Lyulf's First Command Lyulf V Isordine

[15:39] Lyulf seemed content to sit at the post for a time. After-all if any kind of monster or brigand tried to come through they'd be in a prime position to deal with them. However, his hands felt idle! So, he'd pull out the Justicar and begin to clean it; carefully inspecting the weapon to ensure that it was in good condition. He'd be damned if he got into a fight and his gun's barrel warped or the cylinders jammed again.

"Savages, best dealt with so the average person can live in some peace." As he spoke he'd look up at the two of them. He didn't know Pip very well but they were another private. Peitho was as close to an old friend as anyone could be.

"I've been thinking of petitioning to join the Fleshcrafters guild. I want to know why they're so necessary to the Empire. It seems that we've invited a lot of monstrous things into our nation. Vampires, Undead-" He stopped his sentence as he spotted someone running past. With a twist the Private yelled to them.

"Halt!" The order was shouted with no small hint of aggression in his tone. Which, the teen seemed to recognize and so they calmed down a bit and continued. "I've some questions for you. Who're you, where are you goin-" HIs focus shifted as ANOTHER person ran past. "HALT!" Jeez there was a lot. He turned to Pip and Peitho.

"Care to question those two?" Then his focus returned to Isidore.

"Where was I... Seen any monsters? Bandits on the road? That sort of thing."
(Lyulf Yayle)
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[15:47] Isidore makes use out of the backroads these days. Here, there is an abundance of fresh vegetation that catches the eye and when held under the canopy of dusk like this? It's all the more a spectacle. There's scarcely a thought that crosses his mind as haste is employed in his steps and he moves through the gathering of woods and past a fresh encampment.

Of course, when he's asked to halt the first time, he doesn't make sense of it. He finds himself nearly leaving the plateau when the Yayle's words truly resonate with the d'Arlesans.

He turns, platinum tresses shifted behind him. They're long and drape his form with their extravagance, contrasting the charcoal cloak lined with gold and the sapphire sweater vest he adorns. He cants his head and narrows his brows towards the approaching ensemble.

"Oh.. oh my." Remarks made to himself - azure hues acknowledge the uniforms of one and then another. It's clear who he is dealing with. "Hello, friend. Is there... a reason as to why you've stopped me?"

To announce his affiliations as of yet would be to his folly, he thinks.
(Isidore d'Arlesans)
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[15:55] Cerulean hues gazed upon Isidore from beneath his own scarlet locks. It wasn't hard to notice someone of wealth when you saw one. Meaning this person before him was either a noble or some sort of merchant. Which, in and of itself was interesting.

"Name, destination, sightings of danger on the roads. If you are a soldier of Osrona than it would be prudent to submit to a detainment." His gaze then shifted towards Ky as they walked past! Looking to his right the youth looked at Pip and then tilted his head towards the other red-head.

"Private Pip, question that one." His gaze then shifted back to Peitho. They were at the ready, but they'd not started talking to August? Perhaps nervous? Fine, those cool azure orbs locked onto August. Honestly? He found the advice annoying more than anything.

"I'll be as aggressive as I damn well please. Just be thankful that I spoke and didn't just shoot at you. We're here keeping these roads safe; show a bit of damn respect." The youth was a fiery one that was for sure. Though, in the return of an insult he'd also answered August's question himself.

"You're free to keep going Teach." His gaze then turned back to Isidor. "Sorry, did you answer yet?"
(Lyulf Yayle)
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[16:02] The d'Arlesans cants his head in another angle. The faint smile offered dissipates as he observes their words and idiosyncrasies - his azure gaze flickers from between the gathering ahead. There's a familiarity denoted at Augustus though they've yet to truly talk.

When Lyulf shifts his gaze back to him, Isidore raises a brow. Hands fold against his person.

"..do you stop people often?" He doesn't seem like the type to do so. "Whatever the case may be, I'm..an acolyte." To claim his loyalty to Starfall seems unnecessary for he no longer attends. "I wouldn't quite call myself a soldier of Osrona though and thus, I must ask - is there a need for 'detainment'?"

He'll seek peaceful relations with these three despite their aggression. Such is his way.
(Isidore d'Arlesans)
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[16:08] The teen was agitated that much could be seen clear upon his face. He was at-least attempting to keep things orderly and respectful. Which clearly wasn't his strong suit to begin with. His gaze then settled upon Isidore. They weren't a solider but they were an Osronan citizen and a member of an outlawed faith within the Empire.

"No, not really. I'm new to this but I doubt that matters much to you. Now, I asked for a name don't they teach you any manners? What is it?" It was all well and good but the name- August hadn't told a name either. How frustrating, perhaps that was something they were worried about? Osronan's no doubt didn't want their name's out there.

"You are an Acolyte of the faith? A banned faith I might add but to answer your question I must ask. Are you or have you ever been a part of the militiant wing of your Celestial Church?" The boy read his history and he paidattention to the news.

Being a member of a religion didn't make you not a combatant. If anything it often made you worse of one than normal soldiers.
(Lyulf Yayle)
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[16:14] "Isidore, my friend. There's no need to be so hostile, especially when you forego manners to fuel your own aggressions." He excuses his hypocrisy as little more than an abundance of energy had in his age - from what he could gather, there was a palpable age difference between the two.

"The Faith isn't banned though... not in this realm where the trees neighbor the tribes of Moxtli." A reminder of the environs they both find themselves in. The blond takes a step forward though shows no signs of hostility in his own bodily language.

"There are no militant wings to the Church, however. You are mistaken in that regard. Keepers - of which I am not - act as liaisons between the Order and the Church, fulfilling the duties of both. And... given your penchant for unnecessary aggression -" Azure hues wander towards Pip who invades the privacy of another. "You don't care enough to know. I must ask again, is this all truly necessary? You overcomplicate things in search of a hostile conclusion when neither is worth the time."

"Could we not break bread, friend? I'm eager to give you a moment of my time and hear about your tales."
(Isidore d'Arlesans)
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[16:24] Lyulf glanced back at August listening to his words out of the corner of his focus. Though, all he said in turn as a sort sentence, probably cutting of Isidore at some point to say it. "People die, ego or not." He'd seen plenty of innocent and humble people die to the hordes of the Mire. He wouldn't be lectured about his ego by the man.

His attention then shifted his focus to Ky and Pip as they started to get violent. He didn't even waste his breath with that exchange. Except perhaps to note Pip's personality for the future and the red-heads face. One never knew when such knowledge could be helpful in the days to come.

His attention shifted back to Isidore. A name, gained and a small history lesson as well. Despite the casual scowl that'd settled over the youth's expression? Well, he seemed to pay attention to most of what Isidore was saying. "Moxtli hasn't the soldiers to keep their own lands secure. Reports indicated these areas are were outlaws, bandits, and monster attacks are most common." The youth knew they were near Moxtli but it seemed that he didn't care.

Keepers? Well, now he had a name for them. Though, it sounded like they were just a wing of the Order that fulfilled the duty of battle-chaplains. He stowed that information away as well! Still, with a grunt the youth answered back.

"No, then you've no need for detainment. You can stay or you can go I'll not hinder you either way. If you want stories of my exploits? Well, best wait to see how Private Pip handles themselves." With that he turned and batched what was unfolding.
(Lyulf Yayle)
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[16:29] Isidore does heed his words and latent disregard for their value. He's wounded by such sentiments - slightly, of course - but makes no note of it upon his visage. Instead, when he pivots on his heels and seeks to abandon his own aggression altogether, the blond turns his head to the east.

Lips part. He's caught by mild awe. Hostility grows and per his nature, he seeks to halt it.

Isidore wanders forward some with haste, coming to a halt some odd steps behind the gathering.

"Miss, please. It's in your best interests for you to abandon these acts and for you all to leave." Before you get hurt. "We -- we cannot tolerate this kind of behavior in these lands let alone allow you to stay and confront monsters of the Mire by your lonesome."
(Isidore d'Arlesans)
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[16:41] Lyulf felt the icy chill as it flushed across the area. His cerulean gaze seemed to shift between August, Ky, and finally Isdore. So, this was how things were going to go? The youth didn't say a word as he reached down to his hip, fingers curling around the hilt of the Justicar. Then, he pulled it from its holster. The sound of the hammer being cocked echoes softly as he looked over towards Ky. Best to get the civilian out of the way of what was about to happen.

"Get lost, there was never a toll." The words left his lips as plasma began to circle his frame. The fel-lightening like substance oozing about his cloak and a soft glow of purple radiating from his drawn revolver. His gaze shifted between August and Isidore once more.

"Stop preaching, we're not listening."

He then rose his revolver and pointed it towards the Acoylte of the church. The soft glow of plasma seemed to pulsate along its barrel as he tried to keep an eye onAugust. "Now, get out of here. Last chance." He'd allow Pip and Peitho to deal with August for the moment. His focus remained on Isidore, even if they seemed like a peaceful sort of person? Well, he doubted they'd side with the youth of Achyon over a teacher form Starfall.
(Lyulf Yayle)
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[16:42] The Vartuul roams around as always, wings flapping on occasion with his strides. A hind is risen, pinky claw out and between his teeth. An idle gesture as he crosses the space between island and mainland, a connective section of land finally utilized for easier travel.

For once, something interrupts his path. A once quiet, listless stroll now bears something. Rose hues find black hats. Pupils slit finely at the sight.

"Now what is this? A goon squad of losers running about in drones after knights did them in?" He spots the uniform. It's unmistakable. He notes Isidore's presence here. Lips peel back, a grin touches him and casts outward.

Things heat up. "How lovely." A Felinae loses it and his wings merely keep a neat fold. Each black hat is observed as he steps closer. One is clawed at. Others remain. "I hear they're all emotionless machines who don't feel anything. Do you think that's true, Isidore? Can I find something to draw upon in them or is it a waste of time?"
(Sylvester Vartuul)
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[16:45] Cedar Grace says, "Man I REALLY want some magical crack..."
[16:51] The situation escalates at long last. It's an inevitability felt in his breast and still, it wounds him when given fruition. He doesn't like violence or contempt for any one people - they are such mundane concepts that beget more of the same. He recalls Rhesus and Marcel whom bared their wounds for all to see and showed the price paid for their unresolved turmoil.

Of course, the arrival of Sylvester approaches and he turns his head with pouted lips. His words are acknowledged too but he cannot truly indulge in the pleasantries of their paradigm. "...these children need to taken care of, Sylvester. I don't truly think they have much to offer any one drawing."

When magics erupt and the cogs stand against the gathering, Isidore's bodily language shifts. Legs part in tandem with the manifestation of plasma around the Yayle and he shifts his head. The red-haired boy's words resound in his mind and lids shut.

"... I'll pray for you. All three of you." Isidore believes them to be the product of malicious propaganda. Can they truly help these urges to assert themselves over others? "But I must heed my duties - you three cannot conduct yourselves here."

His control over the metaphysics arises. The d'Arlesan's form fades in and out of sight, enveloped in rays of light that enunciate his presence as much as it hides.

"You will go through me if you mean to harm the children!"

Isidore's bow is drawn, string plucked back whilst aimed at the redhead. He means his words but there is a tremble in his hold over the weaponry.

He wishes he didn't have to do this at all.
(Isidore d'Arlesans)

[17:03] {Lost Aggressive RPB against Isidore d'Arlesans}
[17:03] ** Isidore d'Arlesans has inflicted an injury upon Lyulf Yayle. ("Temporary Injury", "Temporary Injury", "Temporary", "") **

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[17:22] "Cease this nonsense!" He calls out to the redhead in an effort to appeal to his senses, perhaps most of all his fear or the lack thereof - blades of light are harnessed and subsequently projected into him whilst a chilly torrent of icicles are conjured from the molecules in the air and repel him away.

They meet with violence in mind; the juxtaposition of plasma and metal are brought into fruition against the conjurations of ice and light, but only one overpowers the other. Whether it be age or simply skill that affects his inability to overpower Isidore isn't out of the question - here, there is only the will of one aspiring priest to subdue and quell these hostilities.

When he knocks him down once, Lyulf approaches again and the blond propels himself off of his right foot, ushered into the air where he's free of those metallic bindings. There, at the plucking of his string, blades of light are conjured and collide with his form, dissipating into nothing more than an amalgamation of kinetic force that halts him. He's forced to endure the grass frozen by Isidore which forces him to consider his movement -

A hindsight that the blond utilizes to his advantage. He approaches with haste, disregarding his penchant for peace with a conclusive act; those hands that arose to block the touch of the cosmos are then lashed at once more with talons of ice - they spread in a fury around his person, like a storm desiring violent expression, and afflict him with their negative temperature.

He's brought to a kneel meters away from the blond, forced to reconcile with the temperatures that are so fervently imbued in his hands. They are hot but cold and severe on either scale - in their numbing effect that cascades to his wrists, he's left with only a stinging reminder of his halted advances.

Isidore approaches on foot, bow held at his side whilst hands are retained on the shaft and string. Worn on his porcelain and effeminate visage is a scowl.

"I told you to cease, friend. This is not the path you should take -- not here and not ever."
(Isidore d'Arlesans)
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[17:38] 'Cease this nonsense!' The wored echoed out as the boy tilted his head. "I don't take orders from you Zealot." The sound of his revolvers hammer striking the plasmic ignition switch was what came after! A furious jolt of raw plasma shot forwards out the end of the gun!

His plasmic rounds were being used more and more often to simply keep the light of the priest at bay! Shots rang out again and again as the young marksman chose to shoot the hardened lights out of the sky. Dodging the bolts of ice as often as he could.

It was the celestial might that he struggled with the most. His lashing of metal brought to bear in defense! Great chains clashed with the priests fiery spirit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The words shouted as the boy tried harder and harder to bring the fight into his favor. Was it age? Skill alone? The gods intervening?

He didn't know but each set-back in the battle sent his blood boiling more and more. Dashing inwards the teen's chestplate of copper unfolded and shot forwards! Knocking the breast into the ground and securing them with strips of copper bindings. This was surely enough to end the fight! At-least Lyulf thought so. Oddly enough when he approached for what he thought was a coup' de grace the boy shifted the revolver to a side hand and pulled out a club.

Non-lethal at-least was the intentions it seemed. The shift and the dashing of lights brought his focus to bare! That metallic club swung in quick tight arcs as he brought the steel to bear against the light! "You'll need more than a light show to break me!" The roar was perhaps given out of aggravation at having things slip away from him.

Then came the ice, now he was stuck. His gaze flicking to and fro as he sought a way out of the trap. Discarding the metal baton the youth's free hand came to his chest, sliding out a series of throwing knives. Heavy things that he'd intend to lodge into the frozen earth and kick off of.

At-least, that was his goal. When the ice and cosmos came lashing upon him? Well, that was the end of his fighting. The storm lashing his hands was almost to much for the youth. He felt that pain and his hands shook as the gun dropped from his grasp. His knees hit the ground as he looked upon his trembling hands.

Again?

His focus shifted upwards as his pained expression gazed upon Isidore. His lips pulled back into a scowl of his own. Lectured by this priest? "Hold your damn sermons!" Still, he was left with little choice but to escape somehow. With a grunt the boy's metal magic pulled a series of pins from what looked like grenade's strapped upon his chest.

They fell down upon the ground a flush of smoke poured from them! That was the distraction the boy needed and it wasn't long before he dashed into the dark. He'd have to meet up with his squadmates back in Achyon. If they survived their own clashes.
(Lyulf Yayle)
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