debriefing ♔ in the emptiness there's a solution | just look within yourself for absolution

[nepotism]

♬ locking up the sun- poets of the fall

WHO || Wynn, Buffy, Myri, Finnick, Spike, Gar, Archer, Des, Vi, Rafael, Fred Jr., Dumage, Mark, Rocket, open! [Closed]
WHAT || Andres Mission Debrief & Aftermath
WHERE || Knights HQ, lobby etc.
WHEN || September 18th [forward dated*]
HOW || Actionspam. Single thread, don't worry about maintaining tagging order.

There are plenty of missions that return to the castle a success - most of them, even. The defeated air of the solemn group that returns from their diplomatic mission to Andres Isle to hear the demands of dictator Dimitris Sarandis makes it quite clear that this wasn't one of those.

Starting with Sarandis' actual demands - for all Knights to withdraw from Andres under penalty of death, or for Wynn to offer his own head in return for Thomas' safe return - and ending with the unexpected, disturbing confession from Kat that she intended to stay behind on the island because she had "fallen in love with" the dictator, the events of the island made it very clear that Sarandis was cannily playing his hand to get the Knights where he wanted them.

Fred Jr. shoves open the doors with his unnatural strength, stalking in ahead of the group into the lobby. Whoever's on desk duty isn't going to have to roll a high wisdom check to see that these people are pissed... and distraught... and a myriad of other emotions on the bad end of the scale.

*I am changing the date of the briefing log and Andres log/live session to have taken place in September, to avoid us being in backdated hell forever, and to allow for a September squiring ceremony before apps are closed. Carry on... in the future!

Comments

[killingtodeath]

[Stiles turns to look at whoever is talking, notices who it is, and gives a small laugh.]

Yeah, I know. I appreciate it. Not another ankle biter I would want healing me.

[godblessyou]

[She scowls.]

I don't bite ankles!

[killingtodeath]

You might want to rethink that. If they get your knife away from you, there's only so much you can do from down there.

[He keeps on smiling.]

But really- thanks. In advance. I'm sure I'll need it.

[godblessyou]

[Now she just looks offended.] I'm not bringing knives onto the battle field. I mean, I am, but i'm gonna be using my hooked hammer.

[killingtodeath]

Why is your hammer soliciting sex on the street corner, Tara? [He has no idea what that is. So he's just gonna make hooker jokes.]

[godblessyou]

What? [Her wis check of 4 means she has no idea what he's talking about.] It can't do that. It's not sentient.

[killingtodeath]

No, I just- it was just a joke. Nevermind.

What's this thing look like anyway.

[godblessyou]

Umm, hard to explain. I can show you!

[killingtodeath]

Sure, I'm not doing much. Just killing time before we go to war.

[godblessyou]

Cool, it's in my room. [And she starts walking towards it!]

[killingtodeath]

[He will follow! Slowly. Because she's like a foot shorter than him.]

[godblessyou]

[WOW more like two feet shorter. Maybe even two and a half. We just don’t know. They get to her room and she opens the door.

The clutter contained there is truly epic in scale. Not to mention the vast array of useless stuff. There’s a pile of shoes, none of which, at first glance, seem to match each other and fewer of which seem to be remotely Taradiddle-foot size. There are weird little snow globes tucked all over the place. There’s a life sized cardboard cut-out of Finnick that has several feather boas wrapped around it. And, of course, multiple pizza boxes and dirty clothes. It doesn’t… smell great.

Taradiddle wanders in and wriggles under the bed, then comes out triumphantly with this monstrosity.]

I brought it all the way from Faerun!

[killingtodeath]

[Stiles is.... impressed with her room, honestly. He's seen some terrifying rooms. Teenage boys are not known for their cleanliness, but this takes the cake. When she emerges with the hammer, Stiles looks more confused than anything.]

So how does it... work? [WHICH END IS UP. THIS IS A WEIRD WEAPON.]

[godblessyou]

...you hit people with it. [BOTH ends are up. You can use all the ends!]

[killingtodeath]

I would ask for a demonstration, but I'm worried you'll take that as an invitation to hurt me again.

[godblessyou]

[She gives him an innocent look.] I'd heal you up again!

[killingtodeath]

I'm not a punching bag! And I'm pretty sure there have to be side effects to too much magical healing.

[godblessyou]

There are not! That's the whole point to it being, you know, magical.

[killingtodeath]

There's such a thing as bad magic, though, right? Or maybe I'm allergic. To stab wounds.

[godblessyou]

I won't stab you, you big baby. I need to conserve healing spells for the whole war thing.

[killingtodeath]

I think somewhere in there, you might have had some vague amount of concern for me.

[godblessyou]

I'm very concerned! But healing spells won't hurt you unless you're undead. And you're clearly not. [A beat.] Right...?

[killingtodeath]

Last I checked? 100% not a zombie.

[godblessyou]

You better not be. Cause clerics? Really good at turning undead. [A beat.] Though healing the undead actually is one of the ways you can hurt them so the fact that I haven't hurt you means unless you were really recently bitten by something creepy, you're probably okay.

[killingtodeath]

Oh good. Glad to know I can prove I'm not a zombie by letting you stab me and heal me again.