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    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Fraag
    Fraag

    Player 
    Lineage : Incarnata of Nine Souls
    Position : None
    Posts : 314
    Guild : Errings Rising
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 205,503

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Winter God Slayer
    Second Magic: Scholar of the Librarium Obscuri
    Third Magic:

    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Fraag on 20th February 2020, 5:32 pm

    Spoiler:

    Everything about Rose Garden was magical, from the lights on the streets to even the food being hawked by outside vendors. Beira did feel relatively more at home in this place than in a number of other places in Fiore. Magic was more comfortable to her than technology, and while in Rose Garden, magic and technology were intertwined in many cases, it was much better than places like Motor City, in which if there was any magic at all, it was masked by the stifling presence of gears and machine oil and moving mechanical parts. So apparently lifeless and unnatural. Beira knew though that she was being a little bit hypocritical. The recent realization that she was more a product of science than magic, or even natural processes filled her with some degree of self-loathing, but Beira knew better than to flagellate herself concerning something which she had no control over or contribution towards. So, while trying to sort out herself, after realizing that she didn't even know as much about herself as she would have wanted, the God Slayer decided to attempt to distract herself from the whole Incarnata business, and let her subliminal thinking process try to think sense into her story, while she sought something fun to do.

    It was for this reason that she was here in Rose Garden. Honestly, she could not tell why she was exactly here. Maybe it was due to her deep-seated curiosity, in this case, concerning Fioreans and their matrimonial traditions. Utgardian culture was much more straightforward than Fiorean traditions. If a person loved another, and the feeling was mutual, families gathered, and shared drinks and gifts and fisticuffs after a cleric prayed for the nuptial pair. Well, Fiore and Utgardr had the cleric part, or a semblance of it, in common. Beira knew however, that it was too much to hope for the sharing of blows; Fioreans were apparently not as eager to do battle, mock or real, as were her people.

    In any case, Beira had seen a mission detailing marital activities, and while she wasn't so eager to do anything unnecessarily romantic, the mission seemed rather straightforward: attend a wedding party with a partner, and get paid. That was almost too simple, so much that it made the Utgardian maiden almost feel guilty. But here was a mission that didn't involve blood and killing, and it would be a decent opportunity to study the traditions and customs of the people of Fiore. For this reason, she appeared at the venue of the wedding, dressed in a pale green traditional Utgardian formal dress, which meant something that had a good deal of jewelry, involved open-toed sandals instead of boots, and left quite a great deal of skin exposed. It was quite amusing to see how Fioreans reacted to her dress: with a good deal of outrage, though to be fair to them, no one came to upbraid her on her style of dressing. Some people did stare a lot at her, and not with animosity, which meant they were probably not at all averse to what she wore. Personally, she couldn't see why many Fioreans seemed flustered about someone with a dressing style different from theirs. Not like she really cared anyway. Finding a place removed from all the rowdiness, Beira seated herself at an empty table, crossed one leg daintily over the other, and waited, while sipping at a strange wine with a heady, but pleasant, taste. She'd been told she would have a partner on this mission; a date, the mission handler had called it. No idea what that was. She'd just have to find out.


    WC 609/4000


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Vandrad Ragnos
    Vandrad Ragnos

    Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Player 
    Lineage : Lucifer’s Aura
    Position : None
    Posts : 159
    Guild : Fairy Tail
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 555,005

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Energy Monarch
    Second Magic:
    Third Magic:

    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Vandrad Ragnos on 9th March 2020, 6:24 pm

    There’s no fair or unfair in battle.
    ( There is only victory or in your case, defeat. )
    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs RJtajUnz_o

    Vandrad wasn’t entirely certain why he agreed to this job. Maybe it was the need for something different, maybe it was the decent amount of jewel that would be coming his way (even if he didn’t need it) or maybe it was an attempt to get out of his head. Ever since Desierto, ever since he had been kidnapped, chained up and sold into temporary slavery by Mercury, he had come just the tiniest bit undone. All of that had been just built up a continuously building pile of contempt for the woman, so much so that after he had escaped, he had only one path in mind; ending her existence once and for. But his rage had burned so bright, so high that day that he had lost time and when the finally reclaimed it and came to his senses, he found himself lying with the woman.

    It was the worst case scenario in the worst case scenario. A man of his practice and stature having been so caught off guard by his emotions that he had lost himself and, apparently in it, had awakened some kind of primal fury that had changed drastically. And of all the people, why did it have to be that insufferable woman? All she did was make him furious and teach him just how little he cared for snarky comments. Yet he couldn’t hold her entirely in contempt either, could he? She had taken that job for the sole purpose of rescuing a boy from slavery – a boy that wound up being a Bellum native like himself. It hadn’t offered much in terms of jewel and yet she still had taken it. And after everything was said and done, she didn’t try and run away from him either. She stood her ground and prepared to take whatever punishment he dished out on her. It was a show of respect, albeit one lately earned.

    Whatever the case, he needed a break. Apparently a special job had come up asking wizards to take part in a wedding ceremony. At first he had balked at the idea, as his first assumption meant he had to blindly marry someone. But after reading the finer details, he came to discover that he could simply attend a wedding and get paid for it. It wasn’t quite the challenging job he would normally take but it was something different and, hopefully, something that took him away from people he’d rather not see. Of course there was the stipulation that if he didn’t provide a partner, he would be paired up with one. There was no way that he was going to wind up there and find Mercury waiting for him, grinning that smug smile of hers. The chances were astronomical.

    Rose Garden was a veritable wonderland of lights, sound and magical airiness. It honestly reminded him a lot of home, were it not for the mechanically constructed buildings that lined the pavement. If there were ever a place that seemed to perfectly mesh the cold, calculated machinations of machinery and the natural chaotic essence of magic, it seemed to be here. He was actually quite impressed with the design – not that he’d ever say that out loud or admit that to anyone openly. It was a bit too crowded for his tastes; people were bustling everywhere, leaving almost no area to move about. Apparently this city also doubled as an amusement part that children and adults of all ages could come and enjoy themselves. It was absolutely horrendous to be surrounded by this many people at once.

    As he stepped out of the moving crowd and into an open area that was far less obstructive, he took a moment to adjust his tie. No one had provided a dress requirement for the event but he knew better to assume that it wasn’t formal. He’d gone out and purchased a deep crimson red suit to wear , adding brown dress shoes and a gray tie on top of a plain white shirt. The formality of it all definitely reminded him of home; having to stand around in royal balls and get togethers and pretend to rub elbows with long distance relatives. What an atrocious bore.

    He pulled out the job posting again, reading over the details that had been relayed to him after his initial agreement. He was here to meet with someone named Beira. Of course they didn’t provide any kind of description. Scoffing, he shoved the paper back into his suit jacket and approached a table with a single woman sitting at it. She was a pretty enough woman; wearing a pale green dress that showed a lot more skin than most people were comfortable with. She had a certain kind of grace about her as she sat there drinking from a glass of wine. “You Beira?” he asked, stopping in front of her and crossing his arms.








    Words: 818/4000 | Tag:  | © marzia at shine & gs.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Fraag
    Fraag

    Player 
    Lineage : Incarnata of Nine Souls
    Position : None
    Posts : 314
    Guild : Errings Rising
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 205,503

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Winter God Slayer
    Second Magic: Scholar of the Librarium Obscuri
    Third Magic:

    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Fraag on 11th March 2020, 6:43 pm

    Beira was staring intently at the violet drink in the goblet in her hand, watching the contents swill about in the transparent crystalline glass. To any observer, she would appear to be very lost in thought. In a way, that wasn't entirely correct. Despite her apparent detachment from the world around her, Beira was still quite aware of it, though she had no interest in it. The antics of people carrying out all sorts of activities all around her were registered in her mind, courtesy of her sixth sense, but just as it was with someone who could hear people all around discussing, but wasn't really listening particularly to any single line of discussion, so it was with Beira. She knew people were all around her, and she could tell that they were hardly idle, but to the specifics of their performances, she paid no heed. Despite her desire to distract herself by engaging in an apparently trivial mission, the Utgardian God Slayer found herself returning to her dark and many thoughts about her heritage, and the possibility of eventually managing to escape from the shadow of the Old Ones and finding what could perhaps have a semblance of a normal life...

    “You Beira?”

    Beira looked up at the sound of the curt voice that had snapped her out of her reverie. Her sky-blue eyes met the black eyes of a fellow standing over her, folded arms and a not-so-friendly expression on an already naturally stern-looking face. Immediately, her mind began running possible reasons why he was asking after her. Of course, the most obvious was that he was most likely her mission partner, even if his face was not particularly evocative of that present vocation. And yet, when one was a member of a dark guild, and had done things that made her a person of interest as far as law enforcement and "please do throw said person of interest behind bars and throw away the key, or better yet, off with her head" matters were concerned, despite her personal beliefs that they were all done for virtuous reasons, it was an act of self preservation to assume that anyone who knew your name, when you didn't know theirs, probably wanted to kill you. All the same, it was best to act relatively peaceful, until she was certain of the man's intentions.

    The Utgardian maiden opened her mouth to speak, then paused, regarding his form and clothing style. "You sound like you want to carve my face off, were I the owner of the name,"[/b] she replied, her tone soft yet confident. "And yet I am. And I think I haven't been naughty these past days, so I don't suppose you'd want my head... yet. If that is the case, you must be my... what word was it called, date?" Her expression became a little critical, though in a teasing way, as she studied the man again. "I'd have to admit, I was expecting someone... younger... and taller, though I'm not going to complain about muscle definition." She allowed herself a little chuckle, as she set her glass down and rose to her feet. He was short, for a Fiorean, if he was one, even though he was still taller than Beira. Most times, she found herself much shorter than the average fellow in Fiore, so it was easy for her to measure others' heights by judging based on the disparity of distance between the crown of their heads, and her own. Utgardians were not known for their height, but they made up for it and more in resilience. But how could she attribute the qualities of people of Utgardr to herself, when she wasn't even Utgardian?

    Reminding herself mentally that she was here to keep herself from thinking about what she was and what she wasn't, Beira placed a hand casually on her hip, still meeting the man's gaze. "So, what name do you go by? Or am I going to have to find you an appellation by myself?" Despite her apparent ease of bearing, she was primed for action, just in case there was a strange twist of fate, which was not so uncommon with her, and she realized that this fellow was a bounty hunter or lawman sent to have her hide. It was never too costly to be prudent. In any case, not too long after introductions were over, as if he had been eavesdropping and waiting for the right moment to strike, a short rotund man, shorter even than Beira, suddenly darted towards the pair of mages, and with a flourish and an exaggerated bow, began talking in rapid fire staccatos. Beira totally missed his name, but he seemed to be saying something about the two of them having the chance to get better outfits for the wedding event, and all that for free. It was going to be fun, safe, and it involved magic, so it would be done in a jiffy, and everyone would be happy at the end of the day.

    "I don't think anything is wrong with my clothes, and I'm not interested in getting any extras, thank you very much," the Errings Rising mage replied coolly, before turning away from him and hoping he would move off. He didn't. "Oh, but you have to most certainly try out our new clothes manifestation magic," the man exclaimed. "You're both mages, aren't you? You've got that look about you. So, you'll definitely enjoy the whole ordeal-- er event. Ha ha." Beira was about to call on her powers to bear and chase off the annoying fellow, when she remembered that part of her mission was to give feedback on the events that transpired in this marriage event. She sighed. "I'm sure I will regret this."

    "I'm sure you won't. We can even make sure that you and your date appear in matching outfits, both in design and color. It will be so romantic!" Beira shook her head vehemently. "Most certainly not, if you don't mind," she responded a bit heatedly, before her voice returned to a calmer tone. "Doesn't he appear to be more 'my dad' than 'my date'?" But the short round fellow had already scuttled off to the edge of a large white tent, and was beckoning frantically at them to come in, as though he was trying to get them into the tent to save their lives.

    "I am quite convinced that I shall most certainly regret this...."


    WC: 1081
    Total: 1690/4000


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

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    NPC

    Posts : 22871
    Mentor : Admin

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    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by NPC on 11th March 2020, 6:43 pm

    The member 'Fraag' has done the following action : Dice Rolls


    'Monster Dice' :
    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs OdAaNwh
    Vandrad Ragnos
    Vandrad Ragnos

    Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Player 
    Lineage : Lucifer’s Aura
    Position : None
    Posts : 159
    Guild : Fairy Tail
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 555,005

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Energy Monarch
    Second Magic:
    Third Magic:

    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Vandrad Ragnos on 11th March 2020, 8:35 pm

    There’s no fair or unfair in battle.
    ( There is only victory or in your case, defeat. )
    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs RJtajUnz_o

    Vandrad carried himself as a business first, pleasantries later kind of guy and his tone and stance had formed in such a manner that his ideals were obvious from the forefront. He rarely wasted time playing around and certainly never failed to show just how unpleased he was about any situation or person at a time. So indeed, as he approached his ‘date’ for the evening, as luck seemed to smile on him briefly if only to keep him from interviewing several single women at tables, he was probably not the picture of the ideal evening partner. One may have expected someone more attuned to being charming or pleasant – hell, they would probably just take nice. But whatever this Beira considered useful attributes to carry her enjoyment for the rest of the night mattered so little to Vandrad that he hadn’t even thought about them. This was a job and nothing more. And fate seemed destined to keep pairing him with women that liked to poke the metaphorical bear.

    She addressed his tone right up front, seemingly amused at the situation. She pondered over his existence, apparently curious if he was hear to collect on her head or if he was, in fact, her promised date for the evening. "I am here because of the job and nothing further. The matters of your head remaining on your neck are your own affair… until they become mine.” He left that little tidbit out there for her. A woman boldly wondering if he’d come to attack her meant that she was wanted somewhere. Whether it be in Fiore or a nation beyond, she clearly had some kind of trail that hunters could follow. And by her way of offhandedly admitting that she’d done nothing ‘naughty’ recently, it seemed she may have earned whatever bounty there was. His train of thought on the subject paused suddenly as she spoke aloud her thoughts on him, calling him both short and old all at once, though apparently his physical definition fit whatever hopes she had. He snorted a small laugh and smirked down at her, unmoved by the blunt comments. "And I expected to find a woman with maturity and a decent sense of dress style. I suppose we’re both going to be disappointed this night.” The Prince of Bellum was nothing but honest to the point of bludgeoning. If that was how she wished to play it, he was more than happy to go along with it. It just meant he didn’t need to attempt sugarcoating any kind of manners for the evening.

    As she rose to her feet and stood there, she placed a hand on her hip and asked the name he went by, even teasing him about the possibility of coming up with a nickname herself. "Vandrad. And yours is Beira,” he said, referencing her name once more and holding up the job sheet. "Though I guess I could have checked a bounty board and figured that out, if you’re to be believed.” He crumpled the piece of paper up and tossed it idly over his shoulder, no longer needing it now that he’d found his partner. Truthfully, a part of him mentally took her comments to heart and prepared a strategy in the back of his mind, just in case shit hit the fan fast. Casual as she appeared, there was the possibility that she presented an imminent danger to himself. Possibly others too, though the Prince cared very little about that. A few dead Fioreans was nothing to cry over after all.

    Before they could continue the farce that was their date, a repugnant and rounded fellow came skittering over like a penguin on drugs. Words flew out of his mouth like water over a fall, pouring out as such great and uninspiring speeds that most of what he said went completely past Vandrad. In the man’s defense, the Prince had barely paid him any mind anyways – even with him coming up and deciding to join the conversation uninvited. He did ramble something off about the two of them having ‘better’ outfits for the wedding, completely covered by the company hosting the debacle. He sneered down at the man, eyeing him for the cockroach he was. He’d already bought one farce of an outfit for this ceremony already; now he had to put on a completely new one? Beira dismissed him quickly, though her remark about nothing wrong with her clothes earned her a small snort of amusement from Vandrad.

    Yet the man persisted, claiming to have some kind of ‘clothing manifestation magic’ and assuming they were mages and for all intents and purposes, refusing to back off. While Beira may have held herself back from simply dashing the man to the side, Vandrad’s hair was already starting to bleach and magic energy was rushing to his clenched fist. He had every intent on sending the man soaring halfway across this circus of a city when Beira spoke up, apparently conceding to the pudgy fellow. So apparently this was happening then.

    "Tsk,” Vandrad scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. The man seemed pleased, even going as far as to suggest that they could wear matching outfits together. Beira refused, just a second faster than the Prince. The last thing he wanted was to be caught wearing the same damn thing as her, no matter what it was. She continued, comparing Vandrad closer to her father than an actual date. It earned her a chuckle. "Believe me, woman; I’m not thrilled being paired with someone barely old enough to drink, let alone accompany me on this charade of a festival.” At the man’s incessant waving for them to come into the tent, she seemed resolved that her decision would only end in regret. "And if I wind up in something ridiculous, you’ll regret it for the both of us.”








    Words: 1798/4000 | Tag: @Fraag | © marzia at shine & gs.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    NPC
    NPC

    Posts : 22871
    Mentor : Admin

    Character Sheet
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    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by NPC on 11th March 2020, 8:35 pm

    The member 'Vandrad Ragnos' has done the following action : Dice Rolls


    'Monster Dice' :
    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs R2fEWNz
    Fraag
    Fraag

    Player 
    Lineage : Incarnata of Nine Souls
    Position : None
    Posts : 314
    Guild : Errings Rising
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 205,503

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Winter God Slayer
    Second Magic: Scholar of the Librarium Obscuri
    Third Magic:

    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Fraag on 12th March 2020, 10:30 pm

    "Ooh, I'm frightened," Beira said with an unruffled tone in response to Vandrad's reply to her question of whether he had actually come for her head or not. The comment about her maturity and sense of dressing she deigned to ignore. This fellow seemed to have a tongue as sharp as hers. Maybe today would not be as boring or as dreadful as she had initially imagined it to be, if the first few moments of her arrival at the wedding venue were anything to go by. Initially, Beira had become convinced that coming to watch Fiorean nuptial proceedings was a mistake for her, and though the wine so far had been quite up to standard, she had not come here to sample vintage. From what she had experienced up till the coming of Vandrad, as far as she had been concerned, Fiorean weddings seemed to be a boring venture, and she was sure that fate would not throw a short, razor-tongued charmer her way at the next wedding she chose to attend. Maybe it would be safer for her to avoid weddings altogether. For this one, she would attempt to enjoy it, though it looked like doing so wouldn't be too hard.

    The Utgardian had stepped ahead of her dark-haired companion, if she could call him that, and was about entering the tent into which the short fat fellow was inviting them, when Vandrad remarked about his displeasure at having to practically babysit a minor. Of all the things to jibe at, it had to be her age. She spun quickly on her heel to face the man, the complexion on her face turning a bright red, as her azure eyes flashed with anger. But then she paused and regained composure, allowing herself an affable laugh, as she absentmindedly swept a lock of silver hair from before her right eye. "Well played, Father dear, well played." Though her age was always a touchy subject for the God Slayer and never failed to rile her when her apparent lack of years was brought up, she had to admit that she had been the first to poke at the man's age, and he hadn't exploded. It would be wise to learn a lesson from him. Take the taunts as much good nature as she could manage, and sling back reprisals of her own. For now, she would let him savor this victory.

    Apparently just like herself, Vandrad wasn't keen on being embarrassed, though his words sounded ominous. Beira wasn't particularly sure whether the man was threatening to take his anger at being stuck in a stupid outfit out on her. But she wouldn't jump to assumptions too soon, until she was certain of the man's intentions. In any case, Beira wasn't particularly fond of being threatened. "Let's hope that was not a threat, for both our sakes, Father dearest," the God Slayer replied, her tone mockingly sweet, before she disappeared into the tent. Immediately, she was swarmed by a group of people who whisked her off behind some screens set up within the tent. Beira had noticed that there were a number of these screens set about in the tent, for privacy while the magic tailoring thing did its work.

    "Hello," a thirty-something looking woman said as she came round the screens to meet Beira, carrying a large bale of white cloth. "I'm here to help you into your new outfit, magically designed to fit perfectly and give you your dream apparel." The woman cast a disparaging look at the young mage's body and said, "You'll definitely need more... respectable clothes. It won't do to attend a wedding in a swimsuit."

    Beira looked genuinely shocked. "You mean Fioreans swim in outfits with billowing sleeves?" she asked incredulously. The woman sighed in frustrated resignation and shook her head. "Your outfit has the same coverage as a swimsuit is what I meant. I assume you're not from these parts." The matron's tone sounded almost derogatory. Beira decided to remain patient. Vandrad was the main event. She wouldn't waste her energy on small fry. "Where I come from, the coverage of your clothes is directly proportional to how old you are. You're not fifty, are you?" The woman snorted derisively in response, but did not answer. "Please take off your clothes." Beira complied, and the woman shook her head, muttering a prayer for whom the God Slayer did not know, but Beira guessed it had to do with her undergarments and their level of coverage. "Really!" she exclaimed, herself getting exasperated. "Next thing I'll hear is that proper underwear should have belts, sleeves and hoods as well!" The woman responded by dumping the bale of cloth on her.

    Immediately, the cloth seemed to come to life, cutting into strips by itself, and sewing together automatically. To Beira's surprise, it even began changing in hues. In a few moments, Beira was wearing another dress, of a different style, but hardly any more modest than what she had worn to the wedding. "The hips are a bit tight," she complained, "and it's red."

    "What's wrong with red?"

    "Do you Fioreans not know the meanings of colors? Anyone with a bit of sense would know that red means... 'very available', and I'm not interested in particularly advertising myself."

    "But you're already doing that, with your style of dressing. Enjoy the party." With that, the woman vanished. Beira scoffed. She could swear the woman felt delighted at her discomfort, but there was little else to be done. Changing back into her former clothes was a no-no; the woman had taken them along, with the remnants of the magic cloth. Beira wondered whether that could be termed stealing. Well, it didn't matter now. What was left was to endure the rest of the wedding, and get her money. There was a full-length mirror close by, and looking at herself, Beira had to admit that the clothes manifestation magic thing had done a good job, although the dress did feel a little tight, and of course, the issue with the color. Beira hoped Fioreans were truly clueless with colors and their meanings.

    She exited from her place behind the screens and set to finding Vandrad. The tightness of the dress meant she couldn't walk as fast as she would have liked, though she had been trained to walk in similarly tight clothes as part of court etiquette. Despite the grace with which she moved, the Utgardian sensed that Vandrad would most likely recognize her more restrained motions, and jest. She began formulating a counterattack to a yet unspoken barb in her mind as she searched for him.


    WC: 1107 words
    Total: 2797/4000


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Vandrad Ragnos
    Vandrad Ragnos

    Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Player 
    Lineage : Lucifer’s Aura
    Position : None
    Posts : 159
    Guild : Fairy Tail
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 555,005

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Energy Monarch
    Second Magic:
    Third Magic:

    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Vandrad Ragnos on 12th March 2020, 11:18 pm

    There’s no fair or unfair in battle.
    ( There is only victory or in your case, defeat. )
    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs RJtajUnz_o

    This woman had a sharp tongue, he’d grant her that. Even in the mildest manner of threatening, she seemed completely unflapped by his tone and inclination. If anything, she seemed more amused than anything else. Well, at the very least he wasn’t going to have a dull evening. So long as she didn’t find ways to throw her nose into his business like certain other women seemed inclined to, he may even almost enjoy himself. Speaking with Beira was a bit like being back home – the courts of Bellum were almost as dangerous as any battlefield, with the weapons being replaced with tongues and word of mouth. One’s wit was the only ammunition you could carry and should you find yourself low on metaphorical ammo, you’d be slaughtered where you stand. She had some kind of background in proper etiquette though he could only imagine where, given her sheer outfit. Whatever the case, it seemed he was in for an evening of battling quips and retorts with the young lady.

    Yet it seemed he’d already found a point of weakness in her. Though she had been the first to remark about his age, when he came around to throw it back at her, it hit hard. She stopped right where she was and spun to face him, the mosaic of elegance gone from her face as blood pumped into her cheeks. That was a sharp nerve he’d hit and for a brief moment, he prepared himself for a direct physical assault. But in a moment it passed, gone as quickly as it had come and she laughed the jibe off, commending him for his victory, while still managing to rib him over her perception of him as some kind of father figure. She’d set her defense there and if that was what made her feel comfortable, that was fine by him. He preferred the far more honorable jest of ‘Father’ over being called ‘Vandaddy’ any day.

    Vandrad had remarked about regrets coming if he happened to wind up looking like a clown. Indeed, it had been directed at her at the forefront – she had been the one to agree, albeit reluctantly, to dressing up. But she caught it and gave him a shallow warning about making threats. He snorted in amusement. "Of course not. What kind of man would I be if I started making threats while I’m escorting you to this father-daughter prom business?” He could play against her defenses too, the man more curious to see just how much she could resist the ache of that particular nerve. But as he entered the tent after her, he got to watch a group of people nearly grab her and run her off to get changed. Ten minutes in and they were already being forcibly separated.

    Ah well, not like he wanted to change with her or anything. A similarly numbered group came toward Vandrad but stopped the instant his eyes set themselves on them, his dark gaze bringing the parade to a halt. "Lay one hand on me and I’ll hang you all by the fabrics you use,” he said coldly. His message was received and rather than be manhandled, he was gestured towards the area prepared for him.

    As he came around the corner, who was waiting for him but the fat, energetic penguin man again. Next to him was an older gentleman who looked more suited for a butler than a tailor. He was holding several bolts of multi-colored fabric, which he adjusted slightly as Vandrad entered the cordoned area. “I imagine you are quite excited to partake, hm?” the rotund man asked, searching hard for a positive answer.

    He came up empty. "I’m excited to get this malarkey over with. Now get on with it before I change my mind and burn this entire tent to the ground.” The fat man shuddered and scurried out of the area, evidently done with dealing with clients for the moment.

    The tailor seemed quite unruffled by the comments. Whether brave or stupid, he stubbornly stood there and took a gander over Vandrad’s form, humming and murmuring to himself. “I won’t be able to properly dress you unless you strip,” he explained, already pulling some of the bolts out from underneath his arms and placing them in the corner.

    The Prince of Bellum growled softly but relented. He took off each article of clothing until he was standing there in his underwear, looking just as slighted as always. The tailor picked up each piece of clothing, folded it neatly and placed it on a nearby table. Once that was all set, he came around and stood in front of Vandrad, eyeballing him like a piece of meat. Gods, it was like the first him he met Mercury all over again – stared at like he was candy and it was feeding time. "Do you need a napkin, old timer? I can practically see your drool from here,” Vandrad snapped.

    The tailor glanced up to meet his gaze for only a moment before he nodded to himself. “Alright, I think I have just the thing.” With that he pulled out a black length of fabric and whipped it violently around the Prince. All at once the cloth began to pull in towards him, encasing him in its comfort before it contorted and started to take a more defined shape. As his vision cleared, he glanced down to watch the last pieces of stitching formulate themselves over his body. “Voila!” The man said as he pulled the full length mirror over and turned it so Vandrad could see himself in it.

    It was almost exactly like his other suit, just slightly more formal. In fact, it seemed that the tailor had wrapped a full tuxedo around him, of similar design as a groom might wear. He even had a small red bowtie to go along with it. With a sigh, Vandrad nodded, finding no reason to argue against it. The tailor nodded and shuffled out of the room, sneakily grabbing the Prince’s other suit and taking it with him. It seemed that Vandrad didn’t even notice, grimacing slightly at the sight of his tux once more before he turned and walked out of the makeshift room.

    As he came out into the main area, he found Beira walking – no, shuffling – her way out of her area. They’d dressed her in a tight-fitting red dress that still didn’t leave much to the imagination. The Prince of Bellum snorted and smirked at her. "Oh good, now I know if I happen to blow this place up in annoyance, the Rune Knights will have no problem catching you as you try and waddle an escape,” he shot her way before chuckling. "Apparently they thought you were joking about matching us,” he said, gesturing to his bowtie and her dress.








    Words: 2941/4000 | Tag: @Fraag | © marzia at shine & gs.


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    Fraag
    Fraag

    Player 
    Lineage : Incarnata of Nine Souls
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    Posts : 314
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    Experience : 205,503

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    First Magic: Winter God Slayer
    Second Magic: Scholar of the Librarium Obscuri
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    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Fraag on 16th March 2020, 6:21 pm

    Beira caught sight of Vandrad probably at about the same time as he saw her. She walked over to him, her expertly practiced walk making her appear to any other observer as though she remained the epitome of grace, with no indication of being restrained uncomfortably by her dress. As she feared, though, Vandrad recognized her mild predicament, and was quick to shoot her concerning it. She rolled with the barb, pretending to assume his statement about the tightness of her dress was driven by concern. "So you do care!" she replied in mock elation. "And here was I thinking you were such a grumpy old bore. But don't you worry about me, Father dear. If I must face the threat of having Rune Knights after me in this piece, they'll discover I'm not as limited in mobility as it currently appears. Though I'm shocked that you'd be so much of a milksop as to leave a maiden in your care to face the results of your indiscretions. Fie, I say!"

    Perhaps it was intentional, but Vandrad's bowtie was the exact same hue as Beira's dress, an attribute the God Slayer noticed when her partner pointed it out to her. She replied with a dainty snort. "Peasants never listen these days. In any case, the red suits you, so you have little to be worried about. I don't think red matches my hair, however...." That last sentence was said in a quieter tone, as it was more soliloquy than reply. Despite her aptitude as warrior and spell caster, she did have a rather vain streak. Which was why she found Vandrad's abrasive persona annoying, but she was fortunate to have been taught that showing weakness (which included revealing that one's opponent was getting under her skin) was unsafe. She was yet to gain mastery over controlling her emotions, but she could use this as practice. For all his apparent angst, having a verbal sparring partner was fun. It would have been utterly boring if the man was the grumpy sort that just kept quiet and didn't reply to taunting.

    By now, the tent was empty, with all the tent denizens having vacated the place. "In as much as I'd have loved to stay here and hide out away from the rabble beyond this tent's confines, I think, for the sake of modesty, that we should be out and about, lest people think something untoward is afoot in here." So saying, she held out her hand towards Vandrad, the gesture loftily elegant in its execution. Even if she was unaware of Fiore's culture and etiquette, she was sure that walking with held hands was a normally expected thing, as far as couples, married or not, were concerned. However getting out of the tent would turn out, when the pair exited the canopy, they would discover that there was a great deal of activity around. "What new travesty is being unfolded?" Beira wondered aloud, as she drew closer to the scene of the commotion.

    The travesty, it appeared, was a dance. A crowd had gathered and formed a large perimeter round the groovers, who danced on a special-looking floor with shiny tiles. "Not if all the demon hordes of Agruzaar were threatened to be let loose shall I step on that floor!" the Utgardian exclaimed in concealed horror, as she drew away from the contraption. She heard a commentator announcing how the floor was enchanted with magic that would help people dance, although judging by what some people were doing on the floor, it would take some skill, despite the magic on the floor, to execute decent moves. Beira was sure she was a good, no, a great dancer, having been trained to excellence by Utgardian standards, but she wasn't sure Utgardian dance would be considered to be anything but a barbarian novelty by Fiorean estimations.

    Just as she prepared to quickly leave the area, some unfortunate devil pushed her from behind, and she found herself on the dance floor. She would murder whoever had pushed her, were she to lay hands on the rascal, but now, her primary desire was to escape the horrors of the dance floor, a herculean feat, giving the volume of people packed around the floor.


    WC: 709 words
    Total: 3506/4000


    Last edited by Fraag on 16th March 2020, 6:24 pm; edited 1 time in total


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    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by NPC on 16th March 2020, 6:21 pm

    The member 'Fraag' has done the following action : Dice Rolls


    'Monster Dice' :
    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs PzArA86
    Vandrad Ragnos
    Vandrad Ragnos

    Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Player 
    Lineage : Lucifer’s Aura
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    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Vandrad Ragnos on 16th March 2020, 6:37 pm

    Dancing roll


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    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by NPC on 16th March 2020, 6:37 pm

    The member 'Vandrad Ragnos' has done the following action : Dice Rolls


    'Monster Dice' :
    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs OdAaNwh
    Vandrad Ragnos
    Vandrad Ragnos

    Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Player 
    Lineage : Lucifer’s Aura
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    Experience : 555,005

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    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Vandrad Ragnos on 16th March 2020, 7:34 pm

    There’s no fair or unfair in battle.
    ( There is only victory or in your case, defeat. )
    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs RJtajUnz_o

    She accused him of caring – what a notion! He snorted loudly at the mocking though, still smirking as he met her gaze. Beira continued her outrageous showcase of thoughts, calling him a grumpy old bore and assuring him that if the Rune Knights were to come after them, she would not be lacking in the means to defend herself. She then proclaimed in faux surprise about how he would simply leave her – apparently a maiden – behind to deal with the consequences of his own actions. "Well I would hope a woman of your apparent capabilities could hold her own. Maybe I’d simply leave you behind to see if you could survive. You claim that you could summon up the ability to move hastily should certain circumstances arise; I think I’d very much like to see how you move.” His smirk deepened a tad before pausing, his brow knitting together. Wait, was that… some kind of flirty comment? Where in the actual Hell did that come from? "In combat. I would… be interested to see you move in combat,” he quickly clarified. Damn you Mercury – even her mindset had rubbed off on him a little.

    Putting aside that nonsense, he addressed her attention to their matching apparel; her dress and his bowtie. She was less than enthused, remarking about the peasants ‘not listening these days’. An odd turn of phrase that further deepened his conclusion that she had some sort of royal training or upbringing. He nearly missed her compliment to him over the red suiting him, his face contorting in surprise at the comment. Even more surprising was the fact that she didn’t think the red suited her. Against his better judgement, seemingly knowing it was a woman’s introspection brought to the surface, he opted to speak up. "Nonsense. Though it may not match your hair, it does highlight your eyes. Makes them a bit deeper, if no less dangerous,” he told her slowly, taking a moment to meet her gaze so she knew he meant it. After all, it was unmannerly to let one’s date sulk, even temporarily. As much as compliments didn’t usually come to him outside of combat, this one he deemed… acceptable.

    It seemed they were one of the last ones to finish dressing, as the other tailors, assistants and guests had already departed outside. While she mused over the idea of having to go out and partake in the events, she felt it far more appropriate than to stay inside the tent with him alone, should anyone think something scandalous was occurring. He snorted but didn’t deem the comment worth building upon and was about to start walking when she, surprisingly, held out her hand to him. He glanced at it and then at her, a puzzled look overwriting his features as he wondered what the hell she was on about. It seemed she was fully committed to this whole ‘date’ scenario. It took a lot of mental fortitude to force the blood from rushing to his cheeks as he reached out and took her hand in his, a gesture that was modest and civil. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to escort a lady through a similar event but usually that required her to take his arm. Holding hands was so… personal.

    As they exited the tent, they found a raucous crowd awaiting them. Hoots and hollers and chants echoed throughout the area as a crowd had gathered around a single spot. "Were I to guess, I would assume that is the dance floor. It’s fairly customary at the more… civilian of weddings.” Though the Prince of Bellum had never personally attended a wedding that wasn’t some chic and elegant ball, he’d heard enough from other people to know what to expect. As they came to the very perimeter of the dance floor, he glanced down at the shining and magically imbued tiles. Apparently this was some kind of specially enchanted floor that gave people the ability to… what? Dance slightly better than normal? The commentator made it sound so simple but frankly, even with magic spells, moving against one’s body wouldn’t succeed in becoming a professional. Vandrad scoffed at the very notion, content with staying outside of the floor. Beira, however, was having none of it and began to pull away from it, apparently wanting to be as far away from it as possible.

    But before she could haul away with him in tow, someone within the crowd had given her a push. The Prince of Bellum wasn’t honestly sure if some stranger had given her a tap or if she had stumbled in her hasty retreat and wound up going forward but there she went. And in a moment of compassion for the poor resistant woman, Vandrad had reached out to try and keep her going any further onto it. Unfortunately, doing so pulled him off balance and he, too, wound up stumbling onto the floor. Immediately his legs felt livelier, imbued with magic and rainbows and all the disgusting things people thought of when they danced, probably. His body moved on its own, gliding up to Beira and taking her in his arms so that he could, against his will, give her a proper dance. It wasn’t the kind of dancing he was used to – he had been raised with ballroom dancing practically since he was out of the womb. This was far more… intimate, more loose and jerky rather than tight and flowing. He would have much preferred if it was some kind of instrumental tune playing if he had to choose.

    "Damn this stupid – OW!” He had started to blast the mechanism when her foot solidly found his, stamping on it. "The hell is wrong with yo – oof!” Her body seemed to be dancing against his – a hurricane trying to be contained and refusing to be so. "Enough of this insanity!” Vandrad hissed as he regained a moment of composure within his feet. He slammed the foot down with such force it cracked the tile he stood upon, resulting in the entire device shutting down. A cavalcade of annoyed and disheartened sounds came from the crowd and other dancers as the commentator announced that someone had gotten too excited and caused a problem. As the announcer explained that they would have the problem fixed in a brief moment, Vandrad took that opening to grab Beira by the hand and haul her off the floor before they made even bigger fools of themselves.








    Words: 4029/4000 | Tag: @Fraag | © marzia at shine & gs.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Fraag
    Fraag

    Player 
    Lineage : Incarnata of Nine Souls
    Position : None
    Posts : 314
    Guild : Errings Rising
    Cosmic Coins : 0
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    Experience : 205,503

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Winter God Slayer
    Second Magic: Scholar of the Librarium Obscuri
    Third Magic:

    Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs Empty Re: Rubbing Shoulders With The Plebs

    Post by Fraag on 18th March 2020, 6:05 pm

    Beira raised an eyebrow slightly at Vandrad's interest in seeing her move, and as he hurriedly clarified what he meant, a slow, mischievous, lopsided smile grew on her face. "Oh, right," she replied, nodding slowly, though her expression told him that she believed he meant more than simply being interested in how she would improve her already stifled movement. All the same, the God Slayer was not minded to run further along that line of discussion. His positive comment about the color of her dress was rather surprising to her, in any case, as Beira expected her date to be all prickles and thorns. Her cheeks flushed slightly. "Oh. Why, thank you, kind sir," she replied with a slight curtsy, and though it was a lighthearted gesture, it was by no means mocking.

    Beira was glad that Vandrad had accepted to holding her hand. For a moment, she feared that the man would fold his arms and throw a barb her way. His manner was brutal, but in a polished way. He probably, like herself, was not alien to noble courts, although their cultures were literally miles, and ages, apart. Whatever the case, time had passed, and Beira was currently in the precarious position on the dance floor. Vandrad also got on the floor and swept her into his arms. Perhaps on another day, she would have attempted to throw him. Utgardians didn't dance so... up close and personal. She felt his firm body against hers and her heart raced. She had, for all appearances and mannerisms, never danced with a man this closely, and despite her initial prodding at his age and height, he was, admittedly, a very fine specimen indeed. Her face was almost as red as her dress, as he moved with her across the floor, though all the blood in her cheeks rushed out the moment her feet, seemingly of their own accord, rebelled against her constituted authority, and one of them pinned his shoe beneath her heel. It seemed, at that point, that her body had decided to disgrace her.

    "Sorry," she apologized, her cheeks reddening again, though she was soon faced with a matter of great consternation. Her body had chosen at this point, to abandon all control. It was the magic of that blasted floor. She could hear some people snickering, and the embarrassment began to turn into rage. Fortunately, Vandrad had acted, stomping on the floor with such force than the tiles were shattered, and the magic lost its effect. She gratefully allowed him to pull her off the dance floor, to escape further embarrassment. "I believe I owe you something for that," she said, looking shaken, as she regained composure. "I believe I would have murdered someone. And I fear I still might, were I to linger here. To that end, I must save whatever dignity I still possess, and hope that, despite the conditions of this meeting, we shall maybe meet in a place and engagement more suited to me. Farewell wherever you fare, Father dear."

    So saying, in an abrupt burst of inky cloud and glowing runes, Beira vanished into thin air.


    WC: 524 words
    Total: 4030/4000


    Completed!


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      Current date/time is 4th April 2020, 5:11 pm