#God was just too generous with Shashi when it came to looks

[shut-up-rabert]

Nothing just Kapoor Brothers being too Beautiful for this sinful world

They raised the bar so high it can’t even be seen with naked eye anymore

[theshatteredrose]

Turquoise Lotus Father (Treasure Seekers Saga 2) - Chapter 17 - Etrian Odyssey 5 Fanfiction

AN: A rather special chapter since it’s from Blayke’s point of view for a change. So, yeah, there’s a bit of swearing involved :’D Hope you enjoy reading~!

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet

Chapter 17:

Blayke kept polishing his rapier as he walked out of his room. He was still agitated by the events that occurred in the labyrinth, and in the past few days in general. That Keita brat seriously pissed him off. His confidence, his attitude, his bravado.

Nothing but an obnoxious brat.

Still, he couldn’t afford to underestimate him. Just like he couldn’t afford to underestimate any of those bandits. They had a guild name, but he couldn’t remember it. And honestly he didn’t fucking care.

With his weapon as sharp and shiny as he could possibly get it, he slid it back into its sheath and rested it near the front entrance of the guildhouse. He did hesitate in doing so, however. With the break-in that occurred a couple of days ago, he was understandably still a bit edgy.

That bandit was lucky that it was Drayce that walked into the library and not Blayke himself. He’d like to think that he would put up more of a fight. Drayce was protective, and honestly far too nice. He preferred the act of waiting and being on guard. Blayke preferred to strike back, be he the first to strike or the second. Be he would definitely take a swing at someone.

Reckless? Probably. But the momentary satisfaction of hitting the bastard attacking him would be worth it.

“B-Blayke?”

Dropping his rapier in the foyer, Blayke turned at the sound of Caelem’s nervous voice. As he laid eyes on the therian, he found him looking as nervous as he sounded; ears folded back slightly and his fluffy red tail hanging low with just the tip twitching in slight agitation.

He had gotten used to seeing Caelem’s fluffy tail being all…perky and upright. Even wagging excitedly and happily on occasion.

“What’s wrong?” Blayke immediately asked.

Caelem frowned. “I can’t find Drayce. I can’t even hear him.”

“What?” Blayke asked in surprise. “He’s not in this office? What about his room?”

Caelem just shook his head. “I checked the library, too. I had…thought that maybe he fell asleep or…something else happened. But I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

Blayke felt the urge to race upstairs to have a look himself. But if Caelem said he couldn’t find Drayce, then he couldn’t find him. Going to look for himself would be fruitless. But if he wasn’t milling about in the library, getting himself lost in his office, or simply crashing in his room…then where the hell was he?

“Checked the training room?” Blayke questioned.

“Zohar and Kamali are there,” Caelem answered. “They haven’t seen him either.”

God damn it!

If there was one person in this overly roomy guildhouse that would know where Drayce could be, it could only be a certain green-haired caretaker.

“Ashton!” Blayke called out as he all but marched in a purely agitated manner into the kitchen. And as soon as he spied the other man, levelled him with a very pointed question; “Where the hell is Drayce?”

Ashton immediately stopped what he was doing by the kitchen sink to abruptly spin around to face him. “What? He’s not in his office?”

“No,” Blayke bit out, only truly agitated because he was becoming increasingly concerned. After all those events with those bandit bastards, he had a right to be. “And not in his room or the library, either.”

Ashton seemed to share his concern as his face went from mild surprised to this stoic expression of hidden concern. He eyes became hard, steely even as he quickly exited the kitchen, no doubt wanting to see for himself.

Blayke followed him out, only to stop in the foyer when he realised the rest of the guildhouse’s occupants were already gathered there. Worry, confusion was rift. And there was nothing Blayke could say that could ease their minds.

Instead, all he could really do was to run a hand through his hair in frustration. “Man, you really do need to keep a constant eye on the guy,” he muttered.

Drayce had always been like that. Ever since they were kids. He would just wander off after seeing something that looked interesting. The adults said that he was inquisitive. To Blayke, he was just asking for trouble.

And he couldn’t help but feel that Drayce had found himself in trouble…

He wasn’t over-reacting. Something was wrong. He felt it in his bones.

A low growl to his right pulled Blayke from his thoughts. He immediately narrowed in on the source of the sound to find Faelen crouched down in the back hallway next to Nashoba. Whom of which was staring directly at the back door. Back arched, fur bristling, and head hung low.

Before Blayke could tell Faelen to get back into the foyer with everyone and ask what it was that had Nashoba agitated, Ashton marched down the stairs. His expression hadn’t changed much at all. But his jaw was clenched, and his eyes were narrowed.

“He’s not here,” Ashton stated simply as he reached the bottom step.

“He has to be here,” Blayke argued. “No one saw him leave.”

Ashton’s expression hardened further. “By the front door.”

Blayke frowned. “Out the back? What the hell for?”

The sound of hurried footsteps from the floor above caused everyone to instantly look upwards. Tense. Thankfully, it was just Shashi. However, he looked mildly worried as he hurried down the stairs to be next to Ashton.

“Ashton. The map. It’s gone,” he said simply.

“What?”

Shashi lifted his hand to reveal a golden key in his palm. “Here. The key I gave to Drayce only a few hours ago.”

Ashton stared down at the key wide-eyed. “He…?”

A low growl followed by a snarling bark from Nashoba prevented Ashton from saying anything further. The sound, however, immediately reminded Blayke of Nashoba’s previous signs of agitated and he narrowed in on the back of the Crescentia.

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked as he reached out to snare Faelen by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back to where everyone else had gathered.

“S-someone’s outside,” Faelen nervously stated as he allowed Kamali to take him by the shoulders and essentially hold him close to him to ensure his safety. Nashoba, thankfully, didn’t immediately race off to find the source of the sound himself. He stayed, guarded and alert, in the middle of the hallway.

“Another bandit, huh? Caelem, my rapier.”

Caelem wordlessly picked up the sheathed weapon and effortlessly threw it across the room toward him. He threw it in such a way that allowed Blayke to catch it in one hand and unsheathed it within a mere second later with the other. Discarding the sheath to the side, he held the handgrip of his weapon tightly as he darted toward the backdoor.

He anticipated a bandit. After everything that happened, it had to be one, right?

If it was that brat…

Yet…they got what they wanted. The map. Drayce. Why the hell would they waste time or effort returning to the scene of the crime, so to speak?

Only one way to find out.

When Blayke reached the backdoor, he immediately stilled. He waited in silence, hoping for another noise to narrow in on. Rushing outside without a clue where the intruder could be was stupid. He may be a man of action, but he wasn’t stupid.

He didn’t have to wait long. A soft rustling sound was heard. To the right of the door. Likely a few steps away.

So, to prevent their intruder from gaining the upper hand, Blayke acted first. He opened the door wide and darted outside. He quickly positioned himself into a defensive stance, but readied himself to go full on defensive an instant before he needed to. He faced the direction the rustling came from and heard another noise. Another quick rustle.

That second sound allowed him to narrow in on their intruder further.

He had expected that overly confident blue haired kid. Or that sullen, quiet harbinger. Hell, he half expected to find that smug, eyepatch wearing asshole.

What he got was a brounii with short blond hair with red-rimmed glasses, who happened to be hiding behind a stone pillar. And practically trembling with fear.

“Who-?” Blayke mumbled, revealing his surprise.

The brounii peered around the pillar at him. He had green eyes that were brimming with tears. “P-please don’t hurt me.”

A tearful brounii? He hadn’t expected that…

While still in the state of surprise, Blayke made the conscious decision not to lower his weapon. “You’re…?”

“Runihura l-left me here,” the brounii continued, either accidently or purposely revealing his connection to those bandits. “He said…he said that the d-dragoon said it was ok.”

That caused Blayke to lower his guard a fraction as he blinked at the other in surprise. “Drayce…”

What was going on? How much was he keeping from him?

“Blayke?”

Someone quietly saying his name inside caused Blayke to snap out of his surprise and he turned his head to see that the others had gathered close to the back entrance. Likely worried for him and ready to spring into action themselves. And equally likely, surprised by his lack of action. And probably cussing.

“It’s a brounii,” Blayke replied as he lowered his rapier, but not his guard. “A scared one at that.”

Fiorello immediately stepped forward and defiantly brushed past the others. “Allow me,” he said simply as he moved to step outside also.

By appearance, Fiorello didn’t look that intimidating. And he was a healer, so he would know how to approach someone who was frightened. Even so, Blayke decided to stay close and keep watch. The brounii might be scared because he was alone. Or he was scared because he was being used as bait.

With those bandits, anything was possible.

Fiorello approached the other brounii cautiously. He didn’t immediately rush him. He stopped a few steps away. At a respectable distance. “What’s your name?” he asked in a surprisingly gentle voice.

The other brounii peered out from behind the pillar. “P-Palash.”

“Come inside,” Fiorello urged gently with a reassuring smile. “You’re safe here.”

Palash didn’t respond at first. He continued to hide behind the pillar and just stared at Fiorello. He then suddenly swallowed, as if trying to work up the nerve to leave his little spot of so-called safety.

Finally, he did step out from behind the pillar. “O-ok.”

Fiorello offered out his hand to the still very skittish Palash, who happened to be dressed similar to that of a botanist, so likely felt a sense of kinship with his fellow brounii. Palash looked at Fiorello’s hand, once more swallowing hard.

He then took a hold of Fiorello’s hand.

Although still suspicious, Blayke took a step back to allow Fiorello to take Palash inside. He couldn’t help but glance at their surroundings cautiously, still half expecting someone else to jump out while they were distracted.

The way that Palash clung to Fiorello, skittishly looking at his surroundings in mild panic, prompted Blayke to assume that the kid wasn’t remotely dangerous. No one could fake being that frightened.

Somewhat satisfied that no one else was outside, hiding in the garden and shadows, Blayke backed his way back into the Crescentia. He closed the door and made sure to note that he locked it tight.

He then turned to follow Fiorello deeper into the Crescentia, his rapier close to his side.

“Don’t crowd him. Give him some room,” Fiorello chided everyone.

Blayke, of course, wanted to interrogate him. But with how skittish he appeared to be; it would lead to nowhere. He’d leave the questioning to Fiorello for now. He’d be better off keeping a close eye on their surroundings and ensuring that everyone else was safe.

“Now, then,” Fiorello started as everyone gathered in the foyer once more, and he turned to Palash. “Can you tell us what happened? You need to tell us everything. We’re very worried about a friend of ours, you see.”

Palash continued to cling onto Fiorello’s arm tightly. “U-um, I’ll start with what’s really important.” He took another moment to draw in a deep breath to settle his nerves. “K-Keane took someone hostage. A therian. A-and…he shot another. A pugilist.”

Blayke felt his heart drop into his stomach. “A pugilist? No way…”

That could only mean one thing.

Fiorello caught onto the implication, too. Though, he tried not to show it, the tightening of his jaw indicated that he was rightly worried. “Where?”

“I-I don’t know,” Palash regretfully replied with a shake of his head. “I only know because Runihura t-told me. He…”

Tears suddenly began to pool in his eyes again and his bottom lip trembled. It was obvious that the harbinger was extremely important to him. He was just as worried for Runihura as they were for Drayce’s safety.

Runihura must have been pretty desperate to leave Palash alone in the back gardens of the Crescentia.

“Runihura has been trying to protect you, hasn’t he?” Kamali asked him gently.

Barely holding back his tears, Palash nodded his head. “K-Keane, he…he’s after the dragoon. Drayce.”

Blayke immediately tensed as a mild sense of nausea appeared from the pit of his stomach. “Why?”

Again, Palash shook his head. “I-I don’t know. He’s a treasure hunter. That’s all I know.”

It wasn’t just because he was a treasure hunter…

Damn bastard. He had better not try anything with Drayce!

A sudden and extremely loud knock at the front door caused everyone to jump. Blayke instantly whirled around, rapier in hand as he pushed himself to the front. Though ready for a fight, a part of him was sceptical that one of those bandits would just waltz up to the front door and make such a racket.

Blayke signal everyone to stay back as he moved toward the front door. With one hand on the handle, the other gripping his rapier tightly, he turned the knob and threw open the front door.

He had expected someone to be standing directly in front of him. And that was what he got. But he hadn’t expected them to be leaning heavying against the doorframe, cradling their left shoulder as dark read blood snaked down his arm and pooled at his feet.

Salim…

Grimacing in pain, Salim lifted his head and muttered through gritted teeth. “You guys…”

Blayke’s rapier was sent tumbling to the floor as he reached out to catch Salim before he fell down along with it. “What the hell happened?” he asked as he felt the pugilist’s full weight fall against him.

As Ashton darted forward to help Blayke drag Salim inside, he managed to ground out a short explanation. “Some…bastard with an eyepatch. He has…Tokala.”

Damn it!

“Take him to the clinic immediately,” Fiorello ordered. “Palash, stay with Kamali. Zohar, help me with this.”

“Of course,” Zohar said dutifully.

Salim continued to lose blood as they dragged him to the clinic. For someone who was usually energetic, perhaps even obnoxiously so, seeing him so…limp and pale was incredibly unnerving.

With Ashton’s help, they laid Salim down onto a cot. As Blayke moved to step away, Salim suddenly lashed out to grab him by the arm. Although it appeared painful for him to do so, he held onto his arm tightly as he looked up at him.

“Find Tokala,” he gritted out. “He’s in trouble.”

…He wasn’t the only one.

“Did that bastard say anything?” Blayke asked as he crouched down next to Salim’s bed.

Fiorello and Zohar worked feverishly on Salim’s arm, of which the pugilist paid little attention to. “Something about a vassal. I think he was…ugh, he was talking about Tokala.”

A vassal? Blayke didn’t have a clue where to start with that. But maybe someone else did.

Blayke patted the back of Salim’s hand in a hopefully reassuring way. “Let Fiorello heal you without complaint. As soon as he’s done, we’ll go looking for Tokala.”

Salim peered up at him through one eye. He gave a short nod of his head in both acceptance and understanding. He then released his hold on Blayke’s arm.

Leaving Fiorello and Zohar to do their jobs, Blayke stepped away from Salim’s bed and out of the clinic. He wasn’t surprised to find that the others had gathered outside the room. Palash with them, holding onto Kamali’s hand tightly as he hid behind him.

With his ears flat against his hand and his hands fidgeting nervously in front of him, Caelem stood before Blayke. “What do we do now?”

Good question.

First thing they needed to do was to sort out all the information they had gathered. And figure out just what the fuck was actually going on!

“I think I’m beginning to understand what is happening here,” Shashi suddenly uttered. With his hand grasping his chin in a thoughtful posture, he turned to the green-haired earthlain next to him. “Ashton. Do you think-?”

“Absolutely,” Ashton cut him off, his expression stoic yet frustration could still be clearly seen in his eyes. “Keane took Tokala and somehow managed to get to Drayce. The map was likely ransom. He used Tokala to ensured Drayce’s complete compliance.”

“And the damn idiot didn’t tell anyone else because he didn’t want anyone else to get involved,” Blayke added. He couldn’t help but utter a low growl as he raked his hand through his hair. “Ugh, I’m beating his ass when I get my hands on him!”

Ashton nodded his head sharply. “Shashi. Information on the map. You said it pointed to a location at one point. They must be heading there.”

“Yes,” Shashi returned swiftly. “Upper left-hand corner. That’s our best lead.”

“Right, that’s where we’ll go,” Blayke decided before he turned to the two scholars. “But you two, stay here. Just in case that bastard didn’t drag Drayce there. You two can keep an eye out for them in town.”

Ashton looked as though he wanted to argue with that, out of sheer protectiveness toward Drayce then for any other reason. Yet, he couldn’t find fault in Blayke’s line of thinking either.

“What about Salim?” Faelen asked nervously.

“He’s probably coming, too.” As if they could talk him out of staying put and waiting. “He’s seriously pissed off right now.”

And he wasn’t the only one.

Right. Enough talk. Time for some fucking action.

“Everyone, get ready,” Blayke ordered as he moved to the stairs to get his armour from his room. “We’ve going to beat the shit out of those bandits and get Drayce back.”

“Right!”

[smithdenlio-blog]

Have Mobile, Will Go to Town

When I entered advertising in the Eighties, cola was the happening category. Agency creative types would give an arm and a leg to work on a cola or a soft drinks account. Captions resonated in young people's minds, won awards for the agency that created them and quickly made it to the editorial as newspapers and magazines adapted the lines and made them their own. In all fairness many of the other categories, dominated as they were by multinational style advertising, had boring and predictable ads. Thankfully people still watched these ads as there was only one channel and usually half a programme to watch. This was before the days of oongli cricket as the remote control had not yet made its diabolical presence felt. And if my memory serves me right, there was research to suggest that people found the commercials more entertaining than the programmes themselves, which was perhaps an indication of how sad the programmes were at that point in time.

Having said that it would be remiss of me not to mention some of the pathbreaking ads of the Eighties, some of which I can still recall and which I still show my students today, some of whom were born after these ads were made. Ads for Vimal, the 'I love you Rasna' ads, the 'Lalitaji' commercials, 'Give me Red' for Eveready, 'Hamara Bajaj' and the commercial of the Cadbury's girl in the cricket field to name just a few, kept our collars up even if our wallets were thin. And yet, when I show these ads today they seem hardly as exciting as they were when I first saw them. It was for nothing that Bill Bernbach said "Today's smartest advertising style is tomorrow's corn."

Variety, the spice of life

Perhaps the greatest shot in the arm not only for the Indian economy but for Indian advertising was liberalisation when foreign brands came in quest of the 'great Indian middle class'. Some flourished while others floundered but advertise they did, with varying shades of creativity. And yet the greatest revolution, to my mind at least, has been the 'mobile revolution' as India took to mobiles the way a young Sachin Tendulkar took to cricket nearly three decades ago. Young India goes to sleep with its mobile and old India has sleepless nights about the next generation's addiction for mobile phones. But one industry that has not lost any sleep about the phenomenal growth of the mobile services industry is advertising.

Mobile service companies are advertising-dependent, to put it mildly. Companies are in cut-throat competition with each other in the prepaid and postpaid categories, have mindboggling schemes and sexy advertising. The target audience is young, irreverent, has a sense of humour and is completely relaxed as it spends its parents' money! Mobile services is a brilliant advertising category that can entertain, beat the clutter, make you smile and even win your agency awards. What more can anyone ask for?

Of course, there is a slightly discordant note that I must bring up (I think it is my horoscope that prevents me from seeing the brighter side of things) and that is about how far removed from the truth this advertising often is. Every mobile service ad talks about phenomenal coverage. The pug follows the little girl wherever she goes, signifying the depth and width of the coverage. It is a completely different matter that my colleagues in Mumbai are extremely fit as they have to run out every time their mobile phone rings, as you can't hear a word inside the office! Of course, the fact that I do not run much is evident from my middle!

One of the most recalled commercials for Airtel is one in which the grandfather who is in the village and the grandson who is in the train play chess. Forget connectivity on a moving train in distant lands; as an Airtel customer I can vouch for how dismal the coverage is in not-so-distant places such as Mumbai for I have hell when I go there and even in Bangalore where I live and work. Coverage is the last thing the brand should speak about, for it is like a red rag to disgruntled consumers such as us.

In fact, the advertising for mobile services reminds me of a competition that most management schools have called 'mad ads' where students are asked to do advertising for an imaginary product or service. Mobile services are definitely there and thriving, but they are like several other service products in the country whose actual performance has no relevance to the advertising that they portray. Make no mistake, mobile services advertising in the country is by and large brilliant, entertaining, and clutter-breaking. Why ask needless questions like "is what they are saying true" and "how good is the actual coverage?"

Withdrawal symptoms after IPL

The IPL is over and for a few days I had withdrawal symptoms as I would mechanically go and sit in front of the TV at 8 p.m. I miss the hysterics of Danny Morrison; Navjot Singh Sidhu's profound wisdom that would fill an entire calling card; the show of legs as the cheerleaders danced to Kannada and Tamil songs; the wistful gaze of an heir apparent on a largely disinterested young star; and the elusive smiles of Preity Zinta as her team discovered new depths; the missed sitters that made me think 'S***, I could have caught that'; the multiple teams on 12 points; the strategic breaks where the commentators were hard pressed to say anything remotely strategic; the haunting images of Lalit Modi with some pretty woman or the other... A weaker man might have been driven to drink! But thankfully, the ads for mobile services continue to entertain even if Lalit Modi or Shashi Tharoor refuse to. So let me talk about the mobile services ads that I like and that are current.

Show me your tattoo and I will show you mine

Have you seen the one where a lady with South Indian features is chopping vegetables on a kitchen table, Suprabhatham is playing in the background and her pretty daughter approaches her reluctantly and says, "I want to show you something"? The mother looks up, one suspects with dread, God knows what today's youngsters can show and lo and behold, she displays a huge and grotesque tattoo on her lower back. I stared aghast at the tattoo as I thought her mother would and imagine my surprise when the mother says in her pronounced Madrasi accent, "very nice". It was for "my song" and asks people to listen to what they would like to listen. I am sure lots of people with grown-up children like me love this commercial for Tata Docomo, as they would of the young man who goes for an interview and says exactly the wrong things and yet gets a job! Tata Docomo has been a game changer in the mobile category and its pricing has turned the market on its head. But its success in no small measure is due to the advertising.

Not far behind are the Airtel ads for night time calling featuring Sharman Joshi (I finally figured out his name, after all, South Indian names are a problem for North Indians too) where he speaks to his girlfriend's brother and advises him on what to study before he gets to speak to the girl or when he makes the shopkeeper speak to his mom and bargain on the sari price and butters up his professor on thermodynamics thanks to the Net... So what if Airtel has call drops and you can't hear, at least, they have interesting commercials. And what about Idea Cellular and its whacky commercials that feature crazy contests with Abhishek, his fat attendant and the dumb blonde? The whackier the contest, the more I liked the commercial. And what about Vodafone and the Zoozoos? I know that I am going to upset a few people, including my colleague who is a fervent admirer of the advertising, when I say that the current advertising is not as endearing as the earlier edition. Is it more in your face? More strident? More tailored to suit the brand IPL? I don't know, but I have seen better from the same brand.

And finally it is not only advertising

I have a sneaking suspicion that the mobile brands are taking the easy way out and focusing on creativity and advertising that is manageable. What about customer service and engagement? Let me give you an example as recent as yesterday. My wife received a mail from her personal relationship manager whose name I shall not mention saying "thank you" and that she was "special" and how she was her personal relationship manager. There was a small problem though; the mail started with "Dear Sir/Madam," and went on to say all those glowing things. My wife being the difficult customer that she is wrote back: