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Asuras

When God pulls his gun out, he's not running out.
Original poster
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Posting Speed
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  2. One post per week
Online Availability
24/7
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Fantasy, Sci-fi
The journey begins with our "heroes" face-to-face with one another, tensions high as the realization settles in that one among them is not who they say they are. Seven unique individuals stand within the inn room, having been directed there by the Prophet's letter. Each bears the ritual dagger and the letter each, none of them differing in the slightest from one another. They are alone together in the room, far from the eyes and ears of common public.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=​

Eyes shifted back and forth across the heroes present, each one receiving scrutiny judging their appearance, expression, and aura. Undoubtedly, many of them had already begun forming opinion on particular individuals, sizing them up with stares. The silence was stiffening until one of them spoke up.

"This certainly leaves us at a poor start," said a dark-skinned cat-girl. Najila held her ritual dagger out before the rest of the heroes as was done by the rest before returning it back to a sheathe slung on her hips. She crossed her arms and frowned. "I see little in the way of means to reveal the liar among us, unless of course they would oblige us by dropping the act here and now," she grinned. For some, it seemed possible they merely forgot what the Prophet said, and that they were to expect 7 heroes originally. But given all seven of them remembered the number 6 with near-certainty, it was increasingly doubtful that they were all merely forgetting.

Najila herself held some opinions on the best course of action, but withheld them until someone else spoke up.
 
A
vira Chevero

HP: 3/3 | Spirits: Happy
"...Well... this changes everything." A quiet voice whispered to herself, somewhat sadly.

Draped in black robes, long, grey-brown hair, and part of a pale face was visible underneath the shadowy covering of her hood. An ethereal glow came from a lantern to her side.

"...A poor start indeed."

She gently held up the golden lantern, and a small, green ball of light gently remained at her side. She smiled at it briefly, before tilting up her hood, and surveying the other members of the party once more. Avira felt confused. The party size wasn't originally meant to be this big... perhaps the Prophet had simply decided they needed an extra pair of hands. Which was very understandable... this wasn't a minor, nor easy quest.

But... a spy? This would make this quest much, much harder. Nobody could fully trust each other anymore... which was a real shame. Avira was hoping everyone would work together as one. But with a spy in the group, tension would simply rise. ...If there was only some way she could prove her innocence. Alas, she couldn't let this 'spy' news get to her. Otherwise she'd start to suspect and hate others, and everything would crumble.

-------------------------------------

The party: two men - one fancily-dressed, with neat combed hair. The other was more rugged, tough-looking, with blonde hair. A woman, dressed in flashy orange, with an impressive & beautiful polearm. The dark cat-girl who'd recently spoke... with a somewhat sly look to her... though Avira wouldn't judge her so easily because of this.

Interestingly, what looked to be a young boy was also a member. Though Avira supposed he must be very talented to be here, so she shouldn't worry too much over that fact. And... a half orc. Big, hulking, and suited in intimidating gear. But Avira wouldn't be so ignorant as to instantly judge him as harsh, loud, and violent, like most humans assumed them to be like. It was quite exciting to meet a half-orc in the flesh for the first time.

And herself. The spirit mage. Or 'soul witch', as she was more commonly called, to her dislike. It was certainly an interesting party. Who, Avira wondered, could possibly be a spy?

She'd been told quite a few times that you should never judge a book by its cover. So no matter how suspicious (or conspicuous) some of these people looked, she just had to assume any one of them could be a spy. And... well... she'd assume it was true for now, but there it wasn't exactly definite that one of them was a spy in her eyes. It was shame. She'd have to watch her back from now on, and keep her prized lantern safe.

This quest would be stressful & tough for the body and mind. But she, and her spirits, were prepared for it. The end reward she was seeking would make it all worth it...

-------------------------------------

"It's strange. I had the impression there would be six." Avira said quietly. After a slight pause she stepped forward, lowered her hood, and offered a slight, yet warm smile to the others. She supposed she should introduce herself briefly, before the others began to ramble and uproar about the spy. She was quite calm about the whole 'spy' ordeal. Six could probably suss an odd one out...

"Well... to those who care... I am Avira. And these are my spirits." She stroked the metal of her Spirit Lantern, and a series of quiet and delecate sounds came from within. "Please be nice to them. They will protect you in return." She promised, as small, ethereal light flashed and hovered around her and the lantern. Not that she expected any of the others to care for spirits... barely any did.

"There's not much we can do about a spy right now. So... let's not start to suspect others. We will just crumble that way..." With that, she stepped back again, and slipped her hood back up as she waited for the next to speak.


 
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Three cute girls, two guys, a rich-looking child, and a half-orc go into the same inn room together. The innkeeper must be having a blast, gossiping about what was going on in that room. Lucia was tempted to feed those rumors later on, but at the moment, it appeared that the atmosphere was too tense for that. After all, when there were seven Kingslayers as opposed to the six that the Prophet had stated, each of them bearing the same ritual dagger that would be used to kill off King Isgavriel, it was pretty obvious that the Prophet failed his arithmetic classes.

Well, either that, or it was what the others were saying and thinking: that someone was here as a spy, an imposter serving to feed information to the demon that would destroy the world. A pain in the arse, really. Seated on one of the small beds, Lucia tapped a beat onto the shaft of her polearm, thinking of ways to solve this. A bit hard, seeing how she hadn’t ever even seen any of the people here, and even harder, seeing how their mission was supposed to be a ‘secret’, and thus, they couldn’t just go and find a mind-reader to solve this conundrum for them (if that mind-reader was powerful enough to pierce the mind of the spy the first place).

More importantly, though…

“Oho, you’re a necromancer, Avira?” Lucia asked, her eyes burning with curiosity, “You can make zombies then or something? Or are you more of the life-draining type? Actually, can you, like, resurrect people? Drag them from heaven or hell into their bodies again?”

Lucia had seen lots of magicky-type people in the past, but for one to encase the souls of her victims in a lantern and then use them to…what, entertain her? Do her bidding? Feed her own lifeforce? Regardless, that definitely wasn’t something you saw every day, and the girl’s first instinct was to challenge Avira to a friendly fight. After all, ‘defeat meant friendship’, so if everyone fought each other, the spy would become a friend, right?

Probably not, actually.

“Guess we’re all just introducing ourselves then,” Lucia continued, standing up and pulling up the sides of her shirt to mimic the action of curtsying. “I’m Lucia Magnolia Dessdia, though I was originally just Lucia. I use a spear, and I’d imagine that I have more battle experience than the rest of you lot, but hey, who knows! Let’s get along…after we come to a consensus as to why this ‘spy’ is even here.”

“Because really,”
Lucia said, sitting back down and bouncing up from the springy mattress, “Is the seventh even working for the King? Can’t imagine why Isgavriel would let us stick around if his spy already knew where we were meeting and all. Easiest solution would be to just send an army or three to kill us, right?”
 
He did not mind the silence, standing with his hands clasped at his back, and let his gaze wander to each of the other six gathered individuals. They, including himself, were certainly a varied bunch. Three women and men, well one boy, in addition to him, that all looked to hail from various regions of the world. An interesting gathering, but one that came with the problem of an extra like the others had already begun to point out.

“I don’t suppose someone was told by the Prophet they were the seventh?” He asked dryly without any real expectation of an answer as he looked towards each of other six. “Suppose not. In any case if the seventh is the spy then that hardly bodes well for our task. Given we are not currently surrounded by an army, it’s likely the King has some purpose for us. Or perhaps they’re not part of the Prophecy, but met with the Prophet and have been given the opportunity to act on their own accord?”

With a shrug he offered the suggestion before he introduced himself with a slight nod, “I am Kheri Soyeo from the Great Plains and Ranges north of Pinnacle. I wield the sword, but am capable with many others if necessary. May our journey together be swift.” Naturally at that point he let his attention drift mostly between those that had yet to speak or introduce themselves.
 
The dirty-blond haired knight furrowed his brow as he gazed over the individuals present in the cramped little in room. It was obvious from the moment that the seventh person stepped in the room that there was going to be trouble; he could tell that the others were getting nervous and unsettled as they eyed each other suspiciously. He, too, was quick to the conclusion of spy, but as he continued to examine each person, he knew there was no easy way to tell who was friend or foe.

There were three girls and four guys. The first, who introduced herself as Avira, struck him as one of those creepy spiritual types. Perhaps she was a bookworm too, and one of those cold types that opened up if you were really nice to them. That would be something. The second girl was incredibly preppy and brightly dressed, with a flashy polearm and a demeanor that matched it. She struck him as a dancer-type, but somehow seemed more experienced in fighting than prancing. Sexy looking, but definitely somebody to watch out for. The last of the three was a cat-girl with dark skin and light silken clothes. She was definitely from one of the Southern nations, and carried herself well. Mysterious and alluring enough to be spy material if he gave too much thought about it.

The first of the other three guys was more orc than big guy, and his gear certainly seemed to reflect his origins well. He looked battle-hardened and tankish, and Greg could guess he had a harsh personality, although he hadn’t spoken yet. The other two were both pretty fancy looking pretty boys, decked in expensive-looking, well cut cloth. Aside from that, the older of the two looked fairly bland, and from what he’d seen, appeared to be fairly mild-mannered as well. The younger one looked barely 10, although he had a princely sort of air about him. The fact that he looked so young and wielded a prophecy blade made Gregory wary of the kid.

And then, there was himself, who he hopefully knew quite well. Each person looked every bit an honest prophecy-fulfiller, and they had a knife to prove that. He happened to have his out, using it to pare an apple. Sighing after taking a bite, he adjusted his posture to something more proper.

“I’m Gregory Archambault from Illia,” he said, unceremoniously. “If anybody is a spy here, please speak up, it would save a lot of time.” Well, it didn’t hurt to try.

“A group of six could easily out-maneuver an army of a thousand if they play their cards right,” noted Gregory, providing a counter to the flamboyant girl. “It makes a lot of sense to throw in a spy and sow mistrust while they’re at it. That’s what worries me and it’s going to make this whole mess an ordeal. I don’t suppose anybody had a good method for figuring out who really is who?”
 
Orson was there with the rest. Orson was there in the inn room, and wasn't very happy with his situation. He hummed a jaunty tune, to himself more than to anybody else there, as the rest of this ragtag group of people spoke, all the while casually throwing his ritual dagger twirling up into the air before catching it again. His eyes were closed, his mouth the form of a deep, giving the impression to anybody who looked at him that he would rather be anywhere but here, with these people.

With a flick of the wrist, the dagger went into the table he was sitting next to, before Orson stood and drew his short blade. "I am Orson, of the short-lived Ordoxi people." He placed the tip of his sword into floorboards, gleaning the emblem etched into the helve. "Prince, and future king, rather," his face held bland amusement as he said this. "To my people, I am as old as many of you are, so please do not let appearances be a factor in dealing with me, as I am here for much the same reason as the rest of you; to kill the World King..." He eyed each of them with his statement, gauging their reactions, if any of them even paid much heed to "this child" at all. "That is all I have to say on the matter." He sat back down, resting his head on one arm, and, this time, with one eye open to the proceedings.

As far as he was concerned, none, or even all, of them could be the spy; there was a basis for fault just on assuming what the prophet had said to be true. The World King could simply be just what he was initially heralded as, the savior. Orson wouldn't say as much, as he wasn't quite sure how the rest of them would respond to such deductions, and their help would certainly make the deed all the easier.
 
The half-orc sighed, taking his helmet off as he buried his face in one meaty palm. Fantastic. The entire group only just met and something already went wrong. Seven assassins, seven daggers where the prophet said there would be six. So either the prophet changed his mind and sent a seventh as backup, or someone among them wasn't who they said they were. And yet, every one of their daggers was the same. If there was a spy, their benefactor would have to be completely on to the prophet if they could commission a fake that looked exactly like the other six daggers.

Keran looked around the room, looking over those he was supposed to work with. Two men, a boy, and three women. What doubts Keran harbored about what seemed to be a child among them were somewhat mollified by the boy's words and tone, but that just raised another issue as to his haughty attitude. A few among the group didn't much look like fighters, but Keran simply took that to mean that they were most likely magi or skirmishers. Still, this was the hand he had to play, and he was stuck with it. No point in wishing for something different. Leaning forward in his chair, the half-orc glanced around at the entire room as he spoke.

"Keran, chieftain of the Yeshaz." He said, picking his dagger off the table and sheathing it. "There's no point in worrying which of us is false right now if we have no way of determining who it is. The question right now is, what do we do from here? I have ideas, but I'd rather listen to the rest of you lot first. How do you people fight? What are you good at? If we're going to kill a king, we need to use every advantage we have."
 
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Avira Chevero
HP: 3/3 | Spirits: Happy

Necromancer. Avira mentally winced at the word. If she were a necromancer, she'd probably have been hunted down by now. For raising the dead as slaves for your bidding was completely different. A horrible, horrible method that Avira so hated. Spirits didn't get a say in the matter when it came to necromancy. Their old, dead bodies were simply risen again and animated. It truly was a terrible art. Though, this Lucia couldn't be blamed for making an honest mistake. Spiritual magic wasn't common knowledge, so using the spirits the dead just seemed to appear as necromantic. Such an assumption is what caused some people to hate her.

As for the introductions of others, they seemed nice enough. The half-orc, Keran, wasn't loud or impolite, which just went to show how you couldn't judge.

And that 'Gregory' was admittedly handsome.

Avira , however, was caught a little off-guard by this Prince of the Ordoxi. 'Short-lived'? She supposed that explained Orson's young appearance. As he looked around the room, Avira briefly smiled at him. He was certainly feisty; of course she'd take him seriously. She planned to, Ordoxi or not.

Personally, Avira didn't have anything to say on the 'spy' matter. There clearly wasn't much they could do about it, despite what some were saying. And if the spy ordeal was true, they wouldn't just own up to it like a guilty child. Though it would save a lot of grief... but a spy wouldn't be intent on simply killing everyone. Moreso on sabotage and stealing info. So it wasn't a complete disaster... though still a large problem.

---------------------------

Avira spoke up at Keran's question. It was a good question, and helpful to help everyone work as a team. Even the spy would have to play along as an ally.
"Well... let me take this opportunity to say that I'm not a necromancer." She said, mostly to Lucia. "When a living being dies, their spirit can live on within a world of peace in my lantern." She explained quietly. "I merely call upon the energy of these spirits. If they don't want to help me, they won't. In fact, they could leave right now if they wanted to." Avira paused, and trailed off. The others probably didn't want to hear her ramble on about how the spirit lantern worked. They just wanted to know what it could do.


"The spirits' energy can harm, protect, or reposition others. To a powerful effect." She watched the spirit lantern fondly, as it glowed with ethereal brilliance. "I'd demonstrate the last two... but I don't want to wake the spirits for no good reason." She kept quiet for a moment. "And... no... it's not possible for me to resurrect people." The shade of her hood covered her eyes for a moment. "Resurrection is... not in my interests."

In her opinion, once someone died, that was it. Their spirit will live on, and that's how it was. Tampering with a corpse is necromancy in her eyes. And... trying to force a spirit back into a most likely damaged body? The problems it would cause for that person would be severe, if it even worked. Resurrection was extremely difficult to perform correctly - way past even Avira's high level of magic. Bringing back the dead was something... something nobody should do.

She eventually looked up from her hood again. She could take educated guesses on what some of the others could do, but was interested nonetheless.





 
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Najila's ears angled to each of the other assassins as they spoke, her arms crossed as she kept her head lowered as if to seem less attentive. The prsopect of a seventh simply not being mentioned until they were already selected was possible, but she doubted the Prophet was of the sort to simply forget such a critical piece of information. So too was his future sight a counter-argument to the suggestion; why would someone who could grasp the future decide on a seventh after selecting six? She closed her eyes and thought for a moment, tail twitching as she did so.

"I am inclined to agree with Avira," the cat-girl said, "I see no ways of deducing the spy's identity. We can only hope they are foolish and reveal themselves the first moment we are sabotaged." Najila leered at those in the circle, of course unsure who she should be directing her warning to. She unfolded her arms and brushed aside her white hair with a smile.

"Until then, yes, we may as well work together seamlessly. After all, a good spy would ultimately help us in many respects, no?" She nodded towards Gregory, seemingly relieved to hear that someone else understood the reasoning behind a spy in a small group. "I am Najila El-Mabah-Layali of the Unseen Sands. A pertinent question, half-orc," she said, "We should all be good at something, yes? Each of us can contribute towards this mission in a variety of ways I hope, behind being able to smash skulls and draw blood." Najila gestured to herself with narrowed, sensual eyes.

"Some say I have a way with... my inner beast, and I am familiar with some magicks. I'm far tougher than I may look as well," she winked.
 
Another purpose? Sow mistrust? Not part of the Prophecy? What a pain in the arse. Lucia scratched her head in annoyance, crossing her legs as the spear rested against her shoulder. While the young girl was pretty confident that she was at least smarter and more educated than that half-orc, she wasn’t one for cunning long-time plans and the like. Why would the demon king need them for anything? Why would mistrust need to be sowed? Too many questions, really, and all that she got out of the whole thing in the end was that no one knew everything, and most of the people present looked to be the physical head-bashing type.

Well, that little kid was cute in an obnoxious, self-confident sort of way, and it was always nice to see a knightly figure that actually looked like he’d do knightly stuff. Keran, the half-orc, was a bit of a treat as well, if only because it looked like he was one of the few half-orcs that hadn’t been beaten in the head enough to become gibbering, bloodthirsting mess. Maybe it was just a Bloodbath thing though?

And that bit that Avira chatted about was also interesting…if not sort of boring. What was this not-necromancer, a goody-two-shoes who doesn’t even have command over her own magic? Lucia wasn’t one to talk due to the nature of her own abilities, of course, but the raven-haired mage didn’t seem to be a warrior, even if she claimed to be ‘powerful’. What a weirdo. Hopefully her spirits agree with the king-slaying thing as well, or there’d be some problems later on.

That was enough thinking for her though, and Lucia was quick to add, after Najila was done with her sex jokes, “Pretty certain what most of you peeps do already, but personally, I'm an honorable one-on-one combatant with a magical spear. Would say that I also have a fair amount of connections, but hey, depends on the part of the world we go to.”

Shrugging, she asked, “Don’t suppose someone knows a trustworthy mind reader?”
 
Well, at least there didn’t seem to be anyone that would be too hard to get along with in this group, fact that there was someone that didn’t belong aside. They all had the courtesy to act and behave in a courteous enough manner despite the trouble that had already cropped up. Though he supposed initial impressions were hardly accurate as to how well suited the others were as travel companions; it would take time together before something like that could truly be determined.

While the members seemed human for the most part, and Kheri was familiar with beastkin, the Ordoxi and greenskin were new races to him. Short-lived explained why the boy Orson seemed to be only a child, and though he was somewhat curious as to the specifics and characteristics of both him and Keran, now was hardly the appropriate time to address such desires.

His eyes visibly narrowed as Avira explained how her powers worked and Kheri could already feel the distaste forming. He quashed it with a slow blink of his eyes as he trained them elsewhere from the cloaked lady. It didn’t matter that he thought to be an abomination of the natural order and cycle of things. It was his place to criticize her for her apparent talent in such a school of supernatural or choice.

As the ladies finished with their explanations, Kheri glanced around the room before he figured he would speak first for the males. “I can wield most weapons we’ll come across, and perform a wide range of abilities. Of most interest would probably be the ability to heal others, and conceal myself from perception.” At that point he would simply take a slow breath and release a bit of his internal energy, allowing it to wrap around himself at first. With the shroud he could actually feel the others’ eyes on him and with slight adjustments attempted to shift their perception from him. He was successful with all but two of the other six, and shrugged in acceptance. He was in plain sight, had been speaking just before, so even four others who should be his match was hardly a bad result. Well at least now he knew the Ordoxi and spear-wielder were rather keen eyed.

“That aside,” he spoke again, to draw everyone’s attention once more, “I can do plenty of things outside combat. If you need me to scout, hunt, cook, tend to wounds, or such, I should be able to help.”
 
Keran nodded to himself as he listened to the group in turn. As he suspected, what he had to work with wasn't what he would have preferred, but it was all that was available to him. The spirit mage's abilities sounded powerful, but unreliable. If her powers worked at the whim of the spirits she called on, what would happen should they decide to abandon her in the midst of battle? Not exactly a comforting thought. The cat-woman was accursedly vague about her own abilities. Given the presence of a spy, that was understandable, but idiotic. Just watching her in a fight would be enough to reveal what she could do. There was no need to go to such lengths to conceal her abiliites from five allies.

The third female was the one whose abilities he had the least faith in. The undertaking they were about to go on would have far more chaotic battles than the one-on-ones she seemed to be useful. Did she know how to handle herself against multiple foes at once? How to deal with being flanked? The rest of the group would cover her, true, but even still, Keran assumed the worst. Most likely, she would tunnel vision against a single opponent. If what Lucia was revealing about herself was true, she would be the easiest to deal with if she was the spy.

The first man was seemingly extremely well-rounded. Such versatility would be useful, if he was trustworthy. With the child and the older man seemingly unwilling to talk for the moment, Keran decided to speak up.

"I know how to fight, how to hunt, and how to lead." He said simply, gesturing to his sword, crossbow, and warhorn in turn. "I know my way around a battlefield. Not a bad cook either, if I say so myself."
 
Orson sighed as he each of the previous five finished their due, figuring it to be his turn now. "I'm very fast, and hard to hit, and the forces that be seem to punish those that miss... That being said, I can also fight at range, for example:" He took the ritual dagger which was still jammed into the table next to him, and threw it at the wall. It made dull thunk, as it stuck within the wood, before wobbling lightly and flying back to his hand. As it made contact with his flesh again, he threw it into the air again, just for it to land blade-side down in the table again. "I also rarely miss." A small smirk appeared.

And quickly faded. "As for the miscellany, not relating to combat, I'm rather self-sufficient, having traveled on my own for some years, and," he took out his instrument, "decent for the entertainment; not that I would expect any of you to enjoy the sounds of my home."

As for the rest of the party which had responded so far...

Avira was a peculiar one. Her craft was one he had no strong opinions on, though he leaned more to the favorable, as far as humans go; his people spirits in reverence, though less ancestor worship, and more akin to those of the land. It was believed through their will that his family had been chosen to rule.

The pussy-cat was vague in what her abilities entailed, and that drew more of Orson's suspicions than not. Even he had to admit that there was a certain... "air" about her that peaked some arousal from him, yet that was a superficial feeling he had no intentions of acting upon, though he did have a blush on at the thought of it.

This Lucia was similarly vague, much to Orson's infuriating annoyance, though it interested him of what her spear could do, and if she could handle anything more than one-on-one. Though, were she the spy, it would make sense to mislead them to believe that; a sort-of-trump against six others. Still yet, what connections this woman might have were meaningless until they proved themselves otherwise.

Kheri was a useful -- or perhaps useless, depending on your view of it -- jack of all trades; perhaps the central protagonist in an old tale, were it not for the fact that this was real, and in the present. His trick from before seemed to have mislead a few of them, but Orson was yet to be impressed by the man. Only time would tell whether he proved to be an asset to the assassins or a liability.

The orc, perhaps one of the few races he was familiar with outside of the humans, didn't seem like a straight stereotype, and it would perhaps be useful to have somebody coordinate them in a fight; not to mention any repeated missteps from his "leading" would give away the man's position as a spy.

As for the knight-ish fellow who had yet to speak... He seemed physically inclined, more like Keran than Orson himself. Though, he reserved judgement until the man himself spoke.

With judgments laid bare within his mind, Orson sat much like he had before, waiting until the rest of them were ready to discuss a course of action.
 
Crunching on his bright red apple, Gregory looked at Orson with one eye closed as he listened to his rather forceful statement. He seemed to remind him of an aggressive small dog. Still, the knight reserved his ultimate judgment; for all he knew, the kid could rival the archmage of Sendora or somebody of equal ability. Through this and the surprisingly soft-spoken orc, his face remained unchanged, only souring briefly as he bit on a seed and spit it out.

In contrast, the necromancer vs. spiritual medium debate was lost on him, and he frowned as the girls nitpicked over the semantics between the two arts. As it was, the conversation came around to him again; it was time to discuss the particulars of everybody’s skills, combat or otherwise. While he was surprised that the little dancer-girl was a polearm wielder, he nodded at Kheri, who seemed to be a jack-of-all-trades type character. The orc was as expected, but he suppressed a groan for Orson, who was not the archmage killer his imagination had drummed him up to be. Instead, it looked like he was a stealthy bard type, which basically meant Greg would likely be covering for his ass often.

“Believe it or not, I’m actually a real knight,” said Greg, with an idle wave of his knife. “Lance and sword are my game, and I’ve a horse. Not much left for imagination in terms of what I do in combat. Charging, defending, leading, basic formation tactics, the whole package. If you’re not talking about combat, I’m reasonable with some healing magic and camping nonsense.”
 
"Well it certainly seems like the Prophet chose a varied group, not merely in terms of skills," Najila said, "I am hopeful we'll be able to tackle most if not all problems that will inevitably befall us. At the very least, three healers seems like quite the buffer of safety. I only hope your," she looked between Avira, Kheri, and Gregory, "...combat skills follow suit."

"As for a next plan of action," she turned to Lucia, "... a mind reader actually seems like a potential solution to our problem. But then, yet another problem arises in turn. Where can we find such a person? Pinnacle is immense, and I have no doubt we could find a mind reader here, or at the very least, elsewhere nearby." She sat down on a cleared table, legs crossed.

"I would think it best that we split into relatively small groups to search for a mind reader. It will be much faster, and with more than per group, we can avoid letting the spy run amok around us for a time unmonitored. Opinions on the groupings?" Najila held up a hand with four fingers, and another with three. "I think two groups of two and one of three would work sufficiently," she said.

There was some discussion, though most agreed with Najila's general idea. Kheri brought up some key points, and Najila revised the groupings into two; one with four individuals, and the other with three. They settled on dividing themselves up randomly, and with help of some dice Najila conveniently carried, they were split surprisingly by gender.

Kheri, Keran, Gregory, and Orson were together, while the girls, Najila, Lucia, and Avira were in the group of three. Hopping from the table, Najila clapped her hands. "Let's meet back here at sundown," she said with a raised finger and a wink.
 
Avira Chevero
HP: 3/3 | Spirits: Happy

Avira, truth be told, wasn't fully paying attention. She'd gotten a brief idea what the others could do, but her mind seemed more intent on daydreaming. Eh... something to do with the lack of sleep, she supposed. Perhaps a nice cup of a herbal tea would wake her up late-

"I only hope your combat skills follow suit."

Avira blinked and snapped out of her daydreaming session as Najila looked at her and others.
"Oh, the spirits are destructive when I need them to be." The hood covered her eyes for a moment, before she looked up and gave an indifferent, somewhat innocent smile. "I try to avoid that command, though."


She paused, and took the stave off the strap around her back, and into her hands, looking at it thoughtfully. "As for me, without my spirits... humm... I'm trying to learn how to use polearms, but..." She stopped, as if she'd had a sudden thought. "Oh! Perhaps you could teach me a few things, Lucia~! ...When... we're free, that is..." Avira then stopped talking, and went back to her partial daydream. She supposed she was good with using those throwing needles she'd got somewhere on her travels, too. But her skill lied with the spirits, not with the physical abilities everyone else seemed to possess...

Oh well. She supposed that was what being a team was for... being able to make up for each other's weaknesses.

----------------

The next thing to break Avira from her daydream was Najila jumping from the table; the clap of her hands caused Avira to shudder very slightly, before she regained focus. So... uhm... they were finding a mind reader? ...Well, she didn't have any better ideas. Though she hadn't even heard of somebody who could do that... maybe she'd heard such things in taverns, but most things told in taverns weren't really true and usually influenced by alcohol.

Buuut... it was a plan - something Avira didn't really possess. For some reason, she didn't feel very bothered about the spy, but she supposed she should be. If she got stabbed in the back, perhaps the spy would be kind enough to put her spirit in the lantern with the others. Eh... she hoped so. Getting killed wouldn't be as bad, that way.

Avira gave one of her smiles accompanied by a gentle nod at Najila's announcement of departure. She moved slowly to group up with the other two girls, as instructed, as the bright, colourful sparks of the spirits danced around her lantern.
"Ready when you are..." Avira softly said, a little smile visible in the shroud of her hood. She didn't properly know her way around this area, nor was she good at talking to people. Not really her kind of job, but the other two seemed more able.


So, finding a mind reader it was. It sounded like a very difficult task, if it was even possible at all. Such a person, if they even existed, would probably charge an arm and a leg to use their services... so-called 'fortune tellers' were just the same. Except Avira had actually seen fortune tellers before. ...Not that she didn't believe someone like a mind-reader existed. It was more than possible in this wide world.

...That tea would have to wait.
 
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Well, it was settled then. Girls and Boys Night Out. Lucia still thought that the smaller the group, the better, but, well, whatever. She couldn’t argue with Kheri’s points, even if she was a bit surprised that he was the only one who made a counter-statement the first place. Looks like most of the others didn’t like sharing their thoughts, eh? Hopping out and kicking up her spear, Lucia smiled at the men.

“Have fun, gentlemen~”

With that, she became the first to exit the room, expecting the rest of the girls to follow. While it was probably important that they had some idea of where to search for the mind reader, it really felt more important that they have a good story. Lying was bad, of course, but it probably would be a good idea to have an answer to the question ‘why are you looking for a mind reader the first place?’.
 
Well, they took his suggestions into consideration even if they didn’t think of this task as a pointless waste of time as he did. How did any of them imagine to simply stumble around a mind reader, if one did exist, that didn’t want to be found? The individual would realize their intentions before they even knew of their existence, and scatter. Not to mention the danger posed if the mind reader actually enjoyed the rule of Morun… well their existence was already known so perhaps it wouldn’t make all that much of a difference. Unless of course their mind reader decided to lie and out one of the legitimate chosen as a “liar”.

With a slow and heavy sigh, Kheri rubbed at the back of his head and watched as the ladies made their way out of the room. While he knew that they wouldn’t get too many odd looks from his brief stroll through the streets of Pinnacle, it was still a bit unusual to be in the presence of non-humans. “So have any of you been in the city before? Know of any spots where rumors or information might be found?” He himself had personally never been beyond the plains and mountains he called home, and thus had been completely lost. It was only through the direction of other residents that he had even managed to find this inn in the first place.
 
Orson scoffed at the proposed plan. A mindreader, if such a person existed, was about as helpful to the group as a hindrance. There were numerous ways for such an individual to turn the group against each other without so much as that one person's claimed ability; perhaps it was for this reason that his doubts about Lucia's legitimacy were already forming. At the same time, however, nobody else raising the obvious arguments against such a plan laid, at least some, of the same suspicion at their feet.

Yet the young prince did not interject; he figured a way to turn this situation for the better. After the women had all exited the room, Orson then only began to speak.

"No," he said without so much as looking at Kheri, "I have traveled, but only through my own country's familiar territory; this 'Pinnacle' is about as alien as they come to me..." He looked each of them over with one eye closed, as if to gauge their trustworthiness and willingness to go with his own proposed plan of action. "Keep in mind what I'm about to say is only so we have something a little more substantial than the word of one person, but perhaps we spy on the ladies as they go about their search?" He eyed Kheri, now, in particular, his demonstrated abilities likely coming in handy in such an operation. "I have no problem if any of you disagree with this course of action, however, even if you do so, I shall still be pursuing it on my own; should it come to confrontation, I have no doubts in my ability to get away."
 
As the women left, Keran frowned. In his opinion, this whole mind reader business was a fucking terrible idea. For one, where the hell were they supposed to find one of those? Even in the capital of the world, if there was a mind reader, rumor would have gotten out by now. Simply searching for one was a waste of time that could be spent on more productive enterprises, like actually coming up with a plan to assassinate the king. Of course, all of this didn't help Keran's assumption that Lucia was the most likely spy so far.

Orson's idea was sound in theory, but once again, the likelihood of a spy threw a wrench into the plan. Having anyone go off alone with only one other person was a risky proposition at this point, though there was a way around it.

"Do what you will." Keran said, folding his arms. "But take someone with you. Likely Kheri, since I don't think he and I are suited to sneaking around." He said, gesturing back to Gregory as he did so. "But know this, if you come back alone, we kill you outright. Same goes for either of us if you return to only one of us around."
 
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