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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jun 22, 2023 20:38:58 GMT -5
Considering the extent of care and detail poured into the defenses of this warehouse, it is a merciful thing that both Askr and Del have made it as far as they have. It is not as though Askr did not anticipate thoroughness, considering the location and the seeming lack of guards, but the intricacy of the traps is surprising. It is clear that whoever this warehouse belongs to is well-acquainted with handling thieves of a higher caliber– some simpler, cheaper traps to assemble could handle any layman, some guards enough to ward off the curious. To use arcane triggers for such brutal and decisive traps is the work of someone with experience being robbed– or at least, a great deal of paranoia.
That little detail only fosters Askr’s curiosity as he and Del advance through the runic field, maneuvering around the pulses of energy resonating through the floor. It is hard not to be curious, even if Miss Del had said that they were likely better off not knowing who their target truly was. Who in Darkveil could have such skill with trapping a place like this?
The thought fades to the back of his mind as he continues moving, a quiet sigh spilling from his lips as the arcane pulse fades behind him, ensuring that he and Del both have made it to stable ground. He opts to stand and watch as she slips forward, fingertip creeping along the crate’s lid in search of a latch, of a way in–
and then she tenses, and for a moment, Askr can only stare in quiet, understated shock as she delivers her assessment.
“Oh,” he says quietly, unsure of what else to say. “That is… not good.”
He pauses as Del asks him how quickly he believes he could grab for the contents so they can both make an escape before the trap she’s accidentally triggered goes off, his lips drawn in a tight line as he thinks it over. He is… hardly the strongest of individuals, in terms of raw carrying capacity, but… he still carries those shards of his “mother”’s power, her dead capabilities to bend the limits of space thrumming in his veins. It is, decidedly, possible. Assuming the trap is not overly volatile.
“...Quickly enough,” he assesses, though an edge of doubt creeps into his voice. “But I believe we should both be prepared to run when I do.”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Jul 2, 2023 15:43:57 GMT -5
"Not especially good, no," Del agrees, keeping her voice light and calm. There was no way of knowing what sort of trap it was, but for the moment, she had paused its reaction by keeping her hand still, pinning the wire in place with her finger so it could not slip loose and activate.
As Askr agrees, offering what he might be able to do given their circumstances, Del nods slowly, giving Askr the most assuring smile she can manage in this particular situation. "I will be ready to run as soon as you are clear. Once I move my hand, this thing is bound to go off. I will be ready when you are, so I will follow your lead and move on your count."
Sensing the dubiousness in the young person's tone, Del lifts her brows at Askr gently, the corner of her smile curving into a crooked wryness. It's far from the recoiling tension she feels churning in her stomach, but at the moment, she needs to maintain her own calm so they can do what they needed to. "I've got you, and I know you've got me. Just go slow, and we will get out of here together. Ready when you are."
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CCS Courier
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jul 23, 2023 20:05:08 GMT -5
Askr cannot help but bite his lower lip even as Del’s tone remains soft and even, calm despite the veritable calamity waiting to leap to life should her finger budge from where it remains– it is… confusing how she manages to seem so relaxed despite what could happen when she moves her hand away. Perhaps she is accustomed enough to this to no longer be overly disturbed by it– perhaps it is a veneer to conceal her true unease. Askr does not know, but he is determined not to disappoint her.
He gives a short nod as soon as Del asserts that she has him, and trusts that he has her– asserts that she trusts they can get out of this, that she is ready when he is. He closes his eyes for a moment, managing a brief inhalation, an exhalation, counting on the air to smooth out his just-so-slightly frayed nerves before he sets to work.
“I’m ready.”
As soon as he’s spoken, Askr is quick to begin undoing the crate’s lid, as careful and precise as he is capable of being as he moves it up just so, slipping a hand beneath to feel out what the box conceals. As soon as his fingers slide across the surface of something unusually warm and oddly… soft, his brow furrows indistinguishably. Just what is in here…? What had the two of them set out to steal in the first place?
He gets his answer as soon as he fishes what appeals to be a pelt from the box– a strange, smoky pelt, a silvery-gray in color. Askr stares at it for a long moment, trying to place what it could be before it finally clicks– jackal pelts. These are Ashland Jackal pelts– that explains the warmth emanating from the smoky fur, the misty quality to it. He’s unsure of what exactly they would be good for, but he is sure they can figure out a use. After all, it would feel… bad to come all this way and work this hard for something without a use.
Askr is quick to pull more pelts from the box, piling them into his arms until he’s grabbed as many as he can carry and then some, only letting the lid slide shut once he is confident he cannot carry any more. He glances over to Del and gives one more short nod, a subtle tightness to his usual monotone as he speaks.
“...let’s… be quick, Miss Del.”
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Aug 2, 2023 23:37:52 GMT -5
As Askr indicates his readiness, Del flashes him an approving smile, and drops her body a little, stabilizing her stance by bending her knees slightly; her own readiness. Despite her calm demeanor, she cannot help but hold her breath as Askr, with careful deliberateness, prises open the lid of the crate just enough to get his hand underneath. She carefully watches her companion's face for any sign of alarm or danger, but find's their expression one of impassive focus... for the most part. Her brow drops, puzzled by his apparent puzzlement, until he liberates the thing they had apparently been sent to steal.
Del's eyes widen; Ashland Jackal pelts. Sleek and evasive, a material that seemed here-and-not-here all at once. What they were for she could not begin to guess, but at the very least, she knew they were expensive.
But they were already here and had a task to accomplish, and accomplish it they would. She nods to Askr, holding stalk-still until they have liberated as many of the pelts from the crate as they could feasibly carry, indicating that she would wait for him to finish the gathering of the items.
And then, it was her turn.
Once more, Askr is given a nod, along with a small but confident smile. Quick was something she could do. She looks down at the crate, thinking. Around them was the runic field, above them the deployable trap from the rafters. This had to be some kind of failsafe. The value of the contents of the box meant it was likely not incendiary or explosive, but rather something to destabilize or debilitate. Further, it was odd that the crate's lid had a hinge on one side. Perhaps because it was part of the trap itself, made to clamp down on greedy hands?
Really, there was only one way to find out.
She shifts her feet shoulder-width apart again and stares at the box with intense focus, steeling herself. She hisses a slow breath through her teeth, one hand on the side of the crate, the other still within the box itself. At the tail end of her breath, Del rips her hands away, and jumps back.
Despite her own speed, the trap attached to the lid cracks down on her fingers, ripping away the skin of her knuckles. As soon as it snaps closed with a BANG, the second part of the trap, the alarm, starts to blare loudly, ringing throughout the warehouse with magical warning.
She looks back at Askr, gesturing back towards the walls, the shadows, the window they had broken into, to safety. "Go,gogogo, mind the runes," Del whispers, taking quick leaps across the path they had made for themselves getting to the conspicuous crate in the first place.
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Aug 28, 2023 18:22:36 GMT -5
Despite himself, Askr cannot help the way his eyes widen as soon as the trap slams down on Del’s fingers, catching onto her hand despite how quickly she moves– but before he gets any chance to ask if she is alright, any chance to take a look at the wound the trap has left her with, the magic alarm starts blaring, the noise all-consuming, impossible to ignore, and a tiny, distressed whine slips from between the tight line of his lips. It’s so, so loud– the kind of loud that usually makes him want to curl up on the ground and block it out however possible, makes him crave stillness, crave silence, like the raucous laughter of drunkards at taverns, the resonance of city bells, the screech of monsters when all they want is a way out– But they have to get out. Del is urging them to get out, and her knuckles are torn, and she is in pain, and she is still prioritizing this. She is strong. Askr should be like that. He needs to be like that. And so he clutches the pelts tightly to his chest, turns his focus to the window they’d entered through, and runs. He’s careful to, as instructed, mind the runic field, trusting in that connection to the arcane to guide him as it always has, his mother’s only gift leading him and Del through the convolutions of the trap as they make their escape. He has no idea how much time they have before someone comes to check on why the alarm is blaring, no idea how many other traps may be lined up ahead, but all that matters is getting out as quickly as possible and making it elsewhere, anywhere but here, leaving whoever comes to check on the alarm with no traces of them to follow after, and no Ashland Jackal pelts left in that massive crate. (Or at least, very few. Askr is a small young man– he can’t necessarily carry all of them.) As soon as they make it to the wall, he’s quick to leap onto it, navigating as cleanly as possible as he can with only one hand [1], until he’s made it through the window and onto the other side, tumbling to the ground with a punched-out gasp, the pelts falling over him as he looks up to Del with a dazed expression. “Miss Del,” he says bluntly, blinking away the spots dancing in his vision. “You’re hurt.”
[1] Surface Scaling
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Sept 6, 2023 22:59:10 GMT -5
Following Askr quickly up the side of the building and to the window, Del takes pride in their near freedom. Now, all they had to do was find a place to keep the goods until all this could blow over. But just as she was about to ask, she noticed the young man loses his balance on the window sill while the blaring alarms raged around them. Her heart jumps into her throat, as she reaches out to catch him before he plummets.
"Sssss--" Del cuts off her hissed curse as she misses, Askr slipping past her fingers. Winching at the choked sound he makes when he hits the ground, Del quickly descends, kneeling near him as she removes the pelts to get a look at him. "Shit, that was a rough fall, are you alright?"
Del stares down at Askr with a bewildered look. He was concerned... about her bloody knuckles, when he literally just fallen out of a window? Did he crack his head in the fall? Was a rib broken? She couldn't tell. Her knuckles stung, of course, but she'd had far worse; She hadn't just fallen out of a window.
The sounds of footsteps and barking dogs remove any words she might have had to ask him about-- they were out of time. "I'll make sure we clean them up once we get somewhere safe, first." She reassures them, before dipping low to carefully and swiftly haul Askr across her shoulders, carrying them like a sack of grain. She flicks each of the heavy pelts across her other arm, and starts at a jog, away from the direction of the warehouse. Her pace is even, creating almost no extra movement to bob him along and make him uncomfortable, a practiced, even run of the silent. "Where to? We gotta hide this stuff and look you over."
[1] Surface Scaling
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CCS Courier
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Renown
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Ash Lands
i wish you were here. i wish it were morning.
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Sept 18, 2023 13:20:49 GMT -5
There’s a sense of dull confusion present on Askr’s face through the dazed look in his eyes as he blinks up at Del– his brows furrowed, lips pursed just so, his head slightly tilted to the side, and not just because of the dizziness still wracking his body and brain. It is… difficult to understand why she seems so confused– he cannot think of any other way to describe the look on her face, the quirk of her eyebrow and the slight part of her lips, like she’s about to ask him another question but cannot think of how to ask it. It seems like confusion, but he is not entirely sure as to what she may be so confused about, and it would be impolite to ask.
“...I am fine, Miss Del,” he insists, already trying to adjust himself, trying to sort the pelts out where they’ve fallen over him in a heap. If any damage has been done, it will simply fade away in due time– he must merely be patient and wait. There is no need to stress over it. “It could have been a far worse fall. I am not bleeding.”
And yet, before he gets the chance to go down the list of reasons he is assuredly fine and ascertain Del that the damage he has sustained is minimal, there’s the pounding of footsteps, the sharp bark of hounds, and his breath hitches– it would be a waste of time to stand and list off reasons he is alright when they already have the warehouse’s security breathing down their necks. He scrambles to get the rest of the pelts lined up, already trying to get back to his feet, when–
When… Del scoops him up without breaking a sweat, taking the pelts in her arms.
Hm. Alright.
“...There should be an abandoned house on the edge of the city,” he says quietly, his tone low, as if afraid one of those lurking guards may be close enough to hear it. “We could… go through these, there. I remember the way– just… walk straight from here…”
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