Chris Lightfellow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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isleofavalon2021-03-12 07:01 pm
ofsilverflame) wrote in isleofavalon2021-03-12 07:01 pm
March Catch-All [OTA]
WHO: Chris Lightfellow, and others. Open!
⚔️️ WHAT: Chris continues to struggle to learn magic, does some questing, and decides to learn more of the myths and legends of Camelot.
🕒 WHEN: Throughout March
🗺️ WHERE: Camelot, Red Springs, and the Archivist's Home
⚠️ WARNINGS: None that I can think of
Training
In the training yard, there's a WHOMP sound, like accompanies an outburst of fire, a brief cry, followed by a clanging noise, of metal hitting stone. Going to investigate, you find Chris a short ways away from an entirely unburnt training dummy where her familiar, the Holly Elf (just call her Holly) sits on top of its head, head in hands, watching boredly. The Silver Maiden of Zexen is clutching her right hand to her breastplate, a few feet away, a gauntlet lies discarded. What you can see of her hand suggests it's been burnt; the skin is red and angry-looking. Chris' expression is pained, but looks more frustrated with herself than anything else.
"Damn, damn, damn, damn. Agh." She sees you approaching and attempts to wave you off. "Ah, forgive me, I didn't mean to cause an alarm." She'd been trying to replicate a Flaming Arrows spell, or something similar and..obviously it hadn't worked out.
"I thought fire magic was supposed to be your entire deal. Isn't that why you've got that funny little tattoo on your hand?" Holly observes, kicking her legs against the face of the dummy.
Chris shoots her an annoyed glance. "That's not helpful, Holly." Back to you, she tries to assuage any concerns you have. "Don't worry, I've had worse in my time. It's not quite as painful as it looks." That may be, but a healer might still be advised. Or at least an icepack.
A Bit of Thief-Taking (RUN SNAGGLEFOOT RUN)
This was more familiar to her. This was something Chris knew she was capable of. Thief-taking wasn't normally in the purview of the Zexen Knights, and certainly not their commander, but a nation founded on mercantile and run by merchants and traders tended to take an especially dim view of thievery. Besides, it felt closer to the duties Chris was normally used to than all this magic nonsense. Especially when the thief was so incompetent to let his destination be known.
Said thief is now currently backing out of the stables as Chris comes out of them, hand on her sword, but not having drawn the weapon yet. "Hand over the stolen merchandise and submit yourself to arrest, Mr. Miffen." She says sternly. "This farce has gone on quite long enough, wouldn't you agree?"
Snagglefoot Miffen balks, and his eyes noticeable look down the street. "Don't do something you'll regret, Mr. Miffen." Chris warns. "It will go more poorly for you if you run."
"Not as poorly as it will for you love in all them clanking armour bits." He points out with a cheeky grin, and then books it.
"He's running!" Chris calls after him. "Cut him off!" Hopefully the assistance she positioned at the end of the street while she cut him off at the stables is keeping their ears open. She starts after him, but he was right about one thing; in all her armour Chris isn't exactly mobile right now.
Myths of Camelot
Chris is wary of coming this close to the Forest of the Fisher King. She doesn't know much about the place other than it sits at the edges of the Land of Rot, and that everyone has been advised not to go too far in. Fortunately, her destination is on the edges of the forest, so she doesn't expect too much trouble. Still, she would go with company if at all possible.
Chris gives the steamcar the Archivist calls home the once over as she and whatever company decided to tag along with her approach. "Strange choice of domicile." She notes. "I gather the actual archive is below ground." Her familiar, the Holly Elf is perched sitting on one of her pauldrons (Chris has long since given up trying to shoo her away) and already looks bored.
"Oh boy, hours trapped underground in a dusty old library so you can read a few myths and legends. This is fun for you?"
Chris closes her eyes and sighs. "Holly, please. You're welcome to stay out here or return to Camelot if you like."
"All that way by myself? No thank you! My wings get tired." She grumbles some more, but doesn't move off the pauldron.
"Well then, do you suppose we knock, or can we just let ourselves in? I don't wish to be rude."
⚔️️ WHAT: Chris continues to struggle to learn magic, does some questing, and decides to learn more of the myths and legends of Camelot.
🕒 WHEN: Throughout March
🗺️ WHERE: Camelot, Red Springs, and the Archivist's Home
⚠️ WARNINGS: None that I can think of
Training
In the training yard, there's a WHOMP sound, like accompanies an outburst of fire, a brief cry, followed by a clanging noise, of metal hitting stone. Going to investigate, you find Chris a short ways away from an entirely unburnt training dummy where her familiar, the Holly Elf (just call her Holly) sits on top of its head, head in hands, watching boredly. The Silver Maiden of Zexen is clutching her right hand to her breastplate, a few feet away, a gauntlet lies discarded. What you can see of her hand suggests it's been burnt; the skin is red and angry-looking. Chris' expression is pained, but looks more frustrated with herself than anything else.
"Damn, damn, damn, damn. Agh." She sees you approaching and attempts to wave you off. "Ah, forgive me, I didn't mean to cause an alarm." She'd been trying to replicate a Flaming Arrows spell, or something similar and..obviously it hadn't worked out.
"I thought fire magic was supposed to be your entire deal. Isn't that why you've got that funny little tattoo on your hand?" Holly observes, kicking her legs against the face of the dummy.
Chris shoots her an annoyed glance. "That's not helpful, Holly." Back to you, she tries to assuage any concerns you have. "Don't worry, I've had worse in my time. It's not quite as painful as it looks." That may be, but a healer might still be advised. Or at least an icepack.
A Bit of Thief-Taking (RUN SNAGGLEFOOT RUN)
This was more familiar to her. This was something Chris knew she was capable of. Thief-taking wasn't normally in the purview of the Zexen Knights, and certainly not their commander, but a nation founded on mercantile and run by merchants and traders tended to take an especially dim view of thievery. Besides, it felt closer to the duties Chris was normally used to than all this magic nonsense. Especially when the thief was so incompetent to let his destination be known.
Said thief is now currently backing out of the stables as Chris comes out of them, hand on her sword, but not having drawn the weapon yet. "Hand over the stolen merchandise and submit yourself to arrest, Mr. Miffen." She says sternly. "This farce has gone on quite long enough, wouldn't you agree?"
Snagglefoot Miffen balks, and his eyes noticeable look down the street. "Don't do something you'll regret, Mr. Miffen." Chris warns. "It will go more poorly for you if you run."
"Not as poorly as it will for you love in all them clanking armour bits." He points out with a cheeky grin, and then books it.
"He's running!" Chris calls after him. "Cut him off!" Hopefully the assistance she positioned at the end of the street while she cut him off at the stables is keeping their ears open. She starts after him, but he was right about one thing; in all her armour Chris isn't exactly mobile right now.
Myths of Camelot
Chris is wary of coming this close to the Forest of the Fisher King. She doesn't know much about the place other than it sits at the edges of the Land of Rot, and that everyone has been advised not to go too far in. Fortunately, her destination is on the edges of the forest, so she doesn't expect too much trouble. Still, she would go with company if at all possible.
Chris gives the steamcar the Archivist calls home the once over as she and whatever company decided to tag along with her approach. "Strange choice of domicile." She notes. "I gather the actual archive is below ground." Her familiar, the Holly Elf is perched sitting on one of her pauldrons (Chris has long since given up trying to shoo her away) and already looks bored.
"Oh boy, hours trapped underground in a dusty old library so you can read a few myths and legends. This is fun for you?"
Chris closes her eyes and sighs. "Holly, please. You're welcome to stay out here or return to Camelot if you like."
"All that way by myself? No thank you! My wings get tired." She grumbles some more, but doesn't move off the pauldron.
"Well then, do you suppose we knock, or can we just let ourselves in? I don't wish to be rude."
Training
"... You need to at least treat it some," she said, frowning. "Come on, they have some medicine and bandages, I'll help you."
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"Oh boy, guarding a glove. You give me all the fun jobs, FC."
"Holly—"
"Yeah, yeah, watch the gauntlet, I heard ya. Go on, then." The Elf remains seated upon the training dummy, but waves them off.
Frowning, but satisfied, Chris turns to...Other Chris. "Apologies, shall we?" Against the breastplate her fingers curl, and she's visibly wincing. Oh actually, yes, this is starting to feel quite uncomfortable.
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"Yeah. This way," Chris said, ushering the other Chris to follow. She leads her to a station where one can pick up training supplies, including bandages and medicine.
"Hold out your hand," she commands, already picking up what she needs. Beware, other Chris, this is the kind that stings at first.
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To take her mind off the discomfort, Chris looks at the available supplies Other Chris had been searching through. Some it looks vaguely familiar, but others she has no idea about. "It's good you came along when you did. If I'd tried to figure this out myself, I'm not sure I'd have known where to start." She admits. "You are a medic yourself?" A medic who carries a bow, if so. Not the strangest combination she's ever seen.
"Ah, apologies. You are giving me aid and I haven't even seen fit to introduce myself. Chris Lightfellow. If it wasn't already apparent, I'm only recently arrived." She's always tended towards the self-deprecating kind of humour.
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Once the medicine was applied, she moved on, continuing, "And I'm not a medic, exactly. I have basic first aid training, and not much else."
She thought of her other self from that parallel world that they'd encountered; she took care of Tsubasa's wounds and injuries to a greater extent than Chris herself did. She was more of a medic than Chris was.
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A Bit of Thief-Taking
"I would do as she says, if I were you."
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"I told you it would go more poorly for you if you ran, Miffen." She tells him sternly, before looking over his shoulder to her partner. "Kratos, please relieve him of his spoils, if you'd be so kind. You'll stay nice and still, won't you, Snagglefoot?"
"Kiss my arse." He sneers, but the insult is an empty one. He's watching the tip of the sword, and while he doesn't look happy, he is remaining nice and still.
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"Turn out your pockets."
Just in case ol' Snaggs here got clever and tried to stash some of the gems elsewhere.
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His hands go meekly to his pockets and he does as instructed, turning them out revealing only bits of lint, and some string. Chris watches the detritus fall to the ground dispassionately. "Very good. Now, start walking. I trust I don't have to repeat myself about the running part." She gets a non-committal grunt from Snagglefoot, who has apparently realized the value of keeping his mouth shut.
Holly should still be waiting with the wagon outside of town. Then it should be an easy trip back to Camelot and a cell for the thief. "Thank you, Kratos. Not bad for a day's work." Chris says, seeming more relaxed than during their first encounter. "Camelot has a watch, yes? This wasn't exactly the purview of my knights back home, but it might be worth looking into here." She will need money after all, without access to her family holdings and coffers back in Zexen.
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Kratos nods in reply to Chris' thanks. "I was a knight once myself, long ago," says the guy that doesn't even look like he's in his thirties yet, but hey, "I may look into the watch here myself. As long as we
re stuck here, I suppose we may as well help out where we can."
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Thief Taking
So once he sees Snagglefoot running, Hawk is closing in the distance fast from his position above. He jumps off the roof and his dark blue wings come out. With a bit of his magic to help, he's able to literally swoop in and land right in front of Snagglefoot. When he lands, the wings also go away. He's got his swords out and has one pointed towards the thief. Amazingly, he actually gets the landing down perfectly since he's been pretty hit or miss with magic so far. All of this he accomplishes quite fast and smoothly, much like a hawk coming in to snatch up its prey.
"Take one more step and you'll wish you listened to her. I'm far less inclined towards mercy."
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Ah. Hawk preferred dramatic entrances.
"Mother of—" As the winged man lands before him, Snagglefoot skids to a stop only to lose his balance and fall backwards onto the cobblestones. "What the bloody 'ell are you?!" He attempts to scuttle backwards, only to find himself sandwiched between knight and Monstrum. And like Hawk, Chris also has her sword out now as she approaches.
She glances up at Hawk. "I see your name is well-chosen." She notes drily, before turning her attention to the cowering thief at her feet. "And as for you Miffen, the red bag on your belt, please." She extends her empty hand to the thief expectantly.
"...Shite." Recognizing it's a fair cop, he reaches for the bag of stolen gems with an angry growl.
"Very good. Hawk, the restraints if you'd be so kind?"
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"Very well named, including the part about being feral." That was said mostly for the benefit of Snagglefoot. There was still a chance he may try to run to avoid prison, but Hawk is quite confident his skills as a hunter outweigh the skills of his prey if that happened.
He reaches into a pack hanging at his waist and gets the restraints out. Of course to secure them, he's going to need to put his swords away. He could have them back out in no time or try and use the spell he'd practiced to make throwing knives made out of wind. He knows very well how quickly a knife to the leg can slow a person down.
"Don't think you can try running now, Snagglebutt," Hawk said, purposely getting the name wrong to be insulting. "You're way out of your league if you think you can outrun us."
With that, he's going to move to put on the restraints, but he's being wary just in case their prey decides to bolt.
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Once Chris has secured the bag and Hawk has secured the would-be thief, Chris sheathes her sword. "All right, on your feet. We've got a ride ahead of us back to Camelot and I want to make the most of the daylight." She hauls him up by the back of his collar, and then pushes him firmly. "Start walking, and behave yourself." Once they reach the edge of the Springs they can toss him into the wagon Chris procured for the trip back. With her driving and Hawk to watch, there's little chance he'll try and escape. A bit messy, but all in all she feels refreshed; this is the sort of work she understands better. Does Camelot have a watch? She might have to consider signing up.
"That was well-done, Hawk." Chris tells him as they make their way down the street, the watching crowd mostly parting to let them go. "Two missions under our belt together; so far I'd say our cooperation shows promise." It's useful to her to have someone she can rely on, deprived of Salome, Borus and the other knights. Building a replacement stable of allies for her time here will be a necessity, and while Hawk seems a bit too combat hungry at times, he also displays sensible judgment in when to hold back. She can work with that.
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It was a bit of a pain having to escort the thief to the authorities. He was more used to the ruckus involved grabbing the attention of the garrison soldiers and using the captured thief as a distraction to make their getaway. Being complimented for something so pathetically easy just always feels weird.
"He was barely worth the time spent. Nothing like the wild goose chases I'd lead the garrison soldiers on."
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Training
Which means that she generally pays attention to both newcomers and old hands, figuring out who is learning and who has been around a bit and is a magical "gym rat" like her. Chris stands out in her armor, with her silver hair, and her magical mishap hadn't gone unnoticed. She frowns a little as the woman tries to wave her off, and continues ahead anyway.
"That'll blister if you're not careful," she says matter-of-factly, already having an idea. "Let me have a look at least. I have a way to get rid of the pain."
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"Trying to maintain a bit of flame and all I succeeded in doing was heating my gauntlet." She grumbles through clenched teeth. So, lesson learned there. Maybe forgo the armour while training going forward, at least for now. Maybe some attire similar to what she wore during her journey into the Grasslands. "Mind where you step. It's still likely to be hot."
"Y'know you haven't even tried the other elements yet, FC." Holly speaks up from her perch atop the dummy. "I know flame's supposed to be your thing and all, but maybe we should start with water first, eh? Better drenched than burnt to a crisp, huh? Anyway, thanks lady. I'm doing what I can here, but FC can get pretty bullheaded about this sort of thing. Thinking a lot in straight lines, y'know?"
"I do not think in straight lines, Holly."
"You do when you're frustrated."
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Claire looks at Holly, a vaguely amused smile on her face. Flame is supposed to be her thing? Well, that's all well and good, but it's not really a help here.
"Everyone starts over here, even if you had magical talents before showing up," Claire says, holding up her hand, reaching for Chris's. The palm begins to pulse with a dark purple light, something not entirely wholesome about it. Dark Magic, but Claire's face is all flat concern and concentration.
Her other hand reaches out towards one of the other dummies, aiming pointedly away from Holly and other people, and the magic flashes out. It surrounds Chris's burn for a moment and then the skin cools. The dummy, however, begins to smoke and char right around where it's hand should be. The pain should mostly subside, though the effort makes Claire suck in a breath, frowning.
"Well that was something. How's the hand?"
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She tests her hand gingerly, flexing fingers to test for pain. It's stll there, but subsided to a dull ache, far less in intensity than what she had been feeling only moments before. "Better." She admits. "A bit tender still, but much better. Impressive work." She looks back to the dummy and its burnt hand. "I think I see. You didn't take the damage away, but transferred it to another source." She asks, looking back at Claire. "A form of exchange." Unconventional...a bit grim, actually...but she can't argue with the results. Dummies are meant to be damaged anyway.
"That's Dark magic for you, FC." Holly quips. "Using it for pain management's a fairly inventive us of it though. You might stand to learn a thing or two from this one."
Chris frowns, but notices Claire has seemingly become winded. "Are you all right? Do you need to sit a moment?"
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"I'm alright. Just...haven't done that too often," Claire says, shaking her head. "New kind of magic tend to drain me. Thinking it's probably because I'm not really used to it still."
Things she's done by rote over and over these last months are fine, it's the newer, splashier things that get her.
"But yeah, that's right. I just moved what was done to another source. It's a bit like a curse, and I've been working on it as a way to move injuries from myself onto an attacker, figured I would attempt it on someone else, too. Glad it worked."
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myths
"I wager the choice is to not appear so conspicuous," Alphinaud says, offering his thoughts as well. It isn't that he ignores Holly—if anything, the familiar's biting commentary is met with a quiet, wry 'heh' from him—but ultimately, he chooses not to fuel that particular fire for the now. "Let us attempt a knock; we can then at least say we tried to mind our manners upon arriving unannounced."
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The knight nods at Alphinaud's suggestion, and raises her hand to rap against the doorframe several times. Moments pass while they stand outside. "...You know, if this Archivist fellow spends much of his time underground, I'm sure he won't have heard that." Chris realizes after it becomes apparent no one is coming to open the door. Finally giving up, having made an attempt at propriety, she goes for the doorknob.
"We shall apologize to him once we're inside." She decides, though she remembers hearing in Camelot that as long as one behaves themselves and don't try to take anything, the Archivist is agreeable to visitors. Fortunately, that won't be an issue with today's two guests.
Stepping inside, Chris surveys the rather packed interior, but sees the elevator at the end. "I meant to ask, were you planning on looking into the myths of this place as well, or did something else draw you here? I understand the archives are quite vast." Chris asks as they make their way down the car. This area is rather crowded; she finds it difficult to believe anyone could actually live up here.
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And so, Alphinaud follows her inside after a nod, and it's... rather cluttered with all sorts of gadgets and knick-knacks. This too is not unexpected of learned men. The carbuncle darts inside with a small chirp, swiftly pouncing upon a countertop to inspect one of the myriad of clocks nestled within the cramped room; not unlike the familiar, Alphinaud approaches a cluster of gears to examine.
"Purely curiosity," he admits, only briefly casting his eyes over a shoulder. "Though there is much I wish to learn, 'tis always best to begin with the basics, whether they be deemed myths or otherwise. If I are to make my home here for the now, then I need not be a stranger to it for long."
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"Oh boy, a match made in heaven, you two." Holly notes boredly from her perch on Chris' shoulder, which she pointedly ignores.
"Such strange mechanisms, these." She muses. And she thought an automaton made out of a barrel was advanced. "I've heard of certain clockwork marvels being possible back home, but Zexen is regrettably short on such things." Aside from the elevator installed in Budehuc Castle, at least. "And even those are said to pale to the ancient Sindar. But I think even they might be taken aback by some of these devices." She looks down at Alphinaud. "Do you have any idea what this is?" She asks him curiously.
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Pointedly clearing his throat, he continues on with a shake of his head. "I recognize the clocks, but aside from them, I confess I am not quite technologically inclined. Though there is a myriad of magitek one could behold, my understanding of how such contraptions work is surface level at best."
Alphinaud gives one last glance at the gears before he turns away; the carbuncle seems more of a mind to paw at the hands of a clock, however.
"The technologies of this land are something else, however."
Entwined in magic as it is, too.
sorry for the delay! event tags + work exhaustion