've performance to match, right?

[He had to weigh his desire for cool stuff against his dislike for that uniform. Decisions, decisions.]

I can. Provided my ability is not exceeded by your own, of course.

[Best not to assume that the uniform will impress her, Ted. She knows a bad deal when she sees one, and life fibers have bad idea written aaaaall over them.]

If you really want to impress me, do it without using anything to enhance your personal abilities. Potions, drugs, machina, or other performance enhancers will only hide what is really there, and that's what I need to see.

[In a way that's a relief. He did, upon consideration, want something that'd be useful even when he wasn't wearing that thing. It'd be a waste of a perfectly good sword if only life-fiber arms could wield it.]

Au naturale it is! [Lalafells know French right?]

It's a date then. Afternoons work best for me. Next Saturday, perhaps?

Aye, Saturday works. I'll meet you there.

[They do not, but the Echo knows no lingual boundaries.]

[The sword she's going to end up making him will be pretty impressive, a melding of macuahuitl and single-edged longsword. All that remains to be seen is the materials she will need to use in its crafting.]

((OOC: Quick question. What actual shape are the teeth? I'm assuming they're not human...))

Wonderful! Until then, go under the Mercy.

[Not too macuahuitl-ish, he hopes. He'd refuse a weapon as cruel as that. If she has to break the teeth down to dust, so be it, but a nice, clean, double-edged longsword is all he asks. And it has to make a cross. And white as can be. Okay, so he asks a lot.]

((OOC: He got them from some weird shark-human hybrid so...your imagination can probably take it from there. I'm not picky. Wanna just go to Action from here or make another thread?))

May you ever walk in the light of the Crystal.

[Well, there goes the dragon's tail idea, then. Maybe she'll use them in the guard?]

((OOC: We can drop back to a new thread in this post for it.))

((OOC: new thread it is!)

[Nova City has it charms. It's very clean, and very bright. The dolls appear to get along with each other despite being so strange, though Ted wonders if that's due to love or, more likely, a kind of tight-lipped indifference. It has the best technology on offer; maybe too much. Even walking was automated, if one wished. It was all very novel and very interesting, but Ted always felt a twinge of inhumanity about it.

Particularly the holodeck; a drastic change from the silver, sleek city from outside. This room was pitch black with neon-yellow grid lines extending in all directions. It was hard to get an exact measure of its size, but the atmosphere was intimidating; large and lonely. At least until the small smith arrived.

Ted, for once, had gone without his goku uniform, wearing other armaments in its place. Hung over his back was Cocytus, a frost-brand sword he'd received from Old Hell, hence the name. He picked it himself, naturally. His hands and feet are covered in dull, rocky boots and gauntlets that would protect him from dire heat. The gauntlets in particular let him exert telekinetic force with two magical, astral hands. Beneath his colorful clothes lay a suit of chainmail.

He was equipped, but not with anything as extreme as that strange symbiote. Beneath the getup of the would-be knight-errant was simply a man, sans life fibers. Hopefully there was strength or aether enough to prove worthy of a better blade than the one from the false hell.

The central, lone feature of the holodeck was a dull white terminal poking from the middle of the floor. Well, time to choose his challenge, however artificial. Dragons, of course. The symbolism is too rich to resist. What kind? Fire-breathing. Every piece of equipment he's got is especially suited to it. Quantity? One should do. More romantic that way. And now it's asking him what shape and size. Ooh, tough one. Blackrose will find him deliberating when she arrives to join him.]

Edited 2017-07-31 04:08 (UTC)

[Aeslyn, true to her word, has found the place. She's all of three feet tall, has blue hair (which appears to be natural, since even her eyelashes match), and is dressed in a fashion that Ted might recognize as Japanese but which she will stubbornly insist is Doman in origin. She's wearing a circlet of some black metal, and her only apparent equipment is a book, well-worn and battle-scarred.

If I may? [She runs through the available selections, and selects a very particular one that appears to be the size of a rather large house.]

I doubt he'll be anything like the one I faced, but he should prove a worthy adversary nonetheless.

Edited 2017-08-07 22:54 (UTC)

[Being so short made her easy to peer over, Ted curiously eyeing her selections. When she decides, he gets pumped. That looks exciting!]

"Goodness. That one doesn't look much for climbing, eh? Sharp spikes protruding from every orifice. Suppose I'll have to keep an eye out lest it get poked out. Well, so long as he's a dimmer dragon, he ought to do just fine."

[Confidence? Idiocy? It's hard to say. The challenge doesn't fill him with any dread but what's normal to any trial. A feminine, calming voice emanates from all around them.]

"Selection approved. All non-participants are highly encouraged to remove themselves to the outer perimeter. The exercise will begin in one minute."

[Ted gives Aeslyn a nod to do just that. He mentally takes stock of his gear, fits his equipment a little tighter, and otherwise looks like he's just moved to the front line of a roller coaster. The black-and-yellow landscape gradually changes into something more romantic. In this case, a ruined temple. Ivy hangs off aged stone pillars, and many architectural bulwarks present themselves as cover. To make a fight fair against breath weapons, no doubt.

Ted doesn't get much time to admire the holo-scenery before little-Nidhogg makes his appearance. A small blip on the horizon rapidly shifts into view as he flew and materialized from the back- to the fore-ground. A mighty roar heralded his arrival. Time to do some dragon slaying. Why, he was practically born for this!

He whips out his heavy pistol, taking aim and firing. One bullet, miraculously, tears through each eye. Blam, adjust, blam! Just like that, the creature is blinded mid-flight. It opens its maw again with a horrified screech, as if to say: "MY EYES. WHY DID YOU SHOOT OUT BOTH MY EYES? WHO DOES THAT!?"

In answer to imagined protest, Ted rummages in his satchel and pulls out a bomb. It has a name he forgets at the moment. Something technical. If he was feeling sporty and charitable, he might call it the "Aeslyn bomb" for its inverse power relative to its size. That open mouth makes for an easy target as he lobs it right in. Normally that would be too far a throw for him, if not for the telekinetic gloves delivering it easy as you please. He can even control the detonation precisely!

Even from inside the simulated dragon, the force of that frag shakes them. Yes, Ted has access to heavy ordnance. Be afraid. The dragon is violently thrown off course, jutting out of its flight path. Ted runs to dive out of the way as it crashes into the ground, plummeting into the earth and skidding into a pillar. Which then topples onto the beast, blinded and internally compromised.

Ted seems very pleased with himself. For a moment, before he realizes...]

"Oh, rats! Look at me, wasting perfectly explosions on the ephemeral. Not especially frugal, eh? And if it's a sword I want, suppose it's a sword I should use."

[While wasting a dragon with futuristic armaments is all well and good, Ted figures that, logically, he should probably bring his blade to bear for the sake of relevance. At least the creature seems grounded now! Thus, a fool rushes in where angels fear to tread.]

Edited 2017-08-13 23:23 (UTC)

[Aeslyn is taking notes on both the dragon and Ted. She's not too thrilled with the dragon - it certainly isn't Nidhogg, to lose its eyes that easily. If a mere mortal gun could do that, the Dragonsong War would have been over before it started. The bomb is a nice touch, though - provided it isn't the only one he has on hand, that is. It's going to take more than that to put down this beast.]

[Fake Nidhogg shrugs off the pillar, coming up fighting mad even if he's injured severely. Dragons don't like to be beaten. It goes against their programming as apex predators and ancient assholes. Fire breath is out of the question - for the moment - so it resorts to raking at Ted with claws as long and sharp as swords.]

[Did I mention she didn't leave the arena? She didn't leave the arena. Even so, she seems to be having no trouble whatsoever dodging anything that comes her way, regardless of source, without even seeming to watch. Almost like some outside force is guiding her feet.]

Edited 2017-08-17 09:58 (UTC)

[It is a Nova City gun. Best in the world, or near as Ted could find. Magic and guns seldom go together, in his experience.

He would've, per his chivalrous nature, shouted for the lady to exeunt from the drama at once. Sadly, his spatial awareness isn't much at the best of times, let alone when he's engaged in knightly combat. Alas, Aeslyn will have to fend without his gentlemanly oversight.

And how! Claws like swords, you say? Perfect! The only problem with dragons is that they're too big and brutish to really swordfight properly. Fancy fencing that. But now that it's resorted to its hands, they can have a proper duel. With one side blinded, of course.

That didn't stop it from swatting Ted several yalms away, learning him their inequality in strength. Bruising was the worst of it, as he narrowly avoided getting slashed or bled with a faint parry. He kips up, then pulls out another weapon: the phaser! Its non-lethal stopping power made it the favorite of futuristic lawmen. At least with the setting dialed down. He'd crank it to maximum, aim at the dragon's forearms--easy target--and fire.

There'd be a harsh buzzing noise, but no visible change. On a softer target, going that high on the settings might kill. For the dragon, it'd have a numbing effect which would serve to equalize the prowess of the two. And who doesn't like equality?

Ted does, at least for now, running back into the fray with benumbed claws to contend with. He's learned his lesson about trying to block the thing head-on, instead dodging and leaping and almost dancing out of the way of the claws as he meets each swipe and slash with some of his own. Granted, the hands aren't a great spot to attack, as he could tell from the lack of purchase the blade gained. Oh, it met its mark readily enough. Pinpricks of ice and streams of rime gave it a good scuffling. But he's getting the feeling he'll have to look for a weak point sooner or later. In the belly or wings perhaps.

But this is fun too! Fencing a blind dragon with deadened, simulated nerves to make things competitive.

Well when he phrases it that way...]

[He need not worry for her safety. She's faced much more dangerous opponents than this and came out little worse for wear. When he pulls out yet another gun, she makes a note of it - for all its futuristic styling, it's still just a lightning bolt. She's starting to get a much better idea of what might work for his fighting style and capabilities - much as she hates to admit it, one of Garlemald's gunblades would fit him exceptionally well.]

Keep its attention for a few more seconds. I've a fair idea what you need, now we just need to finish the beast.

[She summons emerald carbuncle, and then begins casting magic at the dragon. Three different poisoning spells, Fester to make them erupt through the beast's skin, Painflare to make it rear up... and Drain to replenish the miniscule amount of aether she spent in the process.]

Aim for the weak point I've created.

[And while he's doing that, she's going to enter Dreadwyrm Trance. The image of a great dragon briefly appears above and behind her, a glowing specter of blue fire that roars in challenge. Even as it fades, she's casting more spells - this time at Mini Nidhogg's head, to keep it off balance. Better hurry, Ted, or you may get caught in the Deathflare that's coming in about twelve seconds.]

[Ted's no dragon expert, but judging by the way it was retching and hitching, he gets the sneaking feeling it *may* be about to breathe fire on him. Or bile. Goodness, he almost feels sorry for the poor thing. Or would, were it not wholly virtual.]

Oh, you do? All right!

[He's laughed in good humor, suspecting that Aeslyn must be one of those Type-A personalities who just can't sit on the sidelines forever. What exactly she's doing is a mystery; was that *another* dragon he just heard? But they were only supposed to fight one!

No matter, got to focus. Got to strike a final, dramatic, felling blow! As its head stumbled and tottered, Ted nimbly went underneath, thrusting upward to the heavens and through its gizzard! Success!

...sort of. From the combination of internal rupture, magically induced disease, and a chilling stab through its lower jaw, little-Nidhogg had apparently taken all it could stand, resting its chin and waiting for the end.

Said chin falls right on top of Ted's back, flattening him. Oops.

He'll still count it as a win!]

[Four... three... two... one... Deathflare. A column of blinding white power falls from above, striking the dragon's head... and Ted beneath it. Fortunately it absorbs the majority of the blow, though it gets... kinda cooked in the process. Oops? The real Nidhogg shrugged off a dozen or more blows like that, and that was when it only had one of its eyes.]

[She'll put away her carbuncle now, and go to assist Ted, who caught only the outside edges of that flare. The training sim blips off, and the dragon goes back to being nothing, leaving them alone in the room - Ted slightly cooked, Aeslyn still looking pristine.]

You fared a damn sight better than most of the dragoons I've seen, I'll give you that, but I'll not be putting a lance in your hands. Where are those teeth you mentioned?

[...Oh, right. While she's waiting for those, she'll cast a few healing spells to take the worst of the damage off.]

[This is, if poetic, a little humiliating. Crushed by the weight of his own triumph! Pride cometh before the fall, and who prouder than dragons? Pity he'd be caught right underneath them, as though there were anything beneath their hellishness.

But wait, what's this? From his eyes' periphery, he can make out a bright white light from above. Could it be? Divine salvation, yes! How kind of the powers that be to descend into Nova City like this.

Then his outer extremities were seared, producing a small gasp of pain. Well, that's to be expected. Few can endure such things without suffering. Like looking directly at the sun, say.

Silently he thanks God. Indeed, silence, for once, is all he has to offer as he listens and wonders at Aeslyn words. How unfortunate that being squashed by a dragon's head would make conversation so difficult.

But then! The miracle produced a sequel, life stirring in his limbs. In a few moments he feels right as rain, vigor quickening to his face. Well, now that the trial's over, he can rejoice in the victory properly. The simulator was thinking along those lines as it formally lilted around them.]

"Simulation complete. If you would like a recording, please proceed to the terminal."

[Alert, Ted just does that. He knows that's rude, but this sounded like something that might be lost if he doesn't act fast. He just knows Satsuki will want to see this. Footage secured, he goes back to addressing his rescuer.]

"Thank you! I hope that, ah, showed my 'aether' well enough. Dragoon?"

[That's the danger of telling Ted one's particular proper nouns: he'll always ask what they mean. He figures she's not talking about mounted cavalry with serpentine firearms.]

"Ah, well, a lance, fine a weapon as it is, isn't nearly so romantic. Swords have more poetry in them. Teeth, too! Here you go."

[Delicately he fishes out some Sharkman-type teeth from his bag. He has five, in total.]

"Haven't got all seven, yet, but if you can muster patience, I'll get those and some other things besides. Hopefully you'll be able to work that all in while keeping the blade light enough; heh, wouldn't want something stuffed with too much poetry."

Edited 2017-08-20 04:19 (UTC)

Three is enough for what I have in mind. More than that and I won't have anywhere to put them.

[She has the machine produce a second copy of the recording; this fight will be the subject of much laughter later, probably over popcorn.]

A dragoon is a knight specially trained to fight dragons, in my world. The best are able to kill wyrms like that one in a single strike - I never mastered the art, personally, but a dear friend of mine was among the best. My method takes more time - but admittedly, it doesn't involve leaping off of very tall buildings, either. As for your aether...

[She sighs, giving Ted a look.]

You're plenty strong for a Hyur, but you rely overmuch on tools. You utilized no less than three weapons in that fight, and switching between them cost you valuable time. A true dragon would even now be picking its teeth with your thighbone. The weapon I am going to forge for you will alleviate some of this, but you will need to practice its use in order to have any hope of wielding it properly.

[She's saying you have promise, but you kinda suck right now, Ted.]

Watch the recording. Note your mistakes, and learn from them. I will have your weapon ready in one week; it will take most of that time to draw up the plans for it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Warrior for Hire [Video/Action, OTA]

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7/15 - Holodeck [Action]

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