agentlelog | past the castle gates

[Although his own experience as a mercenary was nearly all on foot or horseback, the company of sailors at the Draegaís port still felt familiar to Guts. The creaking of wood, the clattering of heavy chains, the calm current of fresh water. There are loud voices organizing the disembarkation of cargo from the riverboats, playful chatter between crewmates, and the stench of fish. The ships' appearances were wrong, the magic was wrong, but the energy of the bustling port still felt right.

Needless to say, he’d be interested in doing more than just passing through once he got ear of activity beyond the city walls. He wasn’t usually one to stick around people, but he could make an exception here. Maybe it was just the air of the crowd.

He’d soon be among the crewmembers unloading the various crates and boxes of cargo to land, and has the sense to remove his cloak and pauldrons to free up his shoulders. As he walks down the thin boarding ramp back to the dock, the steel point of his boot finds something - or someone - obstructing his path back to the wooden docks.]

Move.

[Truthfully, it's a mystery how Emil got here in the first place. He definitely doesn't carry himself like someone who wants to be spending the afternoon hauling crates around, especially at the docks reeking of fish and sweat and saltwater— really not his scene. And yet, he's here anyway.

It's entirely possible this is a mistake and someone much bigger and more intimidating than he is gave him just enough mean looks to keep him there, or one of the sailors convinced him to push crates around as a joke. No matter; whatever the reason, there is one (1) more prissy pretty boy on this dock than usual, currently leaning his elbow on a crate and not moving it at all. It's break time; he deserves this.

But, ah- being nudged with a boot is so... rude!! He turns and looks up - literally everyone here has at least a head on him, jesus - and then—]

Ah! [POINTS..... this is like, the third time he's done this, but the first time outside of breakfast.] You!!

[Emil’s presence was an utter mystery to Guts, too. He even forgets to be annoyed at that same stupid finger point that happened every time they brushed each other. Yes. Him. Hello, tiny egg-thrower. Or was that the other one? He honestly couldn’t tell the difference.

The boot comes back around to nudge him off the crate with a little more vigor. Next time he may just kick him aside.]

Out of the way.

[Gosh, Guts, Emil is the coin-thrower, get it right. He will continue to do this point-and-exclaim thing each and every time he sees Guts for the foreseeable future, sadly— but at least this time is genuine surprise and not indignation. Unlike at breakfast, he will permit Guts' presence here on the dock.

But maybe not for long if he keeps being nudged, what the hell!!]

Stop that! I'm doing my job— go around!

[No, Emil, he's not going around. The boarding ramp wasn't wide enough for that. He is most definitely not going to stand there and wait for him to finish "working", either.

He takes one look at that cargo box in comparison to this small twig boy, and quickly realizes what the issue is.]

You dragged out somethin' that's too big for you, huh?

[He's not a twig!!! But he is tiny, that much is true, and this thing comes up to like, his waist. Mistakes were made.]

I kicked it all the way over here, actually.

[No one stopped this.]

[SIGH]

[For all Guts was annoyed, he did seem empathetic to Emil’s struggle here. How many times had he done the same thing as a kid? Too many! That’s how he ended up with a sword the size of a table.

[He is going to pull Emil away from the box by his shirt, though. Out of the way, punk. He’s going to carry both of these boxes.]

[Oh

my god???]

Wh— [Emil is honestly too shocked for a moment to do anything, then he bristles and swats pointlessly at Guts' arm.] E-Excuse me! Stop that!

[Oh my god!!!] I'm trying, alright? A lot!

[Being swatted by tiny hands is about as effective as you would expect it to be. That is, not at all. Emil gets unceremoniously plopped behind him.

Guts switches his own cargo box to his other arm, holding it in place over his shoulder with the prosthetic hand. He bends over to pick up Emil's box and hold that one under his armpit, fingers gripping the bottom ridges.]

I got it.

[He really does. The doubled weight doesn't seem to bother him at all. Now, don't mind him continuing to walk down the boarding ramp.]

But— hold on!

[Hold! On! That's Emil's box! How is he supposed to, uh, get silently laughed at by all these big, scary sailors if he isn't kicking a box down the dock? It takes him a moment to shuffle forward a bit and then hurry after Guts, slapping his hands onto the side of the box. Hello!!!!]

This one is mine!

[Why wait for him to put it down? The surprise box percussion is enough to attract the amusement of a few sailors around them, if only for the image of the pair of them tagging along with each other. Emil is really ruining his badass mercenary cred, here.

Nonetheless, Guts approaches the unloading area where the rest of the cargo was being gathered, regardless of his whining. Tweedle Dee lost his box privileges when he backed up the boarding ramp.]

Try gettin' a smaller one.

Edited 2019-04-09 00:35 (UTC)

[This is how Emil earns his keep, actually- entertainment value. One might call this, like, court jester level of entertainment... but it still counts. He has no idea.

He slaps the box again for good measure. Guts!!]

But this one is mine! [He's a spoiled only child, is it obvious?? Give him his STUFF back!] I can move it if you just stopped!

[Now, Guts is usually inclined to just get the job done and move on. He had enough of a sense of practicality for that. But for this? He's going to make a special exception. Be it with flaming ghost brats or real living brats, you gotta make your stand.

And so, he stops mid-stride, and looks down at him.]

Alright then. Take it from me.

[Prove yourself, Emil. Snatch this huge box right out from under his arm.]

[Oh okay, that gets him to pause.]

Um, what?

[He glances around, like, in front of everyone? Sadly, there are just enough bored sailors watching this still that he can't back down now!! Death warrant: signed.

...Not that he has any genius ideas besides just quite literally trying to climb onto the box from here. Give him this!!]

[Hrm. Well, Emil is making a valiant effort, at least. Can't blame him for trying to back up his whining.

Of course, attempting to climb up really only jostles the box and Guts' arm for a bit before he just kind of... casually shakes him off. You done embarrassing yourself, buddy?]

Edited 2019-04-15 17:11 (UTC)

[bruh.........

Well, Emil is very small, so it's not hard to shake him off even for someone who isn't the size of a small house. But is he done? Is he?? No, he's not, he's going to try it again, with more gusto!!]

Give me my stupid box! You don't even like helping!!

[Well, his original plan was to knock Emil off once, watch him get disheartened, and then tell him to shut up. But, uh, that’s not happening. He’s climbing on even harder???

What a stubborn brat!!]

You aren’t gonna give up, are you?

No! I know how to do my job, and you're just- big!

[Yes, a fine argument. He's a one of a kind box barnacle.]

...

[Wasn't this clambering barnacle just spending an hour on his break?? No, Guts decides, he does not know how to do his job.

And so, with a great big sigh of resignation, he keeps walking forward with his box, Emil's box, and Emil dangling from somewhere on his body. If a sailor or two sends a question his way about the whole predicament, he blithely ignores them.]

[Did Guts have some particular interest in ores? Was he feeling particularly magnanimous when he decided to give the Tinkers a hand? Maybe he just had an insatiable need to go fetch things? Well, not exactly.

What he was interested in was getting a little more familiar with the Guilds and their strange technology. It’s not like he has Godo or Rickert to back him up while he was here, and he was starting to feel the wear on his armor and weapons. Perusing the forests and volatile wilderness was more his style over city life, anyway.

The only downside to the whole affair was the gnat that had to tag along with him. As much as he disliked Lalli after their first interaction back at the Festival, he couldn’t deny his partner’s skills as a scout. They’ve yet to run into trouble and their trip through the woods so far has been a lot of silence, walking, and cold glaring. This is fine. At least the little pest didn’t talk much.

Guts is waiting at a fork in the gnarled dirt pathways with his typical scowl. He’d agreed to let his partner go on ahead to see which route to take, but he was getting impatient waiting for his return. He’d already warned Lalli that he’d move on without him behind if he got in the way - and he was starting to consider doing just that.]

Edited 2019-04-03 08:03 (UTC)

[Lalli doesn't like this giant any more than this giant likes him, but an excuse to leave the city? A chance to, like, run around the wilderness and do what he's best at? ...Well! He may have been assigned a truly terrible partner, it's true, but there's no way Lalli's letting this opportunity slip through his fingers; he's fully prepared to silently fulfill his scouting obligations, because hey, it's not like he cares about burying the hatchet and/or making a friend. He already has one of those, thank you very much.

But while Lalli does shoot sharp glances Guts' way every now and again—hmm. Scouting is something that Lalli takes very, very seriously; in fact, it might just be the only thing Lalli honestly takes pride in, which is why there's a stark difference between the sullen way he walks alongside Guts and the confident way he relays his Professional Scouting Opinion™. He knows what he's talking about, because he's the best scout... and he'll do whatever it takes to prove it.

Like, say, taking his sweet time exploring the paths ahead of them. Oh, sure he'd been told to hurry, but some things are worth investigating; it's why he doesn't look the slightest bit ashamed when he finally slips back to the fork, why he looks totally unconcerned with whatever Look Guts levels at him. Listen, punk! Just listen as he clears his throat and quickly relays this status report.]

Fresh footprints to the left. A small group. [A quiet hum as he thinks back to the footprints he'd tracked.] ...Five people? Maybe more, but not many. In a hurry.

[Ugh, this is so much talking?? He's too quiet for this, but after a brief pause he points back over to the opposite side.]

Animal tracks to the right. Nothing big.

[Took him long enough. To Guts' credit, he does stop to listen to Lalli's Scouting Report with none of the distaste he held whenever they usually exchanged words. He may be a nasty piece of work, but he was an equally professional bloodthirsty mercenary, so he puts aside some of that enmity to consider his options.]

Five, huh? Ain't that path the fastest way to the mountain ores?

[A group in a hurry may not be interested in them at all, but really, he could use a fight to get his juices flowing.]

[The list of things Lalli Does Not Know is a mile long, but scouting? This is his thing, which is why that dumb question of Guts' earns him a Look. If you're going for speed, you avoid needlessly engaging enemies... duh...]

Not if they stop us? [Or if they're, like, meeting up with more of their friends, but what Lalli says is:] Don't be stupid.

[Lalli can slip by enemies undetected; he's incredibly confident about that, but this giant man sneaking through the underbrush???? Laughable.]

[Its been several days outside the city and he hasn’t been able to punch a single wildman or bandit?? Come on, Lalli.]

It’s the shorter path. I haven’t seen anythin’ in these woods that’s worth worryin’ about.

[Five guys is something he can slice through with one swing of his sword - if it even comes to that.]

[Because Lalli made sure to steer them away from anything dangerous! Because Lalli is the best scout! But obviously his best efforts AND his professionalism are wasted on this egg-toting dummy, so:]

Pfh.

[And that about sums it up, really, but... fine, fine. He'll glance back at the path in question and use his words.]

We didn't come here to fight.

If you say so.

[Lalli had a point, which really is the worst part of this whole affair. As unwelcoming as he was, Guts does know when to defer to someone who was pretty skilled in what they do. He wasn't so arrogant as to blow him off altogether. Though it does come with its reminder:]

You don't need to be so worried about every nobody we might cross paths with.

[You have a tank in your party. He's good at being both scary and dangerous.]

[His partner might be imposingly large, but could he handle five or more people on his own? Lalli has no clue; he's yet to see Guts in action, but he'd rather err on the side of caution in this unknown territory rather than, like, wind up stuck out here for who knows how long. He has a friend he needs to keep an eye on.]

I'm not worried. [Tch!] I just want to finish this and go back. Soon.

[Because he had to cut off the mental link he shares with Emil in order to conserve some magic, and he's antsy! Best friend things.

Anyway, does this mean they're heading for the path with zero (0) people? Yes?? Because he sure is going to turn and walk that way...]

The sword ain't here for decoration, but suit yourself.

[He could absolutely handle five people on his own, if his attitude here is any indication. Hopefully, Lalli will never have to see the bloody spectacle in person.]

[And so, to the dull, uninteresting path they go. To go pick up some even less interesting rocks. Well, he did sign up for this. It'll be worth it once his Dragonslayer and armor gets the work they need. Why did this Tinker woman feel the need for them to go in her place, anyway?]

Edited 2019-04-15 07:18 (UTC)

[Why, indeed. Not that Lalli is going to complain about some easy money (that he plans to promptly spend on sweets) or the opportunity to run around outside the city walls, but—pfh. He came; he explored; he's ready to head back to better company, which is why he's all but flying up this path.

...Until he notices the strange silence? Not even a bird chirp can be heard ahead of them, and that gives him pause, makes him stop in his tracks and hold up a hand back toward Guts. Stop!! Be still...]

Mrr...

[A quiet, cat-like noise as he tilts his head to the side, listening.]

Something's not right. Up there.

[Guts follows behind him at his own pace, watching Lalli run off ahead. He's guarding the rear, he would tell himself. Or maybe, he's just too bored with the peace of the blasted wood (strange animals and all) to be perfectly alert on the path ahead of him.

He stops in his tracks as his partner does, if a few feet behind, and looks up. Something moves across his blind side. He can't see it - but he can sure hear it, and turns his head to find some leaves floating from the canopy over their heads.]

...

[There - a blurry silhouette in the branches of the woods. His arm emerges from the pitch black of his cloak, but he doesn't quite reach for his sword, yet. Not everyone out here was hostile.]

past the castle gates

Rumor Has It (4 emil)

o boy

Re: o boy

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Ores a Plenty (5 lalli)

call him a gnat to his FACE

gnot yet

i can't believe i laughed

it’s just gnatural

god

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thank u for ur patience

np! ur art show sounded neato

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