grimkkr

[grimkkr]

Ugh. What manner of idiocy is plaguing the Monastery today? It seems as though the stupidity bubbling beneath the populace's surface has finally risen. How headache inducing. I suppose it is a day to be spent amongst my machines, again...

CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

...? What is that racket? Am I not able to be afforded even a moment of silence?

CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

A steam unit, walking on its own? I never...

...

...

It's holding a ' gun. '

...

... Wait, where are you pointing tha — ?!

BANG! THE WICKED BITCH IS DEAD!

𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚. 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚. 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗢, 𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗭𝗘𝗡𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗬. 𝗜 𝗔𝗠 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗧 𝗦𝗨-𝟵𝟵𝟬𝟮. 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗨𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘. 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚. 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚.

[grimkkr]

MONTHLY REPORT: MARCH

activity check: passed.

obtained:

1 skill point ( activity ) 1 skill point ( battle of the eagle & lion ) goddess's favor ( battle of the eagle & lion ) broken automaton beetles ( missing 1 )

[grimkkr]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐑 !

rivalries are put aside, and camaraderie takes their place. and for the golden deer, pulling neck and neck with the eagles and lions despite having the fewest contestants in the ring is all the reason to celebrate! or so rosado and hortensia thought. at the post-tournament grand banquet, the elusian pair have set up a golden deer corner, complete with yellow and cervid decor and drapery, and both hosts arrayed in house colors and face paint. "three cheers for knoll! three cheers for hilda! three cheers for eliwood!" "fear the deer!" a celebration lifting up the class heroes who'd carried them from underdog into the spotlight, and for all the deer who cleared the way valiantly to let them get there: —hip-hip hooray!

FOOD & DRINK:

—  CUPCAKE DECORATING  ╱  from yellow-sugar icing to pretzel antlers to cookie toppings shaped like deer, there's no shortage of supplies to make your cupcakes look any which way you want.

—  CARAMEL MERINGUES  ╱  a triple layer of chocolate and caramel in glass containers, tied off with a bit of string attached to a spoon. perfect to grab and take with you, or feed to a loved one.

—  DOE POPS  ╱  cake pops shaped like deer heads! and something sticking out of each one. a paper fortune? what does yours say?

—  GOLDEN SPICE CIDER  ╱  a warm and buzzy autumnal drink, perfect for the season and sure to banish any chills. both alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties available.

—  CROUCHING CHOCOLATE, HIDDEN STAG  ╱  a culinary minigame? a table is arranged with a terrarium-like miniature woodland display, complete with moss, trees, golden deer flags, and a herd of deer themselves. one item in this display is made of chocolate. how many things are you willing to bite to find which one it is?

ARTS & CRAFTS:

—  THIRTY-POINT CROWN  ╱  craft your own glorious headpiece with paint, twigs, and twine to show off your deer pride! who can boast the most impressive rack? ( of antlers, duh. what were you thinking? )

—  WOOD CARVING  ╱  for the dexterous and crafts-minded, a setup with display and instructions to carve your own wooden deer to take home. organizers are not responsible for injuries.

—  DEERLY BELOVED  ╱  a stack of deer-shaped paper and pens greet you. "write a compliment and stick it onto its recipient!" the instructions say. if you're fast, maybe they won't even know it's you.

—  READY-TO-PAINT CERAMICS  ╱  a station of unfired bowls and plates and small vases invites you to decorate them however you want! several stencils are provided for the uninitiated, or you can go where your hart takes you.

—  DECORATE A FRIEND  ╱  from washable paint to stick-on sequins, glitter bombs and pinnable deer tails. find a willing victim to array in deer spirit — or make one.

GAMES:

—  FÓDLAN CHESS  ╱  a traditional strategy board game using a triangle-shaped board that can be played by two to three people. the objective is to be the first to move all your pieces to one of the other corners by jumping over your opponents' pieces. are you up for the competition?

—  LIMBO  ╱  everyone knows that being a deer isn't just about strength or smarts, but flexibility. challenge mode: wear an antler crown while playing, and don't let it fall off your head!

—  ANTLER TOSS  ╱  you have five tries to land as many rings on the tines as you can for a prize. if a friend is willing, they can wear the antlers on their head for you to aim at instead!

—  DEER PONG  ╱  the classic party game, with alcoholic and non-alcoholic versions. some say that the non-alcoholic one misses the point of the challenge, but at least it lets everyone play, right?

—  HEADLOCK  ╱  in a classic show of strength, stamina, and bravado, it's time to wrestle like the stags do! put on a headdress of real oaken antlers ( not light, that ) and lock heads with your opponent to throw them to the ground! no use of other body parts or implements allowed.

GUIDELINES:

reblog this ask meme to indicate that your muse is participating! anyone who's reblogged the meme is automatically accepting asks, so no need to double-check. 　

please be mindful of not only waiting for interactions to come to you, but try to be proactive about sending to others too. it's not quite polite to always expect others to do the work! 　

muses from any house are welcome! it's a celebration meant for everyone. 　

this is still narratively part of BOEL, but to keep things separate from the BOEL tags, you may use the tag #GDPride2024 for related posts if you wish!

[grimkkr]

🧃

Something told him he wanted to stay far away from this person, but he chose to ignore that feeling. “Hiya, hey!” Ewan waved at her. “Good job out there, here have a juice box!” He said as he handed the small box to her.

Eitri is sitting on a cot in a state of abject misery, freshly dried hair wildly curling about her head, hands clutching a small dancing flame sputtering about a glass jar. What an embarrassing defeat. Not that she cared about the battle, or it outcome, but she hadn't anticipated magicked to submission. She, best of mages, defeated by a simple blizzard spell? Resentment is bitter on her tongue. She'd have to get stronger, restore her immunity to the extremes, to...

A boy's voice jerks her out of her brooding. He holds out something to her — is that a juicebox?

Eitri stands; the boy is shorter than her, but she by no means towers over him. She lifts her chin, doing her best to look down on him with their two inch height difference.

"Why do you address me with such a familiar tone? We are not friends. We do not even know each other."

She snatches the juicebox from his offering hand.

"And what is this? A placation for the humiliation I just had to endure out there?" Eitri clenches her fist; the juicebox bursts in her hand, sticky sweet drink dripping down her hand. "Do I look like a child to you, boy? I do not need treats. I am not a dog. If you think this would earn my favor, you have been sorely mistaken."

[grimkkr]

She is free for five blissful minutes; Eitri does not fully appreciate her autonomy, the ability to wriggle her fingers and kick her feet, until she is encased in snow once more.

Marianne 5/5HP hits Eitri 1/6HP with Blizzard [Roll: 11 + 2 = 13] [-2HP] Eitri 0/6HP

The sage does not even get the chance to scream. Any last words are swallowed by the vortex of cold, unactivated scarabs falling from numb fingers, nestling amongst the blades of grass. The cold is too much, and Eitri’s consciousness begins to fade. Before the world goes back, her mind scrambles to make note of a bionic upgrade she’d attend to the moment she reawakens…

EITRI HAS BEEN DEFEATED.

Love Loses! (Hilda and Chrom have to fight each other)

[grimkkr]

The first fight is won, and the pair part ways.

Sage makes her way down the field and finds herself new allies and new opponents. She barely gets a moment to take in her surroundings, to absorb the faces of those around her before she is encased in a thick layer of snow. 

Marianne 5/5HP hits Eitri 6/6HP with Blizzard [Roll: 1d20+2=21] -2HP Eitri 4/6HP Eitri is frozen!

For most of the duration of the first fight, Eitri finds herself struggling to dig herself out of the tomb of snow conjured upon her. As if that weren't enough, another shock of magic courses through her while she is imprisoned in her icy tomb, wracking her with a stinging pain.

Tormod 3/6HP critically hits Eitri 4/6HP with Tannenbit [Roll: 10 + 2 = 12] [-1.5HP x 2 = -3HP] Eitri 1/6HP

Fuming and cursing, she pushes past the icy sensation seeping into her skin and furiously punches through the layers and layers of snow. Gods, she misses her second incarnation, where she had dulled her senses to temperature.

At last, she breaks out of her snow prison, sneering and shivering. It is quite difficult to look intimidating with the point of her hat drooping and bangs plastered to her face. Which one had casted that blasted blizzard? Her eyes jump across the Golden Deer assembled before her, her focus narrowing on in the red head standing in between the two girls.

Eitri 2.5/6HP hits Tormod 3.5/6HP with Blizzard [Roll: 12] [-1HP] Tormod 2.5/6HP

From her bag of toys, her hands find a freezing cylinder, factures of ice on its surface. Eitri winds her arm back and throws, the object flying in a wide arc before landing at the red haired mage’s feet where it promptly explodes, unleashing an ice storm directly in the young mage’s face.

@arcelerity

Love Loses! (Hilda and Chrom have to fight each other)

[grimkkr]

Their opponents follow their example, levying their numbers against the freshly formed pair. Eitri glances at her teammate raising his fists, seemingly opting for a more primitive approach to combat. 

Somehow, some way, the enemy healer is still standing. Had she altered her machines too far? Out of the corner of her eye, one of the mages — the white haired one with quite the intriguing appearance — is pocketing the beetles that failed to detonate. Eitri’s eye twitches; she would need to have a word with them once the fighting ceased…

Eitri pulls a singular beetle from her bag and closes her fist around it. A current of seiðjárn courses through her hand, sparks jumping from under tucked fingers. She throws it into the air, its wings buzzing to life, and it hovers there for a moment. With a loud mechanical whir, the beetle grows, bronze plates shifting to accommodate for its expansion. It grows to the size of a foal, its fluttering wings kicking up a breeze, before diving right at Dwyer.

Eitri 6/6HP critically hits Dwyer 2/6HP with Swarm [Roll: 20 + 2 = 22, -2HP; Dwyer 0/6HP]

@apathynoir !

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟. ✧

BOEL2024 ROUND ONE, battle 15.

[grimkkr]

The disappointment deepens.

Eitri had been expecting a true spectacle from the dragon man, but he proves his mortality quickly. Sneering, she watches him hobble off the field for the medical tents. A pathetic display. Such power would be better used in more knowledgeable hands…

“You do not need to tell me, I know what to do.” Eitri snaps, following her remaining teammate as they shift formation. She rummages through her belt bag and hurls another swarm at the healer.

Eitri 6/6HP hits Dwyer 3/6HP with Swarm [Roll: 15, -1HP; Dwyer 2/6HP]

@laruarva !

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟. ✧

BOEL2024 ROUND ONE, battle 15.

[grimkkr]

The fight presses on.

The man standing beside her disappears, replaced by a hulking dragon instead. Eitri’s eyes glimmer with excitement as he charges into combat. What power! What might! What majesty!

Eitri 6/6HP hits Dwyer 3/6HP with Swarm [Roll: 5 + 2 = 7, -0HP; Dwyer 3/6HP]

The thrill rushing through her veins is quickly replaced by sour disappointment. She throws another swarm of beetles at Dwyer, only for them to fizzle and pop midair, falling dead to the grass.

“Shit.”

@alyration !

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟. ✧

BOEL2024 ROUND ONE, battle 15.

[grimkkr]

Do not kill anyone.

This was the only instruction imparted to Eitri when the staff had mandated that she sign up for the annual mock Battle of Eagle and Lion. She was not going to, initially; it all seemed like a waste of time to the sage. But her employers, for once, are firm and so off to Gronder she treks, grumbling the whole way. Where was the fun in a non-lethal battle? True war would not be like these games played on sprawling green lawns; loss is integral to the war machine. It was best that these students learn early.

She is fighting alongside two others against a trio from the famed house of mages: the Black Eagles. Eitri glances at her compatriots; the aura surrounding the two men is strong, almost oppressive, and surely nonhuman. A smile tugs at her lips. Perfect… post-battle cannot come soon enough.

The young man with a vibrant head of red and blue leaps forward, sword in hand, and strikes the mage standing before him; the blade cuts through cloth with little resistance. At this pace, the battle should be quick work. She hopes their third, a taller, older gentleman, is as competent. 

Eitri produces small metal things from her belt — bronze scarab beetles. She had spent hours upon hours tinkering with the mechanisms to render them non-lethal. A quick scan over the opponents gathered before them; her eyes lock on the young man carrying a staff. 

Eitri 6/6HP hits Dwyer 6/6HP with Swarm [Roll: 16 + 2 = 18, -1HP; Dwyer 5/6HP]

She winds up her arm and throws her handful of beetles at the enemy healer. As they fly through the air, the bronze bugs whir to life and swarm him, exploding in bright flashes upon contact.

“This is only won when they can no longer stand. We’d be wise to take out their life support.”

go @old-scalebag ! kill @laruarva , @apathynoir , & @deamare !

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟. ✧

BOEL2024 ROUND ONE, battle 15.

[grimkkr]

It starts as a simple tour through the monastery, a tour to just get a feel for the place; see where everyone meets up, see where she can manage to get coin. The latter of which is easy to answer at the very least - a marketplace located directly in front of the entrance hall (Perfect!) - but the search for answers quickly turns to one filled with questions upon getting a closer look at the offices belonging to the faculty. This one room in particular holds a name Anna is all too familiar with: Eitri.

“No…no way…”

The commander forgets common courtesy in her moment of shock and forgets to knock before pushing through the door. Honestly, naming this place an office seems like false advertising. The expectations of a desk and few chairs are present, but the variety of brews, tomes, and…whatever one could describe those masses of metal as would make her dread visiting this spot if she were a student.

Though in reality, perhaps being a fellow faculty in this position is even worse.

“So…it’s you,” Anna attempts to sound gruff in prescence of the previous foe, though the toughness is heavily mixed with confusion - and the slightest hint of fear. Her mind is racing, actively working overtime to recall the justification of how she is facing Eitri once more. She appears to be somewhat taller, but her other physical features speak enough on her identity.

Soon enough her brain completes the reconaissance, finally calling back to the day the sage fell, only to remember her words before the last battle:

When my body ceases to live, I can transfer my essence to a new vessel, a new body.

Of course. It was foolish for them to believe it all ended then, planting false hope in themselves and Princess Reginn. Even then, why would a fool like her, one who refuses to stop when all wish to move past her, find herself here rather than starting her conquest once more? Unless…

“I don’t suppose you’re here only to carve out new lecture plans, are you?” there is a bubbling of anger within the rhetorical question. “Or surely there is so much more here to test that even death cannot put you down?”

As Alfrik, the First King had often pestered them to take on an apprentice. She had considered such an idea extensively; she had feared death in that incarnation, having not yet slayed the dragon and unlocked the secret of pseudo-immortality. The secrets of seiðjárn needed to persist for Niðavellir’s success. But after the death of the First King, after she tore the dragon apart and took its scales and bones, the need for an apprentice ceased. She never found an aptitude for teaching, anyways.

A funny thing, fate is, for Eitri presently finds herself in the position of professor — and in the process of grading homework, no less. She is finishing a lengthy critique on a particularly abysmal piece of work when the door to her office flies open. In storms an old plaything, one of her pawns on the great chessboard that was their scheme to restore Niðavellir’s throne. 

“Commander Anna! Indeed it is.” Eitri waves a hand; one of her steam-powered assistants clunks up to her desk and takes the stack of papers she had been working on. “Surprised to see me? I can’t imagine why.”

She gestures about her office. “A lovely place, isn’t it? The Academy was quite eager to have me on once they heard of my heaps and heaps of achievements. They staff here were more than willing to fit the space to my specifications. Of course, it is nothing compared to my workshop in Niðavellir, but it is quite nice in spite of the fact.”

A thin smile spreads across the sage’s face — the barely contained rage simmering behind Anna’s words are as amusing as ever. “Why, of course there is more to test. There will never be a shortage of such a thing — this world is full of questions, and from every answer I derive, five more spring up in its place. The work of a scholar is never ending… especially a scholar as curious as I.”

She stands, hands crossed behind her back, and aimlessly strolls about the rows of scrap metal and phials of mysterious chemical concoctions.

“There is so much to learn in Fódlan. The walls of this monastery is host to such an interesting crowd of individuals.” Eitri raises her gaze from half-finished inventions.

“But what brings you to Garreg Mach, Commander? Profits to be made? Sales to be had? Pallets of goods to peddle? How easily the glimmer of gold lures you away from your charges…” A mirthless laugh. “That poor whelp of a prince and his shrill, shrieking sister all alone in Askr, then? A bold decision on your end, Commander. They’re both rather poor leaders. It’d be such a heavy weight on your heart if anything were to happen to them while you’re away, I’m sure.”

[grimkkr]

Truthfully, Eitri considered herself above the task. She had no interest in glorified lab work; her expertise is wasted on trying to make a profit. Why should she care about this noble and his house? If he wanted to restore glory to his name, he should himself worthy of his title and do it himself. But Eitri accepts the commission and takes the journey to Adrestia, anyways. She has no interest in the duke and his plans, but the curiosity burning within demands that she uncover the mystery of the duke’s strange request and his need for mages.

The commission proves much more interesting that she had originally assumed, much to Eitri’s delight. Upon arrival, the duke seems quite delighted to see that Garreg Mach had sent Eitri — he is quite handsome, but the more she stares, the more a faint suspicion tugs at the back of her mind. The answer to her many questions is soon produced: the heirloom turns out to not be some old, cursed relic or dusty collection of gems, but an alchemical solution that supposedly grants beauty itself. The duke tells her that he will leave Eitri to the scientific side of things, and she is more than content to sink her fangs into research before the night reveals yet another revelation: the duke is a monster. Eitri stands in the hall, watching as long, unnatural shadows spread across the wall, illuminated by the flickering candlelight. A hand goes to her belt, fist closing around a clump of small metal spheres… 

She does not know how long she stands in the hall, watching the writhing duke. She is only jolted out of her fascinated daze when his door slams shut, followed by the faint sound of tinkling glass.

By sunrise, it seems as though order had returned to the home. The duke reappears to check on progress, as beautiful as ever. She waits until the duke is out of earshot before turning to the student that had accompanied her — Eitri has no idea why he had been so insistent on coming along after her. Ephraim had no magical talent; he is the very picture of a muscle-headed oaf; tall, broad, and no aptitude for the finer subject of magic. None that Eitri could see, anyway. But he is not useless — in fact, the next phase of her scheme would rely on his cooperation. 

“Have you seen the duke after sunset? Or, well, the monster that wears the duke’s skin?”

Eitri gazes over the papers littering her worktable, calculations and theories scrawled across every inch. With new knowledge of the monster in the house with them, her priorities and goals for the project have shifted to be more personal. Was it the heirloom that had transformed him into this beast? The idea of an army of beautiful monsters, able to slip into every corner of society…

 “I’m leaving. Just after dusk, tonight. And I am taking my research with me.” 

Eitri sweeps her collection of papers into a neat stack, and tucks the phial of distilled beauty into a pouch on her belt.

“You will go find the duke and restrain him. Tie him up. I do not care how you do it. I want him in my classroom upon my return.”

Her eyes flash dangerously.

“Am I understood?”

@solarsbrace

the name men give to their mistakes

mission board RECOVERY

[grimkkr]

the name men give to their mistakes

mission board RECOVERY

[grimkkr]

The girl is jumpy, like a rabbit caught in a snare, knowing it is to be slaughtered. Wonderful. Eitri wishes some stupid, muscle-headed oaf had bumped into her instead. At least the time it would take for her creations to overpower such a person would allow her to escape. But she listens well, which Eitri grudgingly supposes is a point in her favor.

Slow and shuffling, the ‘ghosts’ of the forests shuffle into view. Disfigured humanoid things made of mud and dirt and stone, animated by the souls of the dead Eitri had dug up. Maybe there was some truth in the superstitions, of the old crones who warned against disturbing the dead. Eitri is feeling the bite of her pragmaticism; the earthen shells couldn’t speak, but way the homunculi shuffle towards teacher and student conveyed a deep, deep rage.

“They can’t see,” Eitri breathes, voice a strained whisper. “I made them from the earth. If you move, the vibrations…”

Her voice trails off, eyes glued to the figures shuffling around the clearing. Eitri’s gaze flicks to the girl’s bow.

“...couldn’t you have brought a different weapon? What did you expect a bow to do against spirits — or, these things, now.”

somethin' strange in the neighborhood

[grimkkr]

Though the Academy had generously bestowed her a lavish, luxurious laboratory for whatever experiments and studies she wished to conducted in her off time, there were quite a number of things she could not do under the watchful eye of the Monastery.

That predicament is what had led Eitri out into the outskirts of Garreg Mach, to a seemingly abandoned chapel town, to work on her more… dubious experiments. She had made her best efforts to keep her off-the-clock escapades as secretive as possible, and for a good long while it seemed to work — but given how volatile the nature of her work is, she supposed it was only a matter of time before something went horribly, catastrophically wrong.

It could be worse, all things considered. Her obsession with the soul and its transfer had consumed her thoughts even in Fódlan, and Eitri reasoned perhaps a living soul was too difficult to work with. To understand the principles of such magic, she would turn to the dead, who’s souls should — supposedly — have been laid to rest, and theoretically much easier to work with. The first couple tests had gone well, yielding results that near delighted Eitri. It was elementary magic, getting the souls of the deceased into the various statues around the monastery. She had only hoped that no one would notice a few missing statues from the garden — or a few missing bodies from the graveyard.

And then, one terrible afternoon, when she had returned to her makeshift workshop in the chapel ruins, the statues were simply gone. No where to be found. And then the rumors started — of ghosts in the woods, spirits haunting the grounds. 

That is how Eitri finds herself deep in the thicket, the darkness of the wood around her illuminated only by dancing firelight swirling around her fingertips. Footsteps behind her makes her spine stiffen, and she turns, Grim Brokkr ready to fire —

She sneers. “A student? Are you from that damned ‘ghosthunters’ brigade? Get out of here, it is forbidden to be so deep in the wood. Shouldn't you know that? There are no spirits, you stupid child, do you truly believe everything spouted at—?”

The rustle of leaves; the crack of a branch. Eitri freezes. Something else — someone else — is coming their way.

She grits her teeth. “Do. Not. Move.”

@fiberflxwer

somethin' strange in the neighborhood

[grimkkr]

somethin' strange in the neighborhood

[grimkkr]

He’s off like that, quicker than Eitri can blink. She can almost imagine a wisp of steam curling up from the ground where he once stood. 

The sage is quick to follow, eager to see how the ever-elusive taugel deals with all the traps she had laid out in the forest. Truthfully, she was to get the approval of the staff before setting up her ‘obstacles’ but… well, what they do not know cannot hurt them. And besides, now that she knows she has a taguel running about her maze, she is excited to see if she had designed her traps skillfully enough to catch him. Part of her hopes that he will get caught — he seems especially jumpy, and confinement might be the only way to subject him to further testing… 

Yarne is fast and fluid, almost like rainwater falling from an overcast sky, in the way he moves. The way he leapt over her falling cage was especially effective; Eitri is marking done notes as she follows atop Grim Brokkr, muttering to herself about taguel aerodynamics and the like. She swoops down low, trailing just a pace or two behind him, one hand clutching her notepad while the other clamps her hat down firmly on her head.

“Decisive evasive maneuvers. Taguel instincts must be lightning quick to have detected that first trap. Stay focused, now. I wouldn’t want to see you holding out on me.”

wild bunny chase