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 Posted: Sat Jul 07, 2012 9:39 am
Rank: Youngest Princess
Kingdom: Wrath
Location: Her chambers with Lincoln
Wearing: Chemise and robe
ooc// i was given permission to auto Lincoln a lil bit. hope this is alright Cid. █║▌│█│║▌║││█║▌│║║█║█║▌│█║▌│║║█║ Her eyes burned and no doubt were red-rimmed from all the tears that had escaped her. She could only remember a single time where she’d ever cried so much but it was out of fear; fear her brother would be gone in the marrow. Part of her then had said to morn Lincoln when he’d been attacked but then another part told her that she would not give up on him. He was a Masterson, a fighter and each member of her family had an inner strength to them and that was one thing that you could always count on. A fight. They weren’t ones to bow their heads in defeat and wallow in their pain. But Miskha couldn’t think of anything better to do. The young princess just wanted to lay next to him and pray to the merciful gods to return him to her. To rest her ear over his heart till she heard the steady drumming.
It was a hopeless wish and the least she could ask for was for Lincoln to let her have this last thing she could do for Jasper. She’d seen the punishment for one who betrayed the Masterson family and it wouldn’t end with ones death. No. Their bodies would be taken out and left for the scavengers to n** away at flesh till they picked it clean. It was a belief with in Wrath that such a thing would leave their bodies in a nightmare of constant damnation and give no peace to their wondering souls. She could feel the tension wafting off of her brother in powerful waves that made her hold her breath as her eyes lingered on her Knight. As she tried her best to remember time times in his life where he was the man she had fallen in love with not the thing that attacked her.
Reaching for those happy memories just so that she may make it through the loss. She could remember their fist meeting. It was the day she turned sixteen and was being showed with gifts and trinkets from possible suitors. The King’s only daughter had been a jewel that all had kept their eyes on, watching her grow quickly into the young woman with a voice of an angel that could cast a spell on unsuspecting men. She’d been in her garden far away from the prying eyes of her suitors or her father. Even her personal guards stayed away from the secluded spot for she wasn’t a woman who was weak and unable to protect herself. Always hidden beneath her garments were various weapons. One being a sword her brother had gifted her earlier in the day. So when the princess had heard the noise and swung her blade she was stunned to see the boy.
Mishka remembered the look of horror that was etched into his features. His eyes were wide and fixed on the blade that was mere centimeters from cutting into his throat. The princess had let him live, amused with his stuttering tongue and compliments that weren’t meant to be heard. It had been the start of a four year courtly love that would end in disaster for the two… she knew. She just never expected this would be her punishment for giving her heart to a man not of noble birth.
Mishka’s fingers tightened around Jasper’s cold lifeless hand as she waited. Anchoring herself to him so that she would not teeter over when her brother spoke. Tarring away the single thread that kept back her tears and her siren that though mourned his lost threatened to rise up and protect the girl who cried with in. Yet when her brother spoke she looked up at him in shock. Her pale blue eyes that were red and puffy grew wide as she stared at him. He was going against everything they’d been taught, breaking gods only knew how many rules for her. A whisper of her smile swept across her mouth before she turned away from him. She knew he didn’t believe a word that had formed on his lips and probably felt the desire to wash those words from his mouth as well as the foul taste but she was happy that he was giving her this.
She leaned over Jasper and held her forehead against his own and whispered softly to him. “I’ll never let anyone know…I’ll lie. No one will know what happened. I promise my love.” She placed her lips against his cooling skin as Lincoln called to her once more. Yet his voice sounded so far away. She just wanted to stay here. Be with him for awhile longer before she would arrange his burial. She felt Lincolns grip about her waist as he helped her stand. Her legs were unruly, as they trembled beneath her wait and she looked up toward her brother for a moment before she sniffled and lifted her hands and whipped away any stray tears that may have remained. “We promised to celebrate Corrine’s good news.” She murmured, gaining small flickers of what she’d been trying to do before….before it happened.
Yet the fog that clouded her mind was still to dense, a protective barrier to keep the sorrow at bay.
Miskha didn’t feel like celebrating…but she didn’t want to be alone either. Turning into Lincoln’s arms. Caring little about damaging his clothing with the crimson that stained her robe and under garments she hid her face against his chest. -I’m not sure I can go with you to see our cousin…I don’t want to ruin her good mood. I don’t…- Her message was faint as she touched his mind.
That was when it happened the shriek that was not of this world or any she’d heard of echoed through out the castle walls and the thin thread that held the young princess together snapped and waves of panic, fear and anger washed over her. Miskha pulled away from him and dropped back toward her knees and pulled Jasper against her before nibble fingers quickly began to fumble with the ties of his armor. If she could just get this of.. Just get this off they Lincoln could carry him. Yet her fingers were numb and kept slipping away from the snug ties that held the pieces together. Her frantic gaze lifted toward Lincoln. “Help me!” She shouted at him before looking back down to the knot her fingers quickly worked on. Once it was done she quickly moved toward the other knot and felt the tears swelling and blurring her vision as she struggled. She could hear Lincoln’s voice yet she ignored him. Even when he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back she swung blindly and scrambled back toward Jasper’s body.
Back to her task. Tossing a piece of the armor off. She had to get it off of him. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let him burn. She had to say good bye to him. Not like this. Not like this. She was about to begin working on the next tie when a sharp pain sent her flying forward. Her vision blurred before falling into a world of black. The last thing that she heard was…I’m sorry.
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Posted: Fri Jul 13, 2012 5:15 am
 Corrine Brooke Masterson Arch Duchess of Wrath ✩ Location: Gallery ✩ Forced Out of Hiding - This won't end well...  Corrine's eyes travelled over the others in the room as she was introduced to them formally by her royal cousin. Some seemed to be more on edge than others, the Arch Duchess sure that it had to do with international politics that were more suited for Lincoln's understanding than her own. Still, some of the faces were familiar to her, and she tried to offer a polite dip of her gaze. Dafydd moved amongst them easily, clearly at home in the political realm that required extra vigilance with every action, every word. It was an admirable quality, though one that made her suspect. His gift with words would make him hard to read at times. That was a notion that put the Arch Duchess on alert, though her countenance remained nothing but pleasant.
Stefan remained by her side, seeming jittery despite her express attempts to calm him with her presence. His etiquette dictated that this was proper, though she felt as if he wanted nothing more to be across the room from her. Their relationship had always been a strange one, but she had to feel like others in the room would pick up on the tension if she were feeling it so palpably. Prince Dafydd's greeting might have been a bit over the top for her own tastes, but Corrine knew how to be polite and respond appropriately.
The topic of conversation turned to the group's next course of action, green eyes moving over Naedira as the girl expressed her desire not to be a burden to the rest of the group. For whatever reason, Corrine felt the need ti protect her, and was quick to offer her own services of protection for the woman and her sister, Corrine bowing her head when the woman accepted with an apology. Waving a hand easily through the air, Corrine simply shook her head.
"No apologies necessary, your Highness." It was a simple response, not sure she would be able to explain to the girl exactly why she was offering as she did. She wasn't the only one that stepped up to offer their protection, so for the time being, she felt that it could be attributed to politics, or simple chivalry. That was likely best, for now.
Stefan in particular offered his protection to Madelyn, Corrine holding back a grin for fear that her kin would mistake it for criticism. It was about time he start acting like Wrathian royalty. Madelyn was at east gracious towards him, causing the Arch Duchess to smile slightly. She'd have to poke fun at her cousin later about the situation. If she didn't know better, she would think he fancied the princess. Still, now there were more important matters to attend to. Such as what they were going to do next. It was at least decided that they should stay together in the same group, which Corrine approved of. The next question was where they were to go.
The Patiente Prince seemed to favor their leaving this place for another, while Altonair voiced his desires that they should remain where they knew they were safe. There were, of course, the assassins roaming about the castle that needed to be considered. Sure, some of them would be able to hold their own, but could they continue to look out for the less battle-worn. Dafydd, however, suggested that they move their party to the older parts of the castle, placing their hopes in the magic of this castle to protect them amongst the changing corridors. It was a plan worth mentioning, but Corrine immediately had her doubts. The castle could just as easily lead their party to the assassins - so many elements outside her control was worrisome. Stefan, for once, came to her rescue, offering a well-thought interpretation of the situation. A Masterson's interpretation of their current predicament.
"I have to agree with my Cousin, and Prince Altonair. The defensive possibilities of this area are great. We'd be safer fortifying this area for now than searching the castle or grounds for a new hiding spot. We have the numbers to ride out the storm, I should think." Her tone was calm and even, much like her cousin, who had impressed her for the first time in a long time. She was speaking to the group as a whole, but her gaze remained on Altonair. She knew their allegiance was important to Lincoln, and so she would take extra care to make sure he knew that, regardless of the politics involved in the room, she would be on his side.
Stefan's gaze turned to the details of the room, at least she assumed that was what stoke his attention, while Corrine cast him a sideways glance. She turned to him, lowering her voice to speak amongst family and hoping that the other royals in the room would do her to courtesy of not eavesdropping upon kin. Just in case, however, she made sure that it was nothing but familial speak. Besides, it'd been a long time since she'd seen this particular cousin.
"I'm glad you're here. It will take both of us to protect these people, should hell be unleashed within these walls." He would either take it as reassurance, or feel she was placing additional pressure upon him. Really, it was neither - she spoke only the truth. True, she might not have the same relationship with him as she did with Lincoln, or even the twins, but he was family. If she were facing this situation with anyone, she'd want it to be a fellow Masterson.
Their conversation was cut short, however, but a fleeting evacuation order, green eyes narrowing at the idea of "magical fire" being set loose in the castle. They were being driven outside - it seemed like an ambush from the beginning. But, what could they do when fire waited in the castle to consume them, and the grounds offered such peril? The smoke from the fire was already starting to come in long black tendrils into the room, Corrine releasing a soft sigh as she found herself agreeing with Dafydd.
"Princess Naedira is right. It seems our hand has been forced," she said simply, glancing at [bStefan. He would, hopefully, see her resignations about the evacuation - they would have to be extra vigilante. Turned her sights on the many doors that lead in and out of the gallery, Corrine found herself unable to offer any insight into which one they should choose. This was the first time she'd been in this particular room of the castle, and aside from the obvious - there are windows this way, she would use a door on this wall, she would be of next to no help. In her short time here, she'd already learned that nothing in this castle was what it seemed. ((Oodles Of Carrots: If I missed someone, please PLEASE let me know. ))
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Posted: Fri Jul 13, 2012 4:06 pm
Temper your enjoyments with prudence, lest there be written on your heart that fearful word "satiety." Millicent Faye Borleas
Duchess of Prudence
Location: Veritas' Castle: Hallways
Entertaining: Cecelia & Belle
Thoughts: Disaster Strikes It took nearly all of Millicent’s training to keep her calm exterior as Cecelia demanded the location of her room in case she needed entertainment at any given moment. Her mother would have been proud of her reaction, keeping her cool as she simply stated that she was a few doors down, and agreeing to this ridiculous charade of loyalty to a princess she secretly couldn’t stand the sight of. The Baroness was glad when Belle interrupted their conversation to state that she, too, was within the immediate area, should their royal require anything. Millie made a mental note to send her some sort of anonymous gift later – her actions were kinder than the archer would likely ever know. Their time together was abruptly interrupted by a call for castle evacuation, their self-proclaimed “guardian” of an archer insisting that it was time for them to leave. They were in agreement, though Millie had other matters on her mind before immediately fleeing the scene. Belle allowed her to go retrieve her ladies, insisting that she would be back if the Baroness didn’t join them out on the grounds within a reasonable amount of time. Cecelia, however, began shrieking like some sort of banshee, demanding that Millie return to her at once. The princess may have gone through handmaidens as if they were old rags, but Millicent remained as loyal to her ladies as they were to her. There was a reason she seemed to know more about things happening around the castle, no matter where she was, than most others. Her ladies had been trained well. An unseen smile crept across her lips as she heard the archer silence the princess behind her. It was unlike Belle to be so forceful with her charge, though she was glad to see someone shut the girl up for a minute. She really could act like a child. “ Better make that two anonymous gifts,” she muttered to herself. Disappearing into her chambers, the Baroness moved quickly over to a chest at the end of her bed, a flash of silver glistening in the light as she hid a dagger underneath her skirts. Her chamber attendant burst into the room, releasing a shout when she saw her mistress already there. “ Come, Elizabeth,” she said simply, taking hold of the girl’s shoulder and ushering her back towards the door. The woman made a move to grab ahold of the Baroness’ cloak, draped over the open door of an armoire, but Millie tugged her forwards suddenly. “ Don’t be stupid, girl. There is no time, we must run.” The two women started towards the exit, her maiden releasing a frightened shriek as she nearly tripped over the lifeless form of a cloaked man on the ground. Millie instinctively drew her away from the body, taking hold of her shoulders and physically turning her away from the body, only to have the girl rip away from her, a loud sob mixed with a second shriek erupting from the girl. “ Eliz-“ she started, only to have the world around her suddenly stall. Her maiden, Anna, lay on the stone floor of an open room, bathed in a pool of her own crimson blood. Gathering her skirts as best she could, Millie rustled forwards, pushing past several fleeing servants to linger on the edge of the red puddle. Elizabeth, clearly terrified, reached out to feel the girl’s lifeless body. There was nothing they could do for her now – the fiend that did this to her had completed his work swiftly. “ There is nothing we can do for her. Come, now,” she demanded, again taking hold of the maid’s shoulders and almost shoving her towards the door. Her voice was…colder than she really intended it to be. Her mother always told her that she cared for the servants a bit too much for her own good, but now was neither the time nor the place for any blatant shows of grief or emotion. Glacier eyes turned back to the castle as the two women ran from the corridors and spilled onto the lawn with the rest of the castle’s inhabitants. Smoke billowed from the windows, an eerie glowing orange backdrop giving the entire scene a somewhat apocalyptic appearance. Elizabeth slipped to her knees next to the baroness, body racked by silent sobs. It was unfortunate that the girl had seen her fellow handmaiden in such a state, but really, this was not the way she expected her maidens to act in public. Kneeling next to the girl, milky white hands closed about her shoulders, blue eyes boring into the girl’s red, puffy counterparts. “ You may grieve for Anna, later. For now, you must pull yourself together and make sure that the other ladies did not meet similar ends. Through tragedy, we are above all, Prudent nobility and will act as such,” she spoke softly, bidding the woman rise as the baroness too returned to her feet. Sniffling, the girl nodded, Millicent’s even gaze following after her as she slid into a sloppy curtsy and turned to search through the crowd gathering outside the castle. The baroness, on the other hand, had her own search to complete. Once Elizabeth was out of sight, Millie’s eyes went to searching the crowd, finally settling upon Belle and Cecelia. She wanted to at least let the archer know that she was safe so the woman didn’t rush into the burning castle to play the hero. At the same time, she wanted to avoid being sucked into another conversation with the princess – especially one that was going to start with the baroness being reprimanded for directly ignoring the princess as she rushed off to collect her servants. There was really no winning in her current predicament. It is wiser that a person of prudence and purpose save her strength for battles that can be won.
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Posted: Mon Jul 16, 2012 1:00 am
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Alphonse Athanase
Avarician Duke
Location - Outside Dominique's room
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Alphonse gave the handmaiden a small smile in response to Aimée as the woman responded to him sweetly. The smile on her own face befitting for a conversation between old friends. He fave her no response, but needless to say he found her words slightly amusing. It almost felt like they were teenagers again taking a stroll in moonlight and avoiding those that were seeking them. It was refreshing after being in the proverbial trenches for so long. Words were not always necessary with old friends to express things like amusement. At the mention of Dominique and her family having a deep connection with Avarice the duke nodded. "Our lady is wise then. The King is a great man and if anyone can purify our home land I imagine it to be an D’Aquitaine." That much seemed obvious.
At the mention of what had been done to the people of Avarice, Alphonse let out a deep sigh. It was true, horrible things had been done to them. Part of him hated that he had done nothing obvious to help free the people in his time at court. Oh how he wanted to simply strike down those that used them in the twisted ways that the cambion court had. At Aimée's words an eyebrow was raised at the vehemence in her words. It seemed different from the Aimée he was used to, but given the times and how long it had been since they last seen each other, it was understandable for a person to change a little. "The people have been slighted in a way that might never be made entirely right, but I feel that like with the land, eventually everything will be made right again." Probably not in his lifetime though.
As they walked Alphonse faltered for a brief second as something felt very off. Some kind of magic was the cause of his feeling. That he was sure of. Picking up the pace to fall back in line with Aimée he let his gaze fall to the ground in silent contemplation. "Let us-" Before he could say anymore a knight in service to Avarice appeared before them. Staring at the man, he completely missed the handmaiden's gaze hardening for even a second. Letting her do the talking he nodded his head to the man and then proceeded to follow him in silence. His talk and friendly stroll with Aimée was officially over it seemed. As they arrived at the door he spoke to Aimée once more. "Soyez sûr mon ami*." After speaking he fell silent and waited calmly and patiently at the door. Turning away from the door he took a few steps down the hall before stopping and simply playing the sentry.
The sound of the door opening caught the attention of Alphonse and turned in time to see Fandral step out. Clearly he was the Vice Marshal that had been spoken of. Giving the man a quick once over the duke said nothing at first. He seemed a fitting guard for Dominique. Then there was the air familiarity that the man held. As if they had met some time in a far away place. Not that there was really time to sort that out. Maybe later. Letting Fandral greet him a nod was given. "Bonjour. I am and understood. The name is Alphonse." Extending a hand to the man to shake he gave it enough time for the man to do so before letting his hand fall back to his side.
At the mention of having documentation the duke nodded and retrieved them handing them to the vice marshal. "I completely agree and would be suspicious if you did not ask to see them. Certain precautions are necessary in these uncertain times." Then the thought about the letter the King had given to him for Dominique was brought to mind. Before he had time to retrieve it or even mention it however, a harsh voice sounded in the air and some kind of creature that had delivered it passed him by. Eyes taking in his surroundings the duke made no hostile movements. His left hand did find itself resting on the hilt of his blade in response though. A magical fire? Is that what he had sensed just a few minutes ago? Perhaps giving his affinity for fire he could put it out? It really depended on the spell used.
As Alphonse thought of the possibility of putting the flames out Dominique stepped out of the room and addressed him. "It has been long milady." Taking in her appearance he gave a quick and brief smile and standing bow that was more for formalities sake than anything. Right now he just wanted to be at the sight of the magical disturbance figuring out a way to reverse it. As she spoke again the duke nodded. "Yes I imagine there is a great deal we have to discuss." Likely to do with his current resident. That was not a conversation he looked forward to. Fandral was quick to agree to leaving and ordered the knights to escort them.
"Milady, there might be something I could do if you like to maybe put out the flames. Especially if they are magical in nature. Also when we are safe it just came to me that I have a letter for you from the king." With the offer on the table Alphonse fell silent not even sure if he could do anything with the flames. 'Maybe? I am sure you could figure something out if you actually used my knowledge boy.' Hearing the demon chime in Alphonse looked to the ground and suppressed the urge to sigh. 'I said maybe because I would rather not use your knowledge demon. I am surely not the only weaver of magic in this castle anyway.' A scoff from Bale was his only response. Either way he figured it was probably more use if he stayed and did what he was sent to do instead of going off to put out these magical flames.
*Be safe my friend
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Sing This Corrosion To Me
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Posted: Fri Jul 20, 2012 6:17 pm
They come in lines to welcome you. They're shining through... Babylon...
And the sights will pierce your eyes, Babylon...
With nightmares on both sides, Babylon... Petruccio Giuseppe della Rovere xx Housecarl of Lust xx Near the abbey  It had occurred to Petruccio that, by the minute, more and more people came to join their group than he was comfortable being around. it was by no means that he was not sociable, but simply that the situation they found themselves in was not one that was ideal to socializing. Particularly the part where assassins found their way into the castle and were trying to kill certain people, and had already succeeded in doing so for at least one important noble. He did not feel comfortable surrounded by so many people because it drew attention of the worst kind. Moreover, the more people that were in their present company, the more people the housecarl had to watch out for in case someone wanted to take the opportunity of the chaos of the moment to attack those he was supposed to protect, never mind those damned cowardly assassins. But perhaps his biggest fear was that, given the state of the moment, he could very possibly lose control of the beast within, and the more people that were present, the more there were to feed his inner bloodlust.
He always left such a mess when he lost control.
But if there was any unease in him whatsoever, it did not appear in his spoken word. Outwardly, the housecarl appeared calm and ethereal as ever. Inwardly, however, the beast that lay dormant within smelled blood in the air and was thrashing about doing everything it could to escape. But Petruccio was confident he could keep his inner demon reigned in. He bowed his head gently when Cat responded to his concern that he should stay and protect them from any potential dangers they may face. He did not mean to be contrary to the heiress, but for right now he needed to be able to protect them from assassins should they come back to finish what they'd started. "My axe is yours, nobildonna*," he said with another bow, voice serene as ever.
Petruccio nodded when James followed up with queries about the assassins, and stated that this realm was supposed to be safe from such things. Petruccio wondered that himself, noting that this place was supposed to be a haven from potential political violence that could affect that royal lines of succession. Such was what was promised by the divine that maintained this realm, and yet here they stood in the aftermath of bloodshed and fear. "That was supposed to be the idea," he said calmly, letting just the slightest hint of annoyance slip through his tone. It was not annoyance at the man asking the questions, but with the god that guaranteed the safety of royal children but could not deliver on his promise.
If ever there was a time to test his serenity, the gods had apparently chosen this very moment of all times to do so. Two more people decided to join them. He did not know one of them, but the other was difficult not to recognize as King Reginald of Fortitude. It was just as difficult to notice the way in which the king stared at her, and the constipated tone with which he spoke. It would have been so incredibly easy to simply will the man out of their presence. Petruccio would not even need to lift a finger to throw the man several hundred feet away. Every second the king acted the way he did, the temptation to give in to his beastial nature and simply tear the man apart looked sweeter and sweeter. It would be so easy, but he kept his powers in check for the time being. There was no time to start a war and promote a royal heir so early in his career (as much as it seemed that James would be infinitely more tolerant of Lorelei's presence), not when there were assassins out and about hunting royalty down. Luckily Ryan was quick to play the diplomat and attempt to calm the king down.
He supposed he could forgive the king, having just gone through tragedy, but his treatment of Lorelei annoyed him no less so.
Petruccio was utterly unfazed by Dante's command for everyone to leave, as everyone else appeared to be. Much as his rank was officially below the royal children, he was not here under their command, but from the King himself. He was ordered to protect, and occasionally advise, the children when the need arose, in particular the Lustian heiress. Right now the Lustians needed his abilities, should the killer and his ilk return.
Petruccio's eyes narrowed when Micah spoke up. He momentarily considered striking the eldest Gavini child with the back of his hand for suggesting such a silly notion at such an inopportune time while speaking out of turn. Nevermind that she was speaking to a grieving brother with a grieving father that clearly had no particular love for the children of Gavini. Right now Lorelei was in a vulnerable state, and while finding a safer place was certainly a priority, protection was still important. The elder sister suddenly opened a mental connection with him, and Petruccio turned his head in her direction, staring into her eyes to confirm he heard her words. ~I will do as Lady Lorelei asks me to do, and will follow your siblings wherever they go to protect them, as are my duties. But do not presume to order me around.~ His voice projected out coldly into Micah's mind. ~Your father has long since revoked your priviledge to do so. And you are out of line in demanding anything from the Heir of Justice so candidly.~ He kept the scolding private, so as not to disrespect the others, but that did not mean he could not do so under his own power. As far as King Richard was concerned, Micah had no power over him; he still had to proect her, as he did all the Gavini children, but he did not have to follow any of her orders. This suited the housecarl just fine.
Silently he wished he could assist in the search for the coward of an assassin with Ryan and James, but he needed to stick close to the Gavinis for now. Protection was his singlemost priority for the moment, and it would do his inner bloodlust no favors if he were to go hunting for assailants now. He also did not wish to be responsible for the harm, or even death, of two white kingdom heirs should he lose control of said bloodlust.
Before James could say anything, Ryan suggested it would be better to keep together until they are safely inside the castle's walls. While he doubted the castle was any safer, he did agree that the numbers game would be important to their survival for the moment. It was then that a defiant Lorelei chose to stand, with assistance from her sister and the heir to Fortitude. She spoke about how Ryan was right in his suggestion, and the housecarl nodded in agreement. Right now the group needed to stick together. The group currently consisted of six royal children and a king, with himself being the only one not of aristocratic lineage; while it was an easy target for any political assassin, it was one that could only survive with strength in numbers. Cat suggested they head inside the castle's dining area to replenish any lost energy and perhaps even acquire themselves some strong drinks.
Truth be told, Petruccio could use some fine wine himself. But unfortunately that idea was swiftly struck down by a voice in the back of his head he did not recognize. He dispelled the notion that he was going insane, despite the other howls inside his head, when it appeared that the others had too heard this voice. While the voice was indeed harsh and grating, it appeared not to be threatening, but warning the others of impending doom. Whoever had sent this eldritch herald had just saved their life, assuming it was not a trap to expose more of the assassins' targets. The others seemed to believe the voice, and while he was still skeptical, he would follow the others wherever they went. He nodded when James suggested a stream be their target location. Perhaps he was speaking of the very same stream he had just come from? The very same one he'd met the heir of Justice, was shunned by the heiress of Avarice, and witnessed a rather passionate display of affection between a blonde woman and some hooded figure before the man sprinted away?
Either way, he followed the group to said stream, ever vigilant on their way there as well as upon arrival. Upon arriving there, he stuck close to Cat and Lorelei. He turned to Lorelei, staying out of Dante's way as he worked to assist with Lorelei. "Nobildonna, if there is anything you wish me to do, you need only command me. In the meantime, if you wish, I could try and place same psychic barriers around our area to keep any unwelcome visitors out." It would not be a perfect defense, but at the very least it would alert him to the presence of anyone that came close. *milady
((OOC: I apologize for the wait. It has been a few uber busy weeks. Let me know if I missed anything; I had to rush near the end. >.<  Say what you want me to do and I will do it for you.
Say who you want me to do and I'll do her too.
And in the backstreets all the demons
Laugh as hell - They want some more.
Dobermans raising Cain in this loveless game,
And you wait to score...
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2012 5:17 am
✠ ══════════════════════════════════════════ ✠ xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx✠ Position: Second in Line to the Throne✠ Location: Long Gallery xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx
xxxxxx xxxxxx xxx ccccc xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx✠ OOC: Nothing to see here folks. No odd OOC rambling.
 xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxx✠ ══════════════════════════════════════════ ✠ In the midst of staying alive and watching out for assassins, Altonair had found himself playing a tense 'game' with the Patiente Prince, Dafydd. They both knew who the other was, and what their presence could bring each other. And yet, if either of them made a hostile move towards the other, alliances would be broken and it would surely spell doom for the both of them, with or without assassin intervention. It was all a matter of if they both could keep a lid on their emotions. Prince Dafydd seemed to have no trouble with this, even allowing himself to exchange words with Princess Naedira with relative ease. But Altonair was finding it much harder to bear, staying silent most of the time and struggling to maintain control of himself. It was almost as if it was a one sided struggle that he was caught in, desperately trying to remain poised when faced against an uncomfortable situation.
But he would need to. This would not be a victory for enemy, however small.
Dafydd had explained his reasoning behind their moving to another spot, stating that the castle's myriad self-altering hallways would be a great place to hide. Yes, it would be, but it wasn't without fault. Even if the Patiente Prince knew how to get there, the sheer chaotic nature of the changing hallways would affect them as well. They would sooner get lost themselves, perhaps with an assassin that might have already been lost there.
He didn't seem to be the only one who had issues with this plan, thankfully: Altonair's inquiry to Corrine and Stefan concerning a plan of action was met with surprisingly well thought out logic from the large Masterson. He spoke like a warrior, catching them all up to his reasoning. To hold their ground in the long gallery, where their brief knowledge of the room would give them a small advantage if trouble found them. The larger man readied his arms and took on a defensive stance, already on the lookout for assassins. It seemed he had no intention of letting anyone here die.
His cousin, Corrine, agreed with him, and also explained their predicament. She was not unlike a well disciplined general, giving tactical advice to her group of soldiers, without a trace of worry or fear. It was obvious she spoke to the group, but her gaze did linger on Altonair longer than necessary. The prince did not miss her gaze, but it did unnerve him for the slightest of moments. Was she...making sure he heard her? That would make sense, considering Envy and Wrath were in talks of an alliance. In an event such as this, alliances were important.
He returned her gaze with a nod, a smirk silently thanking both her and Stefan for their help. On top of Prince Stefan pledging to personally defend a flustered Princess Madelyne, as was Arch Duchess Corrine for Princess Naedira, they were company that he truly appreciated having. What great family you have, Lord Lincoln. You have my thanks.
Of course, Princess Naedira's presence was not forgotten to the prince. He knew this to be a very difficult time for them all, but Naedira most likely received the most pain of them all. It was no surprise she clung to both her sister and him. She continued to remained as composed as she could be, but Altonair could not ask more from her than she already gave. This was too much for her. For any of them, really. But for her especially. She didn't deserve this.
Just as Prince Dafydd had agreed with Stefan's recommendation, a booming voice pierced the air, advocating an evacuation of the grounds. It seemed the flames had spread to other parts of the castle, and they were most likely in it's path. Now, there was no other choice but to escape. Whatever hatred he held for Patience and Prince Dafydd at the moment would have to be momentarily swallowed, lest the flames consume them as well. "Agreed." he said to Dafydd, allowing his survival instincts to override his contempt for the time being. Naedira suggested heading outdoors, in safer ground among the higher grounds in the woodlands. "We'll need to be swift! Someone lead us out of here!"
He was about to start towards a door, but stopped himself as realized something. While he would have no problem escaping, Princess Naedira would most likely have great difficulty keeping up with them. She had to be physically and emotionally exhausted at this point, considering she did expend herself earlier. Without the aid of someone to help her move, she could be in serious trouble.
And he wouldn't let that happen to her.
He made up his mind, and faced Naedira, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Lady Naedira...your condition greatly concerns me, especially at a time like this." he said, his tone firm. "Might you need assistance? I could carry you, if need be."
It was bold and possibly overbearing suggestion, and perhaps one that he didn't entirely think out through completely, but it came out almost instinctively. Besides, there wasn't much time to beat around the bush. Not with fire threatening to burn them.
✠ ══════════════════════════════════════════ ✠ The wicked envy and hate; it is their way of admiring.xxxxx xxxx
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2012 4:49 pm
 Kingdom and Title:Wrath; Heir
Location/Situation: Mishka's bedroom, making a hard choiceI 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 As Lincoln pulled his mourning sister up with him, he was glad she wasn’t just hanging limply against him. He didn’t want to rush her grieving, but he just didn’t want her to become so enveloped by it that she couldn’t pull herself away later. Her soft mental voice spoke to his mind, and he was just formulating a response that it would be better if just the two of them went somewhere else for a little while, when another form of thought magic interrupted them. He didn’t have time to consider where they should go for safety before Mishka dropped and stated worrying at Jasper’s armor.
“Mishka!” Her frantic movements caused his voice to be harsher, wanting her to listen to him. She ignored him, and he tried to grasp at her shoulder, but the girl pulled away from him roughly, oblivious to the new tear at her gown. “Mishka, stop it! We need to get out of here now!” He barely felt the blow that he’d received, just a minor ache against his temple because of his rushing adrenaline. Again his words were ignored, and Lincoln was concerned about the danger they were in. He could fight an enemy, even one with magic, as evidenced by earlier. But a magical fire of such proportions? That was best left to others, such as Veritas, who should be dealing with it before it got out of hand. Yet he wasn’t foolish enough to just wait it out, expecting salvation that may come too late. “Leave him Mishka!”
Alarmed that his sister was not going to leave the body behind, even if it slowed her down so much as to kill her, Lincoln considered his options. He could try to assist her, and carry the man himself. But he was exhausted from the day’s events, and Mishka would stay with him, so that they might all be caught up by this fire. Though he was strong, he would only be able to deal with the heavy burden of literal dead weight for so long. He could try to drag her away by force, but her resistance would impede their forward progress as well. No, there was only one way to protect his sister, though she may end up hating him for a very long time.
Making a silent plea of forgiveness to the gods, he used the edge of his hand to hit Mishka sharply on the back of the head. It worked to knock her unconscious, and he caught her body before it dropped completely. “I’m sorry.... My dear little sister, forgive me.” He knew she would not hear him, which is why perhaps it was easier to beg to her. He grabbed one of her thicker robes quickly to wrap her in, then carried her in his arms.
The heir glanced back at Jasper’s body for just a second, wondering if justice would be done. It would be a harsh matter for the precious body in his arms, but he would not regret for Jasper to burn. It was better than being left for the carrion eaters, but without any blessings, not by much. He moved through the castle, hoping he was going to be headed somewhere safe, and not directly into danger. Though he had his sword with him, he knew he was not fit to fight right now, and he truly couldn’t while he was carrying his sister.Sport begets tumultuous strife and wrath,
and wrath begets fierce quarrels and war to the death.
- Horace
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Posted: Tue Jul 24, 2012 5:42 am
Ӄingdom: Avarice
Ɍank: Heiress
Ƚocation: Hallways --> Leaving Castle
Ⱦhoughts: A war is not won by doing what is right... To win, one must simply do what is necessary.... ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ “Démons…”, Dominique trailed off with an hateful snarl, hearing that one had been Fandral’s blade-brother. Her handmaidens stilled as a unit, startled by her venom…They knew her best of all. Knew, that her temper was an unfortunate thing. Though with the chosen topic, vehemence was to be expected. The heiress motioned for the women to continue, face contorted into something akin to a silent rage.
Merde…Demons were absolutely everywhere, weren’t they? Parasitic, pathetic vermin. First their abomination of a Queen had taken her home, her people, and her rightful title…Now, lesser beings were stealing away high ranking members of her court. She would not allow the cancerous tumor rotting inside Alphonse to take him. Simply, would not allow it.
She did indeed catch Fandral’s tone and implication about the demon he’d known, but she didn’t comment. She didn’t have the time or patience to play a game of silver words with him…Her hard, amethyst eyes flickered towards her Vice Marshal when he commented of the scent of freshwater around her person. A small, slow smile spread across her lovely features…One that didn’t bode well. “Et vous sentez femmes du parfum ...*”
The assassin departed after that, off to meet her patiently waiting Duke.
It would not take anyone of great intelligence to discover the meaning of her parting words…The small, scathing barb that left her. Though she was placated by the memory of watching the Fortitude harlot fall from grace, and sink to a watery grave…Fandral was still not forgiven. There was not the same level of trust there had been mere hours ago.
But she forced herself to have…Faith, that it could be rebuilt. Given time…
Her father would not have appointed her a willful fool.
Her white gown flared about her slippered feet as she moved, flaxen tresses shimmering like an elegant molten gold waterfall. She was the epitome of perfection…wholly angelic, despite her dark machinations. Few would have guessed the brutal and grim thoughts that passed through her mind. That was the way she preferred it. Her eyes lingered on the Duke of Avarice…Expression wholly unreadable.
Part of her guise was to seem dispassionate—The perfect china doll. She was regal and austere, commanding attention the moment she entered any venue…Remarkably solemn for one so young. Alphonse bowed, as was proper, and Dominique looked on—Chin deliberately held high as her teeth ground.
What had been done to him? Why did he reek of brimstone and ash? Of the enemy?
Fandral gave the order that they depart, and she tore her eyes from the Duke—Deferring to her Vice Marshall’s demand for a protective formation. Her handmaiden’s stepped forward and surrounded her at five points, the perfect obedient entourage. They moved as if in sync, each motion and breath seeming to happen at the same time. Their faces remained hidden by the white and gold cloaks they wore, the hoods hanging low.
She paused when Alphonse offered to do someone about the flames, folded hands unlacing as she slowly tugged her hood up—Beautiful blond hair spilling out of the side. “Were the flames so easy to douse…My Uncle would have done so. Something is most definitely amiss.”
“I would hate to lose one of my nobility when you’ve only just arrived.”
For some reason, she couldn’t imagine the God King being happy that his realm was on fire. Turning her gaze back to the front, the group began to proceed. “Keep the parchment from our King safe until I may receive it privately.”
The procession made haste out of the hall, the same, strangely empty hallways greeting them. Hearing what sounded like a scream, the Heiress froze…But as quickly as the sound had come, it was gone. She couldn’t even begin to fathom how to find someone in this castle…The passages and corridors shifted at will. The knights merely kept moving, and Dominique had little choice other than to move with her handmaidens—Or be pulled like the tide out to sea.
Silently, she said a prayer to the Gods she knew to exist…They were blood. Family. Though occasionally vengeful…Surely, they would hear her. Whether they would grant the people of this realm clemency or not was another story.
♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ : . : ♛ *Et vous sentez femmes du parfum = And you smell of women's perfume...
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Posted: Thu Jul 26, 2012 2:56 pm
╔═══════════════════════════════╗
Richard Bellerose, Prince of Hubris
Library
"Even though I'm on my own.
I know I'm not alone.
Because I know there's someone somewhere.
Praying that I make it home."
╚═══════════════════════════════╝ 
How could things have taken such a sudden and dangerous turn of events in such a short time? Richard had always thought he would live for centuries to come. Be a king some day. Now he stood here facing down death and feeling it's icy fingers gripping at his chest and cold breath nipping at neck. The snake assassin was being stared down furiously and seemingly fearlessly. Yet inside Richard was in nigh full panic mode. Questioning his every action. The two assassins seemed to be working together, but even Richard could see it was but a temporary partnership. They cared little if the other one died or lived. Milani spoke back to the assassins and her words snapped Richard out of his internal freeze. She spoke to him and stiffly Richard nodded. "Perhaps..."
Death still gripping at him he completely missed his brother sneaking into the room. He was experiencing a tunnel vision of sorts that was focused with a glare on the snake that had the audacity to speak of his father in such a manner. Backing up ever farther the countess spoke again and briefly eyes flitted to his brother where the relief was clear. Everything was going to be fine now. Trey was a capable swordsman. Seeing Trey creep up behind them to catch them off guard Richard watched the following events proceed almost as if in slow motion. Somehow whether through enhanced senses or something else the snake man caught on to Trey being present and lunged forward out of the way. The Prudence man seemed to catch on and dodged his head to the side, but still managed to have an ear lopped off by Trey.
Rushing forward to meet the snake man Richard swung downward narrowly missing the man. "I have this one brother." Furiously fighting the man their blades mere flashes as metal met each other over and over the man pushed Richard back. Rounding the bookcase both men knocked books off the shelf on the other in an attempt to break each other's concentration. Even still Richard could slowly see he was losing momentum. He just needed to wear the man out enough that Trey could finish him. Parrying over and over sweat appeared on prince's brow. "I thought you had me boy?" Eyes narrowed Richard didn't respond. The snake man was relentless and never let up for even a single moment. Then it happened. Richard could see it happening, but nothing could be done to stop it.
One of his swings were off by mere inches and parried with the smallest of movements ending with a blade planted firmly in his stomach. Biting down on his tongue so hard it drew blood he would not give the man the satisfaction of hearing the prince let out a sound of pain. The snake man panted for a second before a smirk crossed his lips. "You put up an admirable fight prince. Perhaps you are more worthy of your title than originally thought. You are still weak however, and the weak must be purged to give way to the strong." Feeling death grip his chest even tighter Richard stared back defiantly. He would not beg. He had his pride. He would accept his fate if this was to be it. He would fall like a true prince of Hubris. Proud till the end with his head held high.
Sword still clenched in his right hand loosely he watched a suddenly Milani threw hot wax against the assassin's back. Hissing in response to the pain Richard put a plan into action immediately. The sword was already clean through and therefore he gripped the man's sword and yanked it further in to pull the man towards him. As he did he thrust his own sword hilt deep into the man's chest. Neither man cried out in pain and both stared at each other furiously. Hatred only reflected in each other's eyes. Twisting his blade Richard spit words at the man venomously. Speaking through gritted teeth he pushed the man back. Then suddenly his face became more snake-like and he sunk now large fangs into Richard's neck.
Falling back into the bookshelf he could feel it topple from the force. Vision blurred as his head hit a book yet still Richard clung to life as he wrestled with the man. After a few moments he came out on top and yanking out his sword beheaded the man with one quick movement. Standing up and feeling lightheaded Richard stumbled back before catching himself. "Trey! Are you safe brother?!" Stumbling into the next bookshelf his vision blurred again. He could feel the venom from the snake already attacking him from the inside. Was he going to die? "Trey I think I overdid it." After speaking Richard collapsed to the floor. Were his two allies safe still?
(OOC: So so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry it took so long. I had a huge block for Richard that kept giving me trouble every time I tried to even begin to form a post. I promise I won't take this long again. >.<)
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Posted: Mon Jul 30, 2012 2:23 am
Location: Cupidité, Avarice . . . Flashback to one week prior . . . . “Death to Aliyavenya!” The crowd shouted, raising their fists in unison amongst the masses. The streets of the capital city had emptied, and the people either hid in their homes, or rallied outside the front gates to the palace. They called for the heads of the Malcanthet and her Incubus consort. “A pox on all those who thought they were fit to wear the crown!”
They'd been at it for days, gathered about the palace walls as soon as they were privy to the fact that the sadistic demon Queen had been captured by the d'Aquitaine’s. “No more leeches upon the throne! No more devoured souls! No more!” There were many slurs against those that had reigned for so long… Obviously they weren't a popular race. That may have been due to the fact that the beautiful golden spires of Cupidité had been befouled…That the streets ran with whores and feeders for the Cambion. Each family was required to donate a certain amount of time to the ruling demons to ‘satiate’ their needs.
The succubus and incubus creatures devoured the people like small pastries… Drinking down everything they were, to keep themselves alive.
Therefore, many of the Avarician people were grateful that they were forcibly being deposed. That someone else, the true nobles were coming out of hiding at last... It was a glimmer of light, of hope in their bleak existence. For too long the common folk had suffered with no provisions, had lost all of their first born sons to the army, and were given no leave to return home, no parchment to send letters to their families to confirm they were still alive…The Cambion had mercilessly drained the land of most of it’s natural resources. The majority of the income that came to the people through hard work, trade, and physical labor was usurped through incredible taxes and the costs of what seemed to be an unnecessary war. The morale, simply put, was an evanescent spirit, fading with each passing moon.
But the rioters at the palace weren't the only ones making a ruckus; just south of the capital city, cannons howled, Avarician against Avarician. The Cambion loyalists were fighting back, far from defeated, and unwilling to relent the crown to 'common blood'. They were averse to giving up the privileged life in the lap of luxury… Seated comfortably on the broken backs of those beneath their station. “The Cambion Dynasty will survive!” One soldier proclaimed, just before taking a sword to the heart.
The dirt of Avarice had turned to a bloody black and crimson sludge... The Cambion blood was poison to crops—Almost as poisonous as the copious amounts of festering dead that littered the battle grounds. They were removed eventually through magical means…Or by burning the bodies on pyres. A dead demon poisoned the earth that it touched…It would need to be cleansed thoroughly afterwards.
The great Kingdom of Avarice had more enemies now, with the political uproar, than they’d had when they'd just been fighting Humility. Their citizens were pitted against each other. The Kingdoms that saw the Cambion as powerful allies were furious, and the death count rose every fleeting moment. Avarice was being attacked on several fronts…It reminded those who were old enough to recall, of the last civil war that had taken place on the black Kingdom’s land… Though then, the children of Aquinas had been more plentiful… And the dirt was splotched with red mortal blood, black, that of the demons, and the gold of the Gods.
One thing was sure, it didn't matter who held the crown or whom had managed to rip it from the others' grasp... Avarice would not see peace for a long time to come.***
Location: "Leviathan" -- Royal Palace in Cupidité
Characters:
King D'Artagnan d'Aquitaine
Queen Esmeraude d'Aquitaine
Queen Dyanna d'Aquitaine
Queen Isabeau d'Aquitaine
Generals/High Ranking Knights and Marshals
*** “It must be done my King…”, came the soft, ever proper, almost ethereal voice of the Second Queen to D’Artagnan d’Aquitaine. Dyanna was the warrior Queen, Supreme Commander…The strategist, the most ruthless, and the most cunning soldier the Avarician Army had to offer… She was also one of the most trusted members of the King’s cabinet. Those present knew to listen closely when she spoke, because she did not repeat herself. “Our people must not perceive us as weak or faint of heart…The Kingdom’s that may soon come against us—Humility included, must not think us feeble.”
"My men and I agree with your Lady Queen, my Lord...", a dark haired general spoke up, publicly known as General Night. He was rather young, especially to hold such a position of power... But there was some kind of animalistic, predatory nature about him that made him an asset on the field, and off. He'd flown through the ranks when the Malcanthet had ruled... He'd been one of the first, one of the closest to the Cambion Queen, that the d'Aquitaine had managed to convert to their cause. If only they knew his true motives, his true thoughts. His actual allegiance. It was neither to the Cambion, not the Children of Aquinas. "You have our word, that what must be done-- Will be done, at your command. Time grows short."
Even from deep within the walls of the opulent Palace, there was a low roar that could be heard. Howls and screams. The pounding of feet and bodies hitting one another. The sound of steel hitting the reinforced metal gate as they sought for some kind of cadence. The palace was a veritable fortress with no viable way to break in. The enemy had to be invited inside unless heavy artillery was involved… But even then, the Aquinas Sorcerers kept protective shields around the perimeter at all times. Dyanna d’Aquitaine, the flame haired Queen, had sentry’s stationed round the clock.
Said Queen nodded her head in gratitude to the young general, thankful for his unwavering support before she continued.
“We must publicly execute the Malcanthet.”
Dyanna paused, electric blue eyes flickering over the war hardened men that served as Generals and high ranking Knights. Those proven loyal to the d’Aquitaine. “The b*****d children of Aliyavenya must be put to death with the charge of high treason. Should Dorian come into her power after we destroy her mother… She’ll be just as large a threat. The dragon born boy is a threat now.”
The men were not uncomfortable with the death of the Malcanthets children…But they were very far away. Out of reach. They had more immediate problems at home. But the Commander seemed intent that the Cambion royal line be ended. And what the Commander wanted, the Commander got. “There must be no quarter taken with the Cambion. There is no sanctuary left for them…No clemency. They were given the option to flee the Kingdom, but instead they remain and murder our soldiers and our people.”
The King cleared his throat, elegant brow smoothing as he took his hand from where he’d been pinching the bridge of his nose—Working off a headache. His voice was deep and reaching…Echoing in the far corners of the room. It was every inch the King that he professed to be. “My Lady Queen is correct. Winter has come for the soul-thieves…And we would be fools to let any of them live to see the spring. We must not only win this war—But we must crush them. By ending the line of their Queen… It will cut off their source of power.”
“It will cripple them. Both physically, and mentally. We must sweep them from the map…Turn them to ash, and let the winds take the remains.”
Silence reigned in the room as the weight of the King’s voice fell over them… There was no denying his logic—Hells, there was no denying the King. His subjects dared not even think against him…Not when his third wife could read their thoughts.
Speaking of the third wife—She seemed to appear from the shadows of the room as if by magic. She was clad in a flowing gown of a white so pure it seemed blue in certain lights…Her eyes were soft, yet filled with ice. Her hair was flaxen, a pale, spun gold… The men around the large table grumbled…Two women in the War Chamber? It was bad form...Bad luck. A sharp, simultaneous glance from Dyanna and D’Artagnan silenced them immediately…None of them wanted to feel cold steel, for unintentionally insulting one of the King’s Queens.
The same, dark haired general that had spoken up before kept his eyes close to the ground... While the others had complained, he remained silent. He didn't need to draw attention to himself. Not unwanted attention, at any rate.. And certainly not from the King's prophetess and mind reader... She'd already thwarted him once.
“Forgive my interruption, Lords…Sister, and my beloved Sovereign... But what of Humility?”, Queen Isabeau intoned softly, her voice gentle—Sweet, like bells ringing… She handled much of the intelligence for the d’Aquitaine. “Our magic is strong…The barriers hold to the North, East, and South for now… But Humility will keep attacking from the West. The reports from the riders confirm that they are still upholding our last bargain…But at the end of the fortnight…They will come. And with bloody fighting in our streets… We can’t hope to defend ourselves without losing much of our forces.”
The King raised his hand, and the small woman moved forward—So graceful that she seemed to float. She knelt near his throne, and took a seat on the dais near his feet…Her hand finding his like a lost child. Dyanna would never show such emotion in the War Chamber…But the King knew all three of his wives inside and out. He had seen the residual fear in his little Isa’s eyes… His first thoughts—Despite his duty to his Kingdom, after so many years without it, was to protect his family.
He worried for Esmeraude, who was assisting with the wounded… She was too close to the fight for his comfort. It was maddening.
Sensing his discomfort, Isabeau kissed the palm of his hand respectfully, head tilting. The King softly chuckled, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. Some things never changed…No matter how dire things seemed…There was always a way. Always answers. “The Crown Princess Dominique is in an exceptional position right now. She currently resides in the same realm—In the same castle as Dorian and Lucien Black. By rights, she can petition the God Veritas to have them dealt with for treason to her crown… She is also in the same castle as Humility’s Heir…Perhaps she could broach a treaty with him.”
If anyone noticed General Night seem just a little more focused at the mention of the Grand Duchess Dominique...No one commented. It had been weeks since anyone had breathed a word of the King's only child... News of her whereabouts kindled a need to flee the war chamber and shift into his more beloved form-- That of a werewolf. He could feel his nails sharpening, curving at the thought of his golden haired mark...
Long had he heard stories of what d'Aquitaine blood tasted like... The power that was hidden within it. There was little he desired more than to finally complete his mark, and sink his canines into the pallid flesh of the little princesses’ throat... Attempting to do away with Dorian had been sport. A way to challenge himself... But to kill a d'Aquitaine? It was said that to drink of the blood of Aquinas was to be just that much closer to the gods. Once he killed the little one...Her blood would give him what he needed to devour the rest of her kind. He would be unstoppable... A force to behold. All would bow before him, and the world would rue the day they cast him aside.
His blank expression would not tell any in the room, what his current thoughts consisted of... Merely the severity of the situation.
“The war between Humility and Avarice is not our war… It is fueled by Cambion greed and their need to enslave their food sources and vessels. The Humilitarian King believes they were invading for their fertile land… This isn’t the case. The Cambion were invading to produce new breeding grounds, in hopes that their numbers would again rise…To have a new draining pool of feeders at their disposal...”. he mused aloud, allowing his hand to remain with his wife—Though his wintry eyes had hardened as he looks towards his Generals. They looked terribly interested in his proposal. “If my daughter can convince the Heir that the bloodshed is pointless…The Heir may be able to sign a treaty to end this—Or at least, convince the King on our behalf.”
Dyanna looked…Upset. The King was used to such a glance, and knew exactly what it meant. She hated that he would bring their little Arielle into this bloody massacre… But they had few choices. Avarice had lost enough at the hands of the Cambion…The idea was to preserve the people they now governed. Not lose more to a pointless cause. Eventually the Queen looked away. “I will send word to Dominique immediately.”
"There is no need to include anything about the Black children.", came the soft, innocent voice of the heart achingly beautiful Isabeau-- Causing all in the room to still. Hadn't that been the point of this summit? To decide the fate of the Malcanthet's children? She turned azure pools to her husband and King, a somber, yet proud smile crossing her pale lips. "Except to include congratulations...The offspring of Aliyavenya are no more."
The King laughed, breaking the shocked silence, a fond sound. Of course his little Arielle would anticipate their needs. "Then we need only send word about a treaty with Humility."
"Who shall bear it to the Princess?", General Night questioned reasonably, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his blade. "What riders do we have left that are both brave, swift and talented enough to evade the remaining Cambion?"
The room remained silent for a long pause... Queen Isabeau raised her cheek from it's resting place against the King's lower thigh, her blue eyes pools of silvery starlight. "I will take it."
"No.", both Dyanna and the King ground out, in nearly the same tone-- At the exact same time.
"If no one else is up to the task...Allow me, my Soverign.", General Night offered humbly-- Head tilting down in respect to all three of the royals in the room. He felt Isabeau's gaze on him, and prayed that the witch trinket he wore kept her from getting visions about his plans. He had proven himself to them time and time again... They would have no reason not to trust him. Not unless the psychic white witch had seen something she shouldn't. "I am equally skilled as a rider, as I am with my sword. I could make it to the Princess and return here twice as fast as most."
The King and his brides seemed to have a silent conversation for a moment, before Dyanna nodded slowly, accepting. "See me directly after this meeting. We shall discuss the details in private."
Isabeau stared hard at Raif Night, her expression blank. “General Night shall take Duke Alphonse Athanase with him. He will bare our tidings. Dominique does not know the honorable General…She trusts the Duke.”
“So... It is settled then.”, the King responded, leaning back in his chair…His pointer finger and thumb running thoughtfully along the sides of his chin. There was so much to do… And not enough time. For all of his long years, he’d never before wished that there was more time.
"The Malcanthet and her King will face the same fate as her darkspawn. Death is the only answer." . . .To be continued. . .
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)(Over.Dose.On.Cyanide)( Crew
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Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2012 3:55 pm
• Ӎ ɐ э ʆ ɸ ȵ ɐ • ʗ э ɾ ΐ ϛ э • Ѧ ϛ ȶ ɐ ʆ ʆ ɸ - ζ ɐ ȵ ϛ ΐ ȵ ɠ • Ｔｈｅ ａｄｏｐｔｅｄ Ｐｒｉｎｃｅｓｓ, ｈａｉｌｉｎｇ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｋｉｎｇｄｏｍ ｏｆ ＰａｔｉｅｎｃｅLocation: The hall. Currently Wearing: This Dress •xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•   Maelona gave Soren a gentle smile. It was hard to understand what Sokar meant, and half of the time, she simply assumed, or took her best guess. The smile faltered slightly though with the next question that came out of Soren’s mouth. Which princess had Sokar protected. The heaven’s knew she feared Altonair, but she had found the young princess Evony to be rather sweet, well within the time they had spent together trying to survive the catacombs. Evony seemed to be so different than her brother. Maelona cleared her throat to answer. "It was the young princess of Envy, Evony."
Just the thought of the Envy family, with the exception of Evony, frightened Maelona. She knew somewhere deep inside that if he was given the chance, Altonair would slit her throat with no hesitation. It had been plain in his eyes they day of the Catacombs, and it was all because of her own family. Again Maelona was back to fidgeting with the sleeves of her dress.
Maelona turned back to Sokar as he told her to take a seat, in his own way of course. "Thank you, but I fear that if I sit down, I will not want to get back up." She said somberly. She had been sitting for far too long this night, morning for those lives lost today, lives lost so senselessly. Or so she had felt.
Maelona’s skin pricked as she heard the voice. Again she couldn’t make out what was being said, though she was thankful she hadn’t been the only one to hear it. "Of course." Maelona responded to Soren with a small nod of her head. She watched the red head move out into the hall, only to see a larger shadow move past. She stood frozen, waiting for the knight to come back in. She opened her mouth to ask what the creature was, but promptly closed it as Soren said the spirit was warning them to leave.
Maelona hadn’t moved. It took her a moment to process all of the information. She had never been sensitive to spirits before, so what had made this one so different? Though of course that was not the real thing she should be worrying about. "I think it would be best to heed the creatures words. This castle is a strange one…" Maelona said, her words fading. "If it is truly nothing to be concerned with, the food will still be here when we return." Her eyes went to Sokar, wondering if he knew what was going on, but couldn’t bear to ask him in his current state. •xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx• Louder than sirens
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxLouder than bells
Sweeter than heavenxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hotter than hell
""
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Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2012 12:41 pm
Rank: Youngest Princess
Kingdom: Wrath
Location: with Lincoln where ever he has taken us
Wearing: Chemise and robe █║▌│█│║▌║││█║▌│║║█║█║▌│█║▌│║║█║ The scent of fresh flowers filled her lungs as she opened her eyes and stared up into the deep blues of the sky. Slowly sitting up she looked at the castle and the walls around her. Her brows furrowed. Somehow this didn’t feel right. Her pale pools flickered around her. She was home, in her garden laying in the midst of wild flowers of all kinds. She could hear the noises from the town that surrounded her home, sounds of children laughing, of men shouting and laughing as women chatted away. She smiled, unable to help that overwhelming feeling of joy that she was finally home. Yet unable to deny that uneasy feeling that ebbed it’s way into her gut.
“Why hello beautiful.” A familiar voice chimed causing her eyes to snap in the direction it came from. Her eyes growing wide as she took in his features. Jasper. She thought as she watched that smile curve his mouth as his hand was held out to her. She took it with no thought as he pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her waist fixing his mouth to hers in a searing kiss that made her knees tremble. Yet they were out in public, what on earth was he thinking!? She thought as she broke the kiss and pressed her hands to his chest and tried to free herself from his iron grip.
“My father, he could see us.” She whispered, her cheeks heating at the thought of her father discovering their lover’s embrace. Tilting her chin down she avoided looking into her Knights eyes. Surely her father would kill him if they saw them together in such an intimate way. Siren or not, she was still a princess and had certain expectations to live up to.
His cool fingers trailed slowly along her cheek before a single finger slipped beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes quickly shut, not trusting herself to look into those eyes. She’d get lost in their depths and would do anything he asked of her. His laughter bubbled from his throat, gentle and teasing as his thumb trailed across her lips. Tracing the petal soft skin as he leaned in closer and framed her face with his broad hand. “Come now Mishka. You love me do you not?” He asked, his breath warm against her skin. Her tongue drew across the seam of her lips tasting him as she listened to his words.
“I do love you, you know that.” She replied in hushed tones as her lashes lifted to meet his gaze. A gaze so intense with love and devotion that it drew a soft gasp from her lips. Never had she seen such love in his eyes, yet beneath that there was a deep sadness and longing. “Jasper.” Her hand rose fingers gently touching his face as he leaned into her touch. His own hand covering hers as he closed his eyes and kissed her palm. Thumb gently caressing her skin. “What’s wrong?” She asked, concern weighing heavily in her words as her orbs searched his face. His cool lips merely brushed her palm once more. “Jasper please.” She begged as his eyes opened and his lips curled into a smile but he could not hide the sorrow from that either.
“I just wanted you to remember me like this.” He murmured as his fingers curled around her hand. Mishka’s brows furrowed, her eyes narrowing in question. He drew in a deep breath as he pulled away from her and took her hand guiding her away from the center of the garden and to one of the benches. Ushering for her to take a seat he knelt down in front of her and took both of her hands. “I want you to remember how much I love you and that I’ll never be far and that it wasn’t your fault.” His thumbs caressed her sun kissed skin before lifting them to his lips and planting kisses on each hand.
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about Jasper.” She stammered as her heart began to race out of fear. “It sounds like you’re saying good bye. Please don’t leave me.” She pleaded looking down at him, searching his face as tears began to well in her eyes.
“Shh. Shhh. Don’t cry everything is alright.” He murmured as he rose and in one fluid motion sat down on the bench next to her, enveloping her with his arms as he pulled her close and whipped away the tears. “Everything is alright. Mishka but you must remember what happened. You must know that this is not right. You’re not in Wrath.” He whispered into her hair as she struggled to remember yet did not want to. What had happened that was so terrible? That she dare not fight through the fog that kept that knowledge a secret. Panic prickled up her spine and she closed her eyes tightly.
“I don’t want to remember, if I do I’m sure this vision, this dream will melt away.” She whimpered before bearing her face into his chest. Drawing in his scent, taking it deep into her lungs and committing it to memory. Locking it under lock and key so that she never forget it. His hands smoothed down her chestnut curls as he slid his hand soothingly through her hair. Planting another kiss to the top of her head.
“You’ll never forget me Mishka, I’m sure. But I wish I’d never wronged you the way that I have. If I could go back.” He slid his hand around under her chin and lifted it so that their eyes met. “I promise I would do it all differently. But now you need to wake up and remember me as I am here with you now and not the man who wronged you.” With that his lips met her’s once more and she felt him slip away from her, the cool sensation of his lips still danced over her own.
Sucking in a sharp breath the Princess’s gasped and her eyes snapped open. Her world was fuzzy as she struggled to gain her barring. Closing her eyes once more she opened them and looked up into the strained face of her eldest brother. Her brows furrowed her eyes searching his face. “Li-lincoln?” She whispered, bewildered. Why was she not in her room? Where was Jasper? She thought trying to pull herself out of the fog that inhabited her mind. Her head was aching, a sharp pain radiating from the back of her scull. “Lincoln did I get attacked?” She asked looking up to him with concern.
“Where’s Jasper? Is he safe?” Looking away from him but the sudden movement of her head sent her world spinning. She groaned as she closed her eyes and lifted her hand to cover her eyes. “My head hurts.” She whimpered. As the sharp pain lessened her lids lifted once more, attentively she turned her head slowly this time not to stir the pain again as her gaze found her brothers. “What’s going on?” She asked once more, her gaze fixing on his stern features.
█║▌│█│║▌║││█║▌│║║█║█║▌│█║▌│║║█║
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2012 1:21 am
Raif Night, Avarician d'Aquitaine General
The Assassin of Avarice
...The Deaths of Baldassare, Jade, and Jack....
....Inside Veritas Castle...  Raif moved through the castle unnoticed, having left the ‘letter’ for the d’Aquitaine girl with Alphonse Athanase. Just in case things went awry…He wanted to follow the protocol the King and his Queen’s had given to the letter. Clothed in the formal garb of a high ranking General in Avarice…No one seemed to stop him. A few individuals were even helpful, explaining the events that had taken place during dinner that evening. So the little d’Aquitaine had disposed of the succubus chit and the dragon cub? It made him wonder if he’d misjudged her, as being the easiest target. His plans would need to change… There was some preliminary work, that would need to be done, in order to achieve his goals.
He would start to cut down all those that might have been willing to switch sides to her cause. There were a number of Avarician guests in the castle, per his sources. It was simply a matter of drawing them out…Quickly, and quietly, he would silence them. Leave no witnesses. Once the Grand Duchess had no one left to shield her…He would cut her down—And have, exactly what he wanted.
The first mark on his list was a mysterious man that seemed to enjoy being called ‘R’. How droll. Breathing in deeply, he caught the scent of another werewolf in the night air. It didn’t particularly excite him. He wasn’t fond of other wolves… And they weren’t fond of him. Especially, since he’d taken a position working for the former succubus Queen of Avarice. Though they were monsters, it was distasteful to bow to another creature so vile.
Slipping into the large parlor the scent came from, out of sheer curiosity, he stood near the wall, out of sight. A long tapestry shielded his presence as he looked on.
A cat creature, bipedal as a human would be, stood in the middle of the room, drinking out of a large silver decanter. He danced merrily to the sound of the lute that came from a scantily clad maiden, seeming to be watching two individuals talking near the fire place. Everyone in the room seemed incredibly happy… Almost delusional, in their laughter. Perhaps it was due to the pink mist that floated in the air about their heads.
The feline swiftly drew a small bow and arrow of what looked like empty air, and plugged a tall blond woman in the back. Raif had expected it to protrude through her chest, and half wondered if he was a fellow assassin…But instead of falling limp and passing away she turned away from him, and back towards the man she’d been walking away from, who seemed to be surprised at her sudden advances.
It took Raif a moment of staring at the tall, red haired gentleman—Only to realize, that this was the mysterious ‘R’ he’d been searching for. Or was his name Jack? No one seemed to know for sure…Only that he’d simply appeared one day. His lips curled into a sneer. Raif turned towards the doors he’d come through, and closed them…Locking them. Accessing the super human strength granted to him by his beasts nature, he bent the doorknobs to hell and back.
In all of the partying in the room behind him…No one seemed to notice him. What they were celebrating, he couldn’t hesitate to guess at. There were at least nine women in the room, clad in fox skins and silks—Barefoot. Some played instruments, and others simply frolicked about, giggling… What was this place, a brothel?
He’d certainly killed in one’s that were less pleasing.
Dark eyes focused on this so called Jack…Feeling his anger build. His skin rippled as the scent of the wolf in the room caught him again. It was the woman that the oversized cat had shot with an arrow. It dawned on him then, that he’d met her before….A Humilitian were, named Jade. She’d left a mark on his face… Raif was a man of great precision…Though not one of great patience, once his target was acquired. All of the patience he had, he reserved for the Grand Duchess Dominique. She would die slowly, whilst he devoured what made her divine.
So he took the quickest route as the change came over him. His jaw elongated, and his knees punched backwards like that of a dog. His mouth filled with teeth, and hair sprouted over his body as his skin spilled away. The shortest distance from one point to another was a straight line… And as such, he moved through the room in a swift motion, digging his claws into Jade’s back, as his jaw clamped down on Jack’s throat. They’d scarcely had the chance to move, or breathe as the fully grown Alpha wolf ripped them apart like a rabid dog.
The sheer strength he held allowed him to dig straight through the little wolf-woman, and tear away her beating heart. Of course, the lore was mostly true…Silver, was the only thing that would truly kill her…Though it had little effect on him any longer. But for now, removing her heart would keep her down, until his work was done. Jack seemed made of softer meat. His head wasn’t difficult to rip free and toss into the fire place.
The screaming started as if on queue…The women called for someone named, ‘Baldasarre’ to help, them, save them…And he was suddenly aware of the small cat creature hissing in his direction. Raif laughed…The sound both animal and man. “Don’t you know? Dogs eat cats.”
Literally.
As he grasped the silver fire place poker, it annoyed his flesh, but he paid it no mind. Instead he drove it through Jade as he headed towards the feline, wolfish mouth curved into a frightening grin as blood pooled from his first victims.
The cat raised a staff, and Raif blinked at the brightness…Realizing what he was, by the artifact. “You’ve sold your soul…”
“You don’t really need that body, do you?”, Raif growled out threateningly as the cat swung at him. The werewolf swiped back, and soon enough a fight ensued, fur flying. Baldasarre fought bravely…But soon, he lay on the floor with Jack and Jade…Of no use to anyone, except for Raif—Who intended to eat him. To take his former immortality into himself. Just as he would devour Dominique, to take her golden blood and make it his. He firmly believed that the powers of others could be absorbed, by consuming the bearer’s flesh.
The women that had danced so joyously before huddled by the door…Sobbing. It was a pity, they were all lovely things. But he could leave no witnesses behind.
Outside of the parlor, a red pool leaked out from under the door in silence. All except for the wet, sickening sounds of someone noisily eating....Something wicked this way comes.
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2012 10:28 pm
Location - Near the Abbey/The Stream
|760|
Heir of Humility |I am the son and heir.
Of nothing in particular.|
Hearing Lorelei through their mind link the heir sighed. It was true of that he had no doubt. The King would likely forever blame the siren for the death of his eldest. Still it wasn't right that the siren was being blamed. 'That may be true, but that doesn't make it fair. You can't change who or what you are. Nor should you have to. People should be able to accept you for what you are. I guess the world just doesn't work that way though. Even if he blames you however, it's important you not blame yourself milady. This is not your fault.' Ryan fell silent after speaking of that and watching everyone else present. Tensions were high and the King didn't help, but Ryan was confident nothing would come to blows. People just needed some rest. The heir included by the protesting coming from his limbs. He was still pretty tired, but he had said he would help James find the assassin.
Ryan listened as James spoke and extended an olive branch out to the entire lust royal family. A small smile finding it's way to his face as he listened. It sounded like something he would have heard from the late Haven Greene. Even though they had not interacted on a daily basis Ryan felt as if Haven was a good friend. He even forgave the man for being enamored with his betrothed. Or at the very least forgave him for being affected by her. "Lord Haven would be proud." While it was barely above a whisper Ryan was sure James had heard him. Hopefully he continued to show traits that resembled Haven. Either way Ryan hoped it could be the start of a good friendship.
Hearing Lorelei send another message over their link he felt bad. To have to live with such an ability was not something he would wish to do anytime soon. That the siren was afflicted to do so was sad in the eyes of the heir. To have such a kind and beautiful creature destined to be shunned for what she was was heart wrenching. 'Lord Haven was a strong willed man. I am sure he wanted to marry you because he wanted to. Not for any other reason. If you care for him don't belittle him by thinking such things. It was his choice.' That there was at least a little hope she would be able to contact Naedira was welcome, but getting closer to the siren right now might prove difficult without looking improper. 'I will keep that in mind and as soon as I can will move closer so that you may attempt a link. I will let you know when I am closer.'
Lorelei's concern for his well being was heartwarming and he had to stop himself from suddenly smiling. 'I will be careful milady fear not. I don't plan on leaving this world for years to come.' Leaving Naedira as the heir to Humility would not be good after all and there were no more male heirs to be had. His sister should not have had to deal with that at all. To say the heir was pleased his voiced opinion of staying together was welcomed by all it seemed was an understatement. It meant he could help make sure everyone stayed well for a little wile longer. Hearing James speak of going to the stream the heir nodded in agreement. "That would seem to be a good place to go under the circumstances."
As they all moved to go towards the stream and with ryan supporting the King he made sure to walk close to Lorelei so that she might attempt contacting his sister. 'Is this close enough for you to attempt contact milady?' After the message he pressed on towards the stream.
---------
Upon arrival Ryan helped the King to the stream then turned to James. While the heir wasn't completely comfortable with leaving everyone they had at least one capable warrior to protect them in the form of Petruccio. Hopefully the man would be willing. Watching the others do what they had to do he listened as James spoke. "I think as long as we do not leave them all night they should be fine for awhile. We can go ahead and leave to search now if you like." After speaking he towards everyone and after one last sweeping glance turned back to James and signaled that he was ready to leave. The sooner this was done the better.
(OOC: If anything needs changed or was missed message me.)
|I am human and I need to be loved.
Just like everybody else does.|
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Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2012 8:48 pm
Elliot White
Location: Hallways
Rank: Architect of Fortitude
Elliot gave the jester a look somewhere between amusement and surprise as he mentioned the illusion of him coughing up blood not putting them in a very good mood. "Yeah now I see where they might not be so happy. I don't think I would either honestly. I might find amusement in it after the fact, but in the moment I would probably be a little more than upset." Really it was a cruel joke to play on somebody, but the jester was obviously not worried about it in the least bit. That would probably only fuel him to do it more.
As there was commotion outside the room Claus expressed his displeasure and Elliot felt much the same way in the end. Obviously somebody was taking advantage of the chaos. After dispatching the sorcerer and expressing that leaving would be most beneficial Livia did something unexpected and cut herself. "Milady what are you doing?" Confusion laced features widened in surprise as the blood suddenly formed into a rather wicked looking creature. Remaining silent so the woman might converse with the creature he stared on in awe. He definitely couldn't do anything that impressive. Really in comparison he was woefully average.
After the creature left with specific orders from Livia, Elliot watched at how exhausted the necromancer seemed to be. Even her voice was tired. Claus rushed forward and supported the one side of the woman, and after hearing himself being addressed, also rushed forward and grasped the woman's waist. "Try not to exert yourself anymore milady. Master Claus and I will take the pressure off you until you are in a more normal state. Just relax." Drawing the sword he had in his free hand Elliot held it at his side so it was easily used if the situation required. "The sooner we leave the better it seems." After speaking the architect waited for Claus to start moving so they didn't put any unnecessary strain on Livia.
(OOC: Not pleased with this...)
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