Avvercus

Hudson wanted to interject, ask questions about this ‘healing’ and why it involved her unconscious on the floor, but he let it go. If she wished to talk about it, she would have gone into detail. Instead, the man remained silent and studied his savior while listening to her voice. Savior. The word stuck, and he suddenly realized this adorable little woman in white had saved his life. She turned him from a bloody, shredded ball of meat into a breathing man with a healthy heart that yet beat. The tea and cookies was left untouched for several seconds while he memorized her face. The soft, delicate lines framed by pure white, centered with dazzling ruby and sporting a lively character that made him want to smile. He’d been nothing but trouble for her in the short time span they had known one another, yet she showed nothing but hospitality with a side of amusing attitude. Definitely a good person. A good woman. By the time Rin returned, Hudson had wolfed down his cookies with the zeal of a starving man, and finished his very relaxing drink. He closed his eyes, allowing a small smile to creep onto his steely face before a satisfied sigh opened his smalt gaze back to the still woken world. “I believe you.” The words were genuine, given in a tone that was almost soft for the man. He didn’t add his reasoning for his faith, that he’d already had enough evidence to change his perspective. Hudson glanced at his watch, noting the digital timekeeping device had frozen. Nothing more than a keepsake now, eh? Though, it was odd for something digital to simply freeze like this. “A rookie mistake got me killed in battle. I talked to a God, and he sent me here I guess. To you. To someone who could and would save me,” he replied with a dreamlike tone that said he still wasn’t quite used to the reality. Oddly, with the subject brought up, the man didn’t thank her for saving his life. “The cookies were delicious, thank you. If it isn’t too much trouble…” he hesitated for a moment, unused to asking others for anything if he wasn’t demanding it by virtue of rank, “Could I have another cup of tea?”

"A pleasure, Master Aidan, Master Eva," LaPlace bowed once more. A rather dosh chuckle bubbled in the air between him and his newest guests. He couldn't recall anyone ever being so upfront about his appearance before. "Haha, well you see Master Eva, I'm not actually a rabbit at all. I'm a Dem-" The proprietor of the inn was interrupted by a rude young woman shoving his guest to the side and demanding alcohol. "Master Rainza, please do not be rude to your fellow patrons." "Fuck off." The statement was not made to LaPlace, but rather the woman the angry girl named Rainza had pushed to the side. Rainza took hold of the glass LaPlace placed in front of her without complaint about her apparent age. Aggressively, she downed the particularly strong stirring of liquor all at once before turning her ire towards the woman that dared confront her back. "If I wanted to hurt someone, they would be dead," she hissed at Eva, saying the last word loudly while jeering at the back of Avvercus' head. Meanwhile, Fiona stood outside the door of one of several rooms along a hallway, flipping through a ring of keys trying to find the right one. She saw Aidan approaching, and perked up, placing one hand on her hip and cocking it to the side with sass. "Eh, you need something?"

LaPlace regarded Faye with a whimsical twinkle in his beady eyes. A birthday girl, was it? He set his hands on the bar top, folded atop one another gently, and leaned in slightly. “Why, a happy birthday to you miss. How old are you today?” ~ Avvercus flashed the girl sitting next to him a smile when he noticed her examining him with a silly look on her face. For half a heartbeat he nearly considered breaking the ice with something flirtatious. However, the Fatewalker was not here to pluck pretty flowers today; he had come to sow seeds for a bright future. LaPlace then interjected, taking back the girl’s attention, and so the Mage himself turned back to his prospective student. “That is a noble path you walk, Lante. I want to point out, however, that it isn’t just magus who wander that make a difference. Those who ‘pursue abstract, arcane matters’ make breakthroughs in magical theorem, discover the answer to lifting curses, enhance healing, and invent new spells that save countless lives. A safer life spent researching and developing is not something to be ashamed of,” he lectured gently. It wasn’t a scolding or criticism, but a sharing of perspective. “As for your question…” Avvercus beamed, continuing on without letting any negative air linger. His tea lifted to his lips via off-handed telekinesis, interrupting him mid-sentence to enjoy more of the beverage. He noticed a pair enter the Inn then, taking a moment to study the cloaked man and woman before turning back to Lante. “I am a man beholden to many responsibilities. First and foremost, however, is my service to Lillailianthia, the Goddess of Fate. When the need arises, she directs me to points of contention in the great weave known as Fate. Events happen often that have only two outcomes, turning-points that have a massive effect on the destiny of many. I am her hand that tips the scales in favor of a more desirable future. One where children continue to smile and play, where men are free and blood does not spill from a cup running over,” he explained casually, as though discussing the weather. “So yes, I suppose you are right. I fight and protect the weak who are unable to sculpt fate beyond their own. Which brings me to my next responsibility. I am an Assistant Master in the Emerald Banner. The Emerald Banner is an ancient order of martial artists who have spread across the multiverse. We are a neutral party, and do not fight wars or take sides in conflicts as a group. We have one goal, one purpose in mind: Give the weak the power to take their fate into their own hands, and sculpt their destiny as they see fit. Rather than save people, we teach them to save themselves.” he said, a sliver of passion and pride glinting in his eye. The martial artist finished his tea, and then fixed the young man with a serious, piercing stare. “If you become my apprentice, you are going to suffer. My training is not easy. My expectations are high. You will be dragged around all of Valucre at my whim, never staying in one place for long. I am going to expose you to certain truths that will rob you of comforting naivety, but will open doors to more than you ever thought possible. You will become a fine Mage, one bards would trip over one another to sing about, and you will earn that title by your own merit. Merit paid for in sweat, blood, tears, and sleepless nights. You will fight with your life on the line, Lante. Knowing all of this, do you still want to walk this path?” Avvercus’ tone was heavy, a sudden weight pressing down on Lante’s shoulders. The grimoire floating by his shoulder came to rest on the bartop in front of the demon boy. It was open to a page with an ornate, complex magic circle that covered the paper all the way to the very edges. “Put your hand on this circle, if you have the resolve. If not, we can change the topic of conversation.” ~ LaPlace’s attention was stolen by another ring of the doorbell. A fine pair of travelers graced his Inn, and LaPlace received them with his standard swooping bow. “I do indeed have rooms available, Sir. Please, have a seat and your food will be here shortly,” Laplace said warmly, scooping the coins towards himself. They fell off the bar, but curiously the sound of them hitting the floor never rang out. “And yes, Ma’am, we do have a place for you to bathe. Could I trouble you for your names? I am LaPlace,” the rabbit asked, while the sound of approaching bootsteps softly tapped against the marble floor. A maid with long blond hair, an eye patch, and a shockingly blue eye appeared from the other side of the bar and set down two plates laden with eggs, biscuits, gravy, bacon, and toast. “Enjoy, peasants...er, I mean...Enjoy your meal, sir, ma’am,” the servant corrected herself, glancing at LaPlace with a measure of caution. “That’s better Fiona. Now you just need to work on your nasty habit of tripping on nothing and-” LaPlace’s comment was interrupted by the sound of Fiona stumbling over a bar stool as she walked away. Her feet fumbled, but she managed to stay on them. The girl turned around and crossed her arms before flinging them outward. “Safe!” LaPlace flashed the woman a thumbs up as she skittered off to prepare the new guests’ room. No sooner had this happened then the door to the Inn boomed open with incredible force, crashing it into the wall but luckily not breaking or damaging anything. Soaking wet from the torrent pouring outside, a girl who looked to be no older than twelve stomped her way inside loudly with boots squeaking from the water. Her sapphire glare drilled a hole into Avvercus’ back as she moved towards the bar while wringing out her single smalt twintail and leaving a trail of rain in her wake. The girl shoved Eva aside with a surprising amount of weight before stepping up onto one of the bar stools and stabbing a finger at LaPlace. “Rabbit. Alcohol, now. Make it strong,” she demanded with a gruff, angry grumble before casting another glance towards Avvercus that bore ill omens of scarcely withheld violence. @Skyscraper @Cinder @Aidan Valnaris

The stool was incredibly sturdy. It didn’t seem cut or treated. It was as though the thing had simply grown into the shape it now took, a surprisingly comfortable homey little thing just tall enough for the six foot Marine to be comfortable perching upon. Well, as comfortable as he could be at the moment. He stared at Rin putting a kettle on the stove a few feet away while in heavy thought, turning over everything in his head a few times. A fantasy land? Magic? If one asked him if he’d ever believed in something like that, he’d probably had said no simply off of virtue of having never seen it. But, seeing his current situation, he’d probably change that answer. The mysterious god that had answered his plea must have sent him here. For what purpose? Why directly in front of this person? What of his men and the battle they had been in? There were too many unknowns he couldn't quantify, so the man did the best he could and shove it all to the side. Live in the now, work towards the future. There was one thing he could learn about, at the very least. With a small huff, Hudson stopped impersonating a statue. “You said the blood was mine. What happened to my wounds? Why were you covered in my blood?” the man finally spoke up, glancing down at his flak he’d placed next to the stool. The air in the kitchen was pleasant, and helped keep the warrior calm and relaxed. His mind jumped to several conclusions for his question, but he ignored them all, waiting for an actual and direct piece of information from the first source.

@OctoberSkys Feel free to pop in whenever you want. ^_^ I'm sure I can find a way to keep you occupied

If there’s one thing Hudson learned after so many years dancing with death, it was always trust your gut. Right now, his gut told him listen to the girl. He didn’t enjoy the whimpering. Though it told him she feared death, and therefore could be threatened into obedience, he didn’t like the look that blossomed in those eyes. They were soft and warm, like her body beneath his touch. Gunny always said he had a soft spot for women and it was gonna get him killed someday. Well, he’d already died once… Round two didn’t sound so bad. He didn’t speak a word before he took a step back, pulling the woman with him while sheathing his knife and wrapping an arm around her waist without thinking about it. Her feet left the floor as he booked it for the entrance, covering his face with his arm and skirting around the poisonous smoke that was rising. Luckily, her front door was ever so slightly ajar as he hit it with one shoulder, saving it from breaking as the pair burst into fresh air. His Beretta M9 left his hip holster and found its way into his steady hand as he continued to run, analyzing their surroundings with the quick mind of a military man. There were countless potential hiding places for enemies. Behind trees, on the other side of softly rolling knolls in the distance, around the back of the sleepy house they’d just left. But, logic told him the likelihood of alerted adversaries not waiting outside at the ready was unrealistically low. With that, he slowed to a stop once they were a safe distance from the house. His gun was put on safe and tucked away, and he finally let loose a heavy sigh as his body relaxed. He set his mysterious company down and tried to get a sense of his geographical location based on what he saw. Nothing specific came to mind, but it was damn sure obvious he wasn’t in the middle east anymore. If he hadn’t literally spoken to a god before all this, he’d be racking his brain trying to make sense of it. Her comment on him being American made it obvious that they at the very least were not in America. The Marine’s kevlar, rifle, and flak jacket all found their way in a neat pile on the ground at his feet, still stained with blood. Finally getting a quick glance at himself, he noted that there was enough on his uniform in general that anyone that saw him might think he was a zombie. He gave his unfortunate company some attention after that, taking in her shockingly pale visage with a measure of awe. He’d never seen an albino in person before, and found her rather beautiful. Then again, he’d always been a sucker for monotone. “I’m sorry… For all that back there. I thought you were injured because of all the blood, so I was checking you for wounds. My name is Sergeant Seth Hudson. If you could tell me yours and where I am and how I got here, I would really appreciate it,” he said like a man who was unused to speaking softly. His hand was extended, coated in dirt, blood, grease, and all other manner of things one would find on a working man. That hand was filthy and rough, but it was also big, strong, and sincere. A good hand worth shaking, all in all.

@Skyscraper LaPlace’s gloved hand covered Avvercus’ cup of tea from the new arrival’s vision, sliding it down the polished bartop until he stopped in front of her. With his hand still in place, the rabbit-man bowed, bringing his face level with and but a few inches from Faye. “Welcome, miss. Have some tea, it will do wonders for those nerves,” he offered with a wink before straightening back up. His hand moved, and a perfect replica of the tea Avvercus had ordered was revealed, steaming and begging to be sampled. ~ Avvercus led Lante to the bar, offering him a seat that he took without issue. By the time they had arrived, a third cup of milk tea with a dabble of honey lay there for the small demon. The Swordmage’s grimoire floated by his head lazily as he finally reached for the tea and gave it a sip. He let out a sigh of satisfaction before placing the cup back on its saucer. “I offer you a choice, young one. Tell me about yourself, and why you wish to pursue a magical teacher such as myself, or… You can ask me a question.”

Hudson’s eyes went wide in at his patience’s surprise revival. His knife rose to chest height defensively, with the point aimed towards the source of sudden movement. She was very much healthy, and very much alive as she skittered about and made use of her voice. The Marine’s brows knit as he came out of his surprise almost immediately, casting a deadly look as sharp as his blade towards the stranger. Quick and deft on his feet, the man’s boots thundered across the floor while he remained low to the ground, causing potions, books, and other loose objects around the shop to shake and jitter as though caught in a small earthquake. His left hand, darkened by dirt from a long week out of the wire, covered the much shorter woman’s mouth as he none-too-gently shoved her against the tree growing through the building. His K-bar pressed to her throat like his body weight pinned her to the bark; Not too violently, but with enough pressure to let her know the situation was serious. His breath shuddered as he forced it to keep low and even, billowing across the delicate skin of her face slowly. Her frantic, ruby eyes caused him to note she was albino. It would explain her hair and complexion. “...Listen closely, because I will only say this once. I don’t know where I am, who you are, or how I got here. I don’t know if you are a threat or if there is a threat to me outside this room. I am going to remove my hand, and you are going to quietly convince me I am safe and tell me where I am. If you raise your voice again or make any sudden movements, I will slit your throat. Do you understand?” Hudson whispered calmly, without an ounce of malice. His voice was gruff, sounding as though he rarely used it unless he was yelling.

It's worth noting that in Valucre canon, there isn't really a "multiverse", but all settings, such as a different world in another "universe" your characters might come from, are actually all contained within one very large universe and moving from that world to Valucre is just moving from one part of the universe to Valucre's little slice of the pie.

Avvercus tensed up at the sharp sensation that riled his wound. The salve entered it, and he did not find it pleasant in the slightest. As his chest began to heat and he felt the strangest mix of pain, pressure, and trickling mana, the Mage closed his eyes and extended his magic senses to distract himself. Probes of micro-thin mana threads reached out, exploring the dark shop. Arcane sources lay in wait all about them, but he was surprised to find there were far more mundane reagents than mystical ones. He’d always thought of Alchemy as having close ties to magic, with the majority of the components being magical in nature. How curious. His senses focused on Abigail for a moment, and immediately he noticed something odd. However, his focus was lost and the probes faded when the Alchemist scraped off the last of the mixture. He winced at that, instinctively reaching out and squeezing her hand. It was soft, a very comforting thing in this situation of entrusting his life to a stranger in the dark. She pressed her ear to his chest, and he smiled while taking a deep breath. The urge to choke welled up, but he suppressed it. “Haha, do you strip and feel up every guy that walks in here, or am I special?” he asked with a cheerful, flirty tone before biting his lip hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. A punctured lung was so very, very unpleasant.

Red Yusuke was as entertaining to work for and train as she was frustrating to keep up with. The tasks she gave him were usually easy, things he took care of quickly and efficiently. The tasks he gave himself in her service, however, were not. The Queen was a popular person in the underground. Scores of less than savory individuals and groups were constantly on the prowl, looking for the slightest lapse in vigil to nip at her ankles. While her psionics kept most of this cowed, there were still holes in security that needed constant attention. Her last guard, a man named Leandros, had done excellent work to this end. Avvercus examined his wards with care, admiring the knowledge and skill in their construction. While he needed to cover some holes and weaknesses in the net surrounding Red’s residence, he also found he’d learned a few tricks along the way. Her usual routes and places of interest had been covered, and Avvercus now spent his time slowly crafting an enormous glyph around the entire city perimeter. A task which required his full attention, enough that he failed to note her departure from Predator’s Keep until his return to her office well past the time for the Moon to make an appearance. There was irritation in his gait as he stepped through a hastily wrought portal to the outskirts of Patia. He didn’t have time to weave a string of runes to worm his way through Roen’s dimensional restrictions, and alit his way through the black city’s dark streets assisted by a rune of alacrity. When he finally cornered Red, the lecture he gave her on leaving without him at her side, again, was lengthy and full of teasing. Avvercus’ first and previous visit to the Lorespire was a fairly brief one that did not allow for extended exploration. He now took the liberty of prowling the place, admiring the arcane forces at work all along its floors that were temporally distorted in the most wonderful of ways. At the moment, he could be found in the library, floating several feet off the ground surrounded by a maelstrom of tombs and grimoire that flew around him in a seemingly disorganized mess. His task was twofold; the mage was organizing the books while creating copies of each for his own personal library. Each passed through several magical circles before finding a home back on the shelves, with the silver haired mage humming pleasantly all the while.

Kal’to smiled when Setsuna flexed, and found her more girlish chuckle to be charming. He took a sip of his tea, nodding at her explanation for her ability to bounce back so quickly. “Yes, there are many warriors from my home world who have similar abilities. I’ve been told I would do well to walk that path myself, but I prefer my hammer and anvil,” he replied with a gesture of his hand. A grin took over his face for a moment when a thought suddenly came to bear. “I’m surprised that is an issue for you. Your chest certainly has an abundance of ‘nourishment’ for you to draw from,” he teased, deciding he would deal with this mischievous woman by playing her game. The motion of her hand drew his gaze. He studied the sheath and handle of the weapon with interest, immediately noticing a sign of excellent craftsmanship. “Would you mind if I examined your blade?”

Creaks and groans filled the otherwise silent room. As the displaced warrior stirred, the table he occupied cried out in protest at his weight. Blinking cobalt eyes a few times, the Marine became fully cognizant and immediately rolled to his left, falling off the table into a kneeling position, where he raised his empty weapon and began to scan the room. The first thing that he noticed was the temperature change. From the 140 degree weather of the desert to something far more comfortable and temperate, he felt like a an entire burning ball of fire had been lifted from his shoulders. Next, the man noticed the earthen scents of herbs, spices, and cured wood. This was not an Arabian home. At that thought, Sergeant Hudson suddenly realized he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t leaking his life’s fluids all over the beautifully veneered floor. A shuddering breath left his chest as he turned to scan the rest of the room for threats. What the hell was going on. His sharp eyes caught the sight of a pale hand on the floor, peeking around the edge of the table. The fingers were curled slightly, as though the person lay limp. Moving in a crouched combat glide, the man circled the table with his gun trained on the unknown. A woman, stunningly alabaster, lay unconscious. Her snowy dress was stained as crimson as his uniform, and the Marine immediately moved to her side. He saw her modest chest rise and fall evenly, and knew she was still alive. Combat Lifesaver training kicked in, and his M16 was left to hang against his chest on its sling as his hands were relieved of his flame retardant gloves. Then, those same hands went to work on what they had been drilled to do countless times. His battle hardened palms swiped down both sides of her dainty neck, armpits, and the inside of the stranger’s supple thighs as he checked for major bleeding. His hands came away clean, so he knew she wasn’t bleeding out still. Next, he gently ran his hands through her ivory hair, checking for head trauma. Again, nothing. The woman didn’t seem to have any immediately life threatening injuries then. Hudson hesitated for a moment before taking the next step. He stared at her face, studying it. She looked asian, which her body size and shape agreed with. She was pretty, almost intimidatingly so. Was this a test from that God? Was he being watched and silently judged? Fuck it, didn’t matter. An injured civilian was an injured civilian and he wasn’t about to leave her without medical care. The tactically blackened blade of his K-Bar didn’t glint in the light as he slipped it under the hem of her sundress and sliced it open from the collar down. Her soft, pearly skin blended in with her undergarments so well he almost didn’t notice them at first. But then again, that’s not what his eyes were trained on nor was it what he was looking for. Perfectly white skin, unsoiled like her dress met his lapis lazuli gaze and he frowned. No injuries at all? What the hell? Hudson began to puzzle his situation. Where was he, who was this woman, and why did her clothing look like she’d been shot when she was perfectly fine. His knife hovered over her chest idly as he was lost in thought. Maybe it would be a good idea to explore more of his surroundings and get a handle on the situation. Or perhaps he should wait for her to wake and just ask her directly. Decisions decisions...