Call to Arms! (Closed to Redford, Rayleigh, and Itenerant)

[Cards of Fate]

The Osiris Manor, Beinost.

“The time has come, Mr. T’vorall.”
Two men sat in relative silence in a luxurious room, illuminated only by the flickering light of a low burning fire resting at the hearth. Vincent Cain, lord Emperor of the Tarot Hierarchy, sat with one leg crossed in a plush velvet armchair, swirling red wine in a crystal goblet.

“The time for what exactly, Mr. Cain?”

Joseph T’vorall sat across from Vincent, a glass of mead in another goblet. The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the room for a moment before it was broken by a low chuckle from Vincent. The scholar uncrossed his leg and leaned forward, a grin on his face.

“Why, it’s time for phase two my good man.” The two sat in silence for a moment. Vincent was simply letting the magnitude of what he’d just said sink in, Joseph was simply waiting for an explanation.

“Phase two?” Joseph asked, eyebrow raised. “Is this another one of those earth things or…?” The merchant shifted in his seat uncomfortably for a moment before taking a sip from his drink. Vincent simply stared at his partner aghast for a moment.

“Dude, we talked about this.” Vincent uttered annoyedly as he rose from his seat. “Like…a month ago or something.” He paced forward taking a sip of his drink. “I thought you were in on this whole thing.” Joseph nodded for a moment, as if he had suddenly remembered.

“Ah yes!” Joseph cooed, letting out a chuckle to match Vincent from earlier. “How could I forget…” he paused. “How did that go again?”


Vincent sighed and hung his head in defeat for a moment. “For fucks sake dude, we’re cleansing Raiaera.”


“For real this time?” Joseph quipped.


“Fuck you dude, we’re doing it for realsies.” Vince grunted and pointing a finger at Joseph. “We’ve been waiting, it was all a part of the four phase plan remember? We had the fancy dinner and sat down and outlined the whole god damned thing. You said it was the best plan you’d ever seen, I agreed, we signed it and everything!” The scholar snapped his fingers and pulled a scroll from a blink of blue light.


“It’s all right here, look.” He offered the scroll to the merchant, who rose from his seat and unrolled it, squinting in the dark light.


“Well shit, it’s got my signature and everything” The mechant cooed. “Phase two it is!”


He peered closer, turning the thing toward the firelight.


“What’s phase two again? Yes, there. So we just finished phase one then, which is...gather a bunch of money and build a base of operations in Beinost.” The merchant pasued and nodded. “Okay, we did that pretty well. Phase two, put out a call to arms and begin our three pronged assault plan of the blight of Raiaera.” The merchant looked up for a moment. “We have an assault plan?”


“We outlined it that very night.” Vincent replied sighing. “We said that we were going to have three teams, remember? A Containment team, a Funding team, and a Research team.” The merchant nodded along as the scholar spoke.


“Oh yeah, I remember. We were gonna pick leaders for each too!” He paused for a moment. “But doesn’t it seem silly for us to go looking for one leader? I mean clearly you’re going to head up research, and I’ll take care of funding…” Vincent tutted and wagged his open hand at his friend.


“Wrong, we’re not going to lead any teams. We need a little more traction than just the influence of the two of us in the long run.” The merchant paused for a moment and took his eyes off the scroll to peer at Vincent curiously.


“Traction? For what?” Vincent let out a bit of a chuckle and downed the rest of his drink.


“We need to put some fresh faces in charge of these teams so that the political sphere of Raiaera is changed up a bit. You and I have already shaken the scene up a bit. We need to make sure the people who become heroes in this whole campaign are...fresh. We have to play the political long game if you will.” Vincent strode forward and leaned against the mantle, peering into the flame.


“Isn’t that a little fucked up?” Joseph asked cocking his head to one side. “I mean...we’d be basically hand picking political puppets…” Vincent shook his head and let out a chuckle.


“I thought so too, but then I meditated on it. I spent the last two weeks using my little foresight into the workings of Fate as much as possible. The people I have picked are...well...the people who I’ve seen will do the most good for the land.” The two sat in silence for a moment before Joseph grunted.


“Fucking magic.”


The silence continued for several minutes as Joseph read over the plans he had no memory of even coming up with, his lips silently moving as if he was reading it aloud to himself.


“So Phase two is the start of the assault. We begin large scale operations in order to discover the cure. Phase three is the application of the cure and an all out war on the vestiges of this ‘Xem’Zund’s undead.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “And phase four is full reconstruction post-war. Is that right?” he asked looking up. “And who’s Xem’Zund again?”


“Correct,” the scholar nodded, pausing as he registered the merchants question. “Xem’zund is the Forgotten one who made this whole undead mess in the first place.” Joseph nodded.


“Like Pod, yes?”


“Pode, but yes.”


“Gotcha.” Joseph looked back to the paper. “Now where were we?”


“Now we have to start out plans for phase two. I have three people in mind for our leaders, you do have the power to veto any of them if you would like.” The merchant nodded along as Vincent spoke, stepping up to the flame to stare into the embers along side him.


“Let me hear them…”

[Itinerant]

The sun breached the horizon on a sleepy Sunday morning in the docks district of Radasanth, the birds sang, and the ship’s bells began ringing.


At the same time, a bit farther into the city, a bartender cussed loudly as a messenger pounded on his door incessantly.


“I’m coming, I’m coming, you intolerable whore’s son! Allow a man to get out of bed before you come knocking!” Jacques shouted as he descended the creaky, splintering stairs to the common room. He stalked across the bar and threw open the latch on the door, kicking a crate out of the way as he did so. Jacques heaved the door open and stared at the messenger.


“What the hell do you want from me at this-” Jacques peered at the sun, trying to work out the hour. He grumbled something inaudible and turned back to the messenger. “Screw that. This miserable hour.” He muttered, rubbing his shoulders with hands covered in burn scars and bandaged cuts.


The messenger looked at the bare-chested man in front of him, snorted, and handed him a couple sealed letters. Jacques nodded his thanks, tossed the messenger a coin, and slammed the door in his face. The pitter-patter of sandals hitting the cobbles alerted him to the messenger’s leaving, and he sat down at the nearest table. Jacques broke the seals on the letters and began reading them by the golden light streaming through windows on the front of the establishment.


“Mr. Jacques Alutris,” The letter began. Jacques rubbed his eyes and continued to read.


“On behalf of my prestigious partner in business, I would like to invite you to our establishment in the mountain city of Beinost. We have an interesting proposal involving the copious amounts of supplies and political advantage that the lands of Raiaera offer to merchants such as yourself.-” Jacques skimmed through the letter, which went on for some time about the ideas presented. He sighed heavily and trudged back up the stairs to his bedroom.


Flopping down on the bed, letter in hand, Jacques considered the options he had. Go to Beinost, wherever that is. Ignore it entirely. Go to that strange man down the street and have the letter magically traced. All the possibilities of action raced through his mind, flooding him in a flurry of different ways to get to different places.


The clear way to proceed would be to go to the meeting. What was the worst that could happen? Death? He’d managed to survive a trip to the most outsider-unfriendly country that was known, Fallien, so this couldn’t be much worse. And there was always gold to be made from new ventures, especially in a land that has been ravaged, or so the travelers had said, by a necromancer. He mulled it in his mind and made a decision. He was going.


Jacques snorted, and tossed the letter on the table next to the unmade bed. He stood, stretching, then walked over to the window, threw open the curtains and basked in the light that streamed into his room. He turned to his dresser, pulling out a shirt and fresh pants. He pulled on the change of clothes and combed his hair to its usual styling. Looking presentable, he went back downstairs and into the kitchen, pulling out the chest of gear he kept in the backroom. From it, he drew a weighty dagger and a leather cuirass. He slipped the dagger and a plentiful amount of traveling supplies into a well-used pack and grabbed his cloak off the wall. Jacques slipped the cloak over his shoulders, awkwardly shoved the cuirass around all the other contents of his bag, and walked out to the common room.


The sun beamed through the windows, shedding light on all the chairs and tables stacked along the wall. The floor held a fine layer of ash and dust, to be swept before opening. Jacques smiled at his establishment, before grabbing a few sheets of paper and quickly penning a letter noting his attendance of the proposed meeting, as well as leaving a note to his sister, mother, and brother in-law that he was off to a business venture and would likely be gone for a few months. The note was left on the bar and the letter was quickly sealed with the bouncing tankard that represented him and his business.


His preparation complete, he walked out the door and made his way down to the docks, intent on getting to Beinost with all possible speed.

[Rayleigh]

“Hey, Ray, would you help me with something?”

The voice was chipper, almost sing-songy, and decidedly male. Though Rayleigh could not see the speaker from her position beneath the bulky carding machine, there was only one man who could have such enthusiasm so early in the morning. Moreover, there was only one man who so commonly requested her aid.

“Sure,” the mechanic answered, her voice muted only slightly by the heavy contraption she worked on. The rhythmic clink of metal wrench on metal bolt continued as she asked, “what are we doing?”

Vincent paused, and then answered with the delicate caution of a man treading into very dangerous waters. “I, uh, I can’t tell you.”

The clinking stopped, plunging the room into an uncomfortable silence. The scholar shifted his weight from one foot to another, anxiously awaiting his friend’s reply. He recognized that his request, and the secrecy, would not be well received. The best that he could do was hope that she could see past the confidential nature of the mission. That she might choose to follow him on good faith alone. That she would put their friendship before her own pride, and help him simply because he asked it of her, and -

“Not happening.”

“What?” Vince cried incredulously.

“You heard me,” Ray countered dryly, the sound of her tinkering filling the space once more as she returned to her work. “No way am I helping you.”

The man raked a hand through his blonde hair. True, he had expected that a bit of buttering-up would be in order, but he never would have expected such an out-right refusal. “But why not?”

“Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

He did. He had convinced Rayleigh to fix a water purification pump for him, though he had not told her what it was. He had left the whole mission a complete mystery until the big reveal, deep in the jungle, where they had presented the pump to a needy village on the banks of a polluted river. Putting a voice to his thoughts, he said, “sure I do. We saved a whole village.”

“And?” Her voice lacked chill, venom, or any negative edge. Rather, it held the disapproving, unamused tone of a mother helping a child realize and admit his mistake.

“And,” Vince echoed, his voice trailing as he thought back. It took only a moment for him to remember, and when he spoke again, it was through a small, sheepish smile. “And you were super mad at me for keeping secrets, so I promised you I would tell you everything from now on.”

“Bravo,” Ray countered. Then, without missing a beat, “so what are we doing?”

She could practically hear the nerves that coursed through him. Slowly, carefully, he pieced the words together. “I can’t tell you now. But I’ll tell you later, I promise.”

He said nothing more, and neither did she. Ten minutes later, when Vincent finally realized that the battle had been lost, he exited the mechanic’s workshop. But there was no concession speech, for the war was still far from over. He would try again later.

Later, as it turned out, came after two hours had passed. As the mousy brunette wandered down the hall, Vincent jogged up alongside her, his heavy footfalls thudding dully in the small space.

“Where you going?” he greeted warmly, falling into step.

Her response was a small shrug. “Library. Do some reading maybe.”

“Great!” the scholar replied. “When you’re done with that, would you want to maybe help me with this thing?”

A humorless smirk twisted her lips. “Would you want to maybe tell me more about it?”

When all he could do was make a noncommittal, conflicted noise, she turned into the nearest room, and closed the door in his face. The gesture was just as figurative as it was literal, which he realized as the door nearly slammed into him.

An hour later, as the woman cleaned the last of the pasta from her plate, she felt the presence of another moving behind her.

“Hey buddy!” Vince dropped his full plate onto the large, ornate table beside her. The chair gave a sharp groan as he unceremoniously spilled himself into it, still beaming. “I was hoping we could talk.”

With just as little fanfare, the girl reached over, and plucked his breadstick from atop his pile of pasta. Pushing back from the table, she stood, turned, and left her dirty dishes with a still bewildered Vincent.

“Still no,” she called over her shoulder, before biting off a chunk of the buttery bread.

Emperors, it seemed, did not take no for an answer. When Rayleigh turned the corner into her bedroom, she found him seated, cross-legged, on her bed.

The scream she loosed was initially of fear, but it sparked into anger quickly. “Are you kidding?” she spat, throwing her hands wide in disgust. “Are you this desperate?”

“Yes,” the blue-eyed boy replied simply.

This caught her off-guard, and though her cheeks were still flushed, her hard expression grew softer. “Why won’t you just tell me, Vince? I’m tired of your games.”

The blonde shook his head, his arms crossing tightly against his chest in an unconscious act of defiance. “This isn’t a game,” he insisted. “I just have to wait until we are all together to talk about it.”

At this, Rayleigh’s jade eyes narrowed with interest. “We?”

Now he nodded. It was a quick, mindless gesture, as if it had never occurred to him that she might want to know about his companions. “Yes. John, and someone else you haven’t met.”

“I like John” she mused aloud. All the while, her gaze remained on the man, searching for whatever other clues she might draw from him. “Where is it that we’re going?”

“We’re meeting in Beinost.”

Again, she murmured, “I like Beinost.”

She was baiting him, and he knew it. “Look,” he stated finally, “I’ll tell you what I can on the way. You’ll know before anyone else, I promise.”

It was not the ideal situation, that was certain. Rayleigh had sworn to herself that she would refuse any more of her friend’s wild, half-baked propositions, as they never seemed to end well for her. Yet his promise demonstrated that he was willing to make an effort, and that was something. And the expression he wore, eyes wide and pleading, lips drawn in a tight, worried line… well, that was not so easy to refuse either.

“Fine,” she surrendered finally. “But you’d better make sure I know the facts before John does. It’s only fair.”

[redford]

"So," John began, eyeing the sleeping boy in the corner of his living room. He'd found a couch and blanket, and was currently snoozing contentedly, full of burgers, as John looked back to his friend and continued.

"What did you want to speak about?"

Vincent leaned back in his chair, placing a hand on the table before speaking. "I need you in Beinost, John. Something big is gonna go down, and I need a few of you to help me out."

The half-giant raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Plus ourselves, Jacques and Ray are helping us out. I can't tell you any more than that really. I need you to trust me on this, big bro."

John produced a cigar and lit it quickly. "Your girlfriend? How is she by the way? You should bring her by sometime, introduce her to Jamie. I bet they'd get along great."

"She is NOT my girlfriend, John."

"Well bring her round anyway, and see what happens."

Vincent sighed. "BESIDES, we have more important things. I need you in Beinost, and I need you there because I trust you, and I think you can get things done.

John blew a puff of smoke into the air, failing to notice the small boy behind them had opened his eyes.

"Well, one thing I am good at is getting things done. When do you need me?"

[Cards of Fate]

It has taken five days to get all three of them present and accounted for. One had been dedicated solely to convincing Rayleigh to even show up, and the other four were for travel. Normally this sort of trip would take weeks, but when you have a ship that sails as fast as storms, the world becomes a lot smaller. At the moment, five people were crowded into Vincent’s spacious study in Beinost. Joseph stood in the back, leaned against the wall casually as he sipped his drink. He’d let Vincent take the lead on this one, only offering a suggestion every now and then.

Rayleigh was plopped front and center in front of Vincent, sitting at attention, her eyes darting from John to Jacques. Vince wondered what this sort of endeavor would do to her for a moment. He’d caused her trauma enough in the past, something he deeply regretted, and the idea of him putting her in harm’s way left a sour taste in his mouth. Yet something egged him onwards. Something about the spark he saw in her eyes drove him to pull her along with him; it made him want to share all of the magic he saw in the world with her. This endeavor would offer him that chance.

Jacques was further back, standing, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. He hadn’t been Vincent’s first choice for such a mighty task, but Fate seemed to have other plans for him. The scale of his exploits to date had been rather small in the cosmic scheme of things, but that seemed like it was about to change. Aside from that, John seemed to know the man, so he must be trustworthy. He also had no current ties to anything that would try to influence their undertaking from the outside, so perhaps his obscurity was a bit of a blessing in disguise.

Finally, there was John standing over by the hearth, puffing away at his cigar as he stared into the flames. The Scourge of Salvar had taken many lives before, witnessed countless tragedies, and withstood physical abuse that would shatter even the most extraordinary of men. When Fate called him to the vanguard to serve as a shield to the meek, he’d answered without hesitation. He was the very epitome of everything respectable in a man, and Vince had no doubt that he would serve well in his upcoming task.

Once Vincent was done with his silent musings, he cleared his throat and broke the silence for the first time since everyone had gotten settled in. “Jacques, since you are the only face I do not know, allow me to introduce myself.” The scholar rose from his seat and adjusted his robes. “My name is Vincent Cain, and about a year and a half ago I, with the help of four other people, slew a witch who’d plagued this land with a most vile curse.” Vincent strode around his desk and approached the man, grasping his hand in his with a firm shake.

“A pleasure to meet you. Aside from theatrics, I’m a man of many hobbies and talents. I watch people, people who I think are capable of incredible feats.” He released the man’s hand smiled. Taking a few steps away, he found himself in the center of the room now, positioned in a way that Rayleigh had to turn to keep his eyes on him.

“People like Mr. Cromwell here.” Vincent exclaimed gesturing to the giant. “A man, nay, a titan covered in titanium who stands head and shoulders above everyone else.” The scholar shot John a wink before turning back to the merchant. “Or Ms. Ashton, a brilliant mechanic with a penchant for making the impossible, possible.” He shot Ray a warm smile as he walked once again towards the merchant. “People like you, Mr. Alutris.” He returned to his desk and took a seat, all eyes fixed upon him.

“Now, for the sake of not having to repeat myself a million times I kept details scarce when inviting you all here. Not from a lack of trust, but more for the sake of my own sanity. So without further ado, allow me to inform you all why exactly I have invited you here on this lovely autumn day.” He adjusted in his seat, making sure he was sitting up straight, his arms propped on his desk. “As you must know, several years ago this land was laid siege upon by an ancient necromancer by the name of Xem’zund, who flooded the land with a horde of undead. As the war went on, he began to poison the land with a vile plague that rendered it uninhabitable to most people. Even after his defeat, this vile scar continues to fester and corrode the land of Raiaera.” He paused to let this all sink in. “I’ve called you here because that is going to end.”

Silence filled the room.

“I would like to begin a campaign to take this land back from this foul blight. Should each of you accept, you will aid me in leading this effort.” He paused for a moment and chuckled, seeing the confusion in their eyes. “Rayleigh, you will be tasked with leading our research department. You will be given access to as many resources you need in order to help study the plague, to source a cure, and to implement it on a large scale.” He turned to John. “John, I would like you to help lead our containment team. In essence you will help quell the remnants of the undead horde that still lingers and wanders the wastes. You will tasked with leading the forces we gather, you will oversee our retaking of the wastes.” He paused and turned to Jacques.

“Jacques, you will be tasked with helping us raise the coin we need to undertake such a massive task. You will help out diplomats as we ask the world to aid us. You will help feed the troops, the researchers, the workers. You and your team will supply the resources that we need to feed this beast.” He rose from his seat and made eye contact with the three of them, running a hand through his unruly mane of blonder hair. “I know it’s a lot to process, but I have nothing but faith in each of you and your abilities to rise to the occasion. Who’s in?”

[Itinerant]

Jacques stood on the heavily carpeted stone floor, shifting his weight between his feet. Silence hung over the five people in the room like smog did a city, interrupted only by the occasional sigh from John and the cracking of logs in the fireplace. Jacques looked around, staring intently at his soon-to-be compatriots in a war against the diseased land of Raiaera. His eyes settled on John, the massive man he’d met months before in his tavern, where the man drank down half his whiskey store. He anxiously cracked his knuckles as Vincent stood up from his seat and adjusted the soft velvet of his stately robes. He shook his hands out of the cuffs of the robes as he approached Jacques from behind the intricately carved desk. Jacques shook his hand with a curt nod and a quietly spoken thanks.

“A pleasure, Mr. Cain.” Jacques said, releasing the other man’s hand and clasping his own behind his back as he listened to the introductions. Jacques offered a cordial nod to John, who he was rather familiar with, as the man was a relatively frequent patron of his bar. “And a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Ashton.” Jacques said to Rayleigh, offering a smile and a nod of greeting.

It seemed fate had plans for them, and Jacques wasn't in the know. He considered for a moment, absently playing with a strand of his hair. He stared at the strands twirled around his finger as he listened to Vincent detail the strengths of each person. He finally came to Jacques.

"People like you, Mr. Alutris." Vincent said, as he turned back to the desk, fingers trailing along the molding of the room's centrepiece.

The bartender looked at Vincent as he mentioned Jacques by last name, absently wondering how the man got ahold of his name if he had so clearly been here planning for quite a while. Jacques shrugged and began listening to the man as he began to explain his methods and why the four of them were sitting in a room that belonged more to a magister than a… scholar, if Jacques were to guess. He tapped his foot on the floor, anxious to find out what their true goal was.

Mr. Cain returned to his seat, settling down in the high backed chair as if he were a banker consulting them on a new type of loan. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward over it, beginning to speak about their goals.

The speech dragged on for a moment, but Vincent finally came to his point. They were to undertake the impossible, the task of cleansing a land decimated by a necromantic plague. A heavy silence blanketed the room at the mention of the disease that had ravaged most of the country, all members of the group thinking back to the defeat of the Forgotten One only three years prior. Jacques shuddered at the thought of the men coming back from the country, filled with terrifying stories about hordes of corpses streaming from all directions, cities being wiped off the map to save them from undeath, storms of magic conjured by those trying to save the land. Dark stories from dark times. His mind raced through the countless tales that men had shared as they drowned their fears in the bottle.

Jacques was ripped back to the present by the sound of Mr. Cain speaking again, his voice cutting through the veil of memory that had temporarily distracted Jacques. His interest was piqued at mention of his name soonafter. The man was now sitting straight as a pole in his seat, voice taking on a serious tone as he divvied out tasks to the assembled. Vincent turned to Jacques.

“You will help out diplomats as we ask the world to aid us,” Vincent said, and Jacques’ interest switched to concern near instantly. While he was decent at formality and the mechanics of conversation, there was no way he would be up to par with a noble who had been bred and raised for this. He shook his head, but Vincent seemed not to notice.

Jacques sighed inaudibly as Vincent concluded.

“Well. Guess I’m in this for the long run.” Jacques muttered, before waving his assent to joining the cause. Thoughts of backstabbing nobles and angered courtiers filled his mind for a moment, bringing a chill down his spine.

“Now, where can a man get a good drink around here? Before I go get myself murdered by an angry noble, I need a gin.”

[Rayleigh]

"Great to meet you, Jacques." The woman flashed her new acquaintance a winning smile. It had been quite some time since she had met someone new; while Vincent relished carting her all over Althanas, they always had a strict itinerary, and it rarely included time for fraternizing. The scholar made for excellent company, but new faces were a rare treat.

Due to the introductions, the mood in the cozy study was as warm as the flames that cracked and popped cheerfully. Rayleigh shifted from side to side, folding her short legs beneath her, and snuggling herself deeper into the overstuffed stool. She sat there, her gaze shifting between the room's other occupants. Vincent, she had grown to know as well as if he were her brother. John, she knew only through their limited interactions in the House of Cards. And Jacques was a complete mystery. Rayleigh Aston quite liked mysteries. When her gaze finally settled back on Vince, her eyes were wide with excitement

At the man's introduction, Ray gave a clunky, seated bow. It was a difficult, considering she was perched atop a stool, but some of his flair for the dramatic had rubbed off on her. She was used to Vince's praise, but the kind words still warmed her cheeks pleasantly.

Yet as the blonde dove into his purpose for calling the meeting, the color drained away, leaving her face pale, and hardened by lines of worry. She was no stranger to the Red Forest - the House of Cards was settled within it. However, the path to her home was short, practiced, and traveled as quickly as possible. She never wandered, nor did she visit any location except the hidden bunker.

On only one occasion had the brunette ventured deeper into the cursed woods. Then, she had been escorted by individuals much more knowledgeable, and much more powerful, than herself. And even then, the experience had been nothing short of a nightmare. Deadly plants had pushed her to the brink of death, and twisted visions had made her distrustful and paranoid. Still weak, her mental state cracked, she had fled into the depths of the Red Forest; how she made it out at all still remained a mystery.

As such, when Ray finally spoke, her voice was filled with enough emotion to fill the gaps the one word left. "Vincent." There was a desperation, in her tone, and in her emerald eyes, as she stared up at him. An unspoken fear, and a disappointment that he would ask such a thing of her.

But there was desperation in his voice as well. When he spoke her name, and only that, he was begging her for trust. His plan was complex, and it needed careful attention, and the help of many individuals. It needed her, and so did he. He knew that. He hoped she did too.

In an attempt to emphasize the point, he moved beside her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and squeezed gently. "It is just research," he explained, "nothing too dangerous. And you'll have good people helping you out."

To say that his display had convinced her immediately, and that she had had a complete change of heart, would be a lie. Rather, the mousy woman mused in silence, her gaze moving to the hearth; the vibrant flames that danced in her eyes were a strangely poetic indicator of her conflicting thoughts. Then, finally, she lifted one hand, and rest it delicately on Vincent's.

"I'm picking the people," she told him, in a tone that indicated the matter was not up for discussion. She swiveled to face her friend. "And you're buying the drinks."

[redford]

There was a moment of silence followed by the soft clink of ice on glass as Jacques made his gin. John turned his gaze back into the fire, and thought for a moment. They’d all seen the Red Forest firsthand, seen it’s denizens stalk the night, right on the edge of the Tarot’s influence. If anyone but Vincent had suggested actually reclaiming the lost country, he would have scoffed. Indeed, if anyone but Vincent would have suggested such a thing, he would have scoffed. He traced the rough stone of the mantlepiece with his finger, moving from one thought to the next. Cleansing Raieria would be no small feat, that was for sure.

But, there was something in Vincent that was beyond his nature. There was a nearly tangible aura he possessed, like greatness had wrapped itself around the boy like a cloak, attracting great feats and greater allies. John’s presence was commanding; he had the air of a warleader. He inspired his men and intimidated his enemies, and that was generally his lot; but Vincent had something different. He gathered powerful friends like a lamppost gathered moths.

But there was a youngness to him as well--a hopeful, optimistic immaturity that was as infectious as it was dangerous. The fire popped once more, and a stick crumbled in the fire. There was probably some deeper meaning there, but John was distracted.

There were many with power who sought the red forest. Most died, and the remaining became denizens of the cursed land, defending it with powers of the Forgotten One.

Two things were certain. Vincent would go, whether he decided to help or not, and there was no way John would allow him to go without Strength’s protection.

There were too many lives ended by and blood on his hands for him to do any other. He spoke, flicking his spent cigar into the fire, watching it succumb to the heat.

“Can you do it?”

He looked up at Vincent, whose face was set in a sober line, only the third time he’d seen the expression. He took a step toward the half-giant and placed a hand on his shoulder; it would be comical how much he reached up if the atmosphere wasn’t so serious.

“With your help, I think so, John.”

John spoke without hesitation, offering a forearm to his Emperor.

“Then you have my shield and hammer.”

[Cards of Fate]

To say Vincent wasn’t pleased would be an outright lie. While he had never met this Jacques man before, how could feel the potential deep within him. Fate had plans for the man, plans much bigger than any of them could imagine. Rayleigh had been a scary pick, he had almost been sure she would turn him down. He’s caused her so much pain in the past, and it seemed like a solid seventy-five percent of their adventures seemed to end in disaster. Yet for her to say yes, even if she was unsure, was a testament to her trust for him. Finally, when John agreed, it felt like the war had been won at that exact moment. He’d exchanged blows with John whilst sparring a great many times, and to say he feared ever fighting the man for real would be an understatement. With the combined talent of the three before him, almost anything seemed possible.

This was good, seeing as they were shooting for the impossible.

The scholar clasped Johns forearm and grinned. “Alright John, I’ll start with your assignment first!” He exclaimed as he let the man go and returned to his desk. “To start this off, we’re going to need to establish several footholds in the plaguelands. Due to the volatile nature of the undead, and the plague itself, we need to be extremely careful about where we build forts and how.” He paused and looked up the massive man before him. “I’ve picked out a number of locations that look like they’d be easily defended, some of them are ruins, some of them simply abandoned.” He paused once more as he fished through several papers. “There is one I think we should establish first!” He pulled out a folder with a strange marker on it. “Fort blackblade! It should be mostly intact, it hasn’t been used since the war of the Tap, and it should have been spared most of the damage from the Corpse War. It’s also relatively close to the House of Cards, so it makes sense as a logical first foothold.” He grabbed several folders and stacked them under the one he had just pulled out. “I also took the liberty of looking for several possible recruits for you, if you would like.” The giant raised an eyebrow and took the folders with one hand casually glancing through.

“Jacques!” Vince said turning to the merchant. “Your mission is a lot simpler than John’s. We’re sitting good on money at the moment, but as we grow we will not be able to keep up with the costs. I need you to find us a benefactor. Someone willing to help us with troops, large sums of gold, or even materials if possible.” Vincent shuffled some papers on his desk around and procured several folders from the chaos. “I have a few potentials I had been eyeing myself if you find yourself a little lost on that front.”

Finally he turned to Rayleigh with a grin on his lips. “Ray, I have several labs already established here on the coast. They’ve been studying the plague as much as they can, but we’ve hit a snag. We have no way to safely gather samples at the moment. The Aleran’s have created a suit that allows people to safely navigate the plaguelands, but as it stands they won’t part with it without extreme amounts of gold. We need to either figure out how to make our own suits, or come up with a way to gather and handle samples safely.” He paused and shuffled through his remaining papers. “I know you want to pick your own people, but I have some connections you may want to consider for when you’re picking your team. Your part in this play is vital, so every resource I can offer you is at my disposal.” He sighed and looked up at the three of them, reflecting on how much info he’d just dropped on them.

“For now I would like to adjourn this meeting, and for you all to go read through the materials given to you. Down the street is the mess hall, it’s kinda hard to miss. We’ll be serving dinner there in three hours, if you have any questions about anything you can catch me there. Otherwise, good luck to you all, and may Fate be in your favor.” With that the three of them scattered, each with varying expressions on their faces. The scholar sank to his seat and let out a massive sigh.

“Fuckin Hell Jo’” Vince grunted as soon as they were all out of earshot. “That was fucking hard.” The merchant chuckled and shook his head as he stepped forward from where he’d been sitting the entire time.

“This is why you’re the Emperor, Vince.” The merchant cracked his knuckles. “I think you did a fine job,”

“A fine job possibly sending them to their deaths.”

“Or to their glory.” Joseph chided.

“We’ve got a long road ahead of us my friend.”

“That’s true…”

The two sat for a moment, contemplating the task ahead of them in silence.

“At least we’re walking it with friends.” Vince muttered running a hand through his hair.

“I think at this point…” Joseph paused for a moment before grinning, “I think at this point I’d walk anywhere as long as you were leading the way.”

We can end the thread here, or we could have closing posts from each of you as you start planning your mission. Your choice

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Cards of Fate receives 420 EXP and 45 GP! (Inc 25% GP bonus for his ability)
Itinerant reveives 165 EXP and 25 GP!
Redford receives 235 EXP and 25 GP!
Rayleigh receives 235 EXP and 25 GP!