etrayalogs | December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

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December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

WHO: Barnabas, his Behemoth (the monster, not the, oh nevermind--), and YOU!
WHEN: All through December baby!
WHERE: Mostly Stonhyrr, but some threads could be elsewhere too!
WHAT: Oh you know, big ol' fortress showed up, there's also a giant muscle cat, maybe people wanna see the fortress. Maybe they're gonna get mauled by a cat. The world is our oyster. Also going to use this for general purpose threads, doesn't have to be Behemoth related!
NOTES\WARNINGS: Will update as necessary!

While Barnabas has never proven himself the social sort, ever intending to remain as such, when people come to Stonhyrr to inspect it, they will not necessarily find him there to greet them. This does not mean that Barnabas is not within the bounds of Stonhyrr, he most assuredly is, but he has no interest in playing host. That is, unless he is given reason to.

What most will find is a singular bridge that connects the imposing fortress to the mainland, and the waters around it prove unnaturally violent. As if the very place itself causes the waters to churn and clash wildly against the jagged rocks which act as the foundation for the whole thing. The bridge is wide enough to adequately fit a pair of carriages, or cars if that better serves. The stone is sturdy, so there isn't any worry about weight being an issue. Most certainly not when one arrives at the arena that acts as a mid-point for the bridge.

There are no guard rails around it as the bridge possesses otherwise, just a sheer drop off into the treacherous waters below. Certainly a poor fate to any, whether they survive the fall or not. A fate all the more possible given the snow and bits of ice that has accumulated upon the structure. Even furthering the difficulty to avoid it, should they find themselves greeted by the bridge's guard: the Behemoth. From its rocky perch it will land with the grace of a feline, but with the impressive force of a creature befitting its size. More than twice the height of an elephant, and thrice as wide, the hulking beast will stare down the interloper(s) with murderous intent. Intent it means to make good on.

However, not everyone who crosses the bridge will meet the beast there, and should they find themselves able to make it to Stonhyrr proper, getting through the metal gates and into the winding outer paths that encircle the central castle, they will find it depressingly...empty. What living quarters there seems to be are indeed stocked with beds and linens, oddly enough, but as all else in Etraya that is not inhabited by those whisked away from their homeworlds, there is no one. They are modest, however, what one might expect for those living as communal soldiers in a medieval era.

Though, should they linger for too long, they might hear the telling breaths and foot steps of a prowling beast searching for the scent its picked up. Perhaps hiding isn't a terrible option, but who knows how much the creature cares about the architectural integrity of whatever part of the fortress they're in! Only one way to find out.

Some of the internal buildings are not merely for housing soldiers or weaponry (though said weaponry is distinctly missing presently). One may find themselves stumbling upon an podium of some sort, with six-legged horse statues on either side. The shape of the room almost suggests an arena of sorts, and the podium seems to embolden this suggestion. Perhaps it might have been a room to judge contests of combat and the like. Who is to really say? Should one linger here overlong, they might find themselves no longer alone. At least, they certainly feel as though someone is in the room with them. Someone watching them, perhaps from the shadows, or from above...

Those lucky enough to make it to the docks will find them bereft of any ships of any kind. It's clear that there probably should be some, but whoever brought this fortress in clearly did not bring any of his ships along! Though, one might take an interest in the surrounding area, and the structures nearby. Most will be empty, some with myriad things like rope, or scant pieces of wood, perhaps an empty crate or two, but it is, like most else, otherwise hollow. There are more of those weird horse statues though... The place is anything but bereft of them.

If it weren't for the behemoth prints left in the snow throughout the wide outer paths of the fortress, and its eagerness to find (and remove) intruders, the place would otherwise seem completely abandoned. Between the snow, angry waters, flashes of lightning, and claps of thunder...the place is cold, oppressive, and desolate. Should one find a way to reach the entrance to the castle, they will be stopped short from reaching the door proper. Not by the behemoth, but by the sudden emergence of Barnabas himself. A billowing pillar of black mist will form from the ground, reaching roughly the height of a man, before Barnabas takes form and the mist disperses and dissipates.

There he will stand, staring down the intruder, waiting for an explanation.

(ooc: Feel free to place your character wherever around Stonhyrr, not only just the places mentioned. Barnabas will keep an eye on any aerial intruders as well (he can also fly). Just date your top level for when this is happening, and if you wanna plot something specific or have any questions, please do not hesitate to hit me up at

Zornsable or on Discord(Zanono)! Feel free to have your own threads here too if multiple people are wanting to explore the grounds of the fortress (just specify in the subject line), I can provide information, a kitty, or an old man should it be needed! Anyway, enjoy this weird haunted-ass looking place, it sucks!

I will match style, prose or action are both good ✨)

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[ His breathing slows but his shoulders continue to rise and fall with each breath. He lifts his head at the comment - he squints his eyes and mouths the word "oh" as his head bobs side-to-side in a manner that indicates how little he cares for that response.

However, he soon lifts his hand to hold it close to his head - as a means to calm and steady himself. His eyes began to unfocus as he stared at the stone floor in front of him; he thought of how he'd have to ask Chu Wenshan to train him.

He swallows, pressing his lips together, and his eyes closed. ]

Did you want to continue our conversation? Hm?

Once you have caught your breath, perhaps.

[There is...judgment in how he says it, and in how he's looking at Vincent. That he should be so feeble is truly astonishing. He only ran, what, three-hundred feet at most? A pitiful amount, by Barnabas' measure. This place brings all types, and Barnabas considers how this man may not bring the salvation his world needs if this is anything to go by. Though, that is not Barnabas' concern.

Finally Barnabas moves, stepping with careful ease around Vincent as he begins along the Stony path. A silent and unspoken invitation to follow, should Vincent find it within himself to do so.]

[ That white hot purpose comes back to him.

He breathes out a little hard before pushing himself up to stand. ]

You don't get to judge me. [ Vincent all but spits out his words at the man's retreating back. ] You who has power and decides to look down on me. [ Fury gives him new energy as he straightens his posture, remembering everything he thought to say. ]

You don't get to hear a confession of faith and treat as though it your due. You are just another outsider. [ He takes a step closer, what does he care if he is seen as insane at this point ( a lot but whatever.) ]

Those with power never understand the faith of those without it. And ... as for where I go, I go inside to find a place for myself. [ He keeps breathing hard as he pushes forward. ] I will figure it out with or without you.

[ Yeah, maybe he does lust for death. But whatever!!!! ]

Thanks for letting me across the bridge.

[His gait does not change as Vincent speaks to him, well, lectures him really. Though at the mention of power and faith, Barnabas' brow furrows slightly. That he has power means nothing in the face of his faith, and well has he known a life without. Even then a pitiful sprint would not bring him to his knees. Still, Barnabas knows there are limits between power and faith, and the need for one to bring about change through the other. When he was at his most powerless, his faith did not protect that which he held most dear, yet at his most powerful he was lost without his faith. One needs both, if they are to achieve anything at all.

However, the contempt for those with power from those without is not unknown to him, far from, in truth. It is their covetous nature that breeds their sins, makes manifest the suffering that begins with the corruption of their souls, fueled through dissatisfaction and desire.

You are just another outsider.

There is an irony there, to be told that by a man who just chose to trespass, but it is true enough. Whether to Vincent's faith, to Valisthea, Ash, or even Stonhyrr itself--Barnabas has ever been an outsider. Isolated in origin, faith, and ideals...that Vincent should come to remind him of that while seeking refuge as he and his mother once did, it is beyond absurd.

It almost seems as though Barnabas is fit to ignore everything Vincent has said, despite what minor irritation in his expression, yet when Vincent thanks him at the end there, he stops. Pivoting slightly, he looks to Vincent with those cold, steel colored eyes of his.]

Believe yourself permitted to stay?

Edited 2024-12-07 16:09 (UTC)

[ Vincent turns his head to breathe out a loud sigh - it is a white plume in the air. His head tilts to the side; he feels the sweat on his body and it makes the cold feel colder.

But still --

-- he wishes he was walking ahead so he could whirl around.

What he has to say loses impact when he's talking to someone glancing in his direction. He breathes out again - louder, through his teeth. ]

If you're going to kill me, then kill me.

[ If he had the strength in his legs, he would have tried to kick a rock in the man's direction. Hopefully!! He would hit his leg. Would it do any damage? No! Would it make him feel better? T-B-D! ]

Otherwise, shut up.

[ Yes, he's staying - and going to keep walking forward. ]

[Were Barnabas a man who cared about petty things like disrespect and ego, he might have had a more violent reaction to Vincent's manner. In truth, such perfunctory things like politeness were as meaningless as near all other social customs made by man. There to simply comfort the fragile and weak, to allow them some delusion of superiority when they held none.

It is no question between them that Barnabas could unmake Vincent in an instant, for just as easily had he spared the man from the jaws of the behemoth. Yet, Vincent does not bow nor grovel, he does not hold back his thoughts nor criticisms for fear of death. Is it arrogance or apathy that spurs him thus?

Perhaps Barnabas will learn in time.

He studies him for a moment, allowing Vincent to pass him as he does so, deciding what to do with him. He could remove him, true, and yet part of him that is louder than even the thunder overhead thinks otherwise.]

Very well. If you are to stay, the terms shall be negotiated with the guard.

[The guard being the behemoth, of course. Barnabas will not evict you, Vincent, but you best make nice with that killing machine!]

Terms?

[ Ugh.

Vincent gently rubs underneath his chin - the sweat has already cooled. He has that thought that he is definitely going to catch a cold. His tongue clicks; his fumes are still running.

If he gets sick, so what? He'll die before he asks for help. He doesn't need this person's or "the guard's" assistance. Not that he could see the behemoth helping to nurse him back to health, but the point remains as it is. He can only rely on himself. ]

Is it intelligent enough to understand words or was that just you?

[Barnabas in contrast is utterly unaffected by the cold, at least in how he holds himself. He is not dressed for the weather any more than he might otherwise--his typical attire being as it is, most of his chest exposed, his hands uncovered, and no attempt to bundle up beyond the layers his doublet otherwise provides. Whether this is some sort of flex or he is truly untouched by the weather, it is hard to say from a glance.

He isn't shivering, at least.

Vincent is met with a wry huff through Barnabas' nose, and if one were generous they might claim amusement in the fringes of his expression.]

It can understand words, whether it cares to is another matter. You believe yourself clever, do you believe yourself equal to the task as well?

[And with that, wisps of black mist start to form around Barnabas, slowly building upward, as if to swallow his very form.]

Edited 2024-12-07 20:27 (UTC)

Knock that off.

[ He snaps at the black mist that is rising to cover the man. ]

I'm not done talking so what gives you the right to just leave the conversation and not see what I can do? [ A beat passes. ] I guess you can already see it, but don't be irritating. We're going to be neighbors so we should at least try to get along with each other.

[ He tugs on his knitwear, adjusting it, which he hadn't done since he fell on his side in the first place. Speaking of, he's starting to feel some aches in his body. His head tips back as he acknowledges that he probably has some bruises. He might even have a sprain! If it wouldn't waste energy, he might throw his arms up and fling them around - but he has work to do.

Pivoting, he is heading back to the behemoth. ]

Well, hi. [ His tone immediately shifts to something friendly. ] I'm going to be living here, so that whole chasing me thing that was done? It's over with starting today. [ He has to look up to stare into his eyes, but he's making his point. ] It doesn't give you any exercise. You could kill me any day, so don't bother wasting your time with it today or the next.

Kill someone worthwhile who is a godless heathen without any hope for the future. I think they'd appreciate it, even if they'd die screaming and crying. [ He turns his head to bark out a short laugh. ] As I said to him, we're neighbors now so don't be irritating. You can kill me, but I'll just come back, and you've wasted your time.

Got it?!

Edited 2024-12-07 20:44 (UTC)

[There is the slightest widening of Barnabas' eyes as Vincent scolds him about his teleportation magicks starting to roil, about how he wants him to see what he can do, and the amicable nature of being "neighbors". The fearlessness reminds him a little of Havel, how the man would speak out of turn against men he should fear, despite the fragility of his own existence. The hubris of man exuding from him in such a way that grossly highlighted all that is corrupt in man...yet, that tenacity of spirit had a contemptible appeal.

The mist dissipates like the white puff of one's breath in winter, and Vincent is met with a silent tilt of Barnabas' head as he watches him approach the behemoth that has not moved since the king's silent command.

As Vincent approaches and greets it, those imposing eyes stare down at him with all their glowing intensity, yet the beast stays still of its own volition this time. There is an intelligence within its gaze, behind the ferocity and lust for destruction, and for all Vincent only seems to get deep, bestial breathing in reply, there is a level of understanding that isn't just one's imagination.

However, by the end of his little tirade, it stands up, towering over him with ease. Lowering its head, it brings its nose right to Vincent, pressing flush against his front as it takes a long sniff of him. Then it exhales wetly, lifting its head with a chuff. Stepping over him thereafter, as if he were nothing more than pebble among the stones. Clearly disinterested in this little rat of a man who would barely serve as a chew toy.

Though, who is to say it won't find him a convenient chew later on. Behemoths can be fickle creatures.]

[ Ah - what will I lose?

Vincent wonders if he dies what he'll lose. A precious memory? Does he have any of those? A feeling? If they take his happiness, it's a waste - he hasn't felt it despite every avenue that he's walked. A sense? That'll be inconvenient.

There is no way to know - no one can guess.

Guess it is, as always, in God's hands.

His mouth twists into a nasty smile. Smiles never look good on his face; it's more like he never learned how to do so normally. Ah, well, maybe that can be taken?

When the beast steps over him, he can't help but feel a little irritated, but he does say that it was a waste of time to kill him. He has no power; he is powerless. That is why he places almost everything into his faith and the rest into his capabilities. Those with powers won't understand that kind of belief.

His shoulders shake as he feels a wave of pride hit him but also - gravity.

He collapses onto his side.

Blinking, the pain and exhaustion hit his body completely. His eyes roll up - looking around; he has to drag his face across the stone floor to keep looking. ]

Hi, neighbor. I'm Vincent.

[Who is this man, truly? He must be some level of mad to do what he has so far. To see a beast like the Behemoth and simply act as if it were some naughty animal he needed to set straight on its behavior. Not to mention that he did not bat an eye at Barnabas' magic, treating it both mundane and annoying, when most familiar have been conditioned to either be disgusted or frightened.

Here he lays upon the ground, crumpled without pride nor dignity as the Behemoth spares him his life and carries on down the path to guard elsewhere. Barnabas stares at Vincent, meeting his gaze and his introduction with the same affect one might expect from a statue.]

King Barnabas Tharmr.

[There is no shift in tone as he introduces himself, it is spoken with the same disinterest as most else. He glances back to the oppressive stone architecture behind them, his gaze returning to Vincent a moment later as he speaks.]

You are within the bounds of Stonhyrr. You are not a guest, nor less an ally. Remember this.

[You're a squatter, Vincent. He will tolerate you so long as you prove tolerable! Or until his pet eats you, whatever comes first.]

Your Majesty.

[ Vincent lifts his hand in the air to make rolling gesture with his wrist. His hand flops back down on his body as soon as he's finished. Rolling onto his stomach, he grumbles to himself as he starts to pick his body back up. ]

Congratulations, you've invented the concept of neighbors.

[ He breathes out hard to help with boosting himself up to stand. Another wobble like a newborn deer, but he's up! Vincent starts to walk, but feels the sharp pain in doing so; he realizes he really must have sprained his ankle. Great! Cool! He's going to start limping into the building. ]

I won't ask you to show me anywhere, then. I'll figure it out. [ Is what the adds as he limps (slowly!!) past him. ]

[Barnabas narrows his eyes at him, but only slightly. It's nearly imperceptible, really. However, he does not comment further on what he's said, just stands there with an unnatural stillness as he watches Vincent limp along pathetically. He supposes it would be more pitiful had he just given up completely. Stayed there, sprawled on the snowy ground helpless and unwilling to do anything else. Instead, he is weathering the pain of his injury, and asking not for aid besides. Determined for his goal regardless of the hurdles that place themselves in front of him.

A commendable attitude, by Barnabas' measure.

Still, he certainly will not get to the inner castle on that ankle, which is for the best. Barnabas might suffer his existence out here, but the same cannot be said for in there. It is strictly off-limits to all but Barnabas himself.]

The companion bots have taken it upon themselves to service the citadel, you may find that of use.

[Not that he cares what Vincent finds useful, really. But, better for him to know that companion bots are like as not to show up at some point to change out linens than for him to be surprised. Barnabas didn't ask for it, but...it's what they have apparently decided to do.

However, with that out of the way, those cloudy wisps pick up around Barnabas again, the roiling of teleportation magics sounding out against the chilly air. Should Vincent say nothing of worth to halt him, that mist will consume him within moments, dissipating like smoke on the wind—leaving no trace of Barnabas behind.]

[ His face scrunches up at that comment.

The immediate desire to snap back with some remark burns the back of his throat.

His eyes roll up as he attempts to figure out what to do. It's insider knowledge which allows for an easier time setting up one's portfolio. At the start of the investment, it's been mostly neutral growth - neither gain or loss felt like it tipped past a reasonable beginning growth. However, that comment alone gives him a loss - he has accrued a small amount of debt.

But he has nothing that he can pay it back with at the moment.

So, as Barnabas leaves, he lets out something like a loudly offended noise - before limping his way to the citadel. This. Will. Not. Stand. He'll figure out a way to pay back that small debt one way or another! ]

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December Catch-all(-ish) [Open]

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