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Ӄingdom: Avarice
Ɍank: Vice Marshal
Ƚocation: Dining Hall
Ⱦhoughts: Finally, the filth is wiped from this Earth.

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A sudden disorientation washed over the assassin. His vision went briefly blurry and he felt a sudden tightening in his throat, though that soon passed. He could not explain it. It was as if he was suddenly swept up in a daydream for a brief pause in time, then brought back to the present. There were memories there, though most of which he could not access, as if curtained by a thin veil of deception. His discomfort was very well hidden by his hood, but that was only by appearance. Inwardly he was quite shaken by the experience, though he’d not let it distract him from his mistress’s goals. He was still the sword to her sheath, and he would ever be sharp enough to decapitate any who stood in the way of Dominique’s plans.

Of the dreamlike memories he could see, however, was a vaguely familiar face. It was a woman whose name he could not place, but it did not take much effort to find her in the tables reserved for the virtuous. The irony that his visions of the woman were anything but was not lost on him. He caught a stolen glance from her, though in all likelihood she’d not see his own gaze thanks to his hood. Could this woman have been the cause of his sudden loss of balance? Could she have, for reasons he of which he had not the faintest of ideas, bewitched him with odd visions of the two in passionate embrace? Why him of all people? Did she think to lower his defenses and lure him away from that which he was oath-bound to serve? Did she have something against his mistress, and seek to assassinate her while the vice marshal was not looking?

Who knew that those of the white kingdoms had such a dark cunning?

This did not amuse him. Nothing short of the reaper himself could keep him from his duty to his beloved Dominique, and even Death himself would find it a chore to do even that. The Avarician heiress was not known for her willingness to let those in her circle leave her so easily; as he recalled, she was his biggest protestor when he decided to go off in search of his manhood. Even when she was not there she demanded her presence felt, for he thought of her single day he was away, even when he found himself in Danika’s arms. Somehow he feared even Death would think twice about separating them a second time.

His form was still as a mountain as his eyes were fixed on the Humilitian. He was seemingly without breath, and were it not for the fact that he had been seen walking in and berating one of the Avarician guards, he might have just as easily been mistaken for a clothed statue. Even when the familiar voice of the Cambion whore’s servant rang in his ears, his body did not move with his eyes toward the source. Though even with his attention in the pitiful man’s direction he kept a close watch in the Humilitan’s direction from the periphery of his vision. Whatever spell the woman placed on him, he would soon question her for it, but now was not the time.

He quietly observed as the servant made the announcement, taking a silent delight in seeing the Cambion whore and her protector’s reactions. He was utterly unfazed when the servant began to fall to his poison’s will. The mixture the young assassin used on the man had proven particularly effective. He remained sitting quite still as his princess rose, the Avarician knights standing at full attention, anticipating an attack. Fandral was more than ready to defend his lady if such a thing came to pass, but unlike the others he kept a cool air about him, as if he completely disregarded the dragonborn’s abilities, powerful as he may be.

An indeed his form began to shift, though it still elicited no response whatsoever from the vice marshal. The faintest whisper of a small hovered over Fandral’s lips as Dominique spoke, and slowly grew further as a pendulum-like blade came down and cleaved the Cambon whore in two in a most deliciously brutal way. It did not take long for the dragonborn to stumble in his failure to protect his charge. Soon after, his own princess ordered him to finish the protector off, and without question the assassin sprang to action. As if in one quick motion, he left his seat and leapt onto the long table, sprinting across in deceptively careful steps for the speed he moved in.

As he neared the edge of the table he drew his daggers. He leapt off the table, slamming his knee into the dragonborn’s chest, knocking him over. Without a moment’s hesitation he dug each of his blades into either side of the man’s neck, a satisfied smirk making its presence known under his hood as the daggers’ blades crossed themselves. He leaned over the dying man and whispered into his ear, ”For Avarice, for the d’Aquitaine, for Dominique, e per l'orchidea nera.” He kept his hands on the hilts until the fallen man’s breath eventually stopped, and then pulled out the daggers in typically ruthless fashion.

Before he could rest, however, another had appeared the to take vengeance on him. Stupidly announcing his presence, the long-haired servant sought to attack Fandral with no weapons in a fit of rage. He was just as easy to dispatch, however. With a swift sweep of his leg the man fell flat on his back. Fandral then followed up by bringing his dagger down directly upon his heart with all the force of a falling star. It was over in a blink, and already there were three corpses by his feet that he was responsible for.

He then dipped his fingers in the pool of blood that was quickly growing beneath him and dragged it along the dragonborn’s face, stopping when the rough form of an orchid was visible on his cheek. He then went ahead and followed suit with the two servants as well. It was not so much a rite, but a tradition in his guild. By its members it was viewed as a mark on the soul, so that in the afterlife they would know that the marked was their victim and none else could make that claim. It was among the many things Danika had taught him.

He stood and turned away from the bloody mess and walked calmly toward his seat as if nothing had happened, even with the blood staining his outfit. He took his seat next to his princess and leaned over toward her ear. ”It is done, ma maîtresse. The filth has been washed away,” he said with a smirk. He then turned his head toward the Humilitan Princess, staring daggers into her in his hooded form.

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A silent melody, a surface memory,
A sound symphony became a part of me.
A sudden shift between a different frequency,
My hand has spread the sea, it's like there's a god in me.

Pushing her fingers to her head, Ella pressed on the right side of her temple. The bills were piling up again, and she really needed to go and see the mob bosses. But she didn’t want to, or rather, she didn’t want to get lectured and possibly beat up for not paying them. What a shitty situation she was in.

As she continued to rub her temples the sound of the bar in the next room over began to grow soft, as if muffled by ear muffs. The quietness eased Ella into a relaxing state before she realized that the noise of the bar was turning into someone talking right in her ear. . .

‘Are you listening to me?! I said if you aren’t going to do anything GET OFF THE FLOOR!’

Ella blinked, her eyes blurring and blue hair floating around her head as she looked back and forth rapidly. “I…I am sorry…?” her statement came out as more of a question. When everything began to clear Ella found herself kneeling on the floor in one of the hallways. A scrub brush was in her hands and a bucket of murky water sat next to her. The person who was yelling at her was another servant, one who worked for Veritas. Sighing the woman picked up Ella’s bucket and the scrub brush. ‘Go into the kitchen.’ She demanded. ‘You’re no use here!’

Scrambling to her feet Ella scurried out of the hallway and toward to the kitchen. There she passed several people including Sara and Richard. Not wanting to be summoned by them she bowed her head quickly and then rushed off. No need to encourage them to berate her.

Once in the kitchen Ella heard a ruckus in the dinning room. Trying not to pay attention to the commotion outside the kitchen and inside, she made her way to the cook, who looked as sour as ever. “I…I was sent to see if you need help with anything. . .” The cook lowered her gaze down to the blue haired woman before grunting. ‘Go to the garden, pick some flowers and vegetables. The Lords and Ladies are sure to complain if it doesn’t look pleasant in this place, and we are low on carrots and cabbage.’

Taking the basket in hand the servant nodded and whipped around, heading for the servant entrance into the garden. On her way out she bumped into another servant (Aoife) who was wearing a plain servant’s dress. She looked like she was avoiding people and honestly Ella had never seen her before. “Excuse me Miss.” She said, hoping this person wouldn’t turn on her and start to yell.

James Greene

Kingdom: Fortitude
Rank: (Secretly) Prince
Location: Halls - Lost

James blinked several times, as if awaking from a partial slumber. He was on his horse, as he had been before. Why did things seem foreign to him suddenly? Wasn’t he somewhere before this? Why yes, he was on his way to the main cities of the kingdom of Fortitude… then he found himself in a strange castle… and then… perhaps somewhere else? No, that was preposterous. It must have been the sudden teleportation to the castle where he was standing was what disoriented him. Shaking off the strange feeling that had plagued him, James dismounted from his horse and decided to proceed cautiously into the looming castle before him. There must be a reason that he was here… and James had full intent of finding out what it was.

His eyes darted back and forth as he continued on through the castle, marveling at its beauty. He could hear voices from the halls. Not threatening ones… but ones of mild conversation. James did not come across nary a soul however. What a strange place. A resounding question kept going through James’s head; why? Why was he here? He was transported here by magic for some reason… he wanted to find out why. His left hand was lazily resting on the hilt of his sword, as a sort of half-awareness. Whatever this place was, it seemed peaceful enough. Why should he be worried here? A certain peace and calm overrode his other senses as he went through each hallway, admiring the workmanship of the castle. It was as if it was crafted by gods.

So there James was, wandering, lost in the giant castle of Veritas, having no idea who or what had brought him there. Little did he know that a number of brutal murders had just occurred in the dining hall, and other strange and dark forces were threatening them as well. He did not know the fact that he would soon be living in a castle with the closest allies and the most hated of enemies of Fortitude.

What a strange world he was stepping into.









OOC: Quite possibly the worst re-introduction post ever. Just sayin'.

The sudden sensation of the world around her caused the necromancer to released a held in breath, beads clicking against each other as she looked around. She was sure that she'd never left this spot, but it felt as if the threads of life and death around her, constantly chattering, had been stifled, replaced with something now a hazy memory. It had been more than a dream, but unlike any vision she'd had before - filled with strangely clad men and women in a land too strange to be related to her own. Though her eyes were covered by a thick leather head-wrap, adorned with various beads dangling about what was exposed of her lower face, the world was as bright to her through her connection into the life forces as if she'd had full eye-sight. It was this connection that first alerted her to some sort of commotion in the castle, the sudden vanishing of two life-threads into the realm of death a rush to her. She did not pity them, or even mourn for them - she had been to the realm of the dead numerous times, and it was not as bad as people made it out to be. Perhaps they would reunite with past lovers or family members. Perhaps they would be punished by eternal wandering - either way, they were released by the physical restraints of life and allowed to transcend to a higher plane to encounter their final judgment. And their deaths would enable life to continue to thrive and grow in this realm until it to was called to darkness.

There was only one situation that would cause anything but respectful excitement for the deceased from the necromancer. By the grace of the gods, however, the Justice native could breathe a sigh of relief - those were not lives she recognized or had a direct attachment to. Her draw to this realm had been to find the heirs of Justice and offer her support to them in these troubling times, and yet she had since been unable to find them. It was…frustrating to say the very least, her senses inundated with lives, and now deaths, that she did not know how to interpret until she met them in person. Some were stronger than others, some questionably human, but all had one thing in common: they were not the heirs of Justice. It made sorting out the small proportion of life threads she was specifically searching for a task for which she did not have the strength after her journey. Her mission must continue, once she was well rested and fed.

Bare feet made no noise as she made her way towards the castle, staff in slung across her back, the only noise accompanying her the sound of moving leather fabric and the clack of beads and bones from her various adornments rustling with each step. Yet, for a woman that appeared blind, there was an air of confidence around her that would certainly draw attention, if her clothes didn't cause them to stare first. The lifelessness of the stone under her feet was cold, though it did not stop her progress as she made her way through the hallways of Veritas' castle, using her special sight to lead her in the direction of someone that might be able to help her. It did not take her long to encounter a strong force, the woman clearing her throat as she approached him (Elliot) so as to not completely startle him.

"I seek the heirs of Justice. Do you know where I might find them, or at the very least someone to show me some food and a bed for the night? I'm afraid my senses are dulled from my relentless travel, and I haven't the strength to search them out on my merit alone, otherwise I wouldn't bother such a man as yourself."

Kingdom and Title:Wrath; Heir
Location/Situation: hallway with some others, then to his bedroom

I 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

Lincoln swallowed back the strangely sudden feeling of bloodlust as he looked around at the other persons in the hallway with him (Lorelei, Kirios, Sasha, and Lucas), and the feeling passed, yet he had a brief spell of disorientation that cleared up quickly as well. For a second, he could have sworn he'd been somewhere else, with other people, but that didn't make sense. Surely he'd remember something like that, and there seemed to be no break in conversation among the others. He wondered if the odd feeling might have been caused by blood loss, as his arm was certainly not getting any better. He thought he heard the distinctive sounds of chains clinking somewhere nearby, but was distracted from the thought when Kirios excused himself quickly, and he nodded back to him. The elder Masterson did raise an eyebrow at Lucas' sudden throaty growl, something several of the Masterson men used to express their anger or annoyance when rational thought took a bit of a backseat to their emotions.

In addition to all these things happening so quickly before he could feel perfectly grounded, Lincoln could not be too sure where it came from, but he was struck with the scent of blood. He wondered if it was coming from himself, yet it had a different scent. That thought truly puzzled him however, for how was there any difference in blood scents, other than fresh and old? Since when could he be able to tell the difference between those of different people? And a quick glance at everyone assured him that no one else seemed to be reacting to any such smells. This was certainly peculiar, though it would have to wait until he had more leisure to give it more thought.

It wasn't an easy matter to see what Lucas was really hiding behind his smirk, but Lincoln had a bit of an inkling of the younger brother's discomfort. Upon looking into his eyes, Lincoln was completely sure his suspicion was right. So Lucas was enchanted (either metaphorically or literally) by the siren (who had the same telepathic ability he knew his youngest siblings shared). He could only hope that it was as Adel had told him, that this was a real affection, not just the siren song in action. Just remembering the power of that melody made him grip his wound harder once more as self-chastisement, recalling how he himself had reacted to the song. Because Lorelei was not actively trying to charm him, his homicidal rage against her kept his head clear now, being able to identify how he had once succumbed to her spell.

Giving him a slow nod, he agreed to his brother's suggestion. "It would be appreciated, Lucas. We could adjourn to my bedroom, I have some supplies there." Not wishing to be rude to the others, regardless of his opinion of one and emotions for another, he turned to face them fully, and gave Lorelei a stiff bow. "I will take my leave of you, Lady Gavini." His words were polite, and his voice distant, but it was probably obvious to her from the quickest flash of his eyes that his anger still stirred within him, forbidding her even the barest idea of using her telepathy with him. He nodded at Sasha then, just a short goodbye (and good riddance to the oddly annoying bard who still gave him a strange feeling that he'd seen him before).

Without another word, the heir turned away and motioned for Lucas to walk beside him, something that may have seemed odd to any watchers had they not known how close the heir was to his siblings. It seemed Veritas was finally merciful as they found their way to Lincoln's chambers very quickly and directly. The blond wasted no time removing his shirt, but managed to keep his front away from Lucas' sight, never letting him get the barest glance at the strange wound below his heart, which looked fresh yet did not bleed. Handing Lucas a threaded needle, he asked his brother to sew his arm slash, gritting his teeth while it was done, but not making a noise otherwise.

Thankfully it was quickly done, and Lincoln used a moistened rag in the bathroom to wash himself quickly, then came out dressed properly for dinner in his more formal wear, though he applied his bracers. About to put on his gloves, he looked at his brother, asking, "Shall we to dinner then? I would like to introduce you to Nathaniel Wood and his family. I've been considering the benefits a tighter alliance would bring." He was not about to detail it too much (specifically the key point in his plans), for he knew Lucas didn't care much for politics and intrigue as he did strategy and outright fighting.

Sport begets tumultuous strife and wrath,
and wrath begets fierce quarrels and war to the death.
- Horace

Kingdom: Humility

Rank: Priestess [In Training]

Location: Forest >> Castle.

Tantra was in the midst of helping her fellow friends from the gods castle escape their hold when the spell took it's effect. She, unfortunately, was placed inside the body of an unconscious girl. She was one of the children of the old mafia heads, and she was dying of cancer. She laid unconscious the entirety of the spell.

~~~~~

Tantra was moving towards the forest when everything seemed to die off all at once. Both sides of whatever battle had been going on seemed to disappear, as the demon and demon hunter vanished. She figured that the god of this land plucked them out and punished them as he saw fit.

Of course, that wasn't true, but Tantra liked to believe it. She stood staring for a while before turning back towards the castle. She ran inside and back towards where she had left her comrades. Naturally, they had moved on fairy far and out of her sight. She let out a sigh and she leaned against the cold wall. "Figures..." With that she walked off, unsure where she was going.

Kingdom: Hubris

Occupation: Princess

Location: Hallway outside of Dining Hall

Thoughts: Is there such a thing as a happy family reunion?

"You'll get your money when you get me to where I want to go, on time," Evelyn Bellerose bit at the carriage driver, whom was busy fighting a losing battle trying to get into the Lady's good graces. The poor fool didn't realise that was a spot reserved for silent servants that did exactly what they were told. He, however, was loud, obnoxious, and failed in his promise to have Evelyn arrive at the castle inside of a week. Sure, she understood that it was just a pitch to try and win over her business, but after more than a week of being crapped in the confines of that pathetic excuse for a luxury coach had pushed Evelyn's demeanour well beyond the point of tolerable. "You are an incompetent excuse for a man, that natural selection should have ruled out at birth! I, for one, will not support the abomination that is your existence."

She could see the retort bubbling up behind the flustered features that made up the drivers face, but unfortunately he remembered his place before opening his mouth and simply bowed in silent apology. A pity, to be sure. Turning up her nose at the man, Evelyn headed through to the castle entry hall, leaving her luggage for whatever servants would be picking it up. Her thick, fur cloak swept out behind her as she briskly strode through the hallways, her figure greatly obscured by the furred leather armour she wore. Not exactly the attire one expects from royalty, her boots didn't even have a raised heel, but Evelyn had more important things to worry about than appropriate fashion. Namely, her siblings.

Her luck was beginning to brighten, however, as a flash of green (Evony) darting into the Dining Hall had revealed Sara and Richard Bellerose. Neither of them were the exact sibling Evelyn was looking for, but the pair would suffice for the time being. Apparently they were also already speaking of the desired subject of recent deaths, or at least that's what it sounded like from Evelyn's vantage point. The comment about the Envy princess curled her lips into a twisted smirk. "If that was her idea of an intelligent decision, then perhaps she did her kingdom a favour," Evelyn cut in, seizing the opportunity to announce her arrival to the pair.

"It is good to see you both again," she offered warmly, with a smile to match. Though whether it was honesty or courtesy remained to be seen, and not even she could be bothered figuring out which. "It almost feels like an age since seeing either of you. What of Trey? I trust he is well?" The slightest hint of concern had crept its way into her tone, though more for the fact that he had become the barrier between her and the throne, and she intended to keep him there for as long as possible. But that also marked the turning point in her inquiries, as she let the topic slide onto the reason behind her arrival. "From what I hear, we've already had more than a few deaths in the family?"