2008-12-10 (PreU) Invasion!

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Summary: There are black sails on the horizon, and a black liver waiting to make black eyes for their trouble. Also Kid is here. Kid's awesome. Orlha's awesome. Flea is creepy and weird. Let's rock it oldschool!

Who: Flea, Kid, Orlha
When: December 10th, 2008
Where: The Guldovian Beachfront


The information contained within this log is to be considered information gained Out of Character (OOC).
This information may not be used as In Character (IC) knowledge or in roleplay unless it has been learned in-game or permission has been granted by the parties involved.

Questions should be directed to staff.

Fairy Caves
Dozens of caves riddle the large mountainside, allowing the local fairies to make their home in the cool dryness of the interior. What isn't a cave, however, is overgrown with moss and plants, the abundant clear and fresh water allowing many unique plants and animals to flourish here. The locals will sell to anyone, but a visitor would be wise not to pester anybody else, lest they find themselves the subject of a curse.

Sails on the horizon... dozens of small ships make their way across the short channel that flows between Water Dragon Isle and Marbule... the ships cut across the water with all speed... many appear to be rather bulky, an appear to be fallen far below the waterline, possibly carrying tons of supplies. However, they all move in a solid line, each with patrol ships on the outside, running between the lines. A periplus fighting manuver is adopted... they cannot be stoped until another ship crosses the T... and there doesnt appear to be anything to slow their approach. The ships almost crash onto the beaches... large gangplanks are dropped over the side... and a rabble of ... what can only be described as monsters seem to flow easilly from the boats. Brandishing large curved swords, they quickly move up and secure the edges of the landing area... unfortunately, there is no room for the larger transport ships, so they moor around the dock where they will be unloaded to the troop carriers... Almost immediately, small dugouts are created by large cuts in the sand, where construction of some machine is being done... the monsters move inland... the caves are their goals... capture and control.

Kid is sneaking through the caves, doing her normal thing. Ya know, looking for a bit of gold, or maybe some jewels? Well, she is a thief after all, and Dragons do tend to hored money and the likes. Hearing the rucus, she moves silently over to the mouth of the lair. "Oi, what 'ave we 'ere?" She squats down to check out the troops, ready to run, or fight. Which ever is needed first. She fingers the hilt of her dagger, sitting in it's sheath at her waist. Someone interesting will come out of a boat sooner or later. Commanders usually have an arrogent air about them that Kid disgusts, but can easily spot.

Legs? Check.
A bleary eye, cracked open to the light of the burning sun, travels up Orlha's slumped body. She notes the legs first, then realises they're glowing and covered in gritty sand. Which prompts a rather explosive burst of feedback from her memory machine. What's it called? Brian? Brain!
The Guldovian barmaid springs to her feet a moment later, throwing up a wide swathe of sand as she looks across the rolling dunes toward the offloading ships. The noise hits her next, and the final piece of the puzzle falls into place right about the time that a straggly bunch of demi-humans begin to dig themselves a nest nearby.
"Wait! Wait! You can't do that!" She creaks out, throat parched and voice broken, barely audible as a result. She takes two staggering steps forward, shakes her head and swiftly drops down, trembling fingers yanking a dusty bottle from the shoreline. "The rum hasn't gone," she murmurs with a self-satisfied smirk, "It's right here."
She promptly uncorks and upends the receptacle, pouring foul liquid past grateful lips.
In plain sight of any marauding monsters who happen to glance her way.
This is fine. This is STRATEGIC.

The soldiers organize themselves quickly... large ogre-looking monsters begin their assault on the village, kicking open doors and charging inside, chasing fairies out, where they encounter smaller sorcerers... magic users... creatures with command over the elements without using any aides. They cast fireballs about and attempt to startle the inhabitance... prisoners are being rounded up, but they seem to be going out of their way not to harm anyone who doesnt resist... those who do, however, are taken by force. Several large snake-looking monsters with capes slink their way up to Orlha... they hiss their edict... "We have orders to secure everyone on the island... do not resist and come peacefully..." the way they're coiled, they seem ready to attack. ............... almost as soon as it began, it was winding down... the supplies are landed... a large nasty-looking Crossbow is erected on the beach and loaded... it appears to be some sort of siege weapon... a ballista is more accurate. The command structure now appears off the end of the beach, a small imp with glasses waddles off the gangplank, a small paper in his hand with notes... it appears as though a speech is about to be made. It is at this time that the commander herself will make an appearance now. Stepping gingerly off the boat, Flea seems almost lighthearted... "I want my command tent over there under those trees... and put some of those pretty flowers around it... I want to be bathed in color."

Eyeing Flea, along with trying to keep up with the major setup of an Army, Kid wonders to herself what exactly they are going to attack. Her mind has been a bit foggy. Sitting in a tavern, wondering what happened to the one guy you're lucky enough to have feelings for just to watch as he disappers, and drinking her fair share of the mead will do that to a person. The bartab she's run up is... well, anyway. Kid is fully aware that she won't be able to do much but gather information and take it back to the resistance. Or, she could collect her information and try and sabatoge somethings. We'll see. She trys to eye out any Human regiments that she might be able to infiltrate to hear what she can.

Fireballs, prisoner-taking, and orders to stand down?
It might discourage the average chump, but Orlha was born ready for trouble.
Which isn't to say trouble can't wait a few moments longer, and the barmaid's throat works overtime to take in the entire contents of her salvaged bottle before she pulls it away and tosses it to one side, leaving her arm extended dramatically. Brown eyes swim with the alcoholic headrush as she whips her gaze around over her shoulder, pigtails and barely-restrained chest bouncing.
"In the last week," she begins by way of reply, tone now brashly confident, lips glistening in the sun's blaze, "I've worked fifteen hours a day, without breaks... I've thrown out drunkards, scoundrels and brawlers ten times bigger than your scaley hides... and you think you can boss me around? O-ho!" She suddenly grins, a whiplash expression that lights a fire in those eyes, "We can talk about your orders all right."
Her extended fingertips close to a tight fist.
And she's off. In a flurry of blonde bunches she forms the perfect distraction for Kid, the yell becoming a guttural cry on her lips as she /throws/ herself at the cape-clad mystics. She bobs, she ducks, and she comes up at their flank with a thunderous lunging uppercut aimed at lifting the first clear off his tail. Not stopping there, she's already spinning with the momentum to hurl a kick against her second would-be opponent.
"What'll it be, boys?!"

The smaller imp mystic had made his way to the caves, where he stood atop a small rock and addressed the scared and angry citizens of the Faerie village. "Faeries, the Mystic Expeditionary Force means you no harm. We wish to respect your neutrality." This, of course, coming hot on the heels of an all-out invasion. "We will leave your homes and you will go about your lives... The Mystic Expeditionary Force is here for your protection against Porre. Do not resist us, this will all be over momentarily when all the citizens are acco-" ... it was at this time that Orlha's fighting prowess made short work of the Mystic guards, taking them down easily... though not before one managed to yell "Human Loos-AWWP!!" before being pounded into oblivion by Orlha's kick. Out for the count, suddenly the soldiers rounding up fairies are on their toes... "HUMAN!!!" They screamed through the camp... the small Imp speech-maker ran for the bushline... running right into Kid... ... It stumbles back, rolling a bit... before getting back up and looking at Kid... and her dagger... "HUMAAAAAN!" it screams, before attempting to kick Kid in the shin before running for Flea's base... Soldiers now began to make for both Orlha and Kid... Larger ones... with huge clubs and swords.. magic sparkling on their fingertips.

As Kid is admiring the attitude of Orlha, she jumps as the imp runs into her. Grinning, (imp-ishly, one might say) she lunges for the little rat, hoping to tackle him and cover his mouth, even try to drag him back into the cave with her. Maybe no one would notice, amist all the confusion. And well, if they do..this sand might be turning a diffrent color.

Orlha's lightning instep lowers with a snap as she straightens up, falling into a wide kung fu stance with an even wider grin. She watches the two slithering snakes suck sand, then glances off to one side. Naturally not forgetting her duty as a righteous butt-kicking heroine - dynamite saviour of innocents - as she bites off some parting words.
"Heh! If you can't pay your tab, you pay the price."
Her gaze is keen now, lacking the bleary where-the-hell-am-I mist obscuring it moments before, and she scans the local area as cries go up and battle is joined. Her pulse races, and she only briefly wishes she had some more alcohol to fuel the flame before she realises there were /two/ alerts raised.
"Human on the loose!" She cries, joining in the hubbub, as she breaks into a sprint toward the impish source of the second alarm. Cocky is one thing; believing you can take on a whole army alone? Well, okay, it wouldn't be the first time. But she's curious. She makes for a nice central spot, searching the village and caves for signs of the mysterious Kid-unknown, before wheeling about and dropping into her stance once more. "Come get the human! Nice and fresh!"
...what? So she lives in a village of demi-humans. Doesn't mean she can't have some fun!

The Imp is sufficiently silenced by Kid, dragged off to wherever Kid deems fit and strategic. Still, the rush has caused the giant ogre-like mystics to begin charging through to Orlha.... Two of them get to either side of her, raising their clubs in the air and bringing it to a full lateral swing, while the other points his club in Orlha's direction, a large fireball being generated at the tip of it and launching toward the girl. Flea watches the commotion with limited interest. It wouldnt be possible for one person to resist months of training and planning would it? ... Distant memories of similar armies thwarted by as few as three people bring Flea to encourage her sorcerer entourage to assist the ogres. "I want her alive... but I dont care about anything else." she says with a smile... The Faeries are becoming restless... it looks like they might be planning a counter attack... one of them yells at their captors. "You have no right to be here! How dare you!"

Kid decideds to move out of the cave, slinking in the foliage as best she can. The imp was knocked out. A well placed hit with the hilt of her dagger always does the trick. Like her own personal Vulcan neck pinch! Moving the the ninja that she is, she trys to make her way to one of the boats closest to her, to get on. With almost everyone focusing on the drunk barmaid, and the second call of human, the army should be wandering away from her. But armys will be armys, and there is no such thing as a truly 'organized' army.

Faced by two charging, muscle-bound opponents, Orlha darts a quick glance between them. This could be troublesome. Her eyes narrow, her muscles twitch in readiness. It's time to get serious. A second before that two attacks look set to converged upon her, she does something that indicates this better words ever could. What is this powerful gesture?
... *hic*
A comic display of surprise flashes across her features, but her body is already responding automatically to the situation, years of hard training under her errant father coming to the fore. As if years of hard drinking impede this; this.. this DRUNKEN KUNG FU.
"Gizmotoid Gets High!" She chirps from up high, quite lost in the moment as she extends one soft-booted foot and gains momentary purchase on the incoming bludgeon. It's all she needs to cruise into a deceptively graceful backflip, carrying her over the fireball and far above the heads of her opponents. Coming around in a cruciform pose, arms spread wide with fingers splayed for greater balance, she gets the recovering club wielder in her sights. And drops.
"Beach Bum Goes For A Swim!"
Her martial yell is jubilant, the attack? Ridiculous. Her arms and legs go akimbo, her rear end tenses, and she looks set to slam down upon the brutish ogre's head with the mother of all body splashes. She ain't heavy, but she ain't his brother either; she's a master of the most ancient arts. Jackie Chan, eat your heart out.

The nearest boat to Kid is a troop transport... the equipment is all taken down and all that is left is a skeleton crew of harmless Demi-Humans.. the Demi humans will not engage in hand-to-hand combat and leave it to the Mystics. This crew is solely concerned for the maintenance of the boat..... The Ogre takes the hit harshly, causing him to rub his helmeted head... it looks like he is taking it fairly hard... after a few moments, he blacks out... his compatriot is soon joined by 3 others... each of them join the force of their magic to launch a massive screen of fire at Orlha... it shouldnt cause any permanent burns, but the sheer force of it might be akin to hitting a brick wall. Flea begins to hover over to Orlha, confident her companions might be in over their heads... "Ill handle this one..." Flea states blithely, if somewhat melodically.

Kid almost gives herself away by letting out a whoop of excitment, but thankfully has enough self control to keep quiet. 'This'll be like taking candy from a baby.' She edges her way onto the ship. Jumping up onto deck, she brandeshes her dagger and grins. "This is my boat now." The crew trembles and nods, doing anything just so they won't get shanked. "Pull the gangplank in, and pull anchor, then get yer sorry arses off." They jump to, and the ship sails out. Thankfully the wind favors Kid, and her luck is with her as the boat moves swiftly. At Kid's prompting, the imps jump over and splash on the far side of the ship. Throwing her head back, Kid cackles and begins her escape.

'Jubilant' doesn't even begin to describe the whoop Orlha lets out as she rebounds off the thick, nobbled head of her stunned foe. Trained muscles ripple as she makes an aerial recovery and flips down to land on both feet, the acrobatic spectacle spoiled only by a slight stumble as sand shifts beneath her weight. She've made the landing fine, if she didn't happen to be easily distractable.
"Oops!" As it is, she allows her attention to shift to her legs - a portion of her body better left to its own devices right now - and the stagger turns into a momentary hesitation. When she looks back up, it's to see a four-force rumbling blaze bearing down upon her. "F-F-Funky Chammelion Blends In!" She spits out, slamming one foot in front of the other and bringing her forearms across her face...
But it's too little, too late. Her guard is blown apart as the spell hits, rocketing her a half dozen feet backwards, wisps of flame catching across her skimpy outfit, pigtails sizzling. She lands in an explosion of sand that temporarily clouds her from view as the ravishing Flea makes her way across the battlefield.
When the sandstorm clears, the crispy barmaid crouches in the midst of a wide crater, teeth bared in a feral grin, a fist held up at her cheek, the other hand flatpalmed to the ground for balance. She boldly stares the approaching mage down, trusting to her martial display thus far to keep the minions a safe few steps away.
"I hope you're better than they are." She notes the choice of garments, the walk, the general aura exuded by the Mystic commander, "And I don't just mean better dressed. Style is one thing - skill is something else, and I've got the whole package!"

Flea inhales deeply before placing her hand up against her mouth, laughing haughtily into the back of it. "Ooohh ho ho ho" ^o^ You humans... you're all so physical. You think those big muscles are going to save you, girl? I hit much harder than you think..." there is a sudden shift... the world fades momentarily, almost as if in a dream. The exact image of Orlha appears in Flea's place... "Orlha!? ... Its me!... Tia! Why... why are you here? How did I get here? I've been so worried and scared... these... these Mystics... they found me and.. they helped me... dont resist! I promise, everything is going to be okay!" She opens her arms, expecting a hug."

What an infuriating laugh! Orlha's fist tightens, material of her glove actually creaking as her wrist vibrates from the added pressure. "I'll show you physical," she murmurs under her breath, preparing to bolt forward as soon as the villainess is allowed her little speech; all's fair in love and turn-based battle. True enough, Flea trails off, and the wholloping waitress uncoils like a---
Very limp, incapable, much overused spring.
"What." The single word is spoken in a dead tone, the girl's mouth hanging open slightly as she gazes blankly into the ethereal image before her. She's used to seeing things after one bottle too many. Just last night, she had this unbelievable waking dream that she could have sworn was real. But this? Her head tips to one side, her eyelids bat slowly, and her pupils drift inward as she tries to separate fantasy from reality.
For a moment, it seems as though the poison in her veins might save her. But a moment of clarity descends, and Orlha's fist suddenly lowers, her eyes widening on the very image of her long-lost twin, "You sent me that note!" She declares, pushing herself upright and starting forward at a brisk stride. Heroes come in groups for a reason, and without anybody around to stop her the pigtailed warrior throws toned arms about the illusory Tia and attempts to lift her in a joyous bearhug.
"You dope! Why didn't you tell me sooner!"

Flea is lifted up into the air... her illusion was working, but it didnt save her from the pain... several of her vertebrae crack ... Flea thinks to herself.. 'I need to work on the strength of these illusions x.x' ... Tia, however is making the best of it. "Oooh! Orlha, watch it... im still recuperating!" she laughs and tries to hug back. "Calm down... now lets talk... and are you drunk? You know you shouldn't be so irresponsible." Placing her fingers to her mouth, she exhales briefly... a small dust fills the air... Flea's noxious poisonous magic begins to make the air thick, the other mystics clearing a bit... it wasnt lethal... but it works a lot like an anesthetic.

The crack of vertebrae, even if likely to be heard over the spell cast by Flea's illusion, go unheard by the drunken, adrenaline-fuelled Orlha. She only eases the squeeze when Tia's voice raises an objection, and then does so with a sheepish grin, hefting her twin slightly in the air before she sets her down and takes a step back. Ruffling at her pigtails with both hands, she seems about to calm down as commanded, before a hot flush envelops her cheeks...
"I-- irresponsible? I..." She hastily stifles a belch, one hand flying to her mouth. "I'm only trying to honour our father. He always taught me to do my best at everything; b-but never mind that!" Restoring the enthusiastic expression, she throws her arms out to either side, "I found you! Or, you found me! And you're okay!"
She hesitates, sniffing the air tentatively, as if realising she reeks a bit and should probably have taken a bath at some point today. No, not that. Blink. Blinkblink. She struggles to focus on her sister, still wondering at the nagging voice at the back of her mind and trying to figure out precisely what it's trying to say.
"How come..." She hears coughing, blinks again, glances left and right, "You've fallen in with these..." Is her vision blurring? "Guys... Why do you need..." She stumbles, knees turning to soft pulp and one eye slipping shut against her will. One bottle of rum? Really? "Their help...?" She's got about five seconds left, here. Alcohol and anaesthetic really don't mix.

Flea looks across the table... it appears to be wonderfully adorned stately mansion room... of course, this was all illusory. A war tent is the reality of it, though it looks like a large dining area. "Coming around... almost about now." she seems to be speaking to herself... The metalic chains seem to hold Orlha set... a large bottle of fine wine seems set just before her... along with several large bottles of expensive spirits. "I told you... I hit very hard." Flea winked a bit.

Tia... Tia... Tia...
The echo stops, it lurches Orlha from her restfulness. She jerks upright, a spit bubble bursting across her lips as she gasps and snaps bloodshot eyes open to stare at her apparent captor. Not Tia. Not Tia... "Not Tia at all," she mutters, struggling to lift an arm so she can wipe her sweat-damp face. She cringes in the disgust of the recently sober as her limb fails to budge.
Allowing herself to loosen, the barmaid takes a deep breath and looks at the winking Flea. "And that's not fair at all! You can't beat me in a fair fight, so you show me my sister and then take her away?! Where is she?" Perhaps someone's missing the point at this precise moment, though she does then catch a glimpse of what lies in front of her, and loses that particular thread of righteous indignation.
"Uh..." Her fuzzy tongue pecks at her dry upper lip. "Is this torture, or a bribe?"

Flea cackles... "All's fair in love and war... I just happen to be very very good at both... and sometimes at the same time... but you saw that." Flea ponders her statement. "Your sister... that must be the Tia you talked about? Interesting." Her desire was for her sister.... and she seemed happy. Flea smiled and leaned back... Uttering in the same voice that Tia had, Flea responds... "I am rather sad to report that... your sister was never really here... though, perhaps you can understand that it isnt really wise to challenge someone who can pull into your soul. This time I pulled out a desire." Flea's voice goes to a rather deep voice... the voice of Lynx in her throat... "Next time, Ill pull out a nightmare." ... Flea's voice returns to normal... "Lets talk... the note you recieved... tell me about it."

One of the main problems with drinking, one of the setbacks, is waking up to a new day and realising the implications of what you got up to the previous night. Actions that seemed harmless and enjoyable become horrifyingly embarassing... words come to be regretted... the drinker's stupidity comes back to haunt them. Sometimes it seems that these ill effects pass with experience, but at other times?
"...oh...." The brash, bolshy barmaid utters the single syllable in such a tiny voice, with such a pathetic quiver, that it's almost heartbreaking. Any poignancy is soon dispelled as she groans and lowers her head, letting loose the long, drawn out 'mnnnnnn' that heralds the start of a really bad hangover. This mean she hears the Lynx impression rather more vividly; it penetrates the deeper recesses of her brain, stirring up memories. Stirring up the very future itself.
She makes a playful little 'grr' sound at the back of her throat, somehow imbuing the noise with some sense of import. If she were able, she'd make a similarly recollective, absolutely serious pawing gesture. What is it with her dreams lately? And how does Flea know about those? And why can't she have any sweet, sweet boo--- wait, the note. Who did the note come from if not Tia?
"I don't know what to tell you," Orlha grates out after a moment's thought, opening her eyes and lifting her shoulders in a dim shrug, "But why would I tell you the truth if I did? It came anonymously, it told me to come here - if I'm still where 'here' was last time I was awake - and that's it. I did it because I like an adventure, that's all."

Flea smiled broadly... standing up, she walks over, planting her butt firmly on the edge of the table facing Orlha, crossing her legs strategically, while leaning back against the table. "You're the resistance member..." Flea shook her head. "I almost didnt expect you to show up... I certainly didnt expect... ... this." Flea notes with some skepticism... Orlha looked like she wasnt so much a resistance member but a pretty magical girl with transformation powers and a talking cat... she doesnt know why that image was conjured. Flea untied one arm... then took up the bottle of strong ale and placed it in Orlha's hand. "You must be thirsty..." Flea said with a smirk... "Welcome to the base camp of the Mystic Expeditionary Force... we're fighting against Porre... just like you."

"What do you mean by that?!" Orlha sounds positively indignant at the suggestion she looks less than battle-worthy. As if to reassure herself, she strains at her bonds, feeling them pop and shift as her enviable strength comes into play. It's to no avail, but it appears to achieve the purpose. She settles herself quickly, and ungrits her teeth. Calm, calm. Stupid hangovers.
And then comes a cure.
She raises her eyebrows as the bottle is handed over willingly, and they raise yet further when Flea finishes speaking - almost merging with the warrior barmaid's fringe. Fighting against... Porre? Orlha stares a moment, then hisses dubiously, and clamps her teeth down on the bottle. She bites the cap free and then upends it, taking a long, long, long gulp.
"Ahhh," her lips pull to a grin as they allow at least the makings of a recovery past. "If you're fighting Porre," she replies, battle spirit lighting her face once more, "You'll need all the help you can get. Untie me, show me around, and we'll rethink our relationship. If you're telling the truth... I'll admit we could do with your help too. If you can beat me, you're better than most of what they have to offer."
It's not all bluster. Guldove is still standing strong, after all!

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