You mean that there's always someone to respond! Good crazy timezones. 

Starrik left me for the cold north, so very rude. But I'm still in Bris Cass! 

I'm popping my head back in to follow Starrik - good to see a few familiar faces are still around :)

Woo penguin!

For this year it's as soon as I can get it in, which is hopefully in the next week or two. Just a lot of editing and drafting and editing and drafting the same 10k words ugh

I am around I am just drowning in phd work. Sorry if anyone is waiting on me.  ? I'lI try and check in more often

Ooh Victoria, no points for blues or maroons Dicicle haha. 

Yewwww Cass! Let's try and get each other some training and see where it goes haha. 

And I can jump into a big training thread too as long as it doesn't move too fast and there aren't too many others waiting on me for replies? 

Who wants to become a scout? Arkin's new biggest fan?

Arkin took a few deep breaths, relaxing back into the feeling as much as he could. It wasn't hard to, all things told. It was hard to get himself riled up. More and more, he didn't enjoy this feeling of helplessness, but the good company he was in made it a lot easier to bear. A drink would help even more, but he couldn't reach his flask from here. That could wait. That had to wait. 

Instead, he focused on the slight pokes and pains of the needle as it dipped in and out of his skin. He was no stranger to being stitched up, though, and Emrin was good at it. This was no rough job that would leave horrid scars, no rush to tie him back together and get the next person on the table before they died too. It was actually quite nice, all things considered. As long as he didn't forget where he was, what he was doing there. Still, the stitching made it easy to focus, and Emrin made it easier still. 

Arkin laughed. "You don't have to worry about a hit from me, good sir," he said. "You'd barely notice it, I'd wager." It was true. Arkin could certainly hold his own in combat, as his recent scrap showed. But he did better at the beginning of a fight, preferably from somewhere far away, before his foes knew he was there. And with a weapon. That part was utterly essential. Unarmed, the best Arkin could do was run away. Though he was a champion at that. 

He watched the medic work. He was swift, and focused, and practised. Arkin could see it in those hands. They weren't made for punching either. Made for delicate work. Maybe stitching hunks of meat like Arinth and Arkin back together wasn't quite so delicate, but Arkin saw the clever fingers at work. He worked through Arkin's wounds with a calm efficiency. It reminded Arkin of Jehryn, just a little, but Arkin shoved that thought away. He'd been back in Tanchico enough for one day, he thought. Instead, he watched Emrin tend to the cut on his chest. "Yeah, I'm usually pretty lucky with broken bones," Arkin said. "I think I may have been smacked around the head and fallen off enough walls as a child that I just learned to bounce."

He wrinkled his nose at the concoction Emrin slathered over him, staring at it curiously. "What is in that?" he asked. How did plants make you whole and hearty again? It had never made much sense to Arkin. He had never really thought about it before. But he saw plants all the time. Were any of them these plants that could heal wounds? Was that something useful he possibly should have been bringing back to camp for years now? He sniffed again. He was sure he recognised that smell. Maybe it had just been put on him before. "Mmm, yes, there was a sword and an axe and some other milksop in the trees. Just glad they got the non-essentials." He grinned. "All in the service of our glorious leader and good old fashioned fun," he added to Emrin's wonderment of soldiers' mishaps. He had a point. But this was what they were getting paid for, right? 

"Oh, there's plenty you can do with a scalpel," Arkin said. "Particularly if you drug us up first, looks like. You'd make a fine assassin, I'd wager." He pursed his lips. "Suppose that wouldn't work on a trolloc though, you're right. Think you could handle something a little bigger than a scalpel?" he asked. He gestured vaguely at his belt, trying not to interrupt Emrin's work too much. His brain felt a little fuzzy still, so he wasn't too bothered about the slight laziness in his actions and his tone. "My knives aren't that much bigger I s'pose., and they can handle trollocs alright." 

Wow yay!!! Who decided it was a good idea to put Arkin in a position of power? 

*pushes paperwork back at Arinth* Ahaha you forget my friend, Arkin still can't read super good XD

Arkin took the pummelling he deserved while on the floor. Out of habit more than anything else,  he checked where his knife had landed. Not one of his best knives. Not one of his best throws, come to think of it. He let his gaze slide to Arinth, looming above him. Everything stank. Arkin stank. Arinth stank. Then again, he always stank. The kitchen staff had vanished - probably for the best, though Arkin didn't doubt they would have solid aim when it came to throwing their food around. Surely that was a highly honed skill developed in the kitchens. Grinning to himself, he felt the pleasant aching of his muscles and the winding down of the energy around them. The fruit simply had to have run out by now. Well, other than what was lying around their battlefield, of course. 

Quite content at this point to stay where he was and watch the clouds for a while, Arkin sighed when Arinth offered a hand up. Taking it, he pulled, hard enough that he practically flew to his feet. The big man had just enough time to catch a glimpse of Arkin's fruit-filled hand before it spattered right over his face. It was more mush than it was structurally sound at this point, orange flesh mixed with soggy blades of grass. A bit of pulp dripped off Arinth's eyebrow, and Arkin laughed as he leaned against his friend, surveying the damage they had done to the open patch of grass. 

He waved a hand at the carnage. "An orchard would really add to the Citadel's homely aesthetic, I've always felt." 

Of course! I'll shoot you a DM

*points and laughs*

Oops! I'm here y'all haha. Also yes we need better communicating with BB strats for when I vanish into the ether XD 

Cass I feel you sooooo hard. 

If you get an archer around Arkin wants to learn more ranged weapons. 

Oooh there's gonna be some good fun drama in all these upcoming threads. 

Yas Cass, ok, I also only need one more post in our medic thread and then we should definitely do that. And for sure, let's get Arkin some AA help haha that makes sense. Ooh this is gonna be fuuuun. 

To be fair, Arkin is very easy to win over so he can sort of try and keep a balance in a super hectic training session there a bit.

Excellent haha

Arkin grinned at Arinth's response. He'd thought he'd like it. He only hoped they both still liked it tomorrow. A laugh bubbled out at that thought, though it quickly turned into a belch, which made him laugh again. There was a tingling warmth suffusing him now, one he wasn't sure was from the alcohol. 

Glancing over at Arinth, he didn't think he was the only one, although he did think that the alcohol was probably helping Arinth along. Grinning, he leaned back in the chair the artist had provided. The artist hadn't seemed overly amused by them, but once they had a confirmed design, he had focused up, bringing out his tools and prepping Arinth with a professional ease. That was at least encouraging if he was going to draw on them with stabby somethings. 

It was quiet, out here. They could hear the distant sound of cheers and laughter from the tavern, and the ever-present faint whiff and clank of patrolling guards. And in here, just the familiar sound of Arinth's breathing and the sharp smell of whatever the artist was using. 

He spoke to Arinth, nonsense things about the evening, awful bar stories he could barely remember, making conversation with the artist, all something of an effort to keep awake in the warmth of the tent. And then, when it became obvious that Arinth was in no position to respond, Arkin just watched. 

He watched Arinth's eyes droop, utterly relaxed despite the company, trusting Arkin as they always did. 

He watched the image slowly build up on Arinth's arm, their bond, their brotherhood, made real. 

He smiled at Arinth as he mentioned the long wait. "I am, for once, perfectly happy to wait." And he was. His limbs were pleasantly aching from the day's activities and their mad dash across the Citadel. His mind was soft around the edges, and quiet, and the memories of Tanchico were muted and dull. They were shared. They were being exorcised as they were drawn onto their skin. 

Something in him ached when Arinth named them brothers though. It was true. Of course it was. But it had been a very long time since Arkin had had anyone close to calling family. There was a cold part of him that the absence of his sister had long left there, and nothing and no-one could ever warm that. But he had been a child still when he lost her, and as a man, he had never had anything close to it. Brothers in arms, he had had, yes. But Arinth was right. This was more than brothers in arms, now, with their blood spilt for each other and their memories and nightmares made flesh and guarded by the other. 

Arkin smiled as Arinth glanced up at him, and slightly wobbly, leaned forward to rest his forehead against the infant's. He lightly rapped his fist against his own chest, then against Arinth's. Pushing off the larger man, he half-fell back into his seat, right in time to see the artist pulling back, cleaning off his tools. 

The artist nodded. "He's done. You're up." 

Arkin slid wrist wraps and bracelets off, offering up bare skin to the artist. A reminder of his brother on the opposite arm to that of his sister. He yelped at the sharp pain as the artist began, shooting Arinth a quick scowl, but he took a sip from his flask with his free hand, and the pain faded away into the buzz. 

Right! 

Yes Arkin will be around this month hell yeah. Anyone needs a scout? ? 

Current RPs:      

Got a bunch of these to finish off (pretending most of these haven't been open for literal years haha)

-Mark of Memory with @Arinth 

-Blade or Leaf (the Tinker Band rp) with @Arinth and aaaaaanyone who feels like jumping in

-A Visit to the Medics @Cass

-retro posting and catching up on the Alliance thread

Plans: 

Gonna jump in on Pahl's return! And I believe there was mention of

Emrin wanting training? Arkin mentioned wanting to learn a bit of field medicine so they can definitely trade knife skills and healing as a follow up to the visit to the medics thread Cass?

Definitely going to want to try and learn not to hate Eb as well - would I be able to jump in on that training session with y'all? 

I can't help it if we all write great stuff I wanna re-read haha

Oh yeah!!! I'll go find that medic tent one and reach Emrin to fight hell yeah 

Woo! Lots to read through here haha. Hang on, I'm gonna go and sort out the rps I've done and see where Arkin actually is atm in terms of rank and WS. I'll post up here in a sec with plans!

Oh of course, that goes without saying haha

Arkin lay in wait. He was behind Arinth now, almost perfectly in position. They had been discovered, but that had only been a matter of time. Arkin had been surprised they'd gotten away with it as long as they had, to be honest. 

He checked again on Pahl, whose hiding spot was really only adequate enough because Arinth's had been worse. And of course, the big man couldn't stay still for longer than a minute. 

Arkin, on the other hand...He snuck closer, snaking through the undergrowth, a fruit in each hand until the perfect time aaaaand -

Splat.

He ducked back into the trees, just in time to miss a barrage as their seriously affronted discoverer gaped at Arinth, mouth wide open as sickly sweet fruit ran down their shirt. It had been a very good shot, Arkin thought. 

Fruit started pelting Arinth - he dodged one well enough, but the others not so much. Arkin took that as his cue to start howling like a madman and make a break for better cover. Besides, he couldn't let Arinth cop all this on his own. That wasn't how they worked. 

His well intentioned thoughts survived right up until he next glanced at Arinth and saw the big man, dripping with fruit, a melon in each hand, eyes full of malice. 

Maybe he had misjudged this particular occasion. 

Arkin scrabbled backwards as not only Arinth, but their discoverer started hefting fruit at him. The first apple went wide, the next fended off with his blade, but in his efforts to dodge Arinth's first hunk of melon, he slipped in some remains of some poor fruit that had never made it to breakfast, and fell onto his rear. He was forced to throw his knife at the chunk of melon to split it, and it blocked his view of the next missile. Yelping, he rolled, barely dodging, and picking up a great deal of dirt with his sticky clothes and skin. One knife down, on the floor, it was all down to dodging now, and Arkin tried his very best. 

The barrage finally slowed, and Arkin lay back, spread eagle, eyes briefly closed as he caught his breath. They had to be out of fruit now. The sun was far too hot for this sort of smell.

Arkin heard it coming, but he merely groaned and snapped his eyes open as Arinth loomed over him. Oh. So he wasn't out then. 

Arkin just lay there, waving a brief come at me gesture.