albwreckt

[albwreckt]

Balthus might be a knucklehead, but even he sees one fatal flaw in Nasir’s reasoning. He shakes his head, setting down the weapons–the ‘mining instruments’–in an attempt to level with Nasir. “That sounds all well and cool, but,” and he gestures to the both of them. To their everything. More specifically, to their lack of anything, “merchants gotta have stuff to sell, yeah? Most the ones I know are pretty well connected, too. If we’ve got nothing for them to buy, then an excuse sure as hell won’t cut it.” 

He narrows his gaze at the entrance. An air of seriousness washes over Balthus. Very rarely does he stop to think about something. Usually, this means it’s got something to do with home, or a trick Yuri’s set him up to. But thinking about what his fellow Wolf would do in a situation like this, his mind begins to wander. A scene plays out before him–one he knows all too well. 

“New plan. You like snooping around.” That much he can surmise both with Nasir’s prior rejection, and the fact that Balthus has even been hired to do this damn thing in the first place. “And let’s face it, a guy like me isn’t built for that line of work. Nevermind a sore thumb, I’ll stick out like a whole hand.” Plus, he’s loud. Lotta clunk in those grandiose steps of his–he can’t help it, he’s got a big personality. “So let’s make like mercs and put our talents to use. I’ll draw the guards out with a big old brawl, and you do the looting business on your own.” He knows it won’t sound like a sound plan, so to reassure Nasir, a hand falls on their shoulder. “I’m kind of like a celebrity around here. Except instead of autographs, most folk want my head on their wall. Nobody’s going to resist a fight with Balthus von Abrecht.”

✢⁎. sneak increased to -100

[albwreckt]

Someone really ought to have told Griss that ‘hey, you’re that guy’ was easy to misconstrue as fighting words. Balthus stood from his pool in a heartbeat, dropping the oyster he had just gotten his mitts on to pry open for its pearl. Even an all-expenses paid vacation to a tropical resort (basically, minus the monsters) was rife with money-making schemes. And sure, he could have been slaving away under the hot sun building this or carrying that, but then some other guy would get a part of his cut. More than part, if the way they barked orders said anything. If there was anything that honest work had taught him, it was that money could be made elsewhere. Pawning shiny rocks had been his go-to today. The Generous King of Grappling’s Gift Shop: that was the idea. An odd story here or there or embellishment of something’s worth might’ve had to be made, but how different was that from the smith or armorer? 

His profits sank as he put his fists up, scanning the horizon until he saw…

“Yeah, I remember you too,” he replied, easing the tension in his shoulders, “you were that fishing guy who hadn’t been on a boat before. Weird dude…” And an even weirder costume, if memory served. Still, the two were on equal grounds in their second encounter. They felt nice to stand on–a little warm. Or maybe that was just the sand. 

“Lady luck hasn’t left me hanging today, actually. Out here, anything that covers your chest is a waste of money. Why even bother with armor when you’ve got a gut of steel?” He turned his shoulders square to Griss just in case he’d like to inspect. Without his trademark Ashen Wolves coat, his entire physique could be studied–admired. But look too close and Griss might notice the tan lines running down Balthus’ torso. It turned out regular trips to the surface with an exposed chest was an uneven way to color his skin. Who’d have thought.

Before he could get back to trawling the watery depths at his feet, that urchin came for his face. Good thing pulled his forearms up to block the blow–thinking it a rock at first–because otherwise a spine would’ve nailed him in the eye. It stuck into him, instantly swelling and leaving a reddish-blue blotch of skin. Honestly, not a good look with the sunburns. “This your idea of a good find, or something?” It must be true what they say: one man’s treasure is another man’s trash. It was completely worthless to Balthus. “It’s an urchin, pal. Street kids get their names after them.” Dislodging the spine, he lobbed it back to Griss. “You can’t keep ‘em out of water, though. And be careful putting that back. Thing’s got a nasty sting if you step on it.” 

An odd feeling crept up on him. As he stuck his arm back in his water, he noticed it moving rather slowly. And was the air getting heavier? Was his back bent out of shape, or something?

Some Kind of Shirtless Saga [Griss & Balthus]

Affluence | Flying +1

[albwreckt]

“A C-what now–Oh, shoot, we’re movin’!” That you are, Balthus. Roy proved to be quicker than the Albrecht both in wit and walking. Balthus has never truly been a sneak-around kinda guy. His presence has this natural kind of volume to it that really just has him better utilized under a spotlight. While that probably brings to mind smashing into a place and brute-forcing his way through whatever problems present themselves, there is also the possibility of Balthus being a distraction. He’s a great distraction. 

Just, maybe get someone actually stealthy to run behind the scenes. 

“Alright pal, we’ve got to be close now. The gold’s as good as ours!” Rubbing his mitts together, he envisioned all the useless garbage he’d get for that gold. Drinks up to his knees, the company of whoever he pleased–maybe some novelty goods to keep him entertained for a week. Abyss’s got all sorts down in its merchant district. One only needs to know where to look. 

Spurred on by the promise of reward, he charged forward. His bulky body nearly pulverized Roy as he moved past. But if the noble had enough constitution to pull himself together and round the corner with his partner, he’d find the Wolf in a distraught, disorderly state. “Oh man!” he cried, hands on his head, eyes glued to a plaque in front of a triad of doors. “You might wanna check this one out… It’s arithmetic!” 

Indeed it was. A maths problem presented itself on an old piece of rubble, carved rather neatly by the supposedly rodent bunch. At the very least, they’ve confirmed that this was some sort of hideout of theirs–maybe where they’ve been taking those students? “No wonder they don’t come back. Argh, my brain’s burning just thinking about this stuff!” 

Making a sour face, he turned to his employer. Balthus wasn’t alone in this endeavor, thankfully. The kid looked more and more like a saint with every passing second. “You passed our last midterm, yeah? Think you could take a crack at it for me?” 

✢⁎. i was hiding!

[albwreckt]

Training dummies, huh? Maybe Beowolf has the right idea. It could well be that Hilda volunteered herself to be used as a reference for her projection. Not that she had ever been the volunteering type, but giving them something cute to work with seems motivation enough.

In any case, he’s been sitting with his finger to his chin for long enough. ‘Hilda’ has gone rocketing past him and hunting for dragon skulls again. Her axe comes within an inch of Nel’s neck–

Idle Maiden 10/10HP crits on Nel 5.5/10HP  using Basilikos! [Roll: 18] -2HP -1.5HP Flat DMG Hunting Whip: Balthus 10/10HP stops Idle Maiden 10/10HP  from attacking Nel 5.5/10HP 

–And on instinct, the Wolf’s whip leaps from his hand. It snags his family friend by her wrist, pulling her arm taught until it won’t budge anymore. Balthus grimaces. “Promise I’ll go easy on you! Just uh, lay off, ‘kay? Thought you were supposed to be good at being lazy...”

For the briefest of moments, she looks his way. Her face is featureless, but Balthus gets the impression that–had things been reversed–she wouldn’t have pulled any punches. It’s a scary thought. Almost scarier than the possibility of their dreams being linked in some way, and Hilda being able to experience the same fight as Balthus.

He’ll have to talk to her when they wake up.

For now, he yanks her limb back far enough to grant Nel escape. Blubbering bum he may be, Balthus has every intention to make himself useful here. In this day and age, you never know when you’ll be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with some stinkin’ rich nobles. 

“No need to thank me, pal. Although, if you’d like to, I do accept tips–”

Balthus 10/10HP uses Hunting Whip! Balthus can stop one turn on enemy phase Alert Stance: Balthus 10/10HP gains +8 avoid during enemy phase

He retracts his whip and resets it in his hand. Though the leather is starting to wear, it’s in good enough shape to continue disabling their enemies’ attacks. 

FOR GUTS, GLORY, GOLD: @nelithic !

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

　　　　　　　　　　　 　❪　team five　/　gold round　❫

[albwreckt]

“Hey, that’s not just any girl in pigtails,” Balthus retorts, quick to jump to the noble’s side when Ivy accosts him, “that’s the Hilda Valentine Goneril–put some respect on her. Way stronger than she looks, by the way. And her brother? Like, twice the size of me!” And acting with twice the purpose. Where Balthus keeps his strength for the ring or saving his own hide, Holst uses it to propel himself forward and reach for glory. Hero of Fodlan, and all that. He’s convinced that even Ivy’s display of force last round would bounce right off the older pinkette. 

“The Gonerils are not a nest you wanna go poking, pal.” 

Satisfied with that bit of chit-chat, he turns his attention back to the battle. The runt of their group begins to load what Balthus assumes is some sort of heavy cannon. It gets a chuckle out of him–someone so small operating a device so massive. Maybe he’s a pirate? But whatever he is, the Wolf doesn’t want to see what his weapon can do. So, brandishing his whip–

Plucky Freedom Fighter 10/10HP hits Nel 10/10HP with Silence Blast [Roll: 14 + 2 = 16] Hunting Whip: Balthus 10/10HP stops Plucky Freedom Fighter’s turn against Nel

–He snatches the thing by the barrel, pulling up until it’s way out of sight of any of them. “Oh no you don’t!” he sneers, more than enough breath to spare on dialogue. His foe, on the other hand, isn’t as chatty. 

The tug-of-war lasts long enough for ‘Hilda’ to go blazing by him. As he whips his head around to watch, he catches her gunning for Nel, and the rest he turns a blind eye to. It doesn’t take a sage to know that Nel will be minced into meat once she's done; Balthus doesn’t need to watch the show to know its ending. Still, there’s just no way he could raise a hand to his childhood friend. It’s better that he pretends she isn’t here.

Given enough struggle, the shade of the cannoneer breaks free, albeit spilling its ammo in the water. As he watches them scrape their shells back together, surprise colors his face. A bit like Hilda in that looks-to-brawn department. Deciding it had earned enough respect for him to back off, he faces another with his whip. ‘Nasir,’ Naesala had called him.

“This guy giving you trouble, birdface? I’ll wrestle him down for you. Just so happen to also be the King of Grappling, so it’ll be no sweat!” 

Balthus 10/10HP uses Hunting Whip! Balthus can stop one turn on enemy phase Alert Stance: Balthus 10/10HP gains +8 avoid during enemy phase

SPLISH SPLASH: @nelithic @corvuschriisti @lindwyvrm @sayhwaet !

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

　　　　　　　　　　　 　❪　team five　/　gold round　❫

[albwreckt]

It’s like waking up in Abyss after a rainstorm. Sometimes, when the surface world gets wet enough, water seeps down below. Removing the swamp with a bucket is always a handful. 

But something about this unending, if shallow, ocean doesn’t even seem possible to clean up. He chases the thought out of his head. As he wakes on the back of a giant monster? Bird? Monsterbird? He sighs with relief, knowing it sure as shit won’t be his boots getting soaked today. 

(Though the feathers they’re lined with are a tad uncomfortable. As are the ones in his cowl, and around his armor–which again has left his chest open to attack.) 

“Mm? Oh, yeah, sorry to keep you waiting! I’ll swoop in and save the day with this sweet whip they gave me–” 

Balthus 10/10HP uses Hunting Whip! Balthus can stop one turn on enemy phase ! Alert Stance: Balthus 10/10HP gains +8 avoid during enemy phase !

Balthus does indeed swoop in, and he does indeed brandish his hunting whip. Holding it by the crop, a quick tug to its thong produces a loud snap! Loud enough to put their enemies on edge, shadowy eyes drawn to the man like maggots at a hunk of meat. He’s all content to smile and smirk at them, but one silhouette in particular catches him off guard. 

Pig tails, rounded features, an axe…

“Oh man… Is that Hilda??” 

Panic settles into the Albrecht as he trades looks with her, this ‘Hilda’ stony-faced and unresponsive. But he isn’t reading it that way. This looks like disappointment to him–that he would even think of standing opposite her. He trembles, taking his mount by the reins and backing up until his shoulders are square with Naesala’s. “Holst’ll kill me if I hit you! I’m just picturing what he’d say if he found out…” Balthus, you knave! My darling sister is too cute to lay a finger on, even in simulation. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! …Something like that, probably.

“Change of plan, pals. The one with that hair there? Not touching her. No can do. You’ll have to throw every other one of ‘em at me.”

GO GIRL GIVE US NOTHING: @lindwyvrm !

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

　　　　　　　　　　　 　❪　team five　/　gold round　❫

[albwreckt]

The mountain of coins rumbles, shakes, and quakes–until finally the giant trapped within frees himself. He takes a deep breath, spending a sliver of his time reacquainting himself with his surroundings. The casino is still going on strong. Machines are screaming, money is flying this way and that. There’s a killing to be made. 

Pulling himself up by the polearm, he smirks at the Hatter. Ain’t dead yet, says his shining teeth and copper eyes. The blonde, in turn, has a response ready for him. A projectile bounces his way.

Maddest Hatter 25/25 HP  attacks with Winner Takes All! Misses Balthus [Roll: 4+6=10, miss!] Balthus 8/10HP Misses Balthus [Roll: 2+6=8, miss!] Balthus 8/10HP

It whizzes by him, writing shock into his expression. Then a second time it nearly clips his hairdo, stupefying his smirk. He counts it as a miracle that neither arc took his nose off, and stomps back into the fray. 

“Gonna level with everyone here. I’m starting to think hell is preferable to… Whatever this is.” 

Balthus 8/10HP hits Maddest Hatter 25/25HP with Harmony Lance [Roll: 17 - 2 = 15, -3.5HP, Maddest Hatter 21.5/25HP] Harmony Lance: Balthus 8/10HP heals for 3.5 HP [Balthus 10/10HP]

Onward he forges, raising his guando high above his head to come crashing down against that of the Hatter. It’s a straight shot, and it hits–digging into his brim and taking a scrape off his mask. Which is all well and good, because Balthus is ready to go knocking his jaw off.

That kind of vigor resonates deeply with his weapon. From the wound he made on his foe, his own are healed. A pleasant feeling straightens his back and puffs out his chest, sealing his nicks and scratches from earlier. 

Maddest Hatter 21.5/25HP counterattacks, crits and hits Balthus 10/10HP with Raise the Stakes [Roll: 15 + 2 = 17, -1HP, 11 + 2 = 13, -0HP Balthus 9/10HP] Seal Speed: Maddest Hatter 21.5/25HP loses all speed buffs until R4P Adaptability: Balthus 9/10HP gains +1 defense until R4P Adaptability: Balthus 9/10HP gains +1 defense until R4P

It couldn’t have come a moment sooner, as the Amber One is quick on the follow-up. Twin coins dig into each of Balthus' shoulders. One lodges itself a little deeper than the other–drawing a bit of blood from the skin underneath–but it’s nothing he can’t stifle. His armor morphs again, and by now it’s a feeling he’s grown accustomed to. 

“Hey, pals! Now’s not a bad time for a head check. Everyone still got theirs?” 

TIME TO FOLD: @lindwyvrm !

　𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎.

　　　　　 　　 　 　　 　❪　team five　/　silver round　❫

[albwreckt]

Balthus doesn’t bat an eye at the monster that is Nel. Ferocious though her breath may be, beasts are a dime a dozen–and he’s confident that a fist to that jaw could shut it and its lasers up.

No, what’s more interesting to him is Ivy. More precisely, that father of hers.

“You oughta set us up for a match sometime!” he chimes, running in close for conversation but having his path cut off by laughter and dice, “I’ve yet to meet one capable of making a dent in this debonair, but you guys might get close.” With that, he hunkers down to give his die a good thwacking. The blunt edge of the blade will do. It’ll send the thing flying for sky-high value.

Balthus 10/10HP misses Dordice with Harmony Lance [Roll: 1 - 2 = -1]

But mid-stroke, he wavers. A sultry frown works its way over his features. The dice are so… Cute! And he’s a gambling man–a gambling king, even–he can’t hurt one of the things! So his arm goes left, and so too does his weapon, and Balthus’ result is a big, fat, zero. A sigh bellows from him as he braces for impact, knowing the prettyboy won’t take kindly to fence-sitting. 

Maddest Hatter 25/25HP uses Tea Time's Over ! Hits Balthus 10/10HP [Roll: 6 + 2 = 8, 3 - 1 = -2, Balthus 8/10HP] [Roll: 2, Cornucopia fails.] Balthus is inflicted with Card Suite: Broken Heart. Teahouse Distribution: Roll: 1, Seal Speed fails Adaptability: Balthus 10/10HP gains +1 resistance until R3P

He, too, is barraged by gold and swallowed by splendor. It’s a darned lot of splendor too, covering a man his size. “What’s the matter?” chides the hatter as the dust begins to settle, “Got cold feet? Don’t you want to partake in this everlasting serendipity??” 

If he wasn’t busy spitting coins from his mouth, the Albrecht would fire back. Instead, he takes note of a strange kink in his armor. As it takes hits, the metal changes to suit the shape of its attacker. Neat, but not useful enough to dig Balthus out of this pit he’s in.

THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET DICEY: @corvuschriisti @sayhwaet !

　𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎.

　　　　　 　　 　 　　 　❪　team five　/　silver round　❫

[albwreckt]

Balthus wakes with a groan. His head feels like a church bell rang one too many times, the echoes of last battle reverberating in that mostly-empty skull of his. But he’s alive–he’s gotten up–and that’s got to count for something. Hooking himself by the chin, he pops his neck. 

“What gives with this guy? Thinks he’s some kinda hotshot or something. But he looks loaded…” And he, on the contrary, does not. Everything from the last room is long gone, replaced with some less-shiny, less-opulent armor with the chest punched out. And he’s got a bladed lance. A guandao would be more the appropriate name, if Balthus knew what a guandao was. 

“How’s about we rough him up and take back what we lost!” 

The dreamy haze cast over their surroundings–those memories melded into bubbles and iridescent shadows in every corner of the venue–are completely lost on him. Poor Baltie thinks he’ll walk away a winner somehow. 

Backup: Balthus 10/10HP deals -1HP to Maddest Hatter 18/25HP* [Maddest Hatter 17.5/25HP*]

Launching off his feet, he delivers two brusque blows to the Hatter’s torso, careful not to let his blade bite any of that pricey coat. This opens him up to Ivy’s attack, which the Wolf is all-too willing to step back and let her perform. In fact, the display gets a hoot out of him. Cheering her on, he ebbs back into the fray. 

“Hey, no offense, but I’ve never met a princess-type who can throw a punch like you. Your old man teach you any of that?” 

Balthus 10/10HP misses Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* with Harmony Lance [Roll: 5 - 4 = 1, -0 HP, Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP*] Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* counterattacks and hits Balthus 10/10HP with Raise the Stakes [Roll: 9, -0HP, Balthus 10/10HP] Seal Speed: Maddest Hatter 8.5/25HP* loses all speed buffs until R2P Adaptability: Balthus 10/10HP gains +1 defense until R2P

On the contrary, he hits nothing but the air with his swing. Having dragged the weapon against the floor to build momentum, he intended to let it fly with the kind of might that’d flatten the top of that poser’s hat. But his opponent reads him with ease, snapping a finger and creating some coin to drop on his head.

Good thing Balthus is so dense, else it might’ve actually hurt.

“Tch… Playing your cards close to your chest? Hurry up and make your wager–opportunity doesn’t knock on its own, you know!”

CAN'T LOSE THIS ONE: @nelithic !

　𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎.

　　　　　 　　 　 　　 　❪　team five　/　silver round　❫

[albwreckt]

Balthus grins beneath his mask, welcoming all the praise his armor receives from the blonde. It is pretty sweet, isn’t it? It suits him too, he thinks, as he runs his fingers along its shape. “House’ll be cleaner than this armor, at this rate. I’m thinking anything that isn’t nailed down is ours to take–and even of the stuff that’s nailed down, I can rip most of it up and add to our haul!” A few flashy poses go Beowolf’s way, which aren’t interrupted by the next deluge of coins harmlessly bouncing off the suit.

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds ! Balthus 5/10 HP Roll: 2 + 8 = 10, barely hit! -0, Balthus 5/10 HP

A large-bellied laugh follows, the Albrecht pumped up with enough hot air to keep himself afloat. He stomps over to Naesala, adding a hand to the queen’s shoulder. Eyeing his loot, he clicks his tongue. “Bigger’s always better, pal. But I’ll tell you what, once I knock a few teeth off that wyvern, we’ll trade ‘em in and get massive swords for everyone.” That includes Ivy and Nel, who are addressed by a half-turn of his body, and the clunk his armor makes with it.

Sizing up the big boss, however, plants a small seed of doubt in his mind.

Omen activates! 2 - 1 = 1 Balthus 4/10 HP

Call it premonition or just a feeling in his huge gut, but the guy can’t shake a twinge of dread lurking in a corner of his mind. It’s a feeling all-too familiar to him, and that only makes things worse. It hadn’t been wrong before…

But he’s in too deep to quit! Patting himself on the cheeks, Balthus steadies his body. Arm extends, pointing at the wyrm’s face. A verdant string materializes where he places his fingers, nocking the arrow–ready to launch at his command. “Hey, big and ugly!” that earns its attention, “I think I’ll be cashing in my winnings now!” 

He fires.

Balthus 4/10HP attacks Corporate Shadow 30/30HP with Deadeye! [Roll: 1 - 2 = -1, -0, Corporate Shadow 30/30HP]

The magical projectile misses its mark by a hair, whizzing past and leaving embers in its wake. The King deflates with an angry sigh, but he hasn’t seen the worst yet. At the end of its arc, the arrow curves…

Devil Bow: Balthus loses all remaining HP Balthus has been defeated !

…And flies straight back to sender, collapsing into his chest. All its infused energy runs ripples throughout his armor, breaking past the impervious barrier of mana, short-circuiting it, and exploding his entire getup. The result is a charred Balthus gone flying, smacking the ground like a felled oak. His winnings are burnt, his mane singed. Once a source of pride, the equipment he donned is now torn to smoldering shreds and scattered about the casino floor. 

He remains all in one piece, but is in no shape to continue. So he treats himself to a nice, long nap. A consolation prize, if you will.

“Ahahahaha! You LOSE!! Should’ve quit while you were ahead!” 

Addressing the rest of the group, the wyrm prolongs its victorious gloat,

“Try again if you will, but remember that the house ALWAYS wins!”

CHASE OUR LOSSES: @nelithic @lindwyvrm !

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[albwreckt]

The now-crowned King smirks in response to both Ivy and Nel’s dialogue, a sense of sleazebag’s pride goading him to take his place center-stage. “What I’m hearing from the both of you,” he begins, lumbering forward so that his impervious body would be the one bearing the brunt of the coin barrage, 

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds Balthus 5/10 HP Roll: 3 + 6 = 9, barely hit! -0, Balthus 5/10 HP ; Roll: 6 + 6 = 12, hit! -0, Balthus 5/10 HP Omen activates! Roll: 1 - 1 = 0 Balthus 5/10 HP

“–is that you’re in need of a real-deal crapshooter. Well, ain’t this my lucky day? Can’t remember the last time I was asked to gamble!” 

After catching a few of the chips with his free hand, he slaps them onto the table–breaking the line of sight the dragon had with Nel. He might be a guest in this house, but a King’s presence ought to be felt with each step he takes. “I do quite like this one,” admits the host, its voice slick like honey and raspy like smoke. But it speaks above Balthus, addressing Nel as though he were nothing more than a member of her entourage, “If his luck ever does run out, I think I’ll keep him as a bouncer!” 

Balthus 5/10 HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 4, Guarantee Rate

A snap of its fingers, and an orb materializes over the Albrecht’s hands. It radiates a resplendent kind of heat. In one, swift motion, it swirls round his body–conferring him a bit of lift as every color of the rainbow coalesces around his form. His eyes shut. His arms outstretch. He receives the blessing of the beast by spinning a hundred times a second, before finally his foot touches the ground. Only, it is no longer clad in its formalwear. 

Guarantee Rate: Balthus loses Hit+ and gains Personal Armor Model DM! Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance!

Balthus emerges with an ornately decorated suit of armor: white plating adorned by gold and accented by a stygian underside. While his extremities are fully covered by gauntlets, boots, and a helm–and his shoulders protrude with geometric pauldrons–his chest remains uncovered. A green aura glosses over it instead, burning bright like plasma and fire.

The malice of his bow lives on in his left glove, its arms magically fused to his armor, and a glowing-green arrow ready to fire.

“Have I beat it into your skulls enough? Balthus is undeterred, unbeaten, unbowed in the betting house! You pals oughta put a little more faith into your old friend, here.”

GOING ALL IN: @sayhwaet !

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[albwreckt]

“Heh, your ears not work or something? I told you, I’m physically incapable of resisting a wager–you’re on, pal!” 

Of all the loud and halfwitted things Balthus has ever said, this might just be the one with the most truth to it. Before he can get another word in, he’s by a set-up trade-in table, haggling with the reptile behind the counter for a good deal on his weapon. 

“–but look, the condition’s mint! Surely you could put your thumb, er, claw on the scale?” But the goon isn’t having it. With a stern shake of their snout, they rip the baton from the Wolf’s paws.

“No can do, bub! Boss’s real strict with pricing. We’ve gots to keep our lights on.” 

And with no more debate to be had, they hit a few buttons on their till. With the ejecting end facing Balthus, casino chips spew out at him… Less than gently. 

Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP attacks with No Refunds ! Balthus 10/10 HP Roll: 19 + 2 = 21, hit! -3HP, Balthus 7/10 HP

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!!” They sting as they collide with his half-exposed body, each chip feeling like a stone pelted at him from an angry crowd. And he’s dealt with enough of those to be done with this feeling. After scooping them into his arms, he tries to fight the encroaching dread that, at this rate, they’d be here forever.

He fails.

Omen activates! Roll: 3 - 1 = 2 Balthus 5/10 HP

Collecting himself, he shoves the pile back on the owner’s desk. A bright, confident smile paints his features. “Alright, goin’ for round two. This time I’ll make a killing so big they’ll call it Balthus’ Bloodbath!” 

Balthus 5/10 HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 3, Generous Rate

The wyrm sighs, and chucks a duffel bag his way. After catching it with ease, he zips it open…

Generous Rate: Roll 1d5 = 4, Random 5 Star! Roll 1d20 = 18, Balthus loses Shockstick and gains Hoplon Guard ! Faceless Greed: Corporate Shadow 30/30 HP loses 1 Defense and Resistance !

…And a lustrous, prismatic, golden sheen erupts from the bag! Reaching inside, he excitedly pulls out his prize, which sports the enticing glow he had been looking for. He’s quick to show it off to Naesala and Beowolf.

“Gentlemen I hate to disappoint, but I really think I’ve got you beat. Just look at this baby, I bet it’d net me a fortune…” 

RAISE: @lindwyvrm !

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[albwreckt]

Through the haze of cigarette smoke and flashing lights emerge a band of heroes. Dozens of machines hit off in their wake, ringing their bells to announce the clattering of coins. A roulette table spins. A new hand is dealt. The chaos of the casino remains undisturbed by their presence, even as they stare down its scaly owner. There is money to be made–to be lost–and a few fortune-seekers won’t disturb this hedonistic balance. 

“Come to play the long odds?” asks the inky-black wyrm. It sets a foot on its desk, mouth watering with greed, and opens its long coat to reveal a dazzling selection of prizes. They sparkle and shimmer with an otherworldly glow, hues of purple and yellow drawing the eye and screaming ‘rare!’ 

Balthus is the first to step forward. 

“Damn straight I am! The Lucky King of Gambling doesn’t shy away from any bet, no matter how big or small!” He’s hooked. The guy has yet to earn a penny here, yet he already envisions his jackpot. He steps forward, black dress shoe drawn to the offer like a magnet. It’s a nice companion to the rest of his white suit, which is naturally unbuttoned and shirtless. 

He throws his luckiest gold coin at the reptile, which catches it with ease. “So shiny…” It mutters, adoring its gleam between two claws. “But just how broke can you be?! For this petty sum, I offer only my worst game!!” Suddenly roaring, it whistles with its free hand jammed between its jaws, and a train horn blows somewhere in the distance.

Balthus 10/10 HP plays Firey Emblems: Gacha Gacha II! Roll 1d4 = 1, Abysmal Rate

Feeling the ground rumble beneath his feet, the Albrecht casts his gaze in every which way until finally a locomotive crashes through the wall to his left. The giant of a man holds his bow out in front of him, ready to fight the steel beast, but it means him no harm. Its conductor hops from the side of the vessel and directs him to its front door. A pale, violet light leaks through as it opens, nearly blinding Balthus for a moment…

Abysmal Rate: Roll 1d5 = 4, Random 4-Star !  Roll 1d40 = 6, Balthus loses Luck+ and gains Shockstick !

And some sort of rod falls through. It doesn’t have that golden hue that any of the Shadow’s trinkets had, but it thrums to life in his hand. Electricity crackles from its hilt to its tip, buzzing a thousand times a second. “Huh. Somehow not what I was expecting, with all that fanfaire…” 

Turning to the rest of his group, he holds it by his face. The current coming from it threatens to fry him. “What do you guys think? Could earn a decent sum on the black market, no?”

PITY FRIENDSHIP BUILDING: @nelithic @corvuschriisti @sayhwaet @lindwyvrm !

✢⁎. let's go gambling! aw dang it! - team five bronze round

[albwreckt]

Right, so, about those monsters! It turns out they might be smarter than you are, because you can’t just walk up to them and start swinging, and they also look to have little interest in your cute traps and snares. You’re going to have to get creative about it, before the hunters become the hunted. [Grants Any Skill +1]

“Amateurs! Amateurs!! Honestly, you call this offshore talent? With those weapons, they wouldn’t have even made a dent into ███████–”

Balthus remembers little but chastising before the darkness. Just thunder, and claws. A flash of aquamarine. An ear-splitting howl.

And while he feels Vajra-Mushti are having their powers undersold, he can’t deny that the eccentric individual heading these ‘Monster Hunts’ has a point. A scrap of the past comes back to him: punching the beast made a spirit-crushing ‘tink!’ before sending him flying on his ass. 

So he stands, willingly, at the forge with his brother-in-arms. A long line of foreign smiths work tirelessly to make equipment, all their activity seemingly powered by a large vat of magma at its core. Staring apprehensively at everything laid out for them, Balthus hesitates to reach out. There are pieces made with materials in every color of the rainbow, with metals unheard of, bits of fangs & feathers sticking out here and there. He and Ares hadn’t spoken much. Mostly just ran in and got clobbered together, but that had its own way of bonding him close to the blonde. He tilts a head to him. “What do you think, pal? These are a lot weirder than what we’re used to…” 

Finally, his hands land on a weapon. The Albrecht lifts a black-and-red axe above his head. It nearly equals him in size (and that is saying something) while miraculously being light enough to maneuver. Not just maneuver, even. As he changes his grip on it a few times, he becomes willing to bet on the fact that he could swing the thing wildly. “Makes even the heroes’ relics look like pencils in comparison!” 

The sheen of its blade catches the glow of the flame. It illuminates a red-and-black carapace shell, sharp enough to cut, but evidently all chitin past its steel handle. Running a few fingers along its flat surface, he remarks at how much it feels like a crab leg, and even brings it close to his nose to sniff–wondering if he could take a bite. 

But some clattering stops him. He holds it over his shoulders and looks back to the man that had collected them here, who seems irate over the amount of precious time being wasted. He makes a big entrance, evidently. 

“Don’t forget your armor, too!” he spits, directing their attention to a number of wooden mannequins donning exotic plate mails, “If you fall wearing those shambolic rags a second time, I won’t come to scoop you back up!” 

Balthus sets his sights on a long, spongey, cheese-colored coat, but waits first for Ares to select a weapon.

//starter for @lionscion

✢⁎. proof of a hero

[albwreckt]

Balthus was all for theatrics, but what the hell? This guy's in another league! Not to mention the surprising display of force coming from him. The Wolf had every intention of showing up to this table, walloping him so hard his next of kin feels it, and then leaving to take the next guy. But no, Odin actually won't budge.

"Um, shoot... Yeah, what you said! About all that future crucible stuff--You're on, pal!" And with no more words to say, he heaves forward.

But they're two waves barreling into one another. Screw an immovable object: ever wondered what an unstoppable force looked like meeting another? Them. Balthus and Odin. One jacked guy against another, the two pushing against their arms but neither giving in. The fight drags on for a few more moments.

And those moments turn to minutes.

And those minutes, hours.

And the night is no longer young. The ball has ended. Most have gone home--some mixture of tired, elated, and drunk. The few spectators that remain cheer on both sides in equal measure. When church staff comes to usher them away, they protest, claiming that the battle must come to its natural conclusion.

But the two remain locked in fierce, endless combat. An eon may pass before either gives in. Years in the future, a story would be written about them: The Dark Duel betwixt Fighter of Fate and Grappler of Generations. Legends say that their battle brought fire and storm to the venerated halls of Garreg Mach, that its eventual demise was wrought by their hands. Some even claim they are still fighting, each yet to find an opening.

Those are just legends. For now, they're two sweaty dudes failing to knock the other against a table at a noble gathering party. Evenly matched. Evenly pathetic.

"Hey, guy."

The seated Owain receives a thundering tap against his shoulder. If he turns around, he'd stare up at a man so large he doesn't just tower over him. He Goddess Towers over him, Duma Towers over him.

"You're not the type to turn down a challenge, yeah? Mama didn't raise you a chicken?" He cracks a smirk. There isn't a soul this side of the country who'd take disrespect to their mama lying down. "Arm wrestle me then, here and now! Some other guys got me fired up, and now I've got to take on anyone who looks like a decent fight."

He swivels to the other side of the table the blonde is seated at, clearing away any food, drink, or personal effects with a broad swipe of his arm. Then, after setting his arm down in a ready position, he places a small bell on his side of the counter.

"This's all yours is you can come out on top."

//he rolled a three. a fucking three.

odin turns with calculated flair, locking eyes with an unfamiliar, yet impressively hulking figure. the sight of the man sends a tumult of adrenaline coursing through his veins, akin to a tempest's fury!

the stranger knows how to grab one's attention — albeit in an unrefined manner, but effective all the same. it ignites a grin upon his lips that rivals the gleam of a moonlit blade. "what's this? a challenge, you say? a gauntlet thrown down, daring the depths of darkness that dwell within? HA! i shall seize your challenge with fervor, as a fated one meets the yawning, abyssal maw of a ravenous beast!

an intense gaze locks onto his opponent. odin swivels accordingly to meet his match. "prepare yourself, noble challenger, for you stand against the unyielding might of ODIN DARK, scion of shadows, wielding the arcane power of heroes past and champions yet to come!"

with a deft flourish, the mage retrieves a pristine white feather from the folds of his cape, elevating it like a sacred talisman before placing it beside the bell. "and let this feather," he proclaims grandiosely, "serve as a memento of the strength you encountered tonight. may it stir the embers of your spirit and IGNITE the flames of your resolve, for within the crucible of defeat lies the seeds of future triumph!"

odin offers a smirk of his own as he aligns his arm with his adversary's. indeed, this was the stuff of shadowed lore! "COME! let all bear witness to our dark duel, and let the earth tremble beneath the weight of our shadowed contest!"

/ WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THEY'RE EVENLY MATCHED LMAOOOOO

WHAT NOW ORO. WHAT DO WE FUCKIN DO NOW!!!!! THEYRE GONNA BE AT IT FOR HOURS!!!!

[albwreckt]

[ challenge ] There's somethin' about a guy this size (not to mention the uh, everything else) that has Hector wondering how he's managed to miss seeing him before. Ah well. No time like the present to fix that, right? "Hey, you, with the arms the size of a melon." Hector is sat at a table, arm held out expectantly. "Name's Hector. Let's wrassle, yeah? Winner gets the other's trinket or whatever." (hec rolled a pathetic 9 godspeed baltie)

It certainly takes one meathead to know another. Balthus’ attention is seized the moment he hears about those watermelon-sized arms, rightfully believing that there’s no one else in attendance who could earn a claim such as that. His mouth twists into a smirk. A challenge: a chance for fame, glory, and pride to shine on him in equal measure. He’ll prove to Hector that he’s King for a reason.

“You’re on, pal–er, Hector!” His elbow crashes against the table with monstrous force. He stands to half his height, kicking his chair back in the process, and revealing what a titan of a man he is. If Hector’s heart felt fear in this moment, Balthus would not blame him. “You sure do know how to speak my language. A wrassle and a bet? Now that’s what I call cuttin’ to the good stuff!” 

They lock hands, firm grips meeting like two unstoppable tides. “I’m Balthus, by the by. You’ll want to remember that when you watch me walk away with your ornament.” And thus, without any more introduction or fanfare, their battle begins. 

Hector proves to be a worthy foe. His constitution backs his arm well, clearly versed enough in handling a weapon to view Balthus’ arm as a handle. But swing with the King as much as he likes, he won’t beat Balthus. This guy’s got a few years on the young noble, and as such, more time spent chucking axes (and breaking fences). His strength and experience are enough to mount him an advantage after some struggle, which he levies against the Ostian until finally his victory is in sight. 

SMASH!

Hector’s wrist hits the table hard enough to wake up any sleeping drunks on the other side. Riotous laughter pours out of Balthus as he straightens his back to soak himself in victory, doing a few paces around their arena with his arms held high. “Not a bad match, but I’ll be taking that,” he snatches the bell off the other’s brooch, “and making myself available for rematches, if you ever feel like taking on the big Balthus once again!”

[albwreckt]

He laughed. The better part of him was glad she took his request so earnestly. If he were a betting man (and he was) he'd have put some serious money on her huffing and chiding him for 'ruining her night' by bringing up her overbearing brother. It was good to know that they could savor a moment's peace together.

"That all? You've got yourself a deal, Hilda. I'm not above lying to Holst; I'll tell him you just weren't popular tonight." And that someone else stole the show. In this hypothetical, Holst should've been thanking him for stealing away his sister's suitors with his flashy physique.

"Now then," he took her hand into his, finding that though the times have changed, it still fit the way it did growing up. All the instances of the three of them being forced into dancing with one another came flooding back to him. Deep within the memory of his muscles lied dormant the thrum of that melody, the step of its timbre. He just had to focus, and it would all come to him.

"Let's see if this old noggin still remembers my favorite dance!"

[ Leicester ] - Hilda spotted a familiar face above the parapet of the other partygoers and hastened her way to its owner.

"Baltie!" she trilled. "They're about to play a song from--- what are you wearing? Did you make your shirt?" With an eye for both detail and fashion, the handcraftsmanship had not gone unnoticed. She studied it for a moment before shaking her head. Not now! "Never mind, there's time for that later. They're about to play a song from home! You must know this one, right?"

She tucked a black feather into the brooch displayed on his lapel before dragging him to the dance floor. For a girl a foot-and-a-half smaller than him, she sure could muster a surprising display of strength when she wanted to.

“Oh, this? Bernie made it for me. It rocks, I know. Shows off the puppies while keeping it refined & modest.” He did a once over of… His own body. Real humble. But luckily for Hilda, she cut off his ego-stroking long before it got out of control. In a flash, Balthus found himself tailing his old friend, his ears listening for a familiar tune. 

And while the song was great and all–brought back memories both sour and sweet of his noble days–he frowned. He wasn’t as happy as Hilda might’ve expected him to be, or at all, really. Not when they reached the dance floor, not when he received the feather, not even when chocolate pearls met the gaze of that pair of strawberries. 

Because there was something heavy on his mind. And it wasn’t her. 

“Look, Hilda–” he raised his free hand in protest, digging through his outfit to produce a bell to bribe her with, “I know you like dancing and all, so I won’t put a stop to this,” He swallowed hard. The intro to the Leicster number was coming to a close; soon dancers would whirl about the floor as the first verse kicked in. He had all of fifteen seconds to spit it out. 

“But promise me you won’t tell Holst you’re letting people prance around with you tonight. He’ll do unspeakable things to me if he finds out I didn’t break the arms of anyone who tried.” 

To sweeten the deal, he fixed his ornament to her brooch. An overwhelming burden of fear lifted from his shoulders as he did.