Down tall halls of finery four souls flee, carefully dreading windows that ever obscure the dangers flying from beyond their frosted glass.
{Down! Down!}
Still’s scared signs rally the feathered tide all around them, but send Adris into a slide across the smooth tiles.
The maddening music, with its thrilling heartbeat of percussion and belying calmness of flute, almost distracts from the real threat of these hallways.
Though the cross, with a careful eye and fast hand, can slap away serrated blades which pass all around his body, such easily dodged missiles cannot match the maturing horror of another window darkening ahead.
Crashing death pierces through it, spraying twinkling glass at the two manipulators. Still ignores her own advice, leaping to wall and ascending it to clear the giant bolt.
As Adris rises up from the other side of this newest addition to the villa’s unfortunate decorations, he’s just in time to watch Still flick her hand toward a swooping blur, one that extends sharp claws at the sneak.
Coated with gray, every last harpy wears gorgeous, razor-sharp “slippers” over their feet.
“Form up!”
The first dive-bomber hungry for blood draws the rest into following her whistling approach. On drawn wings that slice through the air and leave misty, bluish wakes washing from their black plumage, a flock of bird women tail her in perfect unison.
Wearing long, flowing cloth of silvery white loosely around their bodies and hiding their faces behind similarly colored, hooded caps, they ready to slash on a flyby with their outstretched, bird-like legs.
(They act more like they’re sailing the ocean than flying!)
Like all in the Castillo, their deadliness is hidden behind frilled stockings over avian limbs and ribbon-sash dresses which cling to their thick tanned flesh, both a resplendent purple far above commoners.
Even approaching talons can’t distract Adris from sights that neither cloth nor sash are designed to hide, for their nearly bare bosoms and nether flowers reveal in motion. Their ensemble which parts to allow view at the moment of one’s need to concentrate also paradoxically strips them of individual identities, leaving them as replaceable objects of sexual service.
(Am I to offer my semen to bird women, now!?)
While Adris is momentarily unsure which is more pressing, making sense of this treat for the eyes or surviving their assaults, from the darkness that is Still’s mesh flies thick white strands that are her answer to the alluring temptation.
The tip of the shot mass bursts outwards at the last moment like a fisher’s net, treating the fluid enemy like the sea creatures they resemble.
“Spider witch!?”
{Wrong!}
Before the leader can change her velocity, this shrill black maid of prey is caught up in the sticky mass and tumbles from her dive.
Still arcs off the wall with a springy push, yanking on the leash to absorb its slack and gain speed similar to the tree-sized bolts which harry them.
“AAAAHHHH!?”
Bodies meet, though only one result is permitted.
A curved sword is plunged between the feathered servant’s ribs to linger for a moment. Her scream is devoured by the bluish-black miasma which erupts and courses over a trapped flying fish.
Still slides around her like an eel before kicking off with a flourish of thick, padded legs.
“I-Insane!?”
“What is she made of!?”
Two more winged servants weave out of the nimble angle’s flight path, crashing with their wingmates and allowing the skulker to alight onto a large pendulum hanging from the curved ceiling overhead.
Only one foot turns as the pendulum begins to swing; but, only one foot is needed as the spinning Still’s free arm begins to whip to-and-fro, filling the air with gleaming steel.
Lines of flung dirks tear through the thick screen of suddenly chaotic guardians, forcing many to plummet the ground to avoid becoming nailed to the walls.
Where they seek safety, they find none.
“Kol! Charge!”
“RAAAAAAAAAH!”
A furry foot lands on the back of the head of an astonished maid who is forced to land, before the weight attached follows.
“GAAH!”
Even with the hooded cap covering her face except for pointed ears and vibrant black hair, the discomforted shock in her voice upon hitting is viscerally pleasing.
“ACK—!!!”
Though not enough to shatter her outright, the stunned victim submits purple Vigor across the floor with a prostrated pose. Kol bounces off and tramples forward to menace more threats, swinging wildly with impaling stabs and rounding swings that accomplish the goal of scattering pursuers.
“KAKAKA! Kol isn’t the one who needs to fly to avoid being turned into chicken skewers!”
For a moment after this retaliatory strike thins their numbers, Adris thinks they might be able to escape.
(Something is wrong, though…!)
The path ahead is clean to his eyes, but the swinging blades that slide out with the rough sound of springing steel become instant eyesores.
(I’m seeing a repeat!)
“HAH!”
Unlike in the Castillo, though, these ones that collide with an adamant knight do not survive contact.
The springs break with the sparking impact on Kol’s raised poleaxe, a disgusting wrenching of metal hurting Adris’ ears. Long arms are driven back as the blade lengths snap and tumble behind Kol.
One arcs on its spinning course, aiming for an emerald guest.
“HIIEEE!?”
An elf is to be its real target, waving her hands uselessly as it nears…
“NAAAH—!
UGH!”
Until a late-crashing harpy intercepts the blade with her torso and careens brokenly across the hallway, spurting into a mess of sliding purple that coats the horrified snake and the immediate area.
(Luck like that should be bottled to sell! Can I!?)
“… Ah? Inertia is… dangerous, because it… t-t-transfers to…
… AAAADRISSSSSS!”
Tears flow freely as she screams and shuts her eyes to the extreme violence. A free spirit goes berserk, sliding through the feathered wall coalescing behind Adris, plowing through it with flailing arms. Harpies curse as they are slapped head first into the nearby walls by the crying elf.
(And this one is stronger when she’s unaware of it! All of my calculations are proved right, despite wishing I was wrong!)
A cunning battle started against mirror birds has devolved into a grudge match of who can be most out of control, leaving four fleeing delvers barely edging out a temporary victory by their audacity.
“Keep running! We’ll… rally ahead!”
“Fight on better ground, Boss! Kol, can’t reach!”
(You can’t reach the enemy even when you’re on level ground!)
Far out-pacing their prey, except for the one wearing a white mask, seven harpies left intact rise on sprays from the invisible ocean to pursue, leaving a wake of blue as they quickly wrench free what Adris believed to be purely ornamental weapons from the walls.
(Birds are the worst creature to face with these three!)
Adris leaps down a sloping ramp as this thought preoccupies him.
(None of this would’ve happened if I’d just prevented Kol from turning one door knob!)
“Hmm? Smells good in here!”
Before Adris could parse her comment, the hungry kobold had battered open large double doors with glyphs above announcing “our place of repose and sustenance, viewing the greatness of above”.
Within an uncovered dining area, under a glorious metallic recreation of the Tree of Life rising through the center of a long table, the mute, black harpy servants had been preparing places sufficient for only two diners. At least, until stopped in mid-setting by a brash knight.
The few ladies of service present had given them their fullest regards, congenially at first, though Adris’ back grew chill with the night’s nipping at how rigidly these monsters stood with their wings strictly folded.
“… [P-P-Page Harpies]. Bred specifically for domestic service… Descendants of normal black harpies, they’re… they’re very close communal types who are suspicious and violent towards… outsiders like…”
A fretting elf had found her sole source of support in sharing wisdom, mindlessly listing off facts about the silent servants, even as they had finally broken out of their paralysis by a sudden change in the atmosphere.
The terrible flute from earlier struck up with discord in its notes for a moment, scowling at the situation, before settling into an energetic beat full of high notes that awakened the petrified help.
Ave’s catharsis somehow lasted after they’d taken flight, too, launching themselves at nearby walls with great “splashes” of blue mist wafting behind them.
“They like shiny objects, especially… the kind that can be used to c-c-cut down their foes… hahaha…!”
Ornate and delicate metallic circles attached to the walls became their perches, before the strong maids ripped them free and circled the bunch. Such items had been seen earlier in the hallways, a mystery which lingered until then.
“Hoo!? The uninvited seek to invite themselves to dinner under the falling leaves!?”
These weapons were flung with great exuberance at the intruders, for the black-haired harridans were as equally good at bloodshed as setting a table.
“Why don’t you four become the entertainment!?”
The escape after was fraught with more downturns and crueler realizations.
(Anything they need to end us with can be found on the walls! They don’t need to carry weapons!)
That thought is cut short when the high wall to Adris’ right opens like a melting sheet of ice, gray goop slopping to the floor to allow two more feathered terrors to drop free and spread their wings, raising the count of who is chasing them to seven.
(They’re immune to the displacement of rooms and can travel at will!?)
“How can they traverse through the walls of this living villa, Ave?”
“I don’t know! I don’t understand!? How does any of this woooork!?”
Clearing a low arch shaped with exquisite, curling stone feathers in the hopes of escaping further airborne pursuit turns out to be the worst possible idea. Adris unwillingly allows Still to dip back, sword uselessly pointed out, to hide behind him as she signs nervously.
{… You… talk to them.}
(Who is talking to whom!?)
Adris gazes into the enormously open aviary they’ve stumbled into.
With an open dome and bright hanging orbs, the sights are awe-filling as he makes a quick count of new threats. Too large to fit within the space provided by the villa’s external dimensions, the Castillo’s tricks are on display with the four-story heights of this hidden village.
(Way too many to fight.)
Towering “mountains” along the walls are whittled out from trees grown in doors, allowing arches to pass between the different stratas connecting them and floating stone platforms. These arches become more points to perch upon, while also ferrying water that spills out from their sides and the intermingling bathing pools the four walls share.
“… Page… Harpies are always unnoticed, but they’re still… prideful…”
Ave narrates the discovery, though Adris’ eyes go to the uncarved limbs which curl toward the far walls, joining with the walls at places where wood is hollowed out so that the harpies can climb in to take seats next to the stone.
As Adris watches with disbelief, the living gray architecture reaches out with gentlemanly delicacy to invite them into itself.
(That’s how they get around!)
A busy town with whimsically curved homes of various tilts and heights is painted an unobtrusive, dark shades of yellow and green over their sides and knothole doors. Its fountains and meeting spots are all only reachable by air, and its flowery premises smell of living roses not found anywhere else.
The heaven solely for black birds is joined by cawing kin from the outside, flocks of them who settle on smaller branches and readily answer to calls from their larger superiors.
“… Black harpies are more happy with the currents and waves, believers in water despite having wings. They have… only one focus in their lives, setting them apart from other kinds…”
Fair of face and curious at first, the black-haired denizens who are busy with daily activities continue for quite a while as they take in the crew with some trepidation at their haven being invaded.
“Protecting… home.”
Narrating her knowledge no longer brings Ave security as she cowers behind Still, but she holds up her whip all the same.
Cleaning their homes, sorting inventories, or just gossiping with each other while showing off colorful gemstones when the four entered, their once busy tasks lose even more focus when a dark glint shines in their eyes from far below.
Even the ones bathing nakedly in the pools shake their wet hair before leaning over to inspect this novel treasure that has fascinated their thoughts.
“Pretty…”
“Beautiful obdisian?”
The shrouded eyes of those on duty are joined by the un-obstructed off-whites and blues of those who rest, all uniformly flecked with red. When Adris and the cross he holds are inspected more closely, every nubile body tenses as they drop their meager possessions and salivate over another’s.
Greed overcomes the suspicion and horror which Adris inculcated at first with his appearance, tipping them literally over the edge of their roosts.
(Why does this cross attract nothing but danger!?)
“… And a free boy attached to it!”
The servants are all smiles at this loudly spoken bonus, before they drop from their perches and swiftly alight toward the newest guests, regardless of whether or not they wear sufficient clothing for battle.
“… Black harpies also… have one… ‘c-c-communal activity’…”
Ave’s narration ends with a choking whimper as she stares fixedly at Adris, leaving him well aware of what shared pursuit they hold.
(“I’m going to be passed around” is it? This is where ultimatums are normally given, not discussions had, Still!)
“Umu, Boss, Kol doesn’t like this place to fight birds. Maybe something… smaller?”
While Kol takes her situation in stride, if not a bit disappointedly…
“RUN! ADRIS! RUN, FOR YOUR SAFETY!”
Ave insistently jabs her finger at where they entered from, reminding Adris of the previous flock of irate pursuers that has already added more to their battle numbers.
(This is how a black cross evens the score? They have far better coordination than we do, and there’s dozens of them!)
The shrill call for chase both behind and front exits Adris’ mind, with only a destination now worried about.
At the far end of the village within a villa is a gate, unbarred for the moment and the only exit found so far besides the death-bringing windows.
(Nope, no way. We’re done.)
This potential escape is across the rocky and wet ground beneath the fortresses of the servants, prompting Adris’ mind to overheat as he ponders a plan to reach it with the numbers above swooping in.
Not finding one, Adris just steels his heart and sets his face into a confident frown, raising the cross while hoping that its momentary release of darkness will truly even the odds sufficiently enough to grant a chance for victory.
A victory that now seems impossible when the harpies begin to chant.
“[Waters of life that flow below, rise with swell and sting from above]!”
(Ah, they’re magic users, too?)
Dancing over the airborne pools, the naked harpies spin up great arrows of pure, solidified moisture, which begin to rain down.
As Adris swats the liquid arrows and bursts them pointlessly upon his clothing, Still and Ave hop around to avoid the raining doom from above as the ground keeps cracking with the impacts.
“Boss, do the thing!”
(I’m trying!)
But, rather than flare up as he wills it to,
the black cross only glimmers with a faint darklight, before going both silent and lightless.
(WHY!?)
Adris strikes the useless chunk of obsidian with his palm, punishing it for its failure to serve at the worst possible moment.
“Awaken and bring an end to those damn birds, you stupid…!”
Screaming at it as he readies to physically cry should his cultivated ego and mask slip any further, Adris’ outrage earns a swift pat for attention.
“Hmm!? Boss? Want Kol to deal with the nests of these shitty birds?”
“… What?”
Adris flicks his head to his walking brickwall, for the girl’s intonation becomes playful as she shortens her poleaxe with a meaty clank and then digs into the large pack at her side.
“Good, Kol was wondering when Boss would count on her!”
(What are you pulling out…?)
Taking to wearing it after the fight with Lycia, this exposed carrier has thus far avoided all damage. Jealously guarded, its survival has seemed somewhat paramount to Adris, but he could not place why with Ave’s portable treasure trove in existence.
While calls of delight above increase in loudness and regularity, the kobold draws forth a sealed bottle filled with an orange spirit of some sort, holding it proudly over her head for all to see as blue spears strike upon her armor or narrowly miss the ampule.
“Kakaka! Kol, has ‘solutions’, too! Elf stole the stage, but Kol would like to ‘paint’ this time!
Will show ‘em true art.”
Ave tilts her head while shivering at the dangers all around, yet doesn’t seem to understand Kol’s fascination with the cloudy mystery fluid.
One here does recognize the oblong ampule immediately, arching her back in apparent pain as she whips her free hand around before pointing.
{AAAAHHHHH!? YOUUUUUU!? YOU TOOK IT!?}
“GAH!?”
Adris’ throat is choked by Still’s arm, leaving her hand shaking out a curse as he’s forced to run by his partner straight out into the open and far away from the white terror still bearing the strikes of water spears.
“STILL!? What is in that bottle!?”
{Fire! RUN!}
“DON’T LEAVE AVE BEHIND, PLEAAAASE!!!”
(What kind of fire!?)
The act of fleeing into certain danger makes Adris the new, primary target of the diving swarm, leaving Kol alone as she institutes whatever bizarre plan she’s concocted.
Rather than run out to intercept the approaching flock or stand rear guard against the screaming tide flapping out of the previous hallway, Kol jogs swiftly to the base of the closest tree mountain.
Rubbing her white wolf helmet uncertainly during a brief interlude, Kol gauges the situation as the first harpies that plunge to savage her hiss like struck cats and brake in the air, landing roughly on the ground and shivering when they notice the large ampule she holds.
“THAT’S!? THAT IS…!”
“Hmm, right, Moon said that artwork needs a name…? Maybe…”
A poleaxe clanks to the floor.
The hand freed from it reaches out toward a woman taller than the knight, shaking as a writhing wind wraps around the outstretched arm.
An invisible noose draws the gaping harpy’s neck into the clutches of white-furred hands, bringing them face-to-helmet as the kobold growls approvingly when the dust kicked up begins to settle.
“Hmm, good. Harpy’s name is now… ‘Brush’.”
“Huh!?”
The ampule is thrust between her jiggling breasts, before the shocked harpy begins to quiver and clutch her chest tightly.
“AHHHH!? THIS ISSSS!?”
Kol drags her into an ungainly spin, lifting the bird off the ground as she begins to yell.
“Brush holds the ‘paint’! Before…!”
“UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Both figures turn into a blur, ending when the feather brush pressed into service is flung skyward.
“Kol will call this one, [Burning Bird Genocide]!
KAKAKAKA!”
“HIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!?”
(… What?)
The powerful name, screamed at the same pitch as the delivery agent, sends the rest of the harpies in the area flapping away as fast as possible.
Black feathers are left in the trail of the missile aimed at the tree trunk.
As it impacts, it produces a beautiful cracking sound.
Before the high noon sun descends upon the aviary, turning it into an apocalyptic vision of the fall of Petripolis’ past when an orange flower begins to bloom.
Both the cackling Kol and her hapless victims disappear from sight, consumed as the life force which gives it birth.
Air rushes from the front of Adris, pulling on his clothes and reeling him back as the solar force behind him thirsts for more fuel.
A desperate need drives the explosion that then launches him into the air with the careening birdfolk.
The need to devour all life, and return it to ashes, continues to grow into a magnificent, blooming vine that climbs the tree.
Tumults of blazing death cook the badlands near the first half of the room, causing Adris to sweat with the instant wildfire springing up and immediately scorching up to the very ceiling.
The shocked boy wipes off his dirty face while standing, gazing in awe at the ruin ascending the “mountain” they entered under. Numb to the effect, he can only watch as the whimsically carved, idyllic resort becomes a flaming trap that living black embers tumble from.
(Oh Emperor, they will hate us forever, now.)
With nobody else around him but a naked girl lifting herself up with black wings, just as awestruck as he is while they watch the end together, he gains her attention by swirling the cross that they all once desired.
When her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open, he groans out a question to his captivated attacker.
“What was the name of that chemical?”
“… Huh?”
A dirk passes by his face, lodging itself into the eye socket of the pacified harpy.
Spurting purple Vigor while yowling, the girl falls to the ground and writhes in the burnt muck. In place of her, a blue angel’s hands answer his question to then rip him forward.
{“Promethium”. What I paid for, with great expense.}
(Kol stole it!? No…)
“She was carrying around that thing in her bag!?”
More terrible than merely using it, the fact that Adris had peacefully and ignorantly walked to the villa with the idiot bomber, one bearing the most terrible destruction he’s witnessed since Lycia, makes him rethink his allegiances.
Still doesn’t bother to answer him, charging with confidence until another harpy rises from the ground to watch the flames spreading.
When about to pass cleanly by her, Still falters with uncharacteristic lethargy overtaking her…
Before the brutal backstabber whips outward like a wet cloth, losing her semblance of human limits as bright metal curves scythe-like toward the bird’s head.
Even Adris, a survivor of innumerable combats and brutal death scenes, is forced to swallow his next words at the sight of purple Vigor being reaved from the strike that would decapitate were it not for worldly miracles.
Delivered with such enthusiastic swiftness that the flame-bladed shortsword remains free of the stains which puddle on the ground, Still effortlessly rediscovers sure steps as the victim collapses to her knees, and then onto her face.
{A fortune… Uselessly wasted. Haaaah.}
As though nothing whatsoever bothers her, Still merely waggles her fingers lethargically before fleeing once more, filled again with renewed professionalism as she leads the terrified Ave through the chaotic mass ahead.
(… No matter how close we grow, there’s an ocean of anger locked within Still that I never want to understand or be the target of.)
“KOOOOOOOOOL!”
Only Ave bothers to show concern for her friend when they reach their destination, calling back with both hands while Still readies to open the door.
(But… it… worked?)
With their peaceful home becoming a vision of the end of life on one wall, the mute servants are now hurried as they work in sync to launch endless streams of water at the mountain of fire.
As the flames begin to spread across the archways, the mood of the end times permeating the aviary also gains the smells of a burning village, a sight Adris can remember with perfect detail.
“… Kol… she’s… done for…”
Ave cries for a fallen teammate, closing her reddened eyes and murmuring a prayer in that hidden language of hers.
{She better be done, or I’ll put her back in to cook.}
Still hides her mask with her steepled hat’s brim, unwilling to let the others see the expression that might show.
Only Adris is passive about the experience as he strokes his chin, for nothing in his thoughts about the errant squire screams of danger or loss.
If anything…
(Could something that mundane really turn her into a statue?)
“… Would my right hand lose to something that easy?”
Confidence in his voice causes Still and Ave both to flinch, then the grim smile forming slowly on his face invites them to share in the same sight he expects momentarily to reveal.
(… I can hear you cackling, even through an inferno.)
As burnt remnants of above land in her path, a single figure strides confidently through the flames.
“Kakakaka! Kol, loves art!”
Orange that should consume her instead surrenders to the phantasmal flames wicking off her body. Not even a speck of her is singed, for a white-furred and silver-scaled tail whips through the rising heat as it dances.
“Oh!? Boss, how do you like Kol’s painting!?”
Breaking into a run at the sight of her superior, Kol begins to wave like a child prodigy whose first pot exited the kiln and was shown to the rest of the students.
“… It’s fitting for you.”
“Inheritor of Fire”.
“Terror Knight”.
“Right Hand of a True False God”.
Many titles and descriptions explain Kol’s impact in battle, but the mass of descending, avenging killer fish from above proves once more how real Adris’ chief complaint about the “solutions” his teammates keep bringing forward is.
(Neesiette is the only one keeping them “grounded”.)
The pun in his mind at Neesiette’s own title is his last enjoyment before Kol’s ungainly run picks up speed, hoping to beat the wave of dive-bombing, pissed off harpies currently forming water arrows to fling at them.
“OPENOPENOPENSTILLLLLLLL!”
{Shut up! Nobody pointed out the knob’s lock beforehand!}
An impromptu lock-picking session causes Adris to sweat profusely from more than just the growing heat. One key point missed in his discussion with Still while soaking in heated waters is painfully clear now.
(When other people improvise, it ends up in only agony!)
Though Adris’ solutions are elegant, others lack that finesse in pulling miracles from the ether. Evidently, only Neesiette’s inflexible practicality was keeping their psychotic imaginations in check, either by her design or coincidental blessing of the divine.
“If I don’t rescue Neesiette, I’m going to have to do her job, too, is it?”
A fate worse than death darkens his already fractured mood as he turns to escape through an opening door. One that reads “know the elegance of flowing bodies, around which are arrayed the keenest of weapons”.
Characters:
Name: Adris fehl Dain, “Boss”, “Starr”
Titles: Lycia’s Little Brother, True False God, Slayer, Gigolo (Self-Admitted)
Race: Xin’El, Emperor’s Child (Human)
Sex: Male
Age: ?? – Young
Occupation: Crossbearer; “Star of Ruin, Cast Down from the Sky Upon a Dying World”, Slayer of Petripolis
Discipline: [Rule in Dark]
Powers:
[Tool Savant] – “Adris is a tool-collecting-and-utilizing fanatic. Most men would consider him disgusting for loving tools more than his own partner. Has so many tools that it can be said to be his true power. What does he do when he has no tools left? He seeks to acquire more, obviously!”
[Rule in Dark – Wave of Darkness] – “Making victory possible? No, no, no. That thing isn’t that kind! There’s more than that!”
[Brainfry] – “You’re still with me, right buddy? Yeah, you’re still there.”
[Refuse to Kneel] – “Ah, even the Alchemaster can’t make me submit! This is the one that’s saved me all those times!?”
[Tongue of Air and Darkness] – “What’s the difference between this and the old one? Why ‘air’?”
[Conceptual Refusal] – “How the fuck does dominating people’s minds turn into a weird statement like this!?”
[Obscuring Sonjil] – “Man, this thing has gotten pretty strong on Zennia. At first only creating an area of fog, it can now cover a direction? Is something wrong…?”
[Marital Arts – Self-taught] – “Hoh, even if it’s dangerous to use, it feels good to prove to myself that the body is still as willing as the mind! Even if I can’t call it aura, something is inside me now!”
[Verisimilitude] – “Stop giving weird names to what I do! But if my imaginative truths are more believable now, I’m not gonna complain.”
[A WONDERFUL CURSE] – “If that old corpse wasn’t already dead, I’d definitely kill him!”
Items:
[“Rabbit Boots”] – “Providing increased agility while moving as a passive boon, they also allow actively to bound great distances with surprising grace. What do they cost though, I wonder?”
[The Mountain King] – “[Honor the gods, inheritor, and ever seek victory for their sake.]”
Disposition: Resilient / Adaptable / Sinner
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: Black
Hair: Black, with strands of White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value – “Even after all of that, Master is still an idiot!”
Stats
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – D
Agility – C
Intelligence – D
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – D
“If you want more, stop being mean to Rantil!”
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Much the same as before, but isn’t the way you look at others a bit more dashing, now? Forced to open yourself to the world, perhaps the gentleman may grow? That is likely impossible, isn’t it, Adris?”
“Being picked on… isn’t it a form of love?”
“Won’t you show me the glory of your second time within the bowels of greed?”
“If you weren’t contradictory, would you even exist?”
Description:
“A boy who is a bit out of place as far as features, he descended from the top of the Castillo to the bottom by pluck, luck, and outrageous lying. Reborn into the world of Zennia, what can be said other than ‘he’s still exactly the same, but different’?”
“Recovers quickly, returns to scheming. Plots are ever the balm for his existence.”
“Back into the Castillo, Adris’ wounds reopen. No matter how many advances he makes outside, the battles in the Castillo are something far different from confronting even Lycia.”
“Quickly discovers that his hypocrisy is to be in love with his chaotic solutions, while abhorring the chaos wrought by others.”
Commentary:
“A man has got to know his limitations.”
Name: “Kol” fehl Dain, “Pink”
Titles: Idiot, “Tyrant Knight”
Race: Kobold, ???
Sex: Female
Age: ???
Occupation: Delver, Frontliner, ???
Discipline: Tyrant Squire
Powers:
[Invisible Edge] – “Axe goes through everything?”
[Full Contact] – “Wanna go!? Kol, let fists talk!”
[“Ride on Dread“] – “THE WORLD, BELONG KOL! KAKAKA!”
[“Tyranny”] – “EVERYONE, SEE KOL’S AUTHORITY!”
[ ?DARKNESS? ] – “▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒……!!!”
Items:
[“Dreadful Armor”] – “This is where Kol will live and die. When Kol roars, armor roars, too!”
[Halberd of the Whirlwind] – “GET OVER HERE!”
Disposition: Straightforward / Confrontational / Respectful
Alignment: Neutral
Eyes: Pink
Hair: White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – C-?!?
Vitality – C-?!?
Dexterity – E
Agility – F
Intelligence – F
Mentality – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Are you attracted to rampaging metal? Though in your case, you appreciate the voice, don’t you? Do you long to see more? If she reminds you of a certain someone, then…?”
“Is she more beautiful than terrifying, though?”
“What else will she discover about you and herself, Adris?”
“Pride, is it not the birthplace of all forms of art? Pursuit of what makes us more valuable in the eyes of others?”
Description:
“Brash and forthright, a warrior wielding an axe with two hands forsakes protection to deliver only harm. Contrary to this impression, she also seems interested in a straight up fight. If her words are any indication, she offers little thought to her actions.”
“Keeps her word, when asked to.”
“Different from the rest, Kol’s worst attributes are also her strengths. When the Castillo revives these, pride and eagerness lead her to temptations that drive a wedge through the party.”
“Painting a picture in her own way, Kol seeks a higher calling.”
Commentary:
“Has discovered art?”
Name: Avenalliah Aurmaris
Titles: Lustful Lizard, Elf
Race: Elf
Sex: Female
Age: Young
Occupation: Delver, Scared Girl
Discipline: ???
Powers:
[“Sylvan Calling”] – “The spirits play when they want to! … They really do! Why are you looking at me like that!?”
[Preternatural Strikes] – “Um, I’ve always been pretty good with a whip? Elves use a lot of weapons! I just like… my whip…?”
[Monstrous Strength] – “EH!? Why is it monstrous!? Elves aren’t monsters!”
[“Unknown Angel”] – “Ave doesn’t feel especially blessed…”
[Elvish Venom?] – “Hm? Well, Ave doesn’t really know, but if you have fangs, shouldn’t you have venom?”
Disposition: Joyful / Impressionable / Cowardly
Alignment: Neutral
Eyes: Crystal Green
Hair: Moss Green
Skin: White
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Strength – C
Vitality – D
Dexterity – C
Intelligence – C
Mentality – F
Luck – A
Charisma – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “While not possessing your newly favorite curves, isn’t a girl with a naive charm also fine? Because she covers so little, you are also left without having to imagine what you could possess, yes?”
“What sort of treasure will she show you?”
“Isn’t she just a normal girl? Wouldn’t standing up and continuing to be counted in such desperate circumstances not be considered noble?”
Description:
“As cheerful as she is skittish, Avenalliah fits an unknown position within the four delvers’ group. Though she carries a large sack, that would hardly count as a position… right?”
“When thrown back into the Castillo, all of the self-doubt and fear returns, living once more at the forefront of her thoughts.”
“When given a way of coping with the world, she accepts it and runs with it.”
Commentary:
“Has her thunder stolen from her.”
Name: Still, “Cyrene Stillwater”
Titles: Puddle
Race: Undead?
Sex: Female
Age: Young Lady?
Occupation: Delver, Trickster/Outfighter
Discipline: Accursed Avenger
Powers:
[“Reprisal Strike”] – {You had it coming, deciding you could oppose me and walk away from it.}
[“Surprising Agility”] – {Is it honestly surprising by now? Walls are just another surface~!}
[Nectar] – {How does my suffering taste, spawn of “cursed blood”!?}
[Delusional Movement] – {How did you forget that shadows are also a doorway, Adris?}
[Undead Fortitude?] – {Do you think that what has no life cares about your pathetic strikes?}
Disposition: Playful / Sadistic / Skulking
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: ???
Hair: ???
Skin: ???
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – C
Agility – C
Intelligence – C
Mentality – D
Charisma – E
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Do you really think it’s not obvious? What she possesses is what you’ve missed all your life, yes? Breasts and curves… are these not a new fruit for you to taste?”
“Have you destroyed what you gained already?”
“Why didn’t you ask her for some tools of your own?”
“Wouldn’t understanding her also shed light on your own nature?”
Description:
“A mute girl who says much with gestures, she also has more going on than she seems to. Though not outwardly aggressive, there’s an atmosphere of danger about her. Opposite of Kol, hers is subtle… Yet, she also can protect others. Given to acrobatics, it matches with her dark, but flamboyant, colors.”
“To do right, maybe. To avenge wrongs, always.”
“When the Castillo rakes upon her mind and heart once more, the aggression towards things needing her ‘vengeance’ grows.”
“Is as dangerous as she appears to be.”
Commentary:
“I think you have to realize that catharsis often only comes from pain… inflicted on others.”
Name: Adris fehl Dain, “Boss”, “Starr”
Titles: Lycia’s Little Brother, True False God, Slayer, Gigolo (Self-Admitted)
Race: Xin’El, Emperor’s Child (Human)
Sex: Male
Age: ?? – Young
Occupation: Crossbearer; “Star of Ruin, Cast Down from the Sky Upon a Dying World”, Slayer of Petripolis
Discipline: [Rule in Dark]
Powers:
[Tool Savant] – “Adris is a tool-collecting-and-utilizing fanatic. Most men would consider him disgusting for loving tools more than his own partner. Has so many tools that it can be said to be his true power. What does he do when he has no tools left? He seeks to acquire more, obviously!”[Rule in Dark – Wave of Darkness] – “Making victory possible? No, no, no. That thing isn’t that kind! There’s more than that!”
[Brainfry] – “You’re still with me, right buddy? Yeah, you’re still there.”
[Refuse to Kneel] – “Ah, even the Alchemaster can’t make me submit! This is the one that’s saved me all those times!?”
[Tongue of Air and Darkness] – “What’s the difference between this and the old one? Why ‘air’?”
[Conceptual Refusal] – “How the fuck does dominating people’s minds turn into a weird statement like this!?”
[Obscuring Sonjil] – “Man, this thing has gotten pretty strong on Zennia. At first only creating an area of fog, it can now cover a direction? Is something wrong…?”
[Marital Arts – Self-taught] – “Hoh, even if it’s dangerous to use, it feels good to prove to myself that the body is still as willing as the mind! Even if I can’t call it aura, something is inside me now!”
[Verisimilitude] – “Stop giving weird names to what I do! But if my imaginative truths are more believable now, I’m not gonna complain.”
[A WONDERFUL CURSE] – “If that old corpse wasn’t already dead, I’d definitely kill him!”
Items:
[“Rabbit Boots”] – “Providing increased agility while moving as a passive boon, they also allow actively to bound great distances with surprising grace. What do they cost though, I wonder?”
[The Mountain King] – “[Honor the gods, inheritor, and ever seek victory for their sake.]”
Disposition: Resilient / Adaptable / Sinner
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: Black
Hair: Black, with strands of White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value – “Even after all of that, Master is still an idiot!”
Stats
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – D
Agility – C
Intelligence – D
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – D
“If you want more, stop being mean to Rantil!”
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – D
Agility – C
Intelligence – D
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – D
“If you want more, stop being mean to Rantil!”
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Much the same as before, but isn’t the way you look at others a bit more dashing, now? Forced to open yourself to the world, perhaps the gentleman may grow? That is likely impossible, isn’t it, Adris?”
“Being picked on… isn’t it a form of love?”
“Won’t you show me the glory of your second time within the bowels of greed?”
“If you weren’t contradictory, would you even exist?”
Description:
“A boy who is a bit out of place as far as features, he descended from the top of the Castillo to the bottom by pluck, luck, and outrageous lying. Reborn into the world of Zennia, what can be said other than ‘he’s still exactly the same, but different’?”
“Recovers quickly, returns to scheming. Plots are ever the balm for his existence.”
“Back into the Castillo, Adris’ wounds reopen. No matter how many advances he makes outside, the battles in the Castillo are something far different from confronting even Lycia.”
“Quickly discovers that his hypocrisy is to be in love with his chaotic solutions, while abhorring the chaos wrought by others.”
Commentary:
“A man has got to know his limitations.”
Name: “Kol” fehl Dain, “Pink”
Titles: Idiot, “Tyrant Knight”
Race: Kobold, ???
Sex: Female
Age: ???
Occupation: Delver, Frontliner, ???
Discipline: Tyrant Squire
Powers:
[Invisible Edge] – “Axe goes through everything?”
[Full Contact] – “Wanna go!? Kol, let fists talk!”
[“Ride on Dread“] – “THE WORLD, BELONG KOL! KAKAKA!”
[“Tyranny”] – “EVERYONE, SEE KOL’S AUTHORITY!”
[ ?DARKNESS? ] – “▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒……!!!”
Items:
[“Dreadful Armor”] – “This is where Kol will live and die. When Kol roars, armor roars, too!”
[Halberd of the Whirlwind] – “GET OVER HERE!”
Disposition: Straightforward / Confrontational / Respectful
Alignment: Neutral
Eyes: Pink
Hair: White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – C-?!?
Vitality – C-?!?
Dexterity – E
Agility – F
Intelligence – F
Mentality – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Are you attracted to rampaging metal? Though in your case, you appreciate the voice, don’t you? Do you long to see more? If she reminds you of a certain someone, then…?”
“Is she more beautiful than terrifying, though?”
“What else will she discover about you and herself, Adris?”
“Pride, is it not the birthplace of all forms of art? Pursuit of what makes us more valuable in the eyes of others?”
Description:
“Brash and forthright, a warrior wielding an axe with two hands forsakes protection to deliver only harm. Contrary to this impression, she also seems interested in a straight up fight. If her words are any indication, she offers little thought to her actions.”
“Keeps her word, when asked to.”
“Different from the rest, Kol’s worst attributes are also her strengths. When the Castillo revives these, pride and eagerness lead her to temptations that drive a wedge through the party.”
“Painting a picture in her own way, Kol seeks a higher calling.”
Commentary:
“Has discovered art?”
Name: Avenalliah Aurmaris
Titles: Lustful Lizard, Elf
Race: Elf
Sex: Female
Age: Young
Occupation: Delver, Scared Girl
Discipline: ???
Powers:
[“Sylvan Calling”] – “The spirits play when they want to! … They really do! Why are you looking at me like that!?”
[Preternatural Strikes] – “Um, I’ve always been pretty good with a whip? Elves use a lot of weapons! I just like… my whip…?”
[Monstrous Strength] – “EH!? Why is it monstrous!? Elves aren’t monsters!”
[“Unknown Angel”] – “Ave doesn’t feel especially blessed…”
[Elvish Venom?] – “Hm? Well, Ave doesn’t really know, but if you have fangs, shouldn’t you have venom?”
Disposition: Joyful / Impressionable / Cowardly
Alignment: Neutral
Eyes: Crystal Green
Hair: Moss Green
Skin: White
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Strength – C
Vitality – D
Dexterity – C
Intelligence – C
Mentality – F
Luck – A
Charisma – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “While not possessing your newly favorite curves, isn’t a girl with a naive charm also fine? Because she covers so little, you are also left without having to imagine what you could possess, yes?”
“What sort of treasure will she show you?”
“Isn’t she just a normal girl? Wouldn’t standing up and continuing to be counted in such desperate circumstances not be considered noble?”
Description:
“As cheerful as she is skittish, Avenalliah fits an unknown position within the four delvers’ group. Though she carries a large sack, that would hardly count as a position… right?”
“When thrown back into the Castillo, all of the self-doubt and fear returns, living once more at the forefront of her thoughts.”
“When given a way of coping with the world, she accepts it and runs with it.”
Commentary:
“Has her thunder stolen from her.”
Name: Still, “Cyrene Stillwater”
Titles: Puddle
Race: Undead?
Sex: Female
Age: Young Lady?
Occupation: Delver, Trickster/Outfighter
Discipline: Accursed Avenger
Powers:
[“Reprisal Strike”] – {You had it coming, deciding you could oppose me and walk away from it.}
[“Surprising Agility”] – {Is it honestly surprising by now? Walls are just another surface~!}
[Nectar] – {How does my suffering taste, spawn of “cursed blood”!?}
[Delusional Movement] – {How did you forget that shadows are also a doorway, Adris?}
[Undead Fortitude?] – {Do you think that what has no life cares about your pathetic strikes?}
Disposition: Playful / Sadistic / Skulking
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: ???
Hair: ???
Skin: ???
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – C
Agility – C
Intelligence – C
Mentality – D
Charisma – E
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Do you really think it’s not obvious? What she possesses is what you’ve missed all your life, yes? Breasts and curves… are these not a new fruit for you to taste?”
“Have you destroyed what you gained already?”
“Why didn’t you ask her for some tools of your own?”
“Wouldn’t understanding her also shed light on your own nature?”
Description:
“A mute girl who says much with gestures, she also has more going on than she seems to. Though not outwardly aggressive, there’s an atmosphere of danger about her. Opposite of Kol, hers is subtle… Yet, she also can protect others. Given to acrobatics, it matches with her dark, but flamboyant, colors.”
“To do right, maybe. To avenge wrongs, always.”
“When the Castillo rakes upon her mind and heart once more, the aggression towards things needing her ‘vengeance’ grows.”
“Is as dangerous as she appears to be.”
Commentary:
“I think you have to realize that catharsis often only comes from pain… inflicted on others.”
Glossary:
Page Harpies – “A peculiar breed of all-female monsters, harpies are usually just playful and bird-brained. These types are raised specifically to become servants for the wealthy and powerful, mute while on duty and acting with perfect attention to decorum.”
Promethium – “The great fire which consumes all, birth of life and civilization. In addition, it is also the bringer of death and the ruin of societies.”
Page Harpies – “A peculiar breed of all-female monsters, harpies are usually just playful and bird-brained. These types are raised specifically to become servants for the wealthy and powerful, mute while on duty and acting with perfect attention to decorum.”
Promethium – “The great fire which consumes all, birth of life and civilization. In addition, it is also the bringer of death and the ruin of societies.”