Crimson Crescent [Villains Pub RP Thread]

[Flyg0n]

Please see introduction and rules here before RPing.

---

How the envelope finds you is a mystery. Somehow, no matter who you are, or where you live, it finds you. In your mailbox, on your desk, inside your nest, or perhaps it simply drops from the sky.

Even more oddly, your name is on it. Yet there’s no indication who sent it. Inside the envelope is a fancy embellished pin in the shape of a gold and red moon. The note that comes with it is short:

‘Join us at the Crimson Crescent. To enter, touch the artifice and speak the word: Lunaris’​

There is nothing else in the envelope. Whether curious, afraid or filled with righteous indignation, at some point you simply cannot resist trying. So you hold the badge and speak the word, and the world around you melts away, and for a moment you are floating, your vision a web of strange white lines.

And then you are once more back on solid ground in the strangest place.

To some, you recognize it as a bar or a pub. A place to gather and drink and be merry. Quite a large bar too. The aesthetic feels both modern and ancient, timeless and cozy; blending wood and stone and tech. Its filled with tables and chairs for all sizes. At the far side of the bar, behind the large counter, a shining blood red Lunala floats, its piercing gaze seemingly cutting right through you. Behind it are shelves of bottles filled with colorful liquids and beyond that, a kitchen where delightful aromas drift from.

If you approach, they address you with an oddly soft, melodious voice, yet one that seems to carry an edge. “Welcome to the Crimson Crescent.” Seemingly anticipating a question, she continues. “This place is my private domain. Here you are safe to speak and be as you please, without moral judgment. You may stay as long as you like, providing you abide by the rules. When you are ready to return home, you must simply speak the word again, and you will return as if only a moment had passed.” She dips her head and turns to gesture with one wing to a sign above the bar.

1. Do not destroy the property
2. Resurrecting people is annoying. Don’t murder anyone.
3. Clean up after yourself. Or else.
4. Tip well. Or Else.

“Please, enjoy your stay, and do not hesitate to call for me if you are interested in our refreshements.”

Fascinating.... Well, you might as well check this place out.

---

(Please feel free to threadmark the first post your scene for indexing ease)

 

[Shizzza]

Avos didn’t really fancy the mysterious and possibly cryptic letter his skarmory had delivered to him.

Now, at first he was skeptical and thought this to be not but a silly prank, so he chanted the word.

And now he was in a bar. Tch, what a filthy place. The smell of liquor overwhelmed his senses and he repulsed in disgust.

He opted to analyze his surroundings, and came to the conclusion that he should consider observing.

“Coffee, please.” Avos requested as he idly tapped the counter.

Within an instant, a hot cup of coffee appeared in front of him.

Avos quietly sipped the coffee, relishing the bitter flavor as he observed his surroundings. All of those…hooligans all gathered in one spot.

He doubted even if he preached his ideals any of them would even understand a speck of his words.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Avos stood up from his seat and wandered around the room to find someone to converse with, and eventually found someone.

“Greetings.”

 

[Sinderella]

Florent was no stranger to strange artifacts. He found home in relics of an ominous nature, so receiving the letter was more of a minor thrill than a point of confusion, or even dread. Not to mention, the combination of red and gold in the seal was a selection fit for a king; that alone had him intrigued. Though he was admittedly unfamiliar with the singular spell he was invited to recite, he supposed leaving it all up to chance would be part of the strange fun. So, with his deadly partners on hand, he chanted the single word, and was surprised to find himself in a bar.

Off the bat, he could confidently say he liked the aesthetic. It wasn't so far off how he had so meticulously styled Elysium. Yes, this was already looking like it was going to be a splendid trip...wherever he was. He supposed he'd figure it out as he went along. There wasn't much to fear when he had a god in his pocket.

The presence of the oddly colored Lunala set him into an instant jolly mood, though it was brought back down to size upon seeing the bar seemed rather empty. Had he arrived too late, or was he simply early? The latter rang better within him, so that's what he decided to go with. He hadn't gotten the letter that long ago, so unless time functioned differently in this new space, he couldn't have been that far behind. As that Lunala greeted him, he returned the gesture with a single polite nod. That was also when he noticed the clearly written rules on the wall, and they caused him to chuckle. Curt, but, guidelines he could follow nonetheless. Well, number two might have room for some negotiation if any future patron decided he was worth the time to meddle with. But that would be a problem for his future self.

For his current self, however, there was nothing else to do but request a cup of tea. So he found a seat at the bar, and did exactly that.

 

[Flyg0n]

Florent was no stranger to strange artifacts. He found home in relics of a more ominous nature, so receiving the letter was more of a minor thrill than a point of confusion, or even dread. Not to mention, the combination of red and gold in the seal was a selection fit for a king; that alone had him intrigued. Though he was admittedly unfamiliar with the singular spell he was invited to recite, he supposed leaving it all up to chance would be part of the strange fun. So, with his deadly partners on hand, he chanted the single word, and was surprised to find himself in a bar.

Off the bat, he could confidently say he liked the aesthetic. It wasn't so far off how he had so meticulously styled Elysium. Yes, this was already looking like it was going to be a splendid trip...wherever he was. He supposed he'd figure it out as he went along. There wasn't much to fear when he had a god in his pocket.

The presence of the oddly colored Lunala set him into a jolly mood right off the bat, though it was brought back down to size upon seeing the bar seemed rather empty. Had he arrived too late, or was he simply early? The latter rang better within him, so that's what he decided to go with. He hadn't gotten the letter that long ago, so unless time functioned differently in this new space, he couldn't have been that far behind. As that Lunala greeted him, he returned the gesture with a single polite nod. That was also when he noticed the clearly written rules on the wall, and they caused him to chuckle. Curt, but, guidelines he could follow nonetheless. Well, number two might have room for some negotiation if any future patron decided he was worth the time to meddle with. But that would be a problem for his future self.

For his current self, however, there was nothing else to do but request a cup of tea. So he found a seat at the bar, and did exactly that.

Such a strange place, yet Athos couldn't resist the allure. He needed to investigate it, understand it, and know if he had any enemies or allies. Or see what more knowledge could be gained. Once he got over the surprise and weirdness of it all (the bartender was some kind of bizare psychic bat deity, as far as he could tell), he made his way over to the bar. Might as well enjoy himself in his time here. He eventually settled on a cinammon whiskey, and found a seat at the bar next to well dressed man who looked at least a few years his senior.

The man carried himself with an air of authority and finesse that made Athos curious. The umistakeable look of someone who was someone. Yet Athos definitely didn't recognize him, and he kept himself apprised of most big name types in Orre and the neighboring regions... Somewhere further away then. He took a slow sip of his own drink, noting the mans' choice - tea?

"You came to a bar like this, run by a pokemon and ordered tea?" He kept the question light, to avoid serious offense though. Even if he did find it an unimpressive drink choice at a place like this. "Athos," he added, offering a casual smile in greeting. It was never wise to offended someone he could ally with.

 

[Sinderella]

"You came to a bar like this, run by a pokemon and ordered tea?" He kept the question light, to avoid serious offense though. Even if he did find it an unimpressive drink choice at a place like this. "Athos," he added, offering a casual smile in greeting. It was never wise to offended someone he could ally with.

The tea had barely made it down Florent's throat when a new presence strode up beside him, opening with commentary about his choice of drink as if they were already friendly. A bold move; one that he would choose to admire. For now.

The accent immediately struck him as Unovan, and he indulged in what was left of his sip before turning his head to gaze up at the man from under a raised brow. Younger, but not so young that he'd immediately peg him a fetal idiot. There was something in that hardened face that told Florent that this was a man who knew a thing or two about the more nefarious affairs in life. That would make for some promising conversation.

"Old habits die hard, it's quite true," he replied, flashing a polite grin. "The Galarian tea affinity isn't one to be taken lightly."

The man was quick to introduce himself, and Florent didn't bother to mask his surprise by the name. "A musketeer, in my presence? Why, I never thought I'd see the day," he said joyfully. Whether it was his true name or simply an alias, he didn't mind. It was a fantastic selection regardless.

"A pleasure to see I'm not the only early arrival, Athos. Florent," he said, holding his hand out to shake. "Care to join me for a drink? You're free to make first pick, lest I end up resorting back to my usual wine."

 

[Seren]

Normally, Costas was the one to host events, not be invited to them. Curiosity got the better of him - they provided him with a very nice looking pin, if nothing else.

Teleporting - or whatever had just happened, but it sure felt like teleporting - could take one anywhere, but the bar he landed at was certainly not quite the lavish hall he'd expected, given the fancy invitation and, again, very impressive pin. It felt more home-y than any place he'd ever been, in fact. A strange sensation, to say the least.

Ion seemed to agree with him, buzzing beside his head with an impassive look, but as usual, unable to remain still. Unlike his rotom, his froslass appeared less concerned with the looks of the building, and more about their purpose here, her gaze fixed on him as though waiting for an explanation. Costas felt no need to offer her one, though, and instead he moved towards the doors. Ion and Lucy followed him inside.

A pokemon was behind the counter, tending the bar. A pokemon without hands. Unusual, but far from the strangest thing he'd ever seen. A lunala, if memory served, and one that fancied itself something of a poet, it seemed. This evening had a theme to it, and only now, seeing the red pokemon, did the dots connect.

Regardless, was bar-tending a duty befitting of a pokemon of lunala's status? Seemed like a waste to him, but whatever. And it spoke, too!

But only to spew rules. Naturally. So, no murder. That was fine by him, but did that mean a little harassment was acceptable? On the other hand, the "without moral judgment" comment reeked of warning, so perhaps he'd be better off not threatening anyone just yet. It was to be an evening of business, not pleasure, then. Perhaps he could pick up a job.

Costas headed to the counter and ordered himself a glass of wine, and water for his pokemon, then retreated to a table against the wall. He had a good view of the entrance, and most of the building save the bartender and kitchen behind him.

And so he observed. If he got lucky, by the end of the evening he'll have picked a target. Then following them out would be a simple matter. After all, the rules only applied within the establishment, surely.

 

[Flyg0n]

-...

"Old habits die hard, it's quite true," he replied, flashing a polite grin. "The Galarian tea affinity isn't one to be taken lightly."

The man was quick to introduce himself, and Florent didn't bother to mask his surprise by the name. "A musketeer, in my presence? Why, I never thought I'd see the day," he said joyfully. Whether it was his true name or simply an alias, he didn't mind. It was a fantastic selection regardless.

"A pleasure to see I'm not the only early arrival, Athos. Florent," he said, holding his hand out to shake. "Care to join me for a drink? You're free to make first pick, lest I end up resorting back to my usual wine."

"Clearly the tea affinity is as strong as they say," he said wryly.

Athos quirked an eyebrow. Galarian. That certainly explained it. How interesting. "And you know of the musketeer legends. That is surprising." He couldn't help but be impressed, at least by that much. Nobody in Orre was particularly familiar with the old legends, and even in Unova and other regions it was rather uncommon knowledge. So this Florent was educated.

"A pleasure, Florent," Athos said, taking Florent's hand and shaking it firmly. He nodded to the pokemon behind the counter (it was still such a bizarre sight to see). "Sazerac," he said, after a moment. An old favorite from his younger days. He found himself wondering for a moment if the pokemon would even know how to make it, but it didn't seem put off by the request, only turning to the bottles on the wall and levitating them to prepare it. A few moments later two glasses were set neatly on the table.

Taking one, he took a careful sip. Flawless. Better than most bars back home. "So you're involved in enterprises in Galar then?" he asked cautiously. Based on everything said, he had nothing to fear here from pesky cops, but he would never count out the danger of a rival gang or group.

 

[Sinderella]

"And you know of the musketeer legends. That is surprising."

“Of course, I grew up on those stories,” Florent said. “Every educated human should be at least somewhat familar with the classics, so it’s quite disappointing to hear you find that surprising. You must be in need of better company.”

"Sazerac," he said, after a moment.

Florent pursed his lips at the request, opting to finish off what was left in his tea cup before the new drink arrived. When the two glasses slid over to him and his new company, he exchanged his empty cup for the cocktail.

“Interesting choice. I’d have never ordered one of these on my own,” he mused, raising the cup to swish the drink around. “It has been a good while since I’ve enjoyed whiskey, though.”

With that, he downed some of it, only mildly cringing through the warmth that spread over the back of his throat. Still, the flavor was as robust at it should have been. A very well-made cocktail.

“An impeccable burn, that is.”

"So you're involved in enterprises in Galar then?" he asked cautiously. Based on everything said, he had nothing to fear here from pesky cops, but he would never count out the danger of a rival gang or group.

Maroon eyes cut over to meet Athos’ gaze, his look teetering the line between amused and pensive. “Quite the cautious backpedal from the man who approached me first, hm?” Either Athos had realized who he was dealing with, or he was a tad paranoid in his prodding. Now that Florent was thinking about it…

He briefly looked toward a nearby window, leaning ever-so-slightly to get a better look at the view. When all he saw were stars, he flexed his lips, eyes narrowing into a scowl. It lingered on his face for mere seconds before he huffed and indulged in more of his liquor. Florent prided himself on his elusiveness, and naturally, spewing the spoils of his upbringing and globetrotting ventures left plenty of room for him to be tailed; possibly captured. He wasn’t stupid enough to entangle himself in a predicament like that.

However, if this bar truly was in a space that was well outside his own realm, then the rules were different. He could speak freely of his…occupation among these total strangers without fear of getting caught up in some convoluted undercover scheme to take him down, or something similar. Though, judging by the others who had trickled in since his arrival, it was becoming clear to him that this might have been a stomping ground for the more seedy type. He knew a set of criminals when he saw them—he was around them constantly. So perhaps even if they were still within his world, there was no real fear of that.

Still, above everything, he was a logician. And he’d only known Athos for about five minutes. Surely they needed to get to know each other some more before they got into the specifics of how he made a living. Besides, who was he to speak first when Athos had barely said anything at all?

“I wouldn’t say I’m based in one region specifically,” he said, tracing the rim of his glass with his finger. “But base of operations is actually in Kalos. I made the move a little over twenty years ago, when my daughter was born.” He shrugged. “But, Galar certainly has my heart.”

A wry glance followed. “I would ask you a similar question, but you don’t strike me as the businessman type. However, I know better than to judge a book by its cover. You’re Unovan?”

 

[Flyg0n]

“Of course, I grew up on those stories,” Florent said. “Every educated human should be at least somewhat familar with the classics, so it’s quite disappointing to hear you find that surprising. You must be in need of better company.”

Athos gave a mirthless chuckle. "You might say that." Nobody in Orre was educated well, much less cared about classics.

“Interesting choice. I’d have never ordered one of these on my own,” he mused, raising the cup to swish the drink around. “It has been a good while since I’ve enjoyed whiskey, though.”

"Never been much of a wine person myself, admittedly." In truth he couldn't stand the fancy garbage, but he'd always made a point not to insult anyone he might still be able to use, or ally himself with. He took another slow sip of his drink, savoring the flavor. He'd surely be returning to this spot just for the drinks alone.

“I wouldn’t say I’m based in one region specifically,” he said, tracing the rim of his glass with his finger. “But base of operations is actually in Kalos. I made the move a little over twenty years ago, when my daughter was born.” He shrugged. “But, Galar certainly has my heart.”

A wry glance followed. “I would ask you a similar question, but you don’t strike me as the businessman type. However, I know better than to judge a book by its cover. You’re Unovan?”

Kalos, and he had a daughter? How interesting. He'd never seen much use for children himself, given how busy the Swords kept him, though the mention of a daughter did make him think of Drake and Victore. Was his daughter his heir then? That would certainly explain the purpose of bothering with having a child. His response suggested he had rather extensive operations as well, which meant he could be useful.

I don't stike him as a businessman? Elitist. Still, better to keep his opinion to himself. He kept his reply casual. "Not so far off. Unovan by birth, but that's no longer my home. I've found greener pastures, in a manner of speaking, in Orre." He grinned, though it was more menacing than friendly. "Less interference there than other regions."

He swirled his drink before taking another long sip. "So does your daughter work with you then?"

 

[Sinderella]

"Never been much of a wine person myself, admittedly."

"It's not for everyone, I will give you that," Florent conceded. "I'm quite picky about it in my own right."

"Not so far off. Unovan by birth, but that's no longer my home. I've found greener pastures, in a manner of speaking, in Orre." He grinned, though it was more menacing than friendly. "Less interference there than other regions."

Florent's brows raised. Whether it was out of admiration or puzzlement, he didn't let that be known. Why anybody would willingly move to Orre was beyond him, but he would give credit where it was due--it was a fantastic place to take up shop if you were looking to slip under the radar. He acquired much of his own less legal assets from outfitters in Orre. A hidden gem is what it was, despite it being nothing less than atrociously inhospitable for the likes of him.

From that answer, he's also unwittingly been given an answer to his own question. Florent would have crossed paths with this Athos character at some point if they were from the same world, and he was absolutely certain of that. If he were as established as he was giving off the vibe of being, that is.

"You're preaching to the congregation, Athos," he said, sharing in a wicked smirk. "My weak Galarian skin can't quite handle the Orrean heat, but it's a brilliant trading ground. Though that might explain your company..."

Brilliant, low-risk of authoritative interference, yet not home to the brightest bunch, despite it being...well, bright. Diamonds in the rough were few and far between. It was good for labor, though.

He swirled his drink before taking another long sip. "So does your daughter work with you then?"

The look on Florent's face very quickly morphed into something a little more...aggravated. He ceased idly tracing the contours of his glass with his finger and took to finishing off what was left of the cocktail, gritting his teeth as the burn coating his palette intensified for the briefest of seconds. There were so many ways he could answer that. He could barely stop his curses against Vienna Cinq-Mars from falling off the tip of his tongue, and he struggled against the temptation of gushing dreamily about his little Warhammer. All things he needn't be doing with an acquaintance. Or in a bar in general. He was here to have a good time, and tainting the atmosphere with discussion of his prodigal daughter's mother wasn't something he needed to be doing.

"It's a...complicated affair," he sighed. Indirectly, yes, she did. Her harboring the Mother of all Blood Types only sent Enigma into a worshipping frenzy, even if she was completely unaware of that fact. However, for all intents and purposes, no. She was too far away. Didn't even know he existed.

The thought sent a bolt of ice through his chest, and he waved the lunala down, before holding up two fingers.

"Last Word, Nolet's Reserve if you have it on hand."

When he was certain the drinks were being made, he sighed again.

"In short, she does not right now. It's unfortunate. She would put all of my close subordinates on their knees, far more so than my son, but..."

Shaking his head, he waved his hand dismissively. "I don't have plans to bore you with a retelling of my turbulent family affairs, so let me stop myself there."

Soon the second round of cocktails arrived, this one a boozy concoction of gin, Chartreuse, lime juice, and maraschino liqueur. All finished off with a tasteful dark-red cherry on top. Florent picked up his drink and examined it, smiling in contentment.

"A personal favorite of mine. No hard feelings if you dislike it, but it's certainly worth a try."

After a good long sip from his own cocktail, he set it down and folded his hands under his chin. "If you don't mind me being forthright, what is it you're thriving on in Orre?"

 

[Shiny Phantump]

Crimson Crescent, huh? Zenith had never heard of it before, but unlike 'Lunaris' they were at least real words. Still, the invitation was certainly intriguing enough that he would have to tear himself away from his work. The instructions were... clear, yet nonsense. The trinket didn't have anything that should give it any useful properties as a focus, and yet there was no mundane explanation for how such instructions could work.

As much as he wished to dissect the thing, he wasn't willing to sacrifice the chance to actually use it and the chances of it breaking in the process were too high. He whispered the incantation, and found himself torn from any sane and comprehensible perspective- a terrifying, momentary glimpse of a cosmic void before returning to reality as he understood it.

His new location looked like a pub, a comically mundane thing to hide behind such a unique, powerful form of arcana. Other things were wrong with the place, too. The room was full of esoteric the likes of which were beyond him, things that blurred the line between technology and magic as the understood the two. Further, the bartender wasn't human, but rather- fuck.

Okay. That could be a problem. Did Mooncaller own this place? Why did she have a sickly, bloodred stain in place of her usual lunar pallor? It explained the name of the place, of course, but begged far more questions.

“Welcome to the Crimson Crescent.” Seemingly anticipating a question, she continues. “This place is my private domain. Here you are safe to speak and be as you please, without moral judgment. You may stay as long as you like, providing you abide by the rules. When you are ready to return home, you must simply speak the word again, and you will return as if only a moment had passed.”

Mortal judgement wasn't really his main concern, but sure, fine. He bowed his head- had he not already seated himself on a barstool, he'd have followed with the rest of his body. Whatever the appropriate manner for greeting divinity willingly occupying a position beneath his own was byond him, and frankly he didn't really care. He had the thing's blessing in his blood, it would be unlikely she'd turn on him now.

"My pleasure to heed your summons, Mooncaller. I certainly wasn't expecting to meet like this." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you... well? I'm not accustomed to seeing you with such a sanguine mien."

 

[Flyg0n]

"My pleasure to heed your summons, Mooncaller. I certainly wasn't expecting to meet like this." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you... well? I'm not accustomed to seeing you with such a sanguine mien."

The crimson Lunala tipped her head to regard the human curiously. "Mooncaller? It seems you must mistake me for another. As fitting as a title that is, it is not one I go by."

What an odd little human... She narrowed her gaze, examining him more closely. "Are you an associate of a lesser version of me perhaps? One, I presume, of ordinary colors?"

 

[Flyg0n]

"You're preaching to the congregation, Athos," he said, sharing in a wicked smirk. "My weak Galarian skin can't quite handle the Orrean heat, but it's a brilliant trading ground. Though that might explain your company..."

"Uneducated minds have their ups and downs," he replied wryly. “More ups, for me, in the end. Small price to pay I suppose, to be surrounded by unintelligence.” His talent had been squandered under that idiot Ghetsis, who didn’t know how to keep his associates in line. Orre might have been full of ignorance but that had its use.

"It's a...complicated affair," he sighed. Indirectly, yes, she did. Her harboring the Mother of all Blood Types only sent Enigma into a worshipping frenzy, even if she was completely unaware of that fact. However, for all intents and purposes, no. She was too far away. Didn't even know he existed.

The thought sent a bolt of ice through his chest, and he waved the lunala down, before holding up two fingers.

"Last Word, Nolet's Reserve if you have it on hand."

Athos’s gaze narrowed slightly as he regarded Florent with curiosity. Not the response he expected. Change of topic then, and an unusual beverage choice.

Clearly he was frustrated about the family issue. Deeply frustrated, if Athos had to guess. Best to press later, perhaps, but he made a mental note anyway.

"A personal favorite of mine. No hard feelings if you dislike it, but it's certainly worth a try."

After a good long sip from his own cocktail, he set it down and folded his hands under his chin. "If you don't mind me being forthright, what is it you're thriving on in Orre?"

Athos eyed the beverage thoughtfully. Normally he wasn't in the habit of allowing anyone to order him a drink, much less drink it, but these were unusual circumstances. And he owed Florent.

Taking a slow sip, he savored the flavor and the strong burn. "Not bad," he said finally. He took the moment to consider Florent's question.

Florent gave off the air of a composed businessman, almost like some Galarian snob and yet... there was something else too. An edge. And maybe, familiarity.

"And no mincing words I see," he said, evaluating Florent. "Orre had a vacuum that needed filling. People in need, protection. Disorganization. So I organized and offered care and protection. Safety. Belonging.
Family."

 

[IFBench]

Lusamine stared at the pin. Rubbish, what utter rubbish! Not fit for her.

But...perhaps...

It could help her return.

"Lun...aris," she spoke.

As her world was filled with light, she was filled with glee. Was this it? Would she finally be able to return?

Then her surroundings came into view. A pub. How boorish.

She walked towards the counter, her eyes not focused on her surroundings. Her eyes almost appeared glazed over, as she walked with a permanent tilt to her head.

Then she sat down, and didn't say a word.

 

[canisaries]

Kohath should have known there was something off about the letter he had received. He'd never have thought speaking out the word given to him would have actually resulted in anything happening, but now he was here, wherever 'here' was, and no longer at the palace.

What was the meaning of this? Was this an abduction? A ploy by some rivaling kingdom to imprison the king and hold him for ransom?

He glanced around, muscles tense. It looked like he was in a tavern of some sort, with a bunch of men in odd clothing, a woman in even odder attire and a blood-red mon he could not recognize. They didn't seem to be paying much attention to him, which would argue against the abduction theory. Surely they would have all eyes on him if he was their prisoner.

Still, this was highly unusual. He had to find out more as quickly as possible.

He walked over to the countertop and banged his fist on the wooden surface, producing a loud thump. "Oy!" he shouted. "Why have I been brought here? I demand to know at once!"

 

[System Error]

"Art thou prepared, utmasbdokrul?" the violet bird asked as the queen hovered powerfully before their captive. The manh can only watch on helplessly, her clothes soaked and exposure rapidly kicking in. Her companions have all either betrayed her out of fear or have been slain by this group of what they call Pokemon. And she was at the mercy of two legendaries and their ruler: the infamous Terror of Edenburgh.

"I am." She pays their captive as much attention as deserved, which is to say, none at all. The giant moth focused her power as her underling manifests psychic energy. In the tongue of manh, she spoke the word sealing the contract: "Lunaris."

When next the terror manifested, it is in another world, in another form. A woman well over two meters tall, with eerie white hair and a snow-white dress, and although her eyes look like any of the human race's, they are her species' distinct deep blue. Not that she hid what she truly is: her Frosmoth wings protrude from her back and she had a chill surrounding her body.

She had an idea of what to expect before her arrival. It was exactly as she envisioned. It would be educational, and not just for her. "It is a..." she began in fluent English. Her speech was initially slow as she got used to her artificial body, but it carried a harsh and powerful edge to it that any worth their salt would recognize as that of a leader. "An honor, I suppose, to be invited here." Her subsequent chuckle was low and odd, like an insect's chittering. She expected a fellow Akeresa to be the host, but their taste in aesthetics was questionable. No matter. It would suffice. She goes and finds a seat without a backside.

 

[Sinderella]

Taking a slow sip, he savored the flavor and the strong burn. "Not bad," he said finally. He took the moment to consider Florent's question.

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," Florent said, indulging in another longer sip out of his.

"And no mincing words I see," he said, evaluating Florent. "Orre had a vacuum that needed filling. People in need, protection. Disorganization. So I organized and offered care and protection. Safety. Belonging.
Family."

His maroon eyes flashed with a hint of mischief. "There's always a time to be reticent. But, this is a new place, and I'm two drinks in," he said in jest.

The answer he got was one that he wasn't expecting. He eyed Athos up and down, mostly out of intrigue. "Oh? You've piqued my interest. I love hearing how others have taken chaos and organized it into a grounded line." It didn't sound like it was anything of a spiritual nature--entirely business if Florent had to guess (see, he meant what he said about not judging books by covers)--but it still seemed to be something that would put them on a similar footing. Something he might enjoy hearing about; the exploits of another spearhead from possibly another world.

"Does your family have a name? One that strikes fear into others that aren't in it?" he queried, tucking his knuckle under his chin.

Then she sat down, and didn't say a word.

He was quite eager to hear Athos' response to the question, but Florent became momentarily distracted by a sudden movement in his peripheral vision. He'd only intended to glance, just to confirm it was or wasn't the lunala, but the eye full of blonde hair he received caused him to do a double take. He lingered on the new presence for far longer than he wanted to, but it couldn't be helped. It couldn't be her. What was she doing here? No, it couldn't be.

But, it was. He'd recognize that head of hair and mode of dress from miles away.

What was she doing? Why was she here? Did she follow him?

"Lusa--" he started to say, the name meshing with his breath and barely making it off his tongue before he stopped himself.

The longer he beheld her, the more his uncertainty rose. He had to refrain from pulling his glasses out of his vest pocket, lest he accidentally age himself, but even without them, there were tells that he was not looking at who he thought he was. Her eyes had always been rather dead, but now they simply looked devoid of any and all soul. And her head...tilting it at that angle? Didn't that make her sore? Yet she somehow looked comfortable doing it. It was wrong. Definitely wrong.

No. Not Lusamine.

Not his Lusamine anyway.

He brought his hand up to massage his temple, exhaling an irritated breath as he peered back at Athos.

"I apologize; I must look like an utter madman. The loops are abundant this evening, apparently. Please, continue."

He walked over to the countertop and banged his fist on the wooden surface, producing a loud thump. "Oy!" he shouted. "Why have I been brought here? I demand to know at once!"

But, of course, this was a bar, which meant there were bound to be some rowdy patrons at some point. And that point was right now. Florent cut his gaze over to the other presence, taking note of his appearance. Tall, probably taller than Florent himself, which was quite a sight, and dressed in robes that were both regal yet somehow primitive. Florent wasn't sure whether to gawk or feel pity for the man, so he settled for just raising his brow as he drank some more. When there wasn't another outburst, he gestured to Athos again.

"Alright, now please continue."

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

A gold and red moon. Asaph felt he should have remembered the symbol from somewhere, but he couldn't place it at the moment. The way this was set up like some sort of fantasy story made him suspect he knew who had sent him the pin. It had to be his beloved pupil. That brilliant, playful demeanor was right up Jirarudan's alley. He could call the boy and ask, but first he could play along.

Only...there was no way the boy could have gotten ahold of something with otherworldly powers, could he? Someone would have to have no idea what they had to pass it off like that, but it came with a password.

No, he figured, he was probably dreaming. He had to be. Unless Corbin had found out what had happened and now he had some sort of hallucination toxin in his veins. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it.

A red Lunala sure seemed like a sign of death, at least. He thought that was its name. It wasn't Cresselia; that was the one Veronica coveted so dearly.

Strange, he thought, he figured if he was going to hallucinate a wicked moon, it would take the form of Jirarudan's treasured Lugia.

No matter. He sat in a luxurious chair, one that was smooth and cool to the touch, took a deep breath, and asked for an ice water. May as well try to shock himself awake.

 

[canisaries]

But, of course, this was a bar, which meant there were bound to be some rowdy patrons at some point. And that point was right now. Florent cut his gaze over to the other presence, taking note of his appearance. Tall, probably taller than Florent himself, which was quite a sight, and dressed in robes that were both regal yet somehow primitive. Florent wasn't sure whether to gawk or feel pity for the man, so he settled for just raising his brow as he drank some more. When there wasn't another outburst, he gestured to Athos again.

Kohath noticed one of the men look at him, and his look was not respectful. Kohath narrowed his eyes and walked up to him.

"You, lower-human," he started. "You will explain this place to me."

 

[IFBench]

"Lusa--" he started to say, the name meshing with his breath and barely making it off his tongue before he stopped himself.

The longer he beheld her, the more his uncertainty rose. He had to refrain from pulling his glasses out of his vest pocket, lest he accidentally age himself, but even without them, there were tells that he was not looking at who he thought he was. Her eyes had always been rather dead, but now they simply looked devoid of any and all soul. And her head...tilting it at that angle? Didn't that make her sore? Yet she somehow looked comfortable doing it. It was wrong. Definitely wrong.

No. Not Lusamine.

Not his Lusamine anyway.

He brought his hand up to massage his temple, exhaling an irritated breath as he peered back at Athos.

"I apologize; I must look like an utter madman. The loops are abundant this evening, apparently. Please, continue."

Lusamine's head turned towards Florent, the rest of her body not moving a muscle. Her eyes stared deep into the human, and for a brief moment, Florent might see a flash of the soul he thought was gone from those eyes. But the next instant, it was gone again.

"You," she said, voice similar to the Lusamine Florent knew, and yet...off. It was her voice, for sure, but there was a strain to it, as if it took effort for her to speak.

"You were going to speak my name," she said. Her head tilted further, one might almost think it was about to fall off of her body. "Do you know me?"