I seem to have been summoned as a Caster class, so you should probably call me that. The identity of the servant is supposed to be kept relatively secret. Part of the whole not tipping your hand thing.
but first, how would you like a vivid dream about that time Ryner tried to assassinate Sion with a book? complete with gay knocking him over and Milk and Ferris busting in. A nice, friendshippy dream.]
[ SO YOU'RE PROBABLY AWARE THAT THE REAL AMOUNT OF HOURS I GOT TO SLEEP WAS ACTUALLY MORE LIKE, TWO. ]
[ what a fucking bizarre dream though. literally what the shit. it's pleasant enough that he doesn't quite wake up on the dot if you end up sparkling into his room ]
[After he's done checking out the city, he investigates the manor while immaterial, though he sparkles back into existence in the kitchen to make a sandwich before Damian wakes.
He has not, however, finished the sandwich by the time Damian is up, so he walks into Damian's room holding half a sandwich and looking utterly at home.]
[ you fuckin piece of shite who said you could do that ]
[ it takes a moment—he's already stirring when he hears footsteps; he's not really a deep sleeper in the first place. he isn't moving yet, though, looks perfectly like he's asleep on the outside.
then: ]
Is that from our pantry.
[ i mean that's not precisely where sandwiches come from but you know ]
[ frowns, eyebrows deeply inset even before he opens his eyes, and when he does the frown stays; he's sitting himself up—there's notably no blanket or sheet that covers him, or even anything on the bed besides what looks like a stiff bedroll. it doesn't look comfortable at all. ]
Tt. Making yourself at home already—you had better not have been caught.
[stays on it. claimed in the name of ryner. this is in no way similar to your dream, or anything, though that was notably from ryner's point of view. you were the bed encroacher, damian, it was you.
takes a bite, and gives himself the time to chew and swallow before answering.]
I didn't find any carelessly open signs of magic, but I did check out places of strategic interest, and some of the more affluent households are worth further investigation for sure. Magic didn't require money in my time, but things do change, I suppose.
[ uGHHH I'M NOT A BED ENCROACHER. tense, perhaps because of how similar it feels, sans positions being reversed (???)
who the fuck even is that white haired person. who were any of those people in fact. what the fuck. ]
Material magic costs money, and materials in this day and age are hard to come by.
[ he's dabbled a little in magecraft himself, which is a happy coincidence—look, he was kind of a troubled teen. but it's not anywhere near sustainable levels of magic and he has a small pool of mana, at best, and a rudimentary level of magic, though a little more knowledge than what he is physically capable of doing. knowledge is probably the greater power between the two, after all. ]
So it's as I thought. The wealthy elites have found another game to play. Will the War be contained in this city?
Exactly. There should actually be an, mm, arbitrator of sorts, that you can consult to get a clearer idea of what's happening than you can from me. The War didn't exist in my time. Do you have any contact with an association of mages or something?
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Damian. Hi. Nice to meet you, I guess.
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[ with an irritated sigh, as he turns to you know, keep walking again ]
It isn't reciprocated. But it is only fair that you know my name, now that I know yours.
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I seem to have been summoned as a Caster class, so you should probably call me that. The identity of the servant is supposed to be kept relatively secret. Part of the whole not tipping your hand thing.
Rest well, Damian.
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Report back with everything you know.
. . . For now, avoid speaking to anyone directly at all. Especially if they are here.
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[Sparkles out of existence, and after a few moments Damian will get the distinct feeling he's left.]
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[ so 1) can you sense if i'm awake or not
and 2) are you coming back in three hours ]
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but first, how would you like a vivid dream about that time Ryner tried to assassinate Sion with a book? complete with gay knocking him over and Milk and Ferris busting in. A nice, friendshippy dream.]
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[ what a fucking bizarre dream though. literally what the shit. it's pleasant enough that he doesn't quite wake up on the dot if you end up sparkling into his room ]
[ or
wherever you sparkle to ]
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He has not, however, finished the sandwich by the time Damian is up, so he walks into Damian's room holding half a sandwich and looking utterly at home.]
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[ it takes a moment—he's already stirring when he hears footsteps; he's not really a deep sleeper in the first place. he isn't moving yet, though, looks perfectly like he's asleep on the outside.
then: ]
Is that from our pantry.
[ i mean that's not precisely where sandwiches come from but you know ]
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[ frowns, eyebrows deeply inset even before he opens his eyes, and when he does the frown stays; he's sitting himself up—there's notably no blanket or sheet that covers him, or even anything on the bed besides what looks like a stiff bedroll. it doesn't look comfortable at all. ]
Tt. Making yourself at home already—you had better not have been caught.
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but he perches on the end of it anyway.]
I wasn't. Some servant I'd be, if I couldn't even make a sandwich with stealth.
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getting up from the bed, then. ]
Some servant, indeed.
[ and, looking to him expectantly, arms crossed ]
Your report.
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takes a bite, and gives himself the time to chew and swallow before answering.]
I didn't find any carelessly open signs of magic, but I did check out places of strategic interest, and some of the more affluent households are worth further investigation for sure. Magic didn't require money in my time, but things do change, I suppose.
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who the fuck even is that white haired person. who were any of those people in fact. what the fuck. ]
Material magic costs money, and materials in this day and age are hard to come by.
[ he's dabbled a little in magecraft himself, which is a happy coincidence—look, he was kind of a troubled teen. but it's not anywhere near sustainable levels of magic and he has a small pool of mana, at best, and a rudimentary level of magic, though a little more knowledge than what he is physically capable of doing. knowledge is probably the greater power between the two, after all. ]
So it's as I thought. The wealthy elites have found another game to play. Will the War be contained in this city?
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[flops out on the bed.]
It should be. Masters may have come from far afield to involve themselves in it, but most if not all of it should stay within Gotham.
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[ clicks his tongue, deadpan and sarcastic ]
Joy. So the number of freaks in this city increase.
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...Or nothing that can't be explained away as something other than magic, at any rate.
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[ it's disdainful, but less about this subject—he's angry about something, maybe. and the dream is still weird. ]
Keeping it secret is how I prefer it. It's my impression that there has been a precedence to this War?
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[ . . . I guess I have to go . . . find that out though . . . ]
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Even so, I'm too identifiable as what I am, so it would need to be you to find out.
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. . . Well. Until now. I suppose.
[ you're so fucking useless ok fine i'll do the thing ]