Complete ✪ Stokbon Joint Interests

[Raid Boss]

If you ever visit Stokbon for any reason whatsoever, you would have been pursued by a courier from the Hermes Express with a letter to hand you. Should you accept the urgent the delivery, it would have read as follow.

Letter

Dear @Gwyn ap Herne,

It's been a while since we have last spoken.

I hope your disappearance has treated you well.

If you have the time or the mind, please meet me at the Knights of Nine, the café on the outskirt's overlook.

Come with an empty stomach and parched throat. It'll be my treat.

With high regards,
-Cessia

Should you taken up Cessia's offer for a reunion. She would have been waiting at the quaint café, enjoying a warm cup of tea while casting her gaze toward the horizon.

Being so out of the way, the white cottage with blue trim built a relaxing atmosphere that even someone like Cessia could take a moment and enjoy tuning out the rest of the world and any immediate tasks on her to-do list.

When she spot you, the blue haired girl smiled and gestured toward the empty chair across from her.

The seat seemed to fit Cessia's lither form, but may be a tad awkward for someone of your stature.

 

[Gwyn ap Herne]

.

Gwyn would have been happy to never seen the skyline of Stokbon again, as much as she knew that was impossible while in Terrasphere's grips. She's come to visit Endra's Square after enough waffling on the whole ordeal. Times had changed and while her bow was still sturdy and her armor well-aged, other equipment was long out of date. She set to searching for better equipment, better consumables, and better materials. Fire was, after all, one of the most commonly resisted damage types. Her longbow, seared and imbued after the fall of Azog, would eventually need to retire.

The courier she'd shaken a few times, unwilling to be bothered by some fetch quest or bizarre Alphabet-style prank letter, but ultimately turned a corner dead into. Not bad. Irritating, but not bad. She sighed and accepted the letter, a voice working through the mountains at her side long ago clipping 'a job is a job' had her handing them a tip for their hard work. She wanted to throw the summons off the cliffs into the fucking Lament, but Cessia. Cessia had been cordial, professional, cautious and exacting. She wasn't the worst of them. At least it took her farther from the palace and the bazaar full of swords for sale, each black as the shadows under her boots.

Her initial opinion of the café was positive, it was quiet and out of the way. Something the huntress appreciated. With how busy someone like Cessia was sure to stay, she wouldn't be surprised if this was a rare treat for her, moreso than Gwyn.

Better choice than a fort hall... Cessia. Not sure what title you've got this go around. Looks like you've done fine enough for yourself during- (a hand is wheeled around, gesturing vaguely.)

Despite the inelegant words, the blonde sounded more frustrated with confusion than meaning anything cruel toward her host. Gwyn pulled the chair out to give herself more room for long legs and the sweep of a ponytail with another few years of length on it. One boot knocked noisily into the table leg.

But folks like you don't ask folks like me for tea parties, so what's the occasion?

 

[Raid Boss]

The dainty bespectacled girl took another sip as she turned her attention to the huntress. Clearly, the power distance between them had been reversed. She wouldn't have been able to remain as calm and composed as Gwyn would be in the wilderness, but both were in Cessia's element then.

Cessia knew better than to wear down the huntress patience, for which she seemed to have none with this type of interactions, so she immediately cut to the chase, but not before cutting the tension by passing the menu.

Come now, at least have yourself a refreshment. No one says a serious discussion has to be uncomfortable.

(She smiled.)

I'm sure your return must have been a whirlwind of emotions... and encumbrance, being pursued by the various factions and all.

(She chuckled.)

I'm not sure how you feel about any of this, but it would be prudent to approach recruitment with healthy sliver of skepticism, my invitation included. Everyone always talk about ideals without any thought of how to achieve those ideals.

Admittedly, a part of the Guild falls into the same trap, but the individualistic nature of our organization allows idealists to pursue their goal, while realists support their idealism and receive a tangible reward for it. Joint interest is how we work, and your experience would serve it well in the mentor and guardian capacity.

I'm sure you have seen how a politician can tear a country asunder with his foolish idealism. The Guild is an answer to taking actions without being impeded by the social construction of man.

 

[Gwyn ap Herne]

.

Gwyn accepted the menu without a fuss and skimmed over it. She was terrible at these things, but defaulted to Alix's old favorite. Just ask for the house special or most popular, and it was likely to be at least sufferable. Normally pleasant, unlike the conversation. Cessia was quick to her words and Gwyn glanced up to watch her, the menu set back gently between them while she waited for her order and listened to this... offer.

It was a - It was a choice, yeah. As for factions, you'll be unsurprised and pleased to note you're the first to come knocking on my door. Or have me knocking, at any rate.

There was a knife-sharp, but ornamental polish, to Cessia. It had been a long time since she'd seen her, and Gwyn wasn't always the sharpest with people like her. The way they worked always been the type of cold and calculating that people thought her serpent should've been. They'd have been wrong for Nathair and underestimating politicians. Some things between the two worlds never changed: people with power.

Sounds halfway between a fucking police-state and one of those smuggling operations that runs under a legitimate business. You playing every hand then? To what end? What's your game, Cessia, not your idealists'.

Her head twisted in an exaggerated motion in time with her hands as she spoke, but caught an odd gleam in her eyes. She had rarely gone without the passive benefits of Hunting before and, in this new game old world, Hyper Sense stayed with her in its place. Picking apart the world. Picking apart people. Searching for prey. Scanning for lies. The same game as hers, but done as a deadly pursuit.

 

[Raid Boss]

It was a blood sport for Cessia too, but in a different sense, reading the world, the people, the motive, dissecting a person into smaller parts and figuring out how to get the most out of them. Cessia too put her life on the line, albeit a social one. For a lander with no business holding a sword, the loss of her reputation might as well be a death.

When Gwyn cut through her sophistry, she snapped back like an alligator seizing its prey.

World peace, but not in the way a Traveler may think of it. Even when I tire of this game, I'm not allowed to discontinue my participation in it. I feel like we're all puppets on a string, forced to dance until we break before the puppet master cut the string and throw us in the trash.

The world has become a terrible place since you guys left.

Although her sudden silence and emotionless face did not let the huntress into her thoughts, the way she ran her thumb across her slightly-extended nails throughout the entire uncomfortable conversation did tell some kind of story. After a few seconds, Cessia removed her hand from the table and looked at Gwyn dead in the eyes.

I want to stop all this cruel game, Gwyn. For the people who are forced to remain here, I want to stop their pain and suffering. No more Titanius. No more Dragonfall. I'm willing to walk the distance as a villain if that's what it takes, and I need your strength.

 

[Gwyn ap Herne]

.

For anyone else, the thin wrists and round cheeks and wide glasses would net pity, perhaps. The clear undercurrent in her voice and the wicked bend to her forged morals and worldview would be flags of hard lessons and a sad story to pry at or protect her from. Cessia had stood beside freaks from some other world who didn't understand her world as she did. Who saw it with entirely different rules and, worse, worth. She'd done it and made beside Astor a power grab into something that protected both players after the horror of the prison and the Yladians fleeing south and the Falderens who saw fit to move or who were caught in-between and forced to adapt. It was hard work. Much of it was good work. Gwyn's own gold had been put down, that it help even some of the refugees she'd fought beside before the Fort fell and rose a Castle.

It didn't change the nation's original intent. It didn't change that anyone could corrupt. And not a lick of it made her pity Cessia, who she was sure would slander her if Gwyn's reputation mattered if she dared reveal a shred of such in her presence. Cessia was dangerous in all the ways Gwyn hated. Things people couldn't see. Things no one, save spies and confidantes, would ever know.

She couldn't help the hard breath that flared her nostrils, the shift of her jaw that flexed muscle, or the roll of her shoulders against the far too tiny chair's back. It felt too animal for a second. Made her check her conflicted emotions and opinions. Reined them in. She should have gone camping in Oregon, and there was nowhere else to be now but here.

I won't be a villain's strength. I don't know how far you'd go, but I'm sure both our worlds have libraries full to vomiting up epics with all the tales of someone, history or fantasy, doing wrong in the name of right. Do you trust yourself to see that line? I'd be terrified of either answer just for myself.

Gwyn sucked at her teeth for a moment, gaze finally unpinning Cessia's as she looked out over the view.

You can call, anyone can, and if it's good? I'll answer. I don't want more innocent blood, and I'll shed the bad it if I gotta, but putting my name down? That's a pawn itself. Just the having. I know what my hands and arrows and hounds do, Cessia, but I can't know what someone does with a name to throw around as a threat or a promise. I don't play that game.

She wanted to pace, and one knee bobbed at the lack of her ability to act on it. A caged animal no one knew the shape of yet. She'd say lioness, but that hurt and someone might assume it capitalized. Same problem as her current one, that.

Can't trust crowns. Can't trust Travelers. Can't trust mages or nobles or masters or anyone nimble enough to assassinate or keen enough to spy or smart enough to plot or strong enough to betray.

Gwyn turned back to her.

I never wanted to pick for these people - you people. Who would I teach and what would they pick?

She wanted her answers. What shape of animal was Cessia? One worth trusting? She wondered for a moment if any of her tames had thought something similar, facing her down.

 

[Raid Boss]

Cessia spoke with clarity and without any hesitation in her voice. Though the sound that did come out of her throat had a certain undulating that suggested a moment of self-doubt.

You may call it villainy, but as someone who had spent an intimate amount of time in this world, you should already know that there is no right or wrong, there's only survival. All it takes is a moment of hesitation and you find yourself in the maw of death.

We have to do what we can to survive, at least we do.

Alas I digress, but with how quickly the behemoth on the leash that is the Guild has grown, it has become more and more difficult to manage. It's a product of the world you left behind.

Now, I am in need of one who can tame the behemoth, keep them on the correct path, Gwyn. I need a name with a hefty weight for that purpose.

If you're so inclined about your right and your wrong, then impart that wisdom onto the beast and raise it to be upstanding and chastising it when it misbehaves in the manner all beasts do.

Cessia took a sip from her cup before she adjusted her glasses.

In any case, I don't expect an immediate answer. You can take some time to think about it.

 

[Gwyn ap Herne]

.

Don't. Don't you call it what it is and then back off it when I do too. Sure, there's a lot of demand for shades of gray, but there's damn well still room for black and white. Explanations aren't excuses. You're still your actions as much as you are your words, whether anyone ever sees or hears them. When a tree falls in a forest, it still makes a sound. It can still kill a man. It still changes a landscape. Survive, but be able to live with it. (She clucks her tongue.) Just because someone'll always check a villain, doesn't mean I want to have to check you. You deserve better than that still if we're having this conversation. And so do I.

The huntress leaned back with a sprawl of her legs and the awkward hang of her arm over the dainty chair's own. Gwyn dragged the hand bordered by the inked kill count on her arm up through her hair. A bit of the anxiety leaked away from her words. Evaporating too quickly under the pressure.

Thanks for the permission. (The words bit out, but her teeth rounded rather than sharp in the saying.) What a fucking mess.

They could both spare some time to attempt enjoying the café and its menu. The day was a lovely one after all, despite the fraught topics. It deserved to breathe. They both did, was a circular thought returning.

Not sure how often folks ask you without wanting something out of it, so I will. How've you been, Cessia? How are you?

 

[Raid Boss]

Cessia didn't respond to Gwyn's follow-up with anything but a bitter smile. The question that followed did catch her by surprise, however.

How presumptuous of you. I don't dislike that about you, Gwyn.

She chuckled quietly as her expression softened.

The last four years have been a... changing time. I'm not certain I am actually keeping up with the transformation that is taking place.

What about you?

How does it feel to be back?

 

[Gwyn ap Herne]

.

The march of time truly must have been a difficult one if she'd admit to feeling like she was running behind what needed done and what others did. The not knowing was difficult low down the totem pole, but when clinging to the wings of the figures at the top? It was a long fall if you slipped up. And Cessia's position had been happenstance meets luck meets perhaps some bizarre fate. Lucky that it chose someone who could work to fill in the gaps and rise to the occasion. But it meant if she lost it, let it be wrangled from her, she might not ever be able to climb back up. Gwyn got that.

And then she was asked about her return, not the time separate. Not about the world she came from and what she'd done with four years of her life back. Was that intentional? It felt like an answer itself. That the real world wasn't real to them was natural. It didn't breathe for them. They had no family, scattered miles and miles apart. No alarm went off, and no coffee started brewed before a job there. Only Terrasphere existed. Only Arcia.

It would be easy to give some idle response, but when showed even a hint of vulnerability, staged or no, it felt cheap. Gwyn thought about her tames aged four years. She thought about how staggeringly good it felt to pull back the bow and feel it respond like it should, not some modern compound bow she'd refused to touch out of fear she'd feel what she'd lost like a dagger in the ribs. She thought about the people. Kyupin.

Like I was never supposed to go. Like I never actually left, just came back from a hunt to see everything different in ways I can't really remember. (She smiles, sad and relieved both.) But I'm the same way there too. I'm used to losing time for what I love. What I do is dangerous in both worlds... but I still have things to do here. There, I - just in case. (Her voice grows rough for a second.) Just in case, I made sure I did what I needed to.

Sabine had torn up her old haunt a hundred times. She'd camped there and made peace with the rockface. Made it clear she wasn't scared of it, wasn't haunted by it like the grim swords. She'd full sent others with confidence. She'd helped people trapped here how she could trapped there. Sabine hadn't done any of it with the intention of it being a bucket list before coming back, she couldn't have known, but in retrospect it felt like it. Fuck, she'd even visited her sisters and father. Reconnected with old friends a bit. Then off back to the wilds to let the distance grow again.

I'm terrified, Cessia, but I climb back home. And no one has magic there or extra lives or inhuman prowess. What I do could kill me with (she lifts her hand) one (she lifts her pointer) slipped (she lifts her middle too) grip (her hand takes a pinched shape with the three fingers beside one another) and a quick trip back down. And I love it. Only thing worth doing, only thing that makes me feel alive.

Neither of them were stupid. Gwyn didn't handhold either of them to the conclusion. Terrasphere was the thrill of hanging over the fucking void, trusting fingers or a carabiner to keep you aloft. Defying gravity. God. Come what will, be it heaven, be it hell. And this time, it's a grin that claims her expression. All the lazy, but lethal competence of a predator drapes over Gwyn ap Herne's shoulders like a king's scarlet mantle. Her coat, thrown over top crown-studded armor, just as red and demanding.

I've got shit to do.