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 Posted: Thu Jun 20, 2013 2:42 pm
↞ Liam Balin↠ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ Location: Training Grounds 
Her smile had been enough to temper him, demons help him. But the familiar face of the one person in this forsaken castle that he could stand caused the anger to ebb from his veins. It shouldn't have been her that he could tolerate. Shouldn't have been. But the countess varied so far from the rest of her kind, the almost general nearly forgot that this little slip of a woman was supposed to be an enemy. Nearly.
The more time he spent in her company, the more he reminded himself that one day, were he ever to go back to the ranks... he might be ordered to slay her and what remained of her family.
Golden hued orbs lit with the grin he returned to her, and he pushed that thought to the back of his consciousness - refusing to contemplate how he would react to that. Serving his kingdom always would be priority. However, short of Nathaniel's company in their youth... Skylar VanHolt had been the first person who did not just see him as a lesser person because of his lack of noble blood. Where everyone else sneered, she simply gave as good as she got. Unless it happened, he needn't dwell on things that may never come to fruition.
He greeted her, calling her a minx and she found amusement in it, but then threatened to dub him a lion. It garnered a rare chuckle from the man and the plethora of beads in his hair clacked noisily as he shook his head. "I do not believe I've ever been accused of so." He remarked lightly, not denying that her own interpretation was on point. He'd been called far, far worse.
Her hands were folded over each other against her chest, and his observations screeched at him, telling the man over again that he'd allowed her to become too relaxed in his company. Did she not know that being friends with him could be dangerous, that within a moment's notice he might turn on her? Standing there, with her boot propped upon the door frame, the woman appeared far too vulnerable. Before, he'd been dubbed a monster - ruthless and unfeeling - something far less tame than a lion. "Minx fits your personality." Liam claimed with honesty. Especially in his presence.
Skylar's eyes trailed over the puddles behind him and he scowled at the floor when she questioned it. "Training the new heir to Envy. A king should be battle-ready, honed." And while he wouldn't betray a weakness to the woman, simply because of from where she hailed, the aggravation would be a tell-tale sign that he didn't feel as though Altonair had been prepared properly. "While I squander my time here instead of spending my time where I would be of more use... I will at least make him someone that even my ranks will fear." He covered the complete incompetence well, making it sound as though he was merely disgruntled by still serving here in the realm so far away from the war.
A devilish sneer barely curled on his lips. "His Highness did not appreciate the rain pecking like a bird's beak against his flesh." Truthfully, Liam had not been overly fond of the weather, save for the fact that it had made his superior uncomfortable. But as a warrior, the skies could be a gift. Knowing how to keep ones' teeth from chattering and muscles from becoming stiff in the chill could keep the fight to one's advantage. "However, he will learn from it."
"How goes your training?" His words came out teasing, because she seemed to know so little about swordplay.
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ Too many lost.
Links in a chain passed down through the years,
But ending here, if we just face the pain and the fear...
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Posted: Fri Jun 21, 2013 8:54 pm
  
Ladies and Gentlemen.... Claus Revelle
Royal Jester of Veritas Where am I?: Kitchen ~*~ Who am I entertaining?: Dante and Soren, though Dante disappears...
....Boys and Girls  These wretched, untalented commoners knew nothing of his torment. His pain. His air, his demeanor, his very purpose exuded a certain mystique and theatricity that he slaved over for many, many years. It would not bother him if some merely saw him as a fool, or even a nuisance, so long as his act and presentation was noticed. Everthing about him added to his presence, from what the garments he put on on certain days, to the jewels he would sometimes adorn on his mask, to his very tone and manner of speech. There were many facets of his being, conglomereated into one seamless and lavish display of art and entertainment. Should one of these aspects waver, his act would crumble, and he would be less than stellar.
Now was such a moment.
His face, his damned face, was visible, along with the rest of his body for some godsoken, unknown reason. That effortless illusion that rendered his body visible was no longer able to be conjured, no matter how much the jester strained himself to try and recast it. In fact, none of his magical tricks seemed to work now. He was, essentially, as worthless and unremarkable as the servants that toiled in the halls, save for his agility that was honed through his years of existence. However, whatever had stopped his magic...seemed to be affecting him even more now. He could feel it: the magic that once coursed through him and tied him to that beautiful mask of his was gone. Like it never existed. His porcelin mask itself looked duller as well, like it had lost it's ethereal shine. That was the magic that made his existence for so long, without age raking wrinkles in his invisble skin or his hairs to lose their color. With it gone...time affected him now.
In other words, Claus Revelle, the once great and mystical jester, was reduced to common filth and was slowly dying, like the rest of the unblessed souls around here.
Claus slowly stood up from his spot on the floor, hands still shaking as they kept his mask planted firmly on his face. He dared not look back to the prince Dante and Knight Soren, lest they catch a glimpse of his non-everlasting features by chance. "Cretins! Your worthless minds are unworthy to comprehend my appearance. My role as Court Jester of Veritas is absolute, and I will not have some unknown farce play tricks with my sanity and remove my mystic abilities! You will only know Claus the Jester, and nothing more!" he cried out, pointing a shaky finger towards Soren and Dante's general direction (which was actually a little off from where they actually where, his shaky finger seeming to point at a random bow). "Who is responsible for this tomfoolery!? Who dares tamper with the proptery of Veritas, and my temple of a body?!"
The sound of a sort of ruckus coming from the dining hall did not stop his trembling, but the sound of Soren's voice, informing them of uninvited, violent guests, did still him for a moment.
But just a moment.
He quaked again, but with anger. "The idiots! The uncouth! The bastards! The gall they have to intrude upon Veritas' halls with such noise! I am the only one permitted to make such a scene!" he yelled, raising a gloved finger into the air. Slowly, he turned to Soren's position, then looked towards Dante, only to find him gone. Pah, like the sniveling royal he was, he must've left at the first sign of trouble.
Soren asked of his prowess in battle or his knowledge of the armory, and Claus scoffed, turning a covered look to the knight. "A terrible jest, Dame. I suggest you leave those to me, for I have not lost my title of Court Jester." he said, tone full of annoyance. "Of course I know where the armory is, and I do know how to handle myself, thank you very much! The Lord Veritas made me a line of defense, should an attacker find himself opposite of my King. I just need..." he said the Soren, before reached a free hand into his garments. Without his magic, his many props that he used for his acts were stuck in magical limbo, waiting to be used. However, there was one tool he kept on himself at all times.
A collpasible, white crook.
After a bit of searching, which involved patting down his entire body and even contemplating stripping down to his bare clothing before remembering unworthy eyes were present, the jester remembered he kept his crook in one of his many pockets. He pulled it out, and at first, it seemed to be a short, fat baton. After a whisk of his wrist though, the crook extending to it's full, polished form. It was meant to assist during some of his acts, but it has been used a sort of club before. And considering his agility he honed in his many years of experience, he would be a tricky opponent to fell. Then again, he couldn't really kill anyone with this thing. Just annoy them.
"There are others in the kitchen, if memory serves them correctly. We can ditch the poor sods and have them fend for themselves, or we can retreat and cower under benches like the sorry excuse of flesh you really are! Choices, choices!" he said, a little excitement returning to his voice. The mask that loosely hung on his face sat crooked, but it would require constant adjustment from the jester as time would go one. If one peered close enough, they would see his eyes peeking from the darkness of the eyeholes, but he would make sure one doesn't invade his private space to do so.
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Posted: Fri Jun 28, 2013 9:29 pm
Amarenth Soren Hyuga Kingdom: Envy
Rank: Knight
Location: Kitchen and moving into the Dining Hall with Claus Revelle  Cross through the night
I looked down and lost my way
my light (()) She watched the jester stand up. Though, she tilted her head slightly when Claus looked away from them. Did he really think he was ugly…or was he honestly so ugly that he was saving them from scaring? Unfortunately, the knight likely wouldn’t know which was the case. Yet, the words he spewed at them only made her more curious. Not enough to try and see for herself what he meant. But, more in the sense that she wondered to herself what he was hiding, or if he was overreacting like he had done many times already.
However, she couldn’t help but shake her head when he pointed in a direction that was a little off from her and Dante. If it wasn’t for the strangeness of the moment, Soren might have made some remark about his lack of direction. “I don’t know. Maybe this is another of Veritas’ tricks?” After all Vertias’ had done so far, she felt she couldn’t put it past the God to play such a trick. However, at the noises of the ruckus and figuring out the source of the ruckus, the knight couldn’t be so sure.
The God was supposed to keep them from getting killed right? Then why would he let what looked like bandits into the castle? Claus looked to believe the bandits and Veritas were not related. Though, she rubbed her temple at his reasoning for getting upset. Really? She didn’t think this was the time to feel upstaged by people looking like they were willing to kill them! For the sake of not getting spotted though, she kept herself from chiding the jester for that.
Then, the knight noticed Dante was missing. She might have thought more about the disappearance if it wasn’t for the impending sense of battle. Thus, Soren shifted her focus to figuring out if Claus could fight, and where they could find the armory if need be.
Soren huffed and shook her head at Claus’ comment. “I didn’t realize no one could jest around here but a jester…” Her voice held a hint of sarcasm as he got on to answering her question. She wasn’t so sure how she felt about the answer he gave. She was glad to know he knew where the armory was. However, she wasn’t sure she believed Claus was a line of defense. He acted too unserious to seem like a warrior of any sort. But, considering the God acted more like imp than leader, she supposed it could be possible.
She watched Claus soon pull out what appeared to be a crook. Soren wasn’t sure how effective the crook would be. It might just annoy the attackers more so than harm them. However, maybe that meant Claus could be used as a distraction or something…
Her eyes blinked at the mentioning of others. She looked back towards the door to the dining hall. She had thought of going in there and helping them fight off the intruders. Admittedly, being with a larger group might help them out in the long run. Though, was she willing to put her life in the hands of strangers? As her gaze stayed focused on the door, her lips twisted into a scowl at the mentioning of being like crowds. If Envy knights didn’t hold one quality, it was cowardice.
With that word still ringing in her ears, her mind was made up. “Well, sorry to disappoint. But, I’m not a sorry excuse of flesh…or a coward…” The knight walked towards the door to the dining hall. “So, unless you want to cower beneath a bench…I say we help the poor sods as you put it…” She stood in front of the door and took a deep breath. Her hand gripped the door handle tightly before pushing the door open. The moment the door was open enough, Soren moved into the room, hoping she hadn’t just made a huge mistake. Brought to my knees
Though the darkness surrounds
it pull me down,
I do not sink beneath
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Posted: Sun Jun 30, 2013 9:15 am
❀ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ xxxxxLet me take the fall. Let me take the blame. xxxxxxxxxxxxxLet me carry you from hell to home again. xxxxx━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❀ Let me be your armour. Let me be your shield.
Let me take away the pain you feel. (Your armour.)  Let me be the light that guides your way through darkest night.
Let me be your armour. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❀
Let me walk for you when your legs are weak.xxxxx
Let me find the words for you when you can't speak.xxxxxxx
❀ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━xxxxx
Fandral Vincent Wolfram xx Avarice xx Vice Marshal / Conduit xx Library xxx  All it took was the slightest little push. It was all too easy. Much too easy. It was almost disappointing in how easy it was. But yet here was the child of Humility, within a few short sentences, spilling all the information the assassin needed to know. But not only did he give him all the information he needed, he quite easily shattered all illusion of restraint the child placed so much effort into building for his meeting with Dominique. It was amusing to Fandral how with but a few words one could so effortlessly unravel one's temperament. It was all that was needed to start wars, but a few of just the right words to rain destruction upon one's land. His goal was not so elaborate here, simply to expose the man, but it would have been nice to use such skill to cover his kingdom in ash like snow. Even the strategically veiling hood over his face could not cover the amused, sinister, smile that blanketed his mouth revealed to him just what he knew of Fandral's brief meeting with Naedira. "Perhaps the Humilitan court is in more trouble than we realize, maitresse, if the royal children are so eager to lie to one another," he said to Dominique, his tone methodical as ever, never taking his gaze away from Ryan. "I never once made any threats, subtle or not. Threats are for children. I do not threaten; I act."
He remained quiet as the others, only willing to once again add in his words if Dominique requested it of him. He remained still as a statue when he too heard a commotion outside. While Alphonse went to investigate, he did not need to see to know what was going on. Someone decided to attack outside the library; whether it was isolated to the hall or took place throughout the entire castle remained to be seen, but for the moment he remained by Dominique's side, to protect her should she need it. He reached under his cape on his left shoulder, unlatching it from the pauldron and letting it fall from his side so it would not get in his way during the upcoming melee. Dropping the cape revealed his tools of combat, including his two daggers and various distraction methods such as blinding powder and caltrops. He turned towards Alphonse as the man entered the library again, informing them all of what he'd already surmised. Bandits were attacking, and they would need to fight their way to safety. What he did not know was the fact of the magic somehow being taken away. Unlike many of this castle, he had no such magical ability, and he'd never trusted such a power source, so he had no magic to lose and was completely unaware of such gifts being stripped as a result.
"Defend her," he said briefly to Alphonse, his tone stripped of any amusement whatsoever, and now replaced with an ice that was utterly freezing to the touch. He did not need to speak his next words, that should a single hair upon her head come to harm he would personally see to it that every other person in the room would beg for death before he was through with them. He cracked his neck and muscles, then without a moment's hesitation broke into a sprint toward the doors. With a glance he could see the lay of the room, his eyes quickly mapping out strategic zones during the fight. He took a leap to his left as a rather large two-handed sword cleaved unto the ground beside him. As the bandit lost his footing with the mighty swing, the assassin swung his fist backward, his gauntlet striking hard against the back of the man's neck and knocking him forward. With a light step he turned, reaching into a sheathe on the bandit's side and pulling out a dagger. With a swift motion he drove the bandit's own dagger into his side three times, his precision surgical as it dug between ribs and pierced the man's lung in three separate places. He would be disabled instantly, but his death would be slow and painful.
With a spin, he unleashed the bandit's dagger from his grip, sending it barreling in the air toward another bandit's neck on the far side of the wall, giving one of the castle guards a brief respite from a much larger opponent. He ducked under another massive sword swing and rolled forward for a better position. With a smooth motion, he grabbed a battleaxe from the ground, belonging to a now fallen soldier, and drove the head into the bandit's abdomen with all the ferocity of a wolf who'd cornered his prey. He let go of the axe and let the man fall forward, this time grabbing his sword and, with another spin, beheaded a bandit that was about to strike a guard held up against the wall with his mace. All throughout he fought with the fury and skill of the experienced warrior that he was, as well as the grace and precision that was expected of his occupation as an assassin. His expression remained ever neutral as he cut down enemy after enemy, and he hadn't even drawn his own weapons yet. ((OOC: Sorry this came out so bad. It was kinda rushed and writer's block has been killing me in a bad way lately.))❀ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❀
Let me take the blows that were meant for you.
Let me help you with the trials you're going through.
Let me keep you safe from the world outside.
Let me wipe away the tears that fill your eyes.
Let me keep you from experience you need.
Let me bind you with my selfishness and greed.
Let me stifle you. Let me have control.
Let me smother every aspect of your soul.
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Posted: Thu Jul 11, 2013 11:52 pm
Ӄingdom: Avarice
Ɍank: Heiress
Ƚocation: Castle - Library
Ⱦhoughts: A war is not won by doing what is right... To win, one must simply do what is necessary.... ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ “Certainly my Prince…My court and I have no doubt that you were simply overwhelmed with important matters of state. Matters that must have taken precedence over a snake in your midst and the lives of your people.”, Dominique returned emotionlessly to the young Heir…Suddenly feeling centuries older than he. Her hard amethyst eyes seemed to shimmer and shine, as if moonlight echoed through the other side. The color showed her temper, whether she wanted it to or not.
Ryan Riley did not need to admit that he was completely in the dark about the demons living in his realm. It was clear that he was inept—And as doe eyed as a new babe. To point it out further would only add injury to the already existing insult.
It was tempting nevertheless. Especially when she finally saw fire from him. Flame and life. It was a shame that it only appeared out of a pointless need to defend his dear siblings’ virtue.
If only he held that same passion for his Kingdom.
Her expression did not falter when the Heir of Humility interrupted Fandral and vehemently warned him away from speaking of the Princess Naedira. Such an odd obsession with his sister…Sometimes it made the future Queen of Avarice wonder about how well and truly close the siblings were. How would he react if Fandral approached the littlest one, Madelyne? “Perhaps my Vice Marshal has not earned that right…”
“But it is well within mine. My vessel speaks true. If he wished your precious one dead…She would be. We do not make idle threats. There was a disruption in the dining hall that reeked of malevolent magic. It was an attack, on my Marshal, and our entire party. Your sister is one of the few capable.”, Dominique intoned blandly, as if they were discussing the weather and not the innocence of Ryan’s middle sister. How the muse knew what Naedira was and wasn’t capable of was anyone’s guess. Her hand maidens were her eyes and ears all over the castle at all times. The d’Aquitaine child had a way of twisting words and scenario’s so easily to her benefit that few could discern where the truth began and the lie ended. “It is the duty of Sir Wolfram to deal with any perceived act of ill will made to my sovereignty.”
“The Shield Maiden must have at least partially passed his inquisition; Else I fear this conversation would be entirely different.”
The flaxen haired beauty fell silent when Ryan chose the high ground…What she wouldn’t give to see all of his precious composure slip away like twilight falling into the darkness of evening… Idly she wondered if the tips of his ears could possibly turn anymore red. It was curious that the King of Humility would keep his children so sheltered. Did he wish them early graves?
A gentle laugh left her rose painted lips when he declared there was no reason for threats and similar ilk. So gentle, so naive. If the time came…Humility would burn.
“Listen closely… Nothing you hear is a threat. We deeply require you to understand our position, promise, and warning; Heir of Humility. We have the full faith of our family and the d’Aquitaine armies at our beck and call. Do not think that we will not rain hellfire down on your Kingdom if the time comes. We won’t come for your head. We will come for what is most dear to you. We offer you this chance…This once chance to avoid such tragedy. Yet we must always contemplate what war could look like—As it is our sacred duty.”
“Just as it is our prerogative to try and ensure such things do not come to pass.”
The debate was interrupted by a commotion in the hall. Domini waited patiently, quietly, while the Duke slipped away to investigate. Hearing swords clash and the sounds of a scuffle she sighed delicately, reaching to take a bored sip from the fair goblet. She wouldn’t deign to let the sounds of a little scuffle ruin her composure. When the Vice Marshal moved—As her long arm of the law; So would she.
Alphonse returned quickly enough—verbally confirming that magic was gone from the castle. Dominique would have rather not admitted that in front of such inauspicious company…But it was only a matter of time. He then suggested that they adjourn to collect her handmaidens and her penetrating gaze left the prince. Her expression was cold, calculating. “The Lady Aimee can well look after herself, Duke. My hand maidens will come to me.”
Dominique remained quiet and casually seated when Fandral came to life—Ordering Alphonse to protect her. How ironic…If only he knew that the one he was so worried about stood right in front of him. How no one ever figured out her ruse was beyond her. Rarely were Aimee and Dominique ever in the same room. And if they were, they were heavily clothed and powdered. Any slight differences were made unrecognizable.
Watching Fandral kill was like watching a bird take wing. It was natural; Beautiful. Murder was a sin that he had somehow managed to turn into the highest form of art. Bodies fell in the doorway, crimson staining the marble. Her uncle would not like someone destroying his home so quickly after it was nearly rebuilt. She could feel for certainty that this was not one of the God Kings tests. Sighing with disdain when the sounds of battle became more pronounced, she rose from the high backed chair and deftly unclasped her golden cloak—Allowing it to flutter down into the chair.
“I will require the use of a sword…Alphonse—If you please, the lighter of the two.”, the Grand Duchess of Avarice ordered the demon-touched man, hand delicately raised towards him. Dominique had been trained at a very young age how to wield a blade. One of her Lady Queen Mother’s was also the King’s Vice Marshal—The Commander of the d'Aquitaine and Avarician Army.
Dyanna had taught her the value of being equally beautiful and deadly.
“Prince Riley…It would serve us all well if you would spread your guards around the room. One at each window—Two at the adjacent door.”
Accepting the sword that Alphonse offered she took hold of the elegant skirts that held to her every curve and slit it from just above the knee to the floor. It was a terribly unladylike thing to do. Her second mother, Esmeraude, would have frowned at the destruction of a beautiful gown…But Isabeau would have urged her onward.
‘How do you expect to win, my own--If you can barely move? Should anyone quote propriety—merely cut out their tongue. It will teach them not to speak out of turn.’
“We should make haste to Lord Veritas.”, Dominique breathed while she readied herself, striding smoothly towards the trail of bodies Fandral left in his wake. “If magic has truly faded from this realm…We share the same blood.”
And her many times great uncle was an old man. Perhaps he had retained his strengths and gifts as a God in this storm and ambush…Perhaps he hadn't.
Dominique would rather take his scorn and find him living; Rather than lying face down in his own lifeblood. She knew not if he could be killed in such a fashion...But the innate sense of family that had been born into her did not give her the option of finding out.
If she couldn't protect family...No matter how distant; How could she protect an entire Kingdom?
♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛
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Posted: Wed Jul 17, 2013 5:48 am
Kingdom and Title: Veritas - Head Gardener
Location/Situation and Form: At the ruins, with Lorelei, as as a true wolfAll things truly wicked start from an innocence.
~Ernest Hemingway
As Lorelei explained why he was not to hunt the man who’d been here, Sokar felt even more puzzled about humans. It sounded as if he’d chosen Lorelei as a mate, so why this business about changing something about herself? Why not just choose another mate? Humans were just so convoluted about everything they did.
His form changed to one that felt right, though not nearly so clearly as a few seconds ago, the wolf permitted the touch without fuss, but he did not relish it as he might have previously. His hearing then caught the whispers of battle, and they turned slightly to the sound as he turned his head as well. The beast growled slightly, and his tail grew bushier, though he held it neutrally. There was sense in him following the human female whom he felt comfortable with, yet there was sense not to leave this place and purposedly head into trouble.
But for all his missing humanesque mind, the wolf knew his home was the castle, and there were tresspassers about. He turned back to Lorelei and walked around behind her, then walked past her towards where he had entered the ruined area. He paused to glance at her, waiting for her to follow. He did not think logically, such as what he might do if she were to not understand, or choose not to follow. He merely motioned (as clearly as he would to a packmate) and she must do so. There was not another option to his simpler mind.
Though she had no weapon, being escorted by a wolf the size of a small horse should have kept them ignored for the most part.
We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.
~Plutarch (46 AD - 120 AD)
The Oneiric Oracle's Conclusion: I apologize for making you wait even longer Bunit!
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Posted: Wed Jul 17, 2013 6:30 am
 Kingdom and Title:Veritas; head of staff (butler)
Location and Situation: near the main entrance with JohnIn culture after culture, people believe that the soul lives on after death,
that rituals can change the physical world and divine the truth,
and that illness and misfortune are caused and alleviated by spirits, ghosts, saints ... and gods.
~Steven PinkerAfter the maid left them their requested items (Kirkis had mentioned she might head to the kitchen and make sure that Claus was behaving himself), he waited patiently for John to finish writing. “I must say you have very good penmanship, Prince John.” He tried to keep the mood a bit light, and wondered in a moment of distraction if the prince’s angel heritage had anything to do with that. “I am confident the Master is quite aware of everything that happens in his castle, but I cannot hazard to guess if it is another one of his little challenges.” It felt odd to consider the obstacles as something so minor, but Kirkis honored his employer and would never, could never, say a word against him.
“Do you hear something?” The butler began to ask of John’s actions, nodding as the written message became clear. He tried to listen then after the last bit was etched down, also trying to figure out an idea for them. “If this is another game, then he will not stop it just because we ask. However, it does sound as if something major is coming this way,” he looked around in increasing worry as several of the castle guards went past them, looking more than a bit worried.
“You are wise in suggesting we vacate the area.” Before they could however, the entrance hall was overrun by swarthy looking men and women, screaming and challenging as they attacked the few guards that had arrived. “Hurry sir!” Kirkis was not sure if he was dead or not at the moment, but he cared not to risk a second death by remaining here.
As he had lost his spectral abilities, he had to rely on his memory of the castle. Thankfully, he’d spent more than a century before most of his abilities started to kick in, and he’d memorized the basic pattern of the halls well enough. “Through there!” he shouted at John as he started to run past him, making tracks down a corridor that led to the servant’s quarters. Once there, there were a multitude of passageways they could travel through safely and unperturbed, as long as the entrance was the only place they were being attacked at.
Kirkis, though quick enough, did not get that far when someone in a soaking wet cloak appeared suddenly before him. The butler had not had anything but his death touch to rely on, and barely skidded to a stop with hands outstretched before he crashed into the woman he recognized after a few seconds. “Madam Bellona, we have just become aware of that, would you mind killing any that try to follow us as we egress?” He glanced behind himself to make sure John was close, and that there weren’t any invaders on their tail.
“While I know there must be a reason for this, I think remaining here any longer than we have to will be most unpleasant.”
Behind every man now alive stand 30 ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living.
~Arthur C. Clarke[Art is once more by Maniac. Click on image for larger pic. Please do not copy; I commissioned artist for this art.]The Oneiric Oracle's Conclusion: Terribly sorry for taking so long for this post as well!
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Posted: Thu Jul 18, 2013 2:19 am
 Kingdom and Title:Wrath; Heir
Location/Situation: outside with an Envian/Humilitan/Wrathian group, then alone to search, and thankfully finding whom he soughtI was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
- William Blake Altonair’s smirk looked good on the man, and Lincoln felt his words were not meant sarcastically at all. He wondered if the new heir of Envy did or did not have a magic ability, since he was under the impression that most elves did. It was a moot point however, considering their current situation. The blond gave a nod in return to Altonair’s farewell, hoping they’d all meet again soon in one piece.
The mud thickened paths tried to hinder the Heir of Wrath’s progress, but he continued onward hurriedly, desperate to find his little sister. He cursed Jasper’s name for a moment, hatred for the way he’d turned traitor. He supposed it was just more proof that one could never trust anyone more implicitly than family. Except for him, he reminded himself. There had been a brother who had broken that trust... but there was no point following those dark memories. That brother was no more a brother, after all. He had seen to that himself, though it had almost killed him to do so.
Snarling as tree branches whacked at him in the increasing wind of the storm, Lincoln finally caught sight of his prize, his beloved sister in the distance, walking with two others he did not recognize. He ran to her, propriety be damned, and scooped her up in a tight hug as she practically threw herself onto him. For a split second, he had been terrified that he merely imagined her, but relief coursed over him as he realized the truth. The man held her lower back securely with one arm, pressing her against himself, and the other curled tightly around her shoulders. He pet her hair lightly as she sobbed to him of her woes, which must have hit her as hard as Naedira, but she had been without close comfort.
“Nichts ändert sich, außer durch Blut.* Remember our maxim, my little one.” He whispered to her so softly it might have been lost in the rain were she not so close. “It is the way of things. But we are Mastersons, and we will overcome, regardless of what happens.” Lincoln wanted to kiss her cheek to reassure her, as he had when she was a small child. But he reminded himself they were not alone, and he had to control his urge to baby her now, though the temptation was great.
The temptation disappeared when he saw the end result of arrows attacking the man and woman Mishka had separated from, feeling grateful Mishka was beside him as the other woman was savagely killed. She had not the look of a warrior, and it was a cruel and callous act to kill her as one when she likely couldn’t defend herself. The man was not so hard hit, merely grazed by the way the arrow ripped through his clothing instead of remaining on his person. Though he’d looked like a delicate man by his clothes and his features, Lincoln was surprised to see him pull out a mid-sized axe and kill one of their attackers with trained ease. He had pulled out his longsword while keeping Mishka close to him with his free hand, though it would cause his fighting to suffer some.
Lincoln saw how quick the other man moved, and was grateful he had remained, as together they would likely be able to dispatch these ruffians more easily than only one of them. The blond gave him a nod of thanks, moving closer to him so that any close attackers would have to face both of them. He prayed they wouldn’t use their arrows now, and it seemed the gods heard his plea, for the bloodthirsty savages, incited by their first kill, charged at them with hand weapons.
He swung his longsword at the one closest to him, keeping him at a slight distance that affected the man’s use of a one-handed sword. The blond heir suddenly grit his teeth against a scream as his heart suddenly told him what it had been trying to tell him as soon as the magic disappeared. The magic that kept his soul bond to his undead body had gone, and the injury which had never been healed threatened to kill him again. His heart had been pierced by a long crystal knife by an assassin at home, which had shattered inside the organ, where each beat would cause it to cut itself. But the pieces were small, meant to do the job slowly. Back home, he’d lasted almost two days before he had ‘died’. The heir tried to focus on what was going on right now, trying to tell himself he’d be prepared for the pain this time, that he’d force it away as long as possible. Protecting Mishka was his only concern, and he would not fail her. Sport begets tumultuous strife and wrath,
and wrath begets fierce quarrels and war to the death.
- Horace*Nothing changes except by blood.
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Posted: Fri Jul 19, 2013 7:57 am
Kingdom: Wrath
Rank: Prince
Location: outside with Altonair, Corrine, Madelyne, and Naedira -> inside
Mood: I didn't see that coming I don't believe in fate or destiny.
I believe in various degrees of hatred, paranoia, and abandonment.
However much of that gets heaped upon you doesn't matter -
it's only a matter of how much you can take and what it does to you.
--Henry RollinsBeing close to Altonair unnerved him though he was not sure why. The man was smaller than him, and concerned with taking care of Princess Naedira. There was likely nothing he might try to do to him now. But it also could have been the close proximity to the heir of Envy that was worrisome. He spoke to him, and the tall man took a bit to respond.
"Yes. It is unpleasant out here." He wasn't sure what else to say, but he was sure he'd bungled it again. OBVIOUSLY it was unpleasant. He needn't have commented about that so stupidly.
Stefan swallowed nervously as he now realized what Paul was referring to. Whilst it wasn't as suspicious as he made it seem, Stefan's penchant for wallowing in guilty feelings made him feel as if he had acted severely inappropriately. He kept his gaze down, and tried to salvage the conversation, as least how he understood it going. "It was nicer before. Less rain." He worried about admitting to his private spot, though Madelyne now knew of it. "There's some trees that provide cover, and you can enjoy the fresh air."
Stefan bit his tongue from adding another defense, as he knew that to do so when he hadn't really been grilled about the situation just made him look guiltier. //Damn you Paul.//
The large blond felt his heart skip a beat as he made the connection. He had always believed Paul to be an evil spirit or something that possessed his mind. But if all the magic was gone, as Princess Madelyne had said, and how Princess Naedira was acting... then that meant he wasn't a spell.
Troubled about this horrific discovery, it was all the large man could do to keep moving his feet forward. But how could Paul be him? He'd named himself differently, and said ugly things that disturbed Stefan. Well, they used to anyway. It was just that he said them so often now that they were more annoyances than anything, right?
 .
Feeling ill, the blond prayed they'd get inside soon and he could go to his bed. Even if there were strangers all around him, all he wanted was to hide under his covers. There was no real place to hide from Paul, and the b*****d disembodied voice knew it.
Following wherever Altonair led, he waited until all had passed in front of him before entering inside the castle. His wide frame dripped water on the marble floor in several puddles, and he shivered both from feeling cold and being afraid of what was going on inside his mind. He barely caught sight of Altonair comforting Naedira, and then misinterpreted the glare the Envian threw at the open doorway.
The annoying sing-song echoing in his mind made him close his eyes tightly, wishing it would stop. This wasn't fair. He had thought for so long he was merely cursed, and that eventually it would go away. He would have been healed, but instead now discovered there was truly something wrong with him. No wonder everyone hated him. He imagined, while his eyes were shut, that the others were moving away from him, not wanting to around someone with whatever he had.
He opened his eyes when he heard the heavy door slam shut, and he felt panic grip him when the blade of an axe cut through the wood, almost wounding Prince Altonair. He alerted the group that it was bandits, and Stefan rubbed his fingertips over his axe holsters, terrified and slightly excited.
He tried to ignore Paul, feeling ashamed to be accused of such things, and trying to vehemently deny it. But he didn't get a full response in, as his concentration was broken by Madelyne's voice. her voice sounded, if possible, more afraid than he felt. His own biology (though he wouldn't understand it properly), and years of etiquette training, demanded he make her stop feeling that. Even if she was barely a friendly acquaintance, he needed to protect her. An added glance at Princess Naedira made him feel the same for her too. He did not pity her maliciously, only from worry. For her not to have her magic, that was not something he could emphasize with. But to be helpless, and at the mercy of others, that he understood perfectly, so much so that he stopped trembling himself.
He had no idea if they should move away or not from here, and he glanced toward Corrine, as he would follow her advice. He was not one for strategies, and he knew it. He moved closer to the door, moving his great bulk between it and the others. Smoothly, and strangely calmly, he pulled out both of his wicked looking axes, hefting them in his hands as his body remembered their comforting weight. He adjusted his stance, holding one sightly raised to attack, and the other at an angle to block. If the group decided to move, he would follow, but until a decision was made, this was his place.
The group might think him foolish, or judge him if he did not do this right, but for the moment, that oddly did not worry him. The enemy's axe blade moved a bit as its owner tried pull it out of the wood outside, possibly to try to force an opening. Stefan twisted one of his and hammered the foreign axe back sharply with its side, and he heard a man cry out with pain as the other side of the blade hit him somewhere.
It might have merely grazed him, or maybe more seriously wounded him, but it was enough for now. If the bandit forced his way in, then Stefan could finish the job. We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone.
Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion
for the moment that we're not alone.
--Orson Welles
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Posted: Mon Jul 22, 2013 10:36 pm
Ɉϕɧɳ Ӎiҫɧɑϵɭ Gɍϵϵɳϵ Kingdom: Fortitude Rank: Prince Location: Entrance hall with Kirkis and Bellona White walls surround us
As we sleep among the dead (()) The angel hadn’t expected the compliment about his penmanship. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a sheepish smile at Kirkis. It was true that his handwriting was readable. He just never thought it of as excellent. Since he could not readily ask Kirkis about what made him think such, John decided he would save that for when he was able to speak (Telepathically of course). When Kirkis gave the answer he gave, John couldn’t help but tilt his head and blink a bit, showing his confusion through his expression.
“Are you never informed of when he plans to do such things?” He briefly paused in his writing, as if pausing in the middle of a spoke sentence, before continuing to write out his response. “I had thought that maybe the servants of Vertias were more aware than the people that stay here…But, I suppose that was wrong on my part.” John did not mind think that was a bad thing. The servants had no control over that. The angel was just surprised at the knowledge was all.
John nodded to Kirkis’ question, using the pen given to him to elaborate on what he meant. He frowned faintly at Kirkis only confirming his worry. He should have figured that idea was worthless, after all the other “games” Vertias had put them through. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have tried. “Agreed.” He wrote the single word just as some castle guards were passing by them. His frown grew more at the sight. What could be causing the castle guards to be running so quickly? A possibility that came to mind was one he hoped wasn’t the case.
His frown lessened at Kirkis agreeing with him. Without knowing of what was going on, John could only do so much. Unfortunately, the possibility that the guards had been running due to an attack became reality. He frowned as he watched the bandits (at least they looked like bandits to him) attack the few guards in the room. The angel wished to join in the fry. However, he had no weapon on him. He would be good as dead if he tried to approach now.
Thus, with a hint of reluctance, he grabbed the pen and started to run. Talking was the least of his priorities, and he would hopefully find something else to write on if need be. As he ran, he heard Kirkis shout. He nodded and followed after him. Before they could get out of the entrance hall though, he cringed a bit at watching Kirkis run into someone looking wet to the bone. Luckily, the person turned out to be an ally. Belle if he remembered her name right.
He tried to give a small smile in her direction. Considering the situation, it was bit hard to whole-heartedly smile. As he watched Kirkis talk to Belle, he looked to the ground and noticed what appeared to be a trail of blood and water. He looked back over at the two to try and see if he could tell where the blood had come from. Due to where he stood though, the angel could not see clearly the wound on Belle’s left side.
When Kirkis suggested the unpleasantness that would likely follow if they stayed, John nodded and started to walk forward. He stopped when he got a few feet ahead of Kirkis and Belle to give a chance for Kirkis to get in front of him and for Belle to take whatever position she felt best. As he did so, John kept the pen steady in his hand. For while he would hate to resort to such, the angel prepared himself in case push came to shove and he had to make a tool of writing a tool of war instead. We can chase the dark together
As the sky returns to grey
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Posted: Thu Jul 25, 2013 4:17 am
 ❥┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊ In the Company Of: Altonair-Corrine-Stefan-Madelyne ❥┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊ Located: Training Grounds ❥┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊┊ Thinking: Glad, you're still here. XXXXXXXXXXXX YOU ARE MY STRENGTH IN THE END, IN THE ENDXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX YOU ARE MY STRENGTH IN THE END, IN THE ENDXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX YOU ARE MY STRENGTH IN THE END, IN THE ENDXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX❥❝ Fighting for no reward--We toss and we turn, words ever burning. ❥!_____________________________ Shame and a distant sense of resentment etched itself across her heart while children of three different houses made note of her frail disposition. Small hands held fast to the coolness of Altonair’s armor while her knees quivered, threatening to buckle under her meager weight. The Shield Maiden of Humility was stubborn; Just as she was compassionate. No matter how weak she appeared, she would do her best to stand tall. Despite training and schooling to remain calm in a crisis the young woman couldn’t help the gnawing fear that was slowly crawling up her spine. The sudden loss of her magic, her birthright, left her raw and open to the elements. The wind and rain on her skin was a brutal lashing…
A reminder of what had been lost. No, not lost. Taken.
Taken—That she was sure of. Her magic had never abandoned her…Not in the weakest of moments. Someone had stolen part of her being. She intended to get it back.
“My Lady Corrine... As always, you are too kind.”, Naedira breathed out softly when the woman pledged her blades. Azure eyes rimmed with a touch of burnished gold remained on the Arch Duchess for several moments longer than what could have been considered proper. There was a comfort in her presence that tugged mercilessly on her heartstrings. She was beautiful. Strong. So very strong that the Princess felt the sting of the sin of her betrothed. It was reprehensible, but she was envious.
Corrine always seemed to offer her exactly what she needed. Naedira felt inept…It seemed that she could never offer her anything of equal value in return.
Naedira felt strangely at home in the sinful mixture of Envy and Wrath. The Heir of Wrath was handsome enough; but it was his stature that painted him a warrior in her mind’s eye. There was a moment of stillness between the raindrops while she lay her cheek against her betrothed. How was it that she felt safer now, tucked into Altonair’s side, surrounded by Wrath, and powerless—Than she had since they’d arrived in this godforsaken place?
“That is a relief your grace—I agree with my betrothed.”, she responded quietly to Lincoln, unable to find any offense in his or Altonair’s tone when they spoke of those with “gifts”. It was in her experience that those who favored steel often found little use for witchery. “There may be some royal houses that haven’t noticed the absence of their abilities. It will be an advantage if you come across an adversary… But allies that depend on it…”
They would be as she was. Helpless if they were female…Crippled, if they were male.
She tensed as Altonair’s arms tightened about her form, feeling his apprehension until she followed his gaze. The odd combination of Madelyne and Prince Stefan was a welcome sight that caused her to issue a sigh of relief. That was one less person she had to worry about. She hadn’t seen Ryan since her tearful exit from the library. A small mite of a woman had taken it upon herself to break propriety and the fey-blooded woman had backed away as if she’d been burned. A kiss to the forehead may have been a comfort to such a wildling...But Naedira had been raised in the light of the temple. She wasn’t used to being treated so familiar; especially by someone she’d never met.
“My own…”, Naedira greeted the littlest Riley, issuing her a soft smile, choosing to ignore the state of her dress while a potential crisis was at hand. Propriety was one of the last things she thought of. Naedira was merely glad that Madelyne was safe. She couldn’t bear to lose her a second time. Her sibling asked of her wellbeing and the young woman pretended that she hadn’t heard the question over the wind. In this moment of insecurity Naedira preferred silence over the truth.
At the arrival of their younger siblings—Lincoln adjusted his plans. Naedira immediately understood. He worried for his sister. She worried for her brother. Altonair wished him safe passage, and her voice fell like a silver bell after his… “Our prayers go with you.”
‘Please, be safe.’
Naedira dared not ‘instruct’ an heir of another Kingdom in such a situation—Not even with good tidings that her betrothed had already issued. The sentiment remained in her tone however, hidden under the veil of a well-bred high born, even if it remained unspoken.
The First Princess of Humility allowed the Heir of Envy to lead her without question. His gentleness towards her warmed her, soothing her magic related withdrawals with relative ease…Enough so that she wasn’t quite so dizzy by the time they crossed under the archway. Altonair would never know what a balm he was to her in those moments. Not for the first time she considered their engagement a blessing instead of a burden. She’d been so terrified of the prospect of being sold to another royal family that she hadn’t considered the possibility of not being miserable.
He settled her on a scrolling mahogany bench once they were inside the castle and she paused once realizing he hadn’t released her hand. His eyes were so blue, so sincere that she couldn’t bare to look away. If he always looked at her with such eyes—The Envian Prince would surely be her undoing. “I would never presume to know the intentions of the Gods…It seems more and more often that their decisions are cruel…”
Remembering Veritas and his various insensitivities, her gaze slid away, dark lashes dusting pale cheeks for a moment. Her voice came with a pure honesty in the torchlight of the hallway… “Though a God did give me you.”
A small smile stole across her features when Altonair squeezed her hand, causing her chin to incline while an innocent blush stole across her features. Tentatively she raised her free hand and let small, chilled fingers, brush curiously against the angle of his jaw. There was a desire to know what he was thinking…But those were questions she couldn’t ask. “You do more than enough…I’m the one that keeps placing burden on you.”
The conversation was interrupted by a clap of thunder that she felt deep in her bones. Altonair went to check the door, though shut it just as quickly. Naedira’s eyes widened and she gasped when an axe suddenly protruded not far from Altonair’s head. She called instinctively for her magic when he exclaimed that there were bandits—But realized seconds too late that it wouldn’t answer.
Everything started happened too quickly. Altonair threw chairs in front of the door as a temporary barricade. Stefan moved; And it was like watching a mountain shift. What had once reminded her of a young man now reminded her of a Wrathian warrior. Hearing glass shatter behind her Naedira moved as quickly as she could, watching a rock hit the wall across from the bench. Her hand immediately found that of her sisters. They were going to come in through the windows. “No…No it won’t.”
Madelyne was correct. But to flee through the castle on their own without purpose was to invite death.
Careful eyes swept the room through the quick fire beating of her heart…Landing on tall bookshelves. They were filled with baubles and potentially priceless artifacts. “Sister, help me.”
She led the girl to one of them and pressed against the side of it. With Madelyne’s help they managed to send one toppling on its side, blocking the window on the right half of the hallway. Breathless and a little addled, Naedira motioned her sister towards identical bookshelf on the left side. At least if the windows were blocked, it might buy them all a few seconds to abscond into the castle proper. “We need assistance…They’re all formidable but from the sounds outside…We are under siege. We need more able hands.”
Naedira wasn’t fully sure where her sister’s capabilities lay. She knew of her commune with nature…But she wasn’t completely clear on her skill with a bow. Her eyes lay on the second door that would lead them inside…But she wasn’t battle savvy. She wasn’t trained in strategy. Was this the best course? Her gaze turned towards Altonair, Stefan, and Corrine but they had their hands full. Carefully controlled panic was rising within her chest…She wasn’t prepared to sit idly by while others spilled blood and sweat for her. Usually there were guards patrolling the entrances and exits to the castle. Perhaps she could turn a group of them back in this direction. Making up her mind she nodded to Madelyne, before sweeping up the dais shaped steps and went through the portal, hoping luck would grace them. She peered out first, choosing to stay quiet. She didn’t want to be seen, let alone heard by the wrong eyes.
Oddly enough the foyer seemed empty.
Empty, until she noticed the sounds of swords hitting one another. She inched along the wall, back pressed against it… She didn’t know who was around the corner. Friend or foe… There was a gurgled cry, the sound of a body falling, and the noise stopped. Peeking around the corner, she was relieved to see guards dressed in Veritas’ armaments standing tall over a couple mud covered highwaymen. “Guards!”
“Guards—There are more coming in this way—”
They didn’t seem to need to be told twice and headed back in the direction Naedira pointed, her small footsteps wavering as she tried to keep up.
“Stay behind us Princesses.”, one of the soldiers ordered, causing three men to fall back to protect herself and her sister. One watched the exit, the other two stood directly in front of them. Human shields. They entered the hallway containing Corrine, Altonair, and Stefan almost as quickly as she’d left it. The guard directly in front of her was suddenly shot by an arrow that slipped in through the small space in his helmet for his eyes. It came through the hole in the door where the axe had come from. Naedira gasped and instinctively moved forward as he crumpled…Perhaps it wasn’t too late if they could get the arrow out quickly—“I said stay back! For your own protection.”
Naedira had forgotten than she couldn’t heal anyone with her magic gone. Tears welled in her eyes while she looked at the dead or dying solider, her heart sinking.
Gods, this realm was a tomb.
_____________________________ [OOC: Let me know if I missed someone. Or if it's terrible.]
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Posted: Thu Jul 25, 2013 9:35 am
The feel of her brother's strong arms around her, gave her strength that she needed to calm the frantic beat of her heart as she burrowed her face against his neck. Drawing in his scent to be sure that he was indeed real. Her fingers curled into his golden locks that were plastered to his neck and brow from the rain. Thank the gods above that he was safe. That she hadn't lost him too. She wouldn't have been able to live with herself. The harsh coldness that she'd offered him when she'd awoken after he'd taken her away from her beloved. To have him think that she hated him for the act? It made her stomach roll in protest from such thoughts. Nay. Now was not the time to concern herself with that her brother was safe and here with her. That was all that mattered to the young Masterson.
Her sobs rocked her violently till her knees knocked together and she could do nothing but cling to her brother for support. Sniffling as he spoke those words in their native tongue. She couldn't suppress the smile that curved her mouth as she leaned back from his neck and peered up at him through her lashes. "Nichts ändert sich, außer durch Blut." She whispered back to him with a small nod before once more finding herself pressing tighter against him in a hug she was sure would steel him of his breath. She nodded against his chest as she drew in a staggered breath.
"I know brother." She whispered through her tears as she fought to keep the fear from her voice. They'd been lucky thus far that death had not touched the royal house of Wrath. Yes Jasper was a loss that weighed heavily on her heart but to loose her kin. She pressed her eyes tightly shut to halt the thoughts. Nay she wouldn't think of it.
"Have you heard from Lucas... from Corrine?" She beseeched, lashes lifting and her eyes pleading. Yet it wasn't his face that drew her gaze heaven ward. Three arrows clashed against the gray of the sky as they soared with a deadly intent that made her heart skip a beat. Everything slowed down to a painful crawl as she watched with horror.Thrice the arrows hit their mark; killing the sweet Ashlynn with two and grazing the housecarl with the third. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at all the blood that coated the fair haired girl as her body crumbled to the ground. Sending mud splashing around her form. Mishka watched with horror as the blood mingled with the earth. It sent a foreboding feeling skittering down her spine.
Licking her lips, her azure pools rose slowly toward the housecarl who already held his weapons. His attention ensnared by something in the - her gaze following his landed on the men scaling the walls. Her eyes jumped to meet Lincoln who was armed as well. Keeping her close to him while he held tight to his own sword. The need to flee rode her hard, prodded by her fear she barely realized when her brother positioned her behind him and took up his arms along the Lustian Housecarl. She drew in a deep breath that tasted of death and once again she was looking into the hollow eyes of her lover. His image flashed before her eyes. His voice haunting her ears.
"No. No. No!" She screamed as she clutched her ears, pressing against them to block his voice. This can't be! This can't be! The words chanted in her mind over and over again as his disembodied voice grew louder in her mind.
Yet another cry mingled with her own, jerking her from her thoughts and when her eyes opened she was knelt on the ground. She looked up to see a man moving swiftly behind Lincoln, his dagger poised for a kill. Her heart skipped a beat as heat began to seep into her blood. Spreading through her body at a vicious rate till all she saw was red. With a battle cry of her own she pulled out her sword with steady hands, rising with fluid grace she and pools narrowed locked on her pray. She licked her lips as a low growl rumbled in her throat and before he'd taken the time to notice her her sword was swung and his head rolled. She purred with satisfaction before she whipped around and joined her brother in his fight. Casting a glance up at him she gave him a wicked grin before entangling in swords play with yet another man who was armed to the teeth.
Kill. Kill. KILL. The words were a chant in her head. Pushing her forwards. She wanted blood needed it. Too many had been taken from her for her comfort. Seeing her brother nearly being stabbed had awoken the darkest part of her soul. The part of her that found comfort in tormenting to male sex with her siren song. Death was mothers milk to this side of the young princess. It was what dwelled in all the hearts of the sons and daughters of Wrath. Their anger. Their hatred. When it was awakened there was no stopping them - it was this part that her twin Lucas was able to provoke with his own siren call. A gift at time she envied. For her own only instilled lust in their hearts and it was a tedious task to have others fawning over her.
But right now that hardly seemed to matter as she engaged in battle. Her anger the fuel for each strike as she engaged in a dark dance with her attackers. Twirling, slicing, ducking moving fluidly. She was had no where near the expertise that her brothers had or even her cousin but she was managing to hold her own fairly well as she caught the silver blade across a man's back. His cry of pain made her shiver with delight as she licked her lips and tasted copper. She purred from it's flavor before running him through with her sword. Mishka cast a glance toward her brother to be sure he was fairing well as searing pain cut through her thigh. She bit back a scream as she looked up at the attacker. The red film grew darker, deeper as she hissed at him and kneed him in the groin with her good leg before staggering back. Her leg ached as she tried to apply pressure to it. Already her skirt was coated in blood. She could feel it's warm trickle running down her leg.
She drew in a ragged breath as she felt blindly down her leg to feel the wound. Hissing she felt along the jagged edges of her skin. She bit her lip to stop the scream as she pulled back her hand that was covered in crimson. Visibly she paled. So much blood. She thought as she looked back to her attacker who'd gained his footing once more and was coming right toward her. She cried out and staggered back, her lame leg not bothering to move much and she couldn't help the scream that tore from her throat and fell back into the mood. The rain pelting against her face. If this was to be the end....then at least at last she would be with Jasper. She thought gaining one last bit of strength as her body rebelled against the thought and grabbed her sword and as he came down on her she held the pointed end up where he ran himself through with it and fell ontop of her. Pinning her to the ground.
┉Youngest Princess of Wrath┉
┉Outside in the Gardens┉
┉Petruccio Lincoln ┉
┉........┉
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Posted: Tue Aug 06, 2013 11:31 am
Location: The Library
|1515|
In The Company Of: Dominique, Fandral, and Alphonse |I am the son and heir|
|Of nothing in particular| 
The whole discussion was becoming a bother. It was very trying on his patience. Not to mention it made it clear just how much his father was keeping from him. How was he to become an effective and good ruler, if he knew not all of the details? What was his father thinking? First keeping the war from him, and now there was all this. And Dominique was very knowitall. It was... Trying. Clearly she knew nothing of the virtue known as Humility. Odd considering she seemed to know a good bit about the kingdom.
As she once again pointed out mistakes he had made, the Heir simply stared back at her neutrally. They were getting off topic. This was supposed to be about forming a treaty, and yet all he was hearing was how he was wrong about this and that. Had that been entirely intentional? It was hard to tell. Frankly he was shocked she could see him from all the way up on that high horse she was seated on. Clearly she never made mistakes ever. At least that is what she clearly wanted him to think. Unfortunately, it was best for Humility to grit his teeth and move on with the negotiations so that war didn’t happen.
“You’re too kind...”, the Prince returned in response to her feigned understanding. It was taking all his effort to keep his dislike out of his voice. At first his reasons for disliking her were because of her treatment of the former Avarician royal family, now it was because she wasn’t exactly likable in his eyes. She certainly gave him plenty of reason.
Fandral’s pleased and sinister expression didn’t go unnoticed by the Humilitian Heir. He chose to ignore it, however, choosing to ignore the man completely. It took every effort to not roll his eyes as the Assassin went further to try and anger Ryan. The Heir resisted the urge to stab the man in the neck, choosing instead to focus his attention on Dominique. His short speech about not threatening was heard, but completely ignored. He no longer existed as far as the Prince was concerned.
Dominique came to the Assassin’s defense, listening with a once again neutral expression, he choose not to comment on her words. They were so sure of themselves. It was sickening really, but he ignored the feeling. He didn’t doubt for one second that this so called treaty they were discussing would be broken if they saw fit to do so. Even in times of peace, there would be no peace for him. He would need to be constantly vigilant as the chances of them forging any kind of friendly connection was slim. It was kind of hard to be friends with someone who thought themselves so above you. If they truly knew anything about the Humilitian royals, it was that they wouldn’t do anything like attack them in such a way.
“We do not make a habit of practicing malevolent magic. Especially not the kind of magic you speak of. Nor would we attack you in such a way. If we were to attack, you would know it. A simple sit down would have accomplished all that with none of the unpleasantness. The situation in the castle is not exactly stable, and wars have been started over less.”
It wasn’t meant to be a threat of any kind, Ryan didn’t do threats, they got you nowhere he wanted to be, it was simply stating fact. If her Assassin was going to go around making threats, or promises as he called them, then it wouldn’t be long before they found themselves in a war with another kingdom. That or someone calling for the man’s head. Things were way too unstable in the castle. With the deaths, and Veritas’ “ordeal of the week”, things were on shaky ground with all the kingdoms. He doubted his words would be heard, however. They would likely fall on deaf ears. Still, he tried.
Next the Heiress laughed before taking it upon herself to once again point out that they were not making threats. They were simply stating facts. A war with Avarice would not be pleasant, but he doubted things would be as easy as clearly the Heiress imagined. Especially since it would likely take place on their land. While not remarkably formidable on foreign territory, on their homeland, they were formidable. The very land would help them. Still, it was not a war he wished to see the outcome of.
“As do I have full faith in the armies of Humility. A war would not be pleasant for either side, and I assure you, there has been thought put into what a war might look like. We both clearly wish to avoid that, or you wouldn’t be here nor would I. We are not here, however, to discuss what war would look like. Correct me if I am wrong, but we are here to discuss peace. And if you think telling me that you will raze my Kingdom should the need arise is the best way to accomplish this, you are sorely mistaken. I do not need to understand your position, it is very clear. Yet, despite this being a meeting to discuss peace, we have discussed everything but that. I think it would be best if we got back on track.”
The debate was brought to a swift end by the sounds of a scuffle outside. Briefly he wondered if it was their soldiers outside. Killing each other. Eyes traveled to the door as the Duke left the room to investigate. If there was battle being done, and it wasn’t the soldiers, however, he needed to check on his siblings. Shortly after, the Duke returned and confirmed that they were being attacked, and that magic was gone from the realm. Not long after the Assassin moving to fight the bandits. His skill clear as he moved to cut down the bandits. It was nothing he preferred to watch. The Duke and Dominique exchanged some words before the Heiress once again turned her attention to him.
Ryan too was on his feet at that point, getting ready to dish out orders. A glance was spared towards the Heiress. Her suggestion was sound, but he needed to get word out to Naedira and Madelyne. His guards wouldn’t be letting him leave the library right this minute. “While that is sound, I unlike you have siblings in the castle. I cannot just abandon them because my own life is at risk. We will have to make due with one or two less soldiers.” With a glance he saw her cutting the dress. An eyebrow raised. To see her doing such a thing was a little surprising. He had entirely expected her to be too proper to do such a thing. Not to mention knowing how to handle a blade.
Ignoring it, he moved to his own group of soldiers. “My sword Captain.” The Heir held out his hand and was gifted with his personal sword. Not exactly his choice of a weapon, but times like these called for such a thing. It would serve him well and he still had his sai should the need to use them arise. “Send two of your quickest soldiers to send messages to my sisters informing them that we are holed up in the library. Order them not to openly engage any of these bandits and to focus on finding them. Have them return here soon after, with my sisters. After that send the men to fill in gaps in the defense around the library and outside it if need be. Make sure the library is not breached.” The man nodded then moved to fulfill his orders. Ryan tested the weight of his sword, before turning back to Dominique.
The Heiress mentioned finding Veritas, and while it was technically sound, his faith in Veritas didn’t extend far at all. “You say that as if he truly cares. You have not been here to go through the hell he has already put the visitors to his castle through. Forgive me, but I hardly think he is the one to find at this time. I have no doubt his guards will keep him protected. I, however, am not going to waste my time finding a man that would rather see me dead than alive, when there are others I would look for before. Do what you will.” If the god cared for anyone in the castle, or was at least decent, he wouldn’t have sent them to the catacombs, wouldn’t have betrothed them to people they couldn’t stand as was most cases, and certainly wouldn’t let a murderer go around the castle when he likely knew who it was.
No Ryan would not be going to the assistance of the god. Let him survive on his own. The Prince had other people to look after in the meantime. Like his sisters for one. He would never forgive himself if they died while he was out hunting for the god.
(OOC: Nothing special >.>)
|I am human and I need to be loved|
|Just like everybody else does|
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Posted: Wed Aug 07, 2013 11:45 am
 ╔═════════════════════════════╗
Location - Library
╚═════════════════════════════╝
Alphonse went back to silently listening to the discussion at hand. Fandral stepped in to add his input and served to upset the Humilitian Heir, it was slightly odd how close the Humilitians seemed to be. It was enough to make one wonder. Either way, he had nothing else to add so he remained silent. Dominique didn’t exactly need any help. She was doing a wonderful job pointing out how inept and utterly unqualified he was to rule. One had to question the supposed wisdom of the Humilitian King to have such a useless Heir. Clearly his children were his greatest weakness.
Sometime during the debate there was a commotion outside that led Alphonse out to check on it. Finding a battle going on, he quickly dispatched two bandits before returning inside to inform the others of the intrusion. Suggesting they go collect her handmaidens out of concern for his friend, the Heiress was quick to round her cold calculating gaze on him. Her words causing him to pause. Was he really that transparent? “Of course my lady. I wasn’t thinking, forgive me.” Fandral sprung into action not long after, telling him to protect Dominique as if it needed to be said. That was his entire reason for returning to the room instead of staying outside and fighting.
Watching the Assassin work made his skill very apparent. He certainly made up for having no sorts of supernatural ability. It was a sight to behold for sure, but he had more important things to do aside from watching. Standing a few feet behind Dominique whom was still seated. The Duke unsheathed both his swords so he was ready. Then The Princess got to her feet and demanded a use of one of his swords. It was easy to forget that she was not so helpless without magic. “As you wish.” Doing as requested, he handed her the lighter of his two swords.
If only he had access to his magic, dispatching the bandits would have been child’s play. Even without magic, it was clear their level of skill was nowhere near his own. At least of the bandits he had faced and watched thus far. To someone as trained in the ways of the sword as he was, they were little more than insects really. They of course could still pose a danger if he was caught off guard or hopelessly outnumbered, but that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.
Dominique chose to speak to Ryan and Alphonse took that time to do a visual sweep of the room to make sure no bandits went unnoticed. The Heir then chose to speak, annoying the Duke with his words. He had never had siblings, and his father had sort of ruined family for him, so he didn’t see the point to such an action. He was the heir, not his sisters. Risking his own life for them was not what was best for his kingdom. Watching as the Avarician Heiress slit her dress down the middle at the knees, the man could almost catch sight of the legs beneath. It was best not to stare, however, lest he get distracted. Not to mention it was entirely improper.
‘Those are some legs.’ Bale sounded off in his head. A mental sigh was directed at the Demon. Was it too much to ask for him to have gone away with the magic? ‘Choose your words carefully...’, lest he be forced to attempt something drastic. A cold echoing laugh was the response he garnered.
Apparently Dominique wanted to find Veritas, something Ryan was against. Alphonse could add nothing to the discussion. He was a relative of Dominique’s no matter how distant, and that meant the Duke would try his best to ensure his safety too. Especially if that was the Princess’ wish. It mattered not what he did, or how he acted. “If that is your wish my lady, I can venture out and look for him? This is a rather defendable location for now, therefore you are safer in here than wandering around in the castle. There is no telling how far they have managed to breach. Though it goes without saying if you wish to venture out and find him, you need but give the order.” He would have preferred she stayed safe and sound, but he wasn’t about to disobey an order.
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