• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fantasy Aeon of Heroes: Forging Ahead - Arc 1

Linked contents
AEON OF HEROES ― Interest Check AEON OF HEROES ― World AEON OF HEROES ― Characters AEON OF HEROES ― Application AEON OF HEROES ― Lobby Aeon of Heroes: Forging Ahead - Arc 1
Reader mode
Aldricor
Ashen Knights | Elementalist
command bridge, skypiercer

Aldricor closely paid attention to each one of his companion’s suggestions. The Nephilim had little to no experience in warfare, unlike the other members of the Ashen Knights, so he was mostly a passive participant on the discussion at hand. Although there was another route that Aldricor would like to suggest. However, even he knew that if he brought it up to the table, the other knights—well, maybe a certain Bestiard caster would lend him an ear—would shut it down just as quick. It was an idealistic mess, and it’ll just be an insult to what they’ve fought for up to this point. Thus, he kept it to himself.

As the Nephilim listened, he felt himself grow uncomfortable by the second. It must’ve been obvious as he could feel the eyes of another stare at him, probably gauging his reaction. There was always a tiny voice that would whisper in his ears in times like this. It was the what ifs and could’ve beens. That if he had been blessed by a Chaos Root from the start, he would’ve been on the opposite side of things. He’d be donning an armor, preparing his weapon alongside the other Nephilims as they watched the airship from their fortress. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

Aldricor’s mind would further wander, thinking of the Nephilims who were fighting a cause that was handed to them even before they could think for themselves. Of how he was the same at the beginning but has changed since then. Of how they could maybe do the same if given the chance. He felt pity for his kin, then guilt for feeling that way, before settling on anxiety. It was a complicated thing.

The Nephilim’s eyes would then land on Mintha. He wondered how she fared. He didn’t blame her for hiding the fact that she was a Nephilim. He'd be a hypocrite if he did. Aldricor will admit that his emotions got the better of him. The thought that he wasn’t the only Nephilim fighting for their cause, especially in the ranks of the Ashen Knight, filled him with hope and excitement. The idea that there were other Nephilims fighting alongside him meant that the road he took wasn’t for naught. Still, he should’ve known better than to bring up a sensitive topic, especially when they were in the command bridge. Aldricor would later find the time to approach Mintha and apologize for putting the other Nephilim in such a situation.

Still, that was the problem of future Aldricor, as now was not the time to get distracted. Aldricor appreciated Jacoliene’s suggestion and initiative of scouting ahead. While it’s certainly true that gathering more information would be better than going in with cloth over their eyes, he also agreed that it’ll take too much of their time. Something that they don’t have enough to spare. The Nephilim carefully weighed in the pros and cons of the other plans his companions shared before voicing his thoughts.

“I think Tang Ruo’s idea has merits, but there's also the problem of spreading our forces too thin.” There were no doubts that the Ashen Knights were filled with capable individuals, but if almost half of them were busy luring the beasts away, it’ll significantly lower their chances of breaching the fortress. “Also, even if Tsunbuyla and the others succeed in distracting the Vile Beasts—which I have no doubt they would, I believe that the beasts will still end up swarming the fortress once the fight begins.” Unfortunately, a handful of Nephilims and Bestiards didn't have a chance against the shining beacon that would be the hundreds of Nephilims and their blood.

With all that being said, the only idea that remained was Farris’. The man’s plan was... great. It provided a solution to their problems, but Aldricor hesitated.

“If no one else has other plans or ideas, I—” a part of him hoped that someone else would speak up, “—I agree with Farris’ plan. We should use every resource we have, and the airship will provide us with the advantage we need. The—ah, chaos that the Vile Beasts will bring should be more than enough to give us an opportunity.” With a heavy heart, Aldricor voiced his support. This was necessary. He may be a Nephilim first, but he was now an Ashen knight and he had a duty to uphold.

End of Post
 
Azrialo
Ashen Knight / Caster
command bridge, skypiercer

"Hmm I see, hopefully the contingency hold, then I do have faith we can manage ourselves well enough regardless of what occurs, lady Evernight" he'd reply with a respectful nod, attention turning back to the others whom were still arriving upon the bridge, Azrialo sipped the drink that he'd been offered leaning back against a wall of the room.

Though a particularly interesting option cropped up luring the local beast into assaulting the fortress and batter down the defenses before they engaged it tapping his chin thoughtfully before nodding. "Hmm yes I can see that possibility working at least to lure out its defenses though that leave the matter of in theory dealing with whatever massive beasts arrive after the situation it could very well make everything worse unintentionally though I'm certainly willing to give it a shot" Azrialo would comment.

"I should be able to provide any fire support to whatever plan we go with and a way to deal with any dense formation or packs be it whatever we must deal with, but otherwise I think we have a good plan of action so long as we play our cards right and carefully, we need not be hero’s today“

End of Post
 
Arc I. Forging Ahead - Part 1 New
  • Index
    • Reminiscent Embers
    Our Silent Destiny
    Courtyard, Evernight Castle

    The morning air was heavy with the bite of winter, as was customary in the midst of November. The sunlight rarely pierced through the gray skies, often becoming a target for the princess' rambunctious complaints as she walked through the castle gardens. However, today was different, as she had been longing for this day to come since the beginning of last month. Returning from their month-long travel to the Mutou-Kagyou City was an imperial knight of the name Ingreus, his fame coming from his title as one of the surviving battalion commanders of the Fourth Divine Conflict. A reputation that has marked his place in history, stories of the previous war that Solara knew came from Ingreus, who often treated her like a daughter of his own, and engaged with the spoiled child whenever he was available.

    A promise between the two was made before Ingreus departed from the capital. When he returns from his campaign west, he shall teach her the first steps of swordsmanship, as she had just recently reached the appropriate age a month prior. With excitement, she waited and now had the opportunity to wield her first genuine sword, and thus her first training began at the grass fields of the courtyard upon his return.

    Ingreus remained distant from the armed princess, her swings filled with energy despite the first hour already having passed. He was surprised to witness the fervent determination within her heart, a sharp contrast to the prince who had long forsaken the sword when he was once of similar age. The dissimilarity between the siblings puzzled Ingreus deeply, considering their shared upbringing; the only explanation being of their different biological mothers, a matter that Ingreus dared never involve himself in.

    “Swing mindlessly and there will be no second strike. Focus on the target with precision. Each and every slash must have a goal, otherwise, you will look like a fool in the eyes of your enemy.”

    Typical words of an instructor flew from his mouth, treating the session similarly to the training of his squires. Ingreus had never claimed to be an excellent mentor, but he aimed to be effective and wished to treat Her Highness no different. But he couldn’t help but notice that the princess had an innate gift that was rarely seen in even the most talented squires, accompanied by a burning passion that reminded him of the Godslayer from the days before.

    “This is… getting a bit tedious,” Solara spoke in response. She paused her movement after the fiftieth swing and sat on the floor, her heart beating rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. “When do I get to train with my chaos root? It’s… not like people ever fight without first activating their root. This all seems pointless.”

    Ingreus scoffed, “Nonsense. Your chaos root is part of your soul, your body, and your memories. Sophisticating your strikes without the support of your root will be far more effective than training with the mark activated. You must never rely on Arts.”

    Solara groaned, a hint of disappointment appearing across her face as she pouted and glared at the grass beneath her. As anticipated by Ingreus, her expectations were crushed, and her patience began to run dry. It was usual for the spoiled princess, whose curiosity and determination, while charming and respectable, was the ultimate downfall of her character, at least until she would mature.

    Once the fatigue began to fade after a minute of rest, Solara stood and wielded her sword once more, with the same distressed visage that had made Ingreus shake his head. She grunted with a louder voice than before, “You and everyone else keep saying the same thing. You’re no funner than Reymond!” with a quick swing in the air she continued, “If Idalia was here, I’d imagine she’d disagree plenty—PLENTY!”

    Ingreus denied it, yielding to her whims for the time being. “Sir Reymond and Lady Idalia are of the same origin, the same mentor, and the same experience. While I do not doubt your claims, when the time comes, she would have repeated the same words to Your Highness as I have.”

    Her sullen look was further made obvious when her cheeks inflated, but her hands nonetheless continued to practice their swing, her interest in knighthood unwavering by the revelation that she could not witness her chaos root in action. The half-hearted banter persisted for yet another hour; until the city bells tolled throughout the capital, their resounding chimes echoing across the courtyard of the Evernight Castle, heralding the onset of the afternoon hours to the populace.

    As time passed, so did Solara’s precision, earning the satisfaction of her temporary mentor. He gazed at the horizon for a moment, watching the carriages enter the castle from the castle gates on schedule. “Splendid work, Your Highness. It appears now may be a good time for a break. As promised, your training shall continue when—”

    In the midst of his speech, he turned his view, the sudden movement in the air catching him off guard. In the distance he would catch Solara sprinting towards the entrance of the throne hall, located at the center of the castle complex, alarming Ingreus in the process as he attempted to persuade her from trouble, “Y—Your Highness!” he yelled with his hand extended forward, “You mustn’t! Now is not the time!”

    Ingreus helplessly watched her run with a mischievous grin on her face, “It’s the afternoon, Ingreus! My brother has arrived! I have to tell him about a new friend I made! He’d be overjoyed to hear that someone wants to play with me~!”

    “That is precisely why you must not, Your Highness!” Ingreus attempted to reason, yet success was dubious, as the princess was not someone you could convince once she set her eyes on a particular matter. Her youthful grin did not help as well, as it had reminded him of his past, long before he aged. A familiar face flickered in his memories for just a moment when she briefly turned around, before the imaginary flames scorched the image into mere ashes, and he returned to reality.

    It was the same smile and dedication that he had long forgotten. A face that once belonged to someone from his youth. He found himself unable to intervene, standing by in silence, heedless of the repercussions of allowing his sovereign to witness her brother's return.

    — Imperial Throne, Evernight Castle —
    10 Minutes Later    ​

    After being denied entry by the royal guards who claimed that her brother forbade the entrance of all personnel, Solara’s defiant nature had coerced her into sneaking into the throne room from the back, where a small tunnel led to the hallways. From there she stealthily snuck into the chambers, peeking her head from the back exit, her luck in play as no guards were occupying the area at the current time. Her previous plan of wanting to greet her brother was met with a sharp decline when she noticed her father—the Godslayer’s presence, his seat occupied by none other than his esteemed self. With his symbolic armor equipped, his disgruntled gaze laid upon her brother, who remained kneeling before the Godslayer, a sight that Solara was all too used to.

    “It’s good to see that you’re in good health after such a long time… father.” The prince began, waiting for his father to speak his piece, but to no avail. He continued, “I have returned momentarily to ask for your permission to access the Library of Lunastasia. I have had the pleasure of exchanging words with the Grand Enchantress. As you say, her heart is one made of gold, and the wisdom she carries in her words has inspired me to further explore the libraries. Rest assured, I've received her blessing for this endeavor."”

    …

    Only the audible sigh of the Godslayer was heard. His hands clutched the armrest, while his eyes portrayed his emotions more vividly than any words could convey. The Godslayer was a man known for his piercing gaze, it often being enough to send someone the message that he was disinterested in their situation and that they would get no empathy from him.

    Yet as the seconds passed, right before the prince would demand his thoughts on the matter, the Godslayer’s authoritative tone reverberated throughout the ivory chamber, capturing Solara's attention and drawing her gaze to her beloved father.

    “There exists nothing of importance at that clock tower; only ideas of fools from the past. You best spend that ticket your mother bestowed upon you with more value.”

    His words pierced through the prince, causing him to clench his fists tightly as memories of his mother flooded his mind for a moment. The guards lining the chamber walls sensed a shift in the air as the Godslayer stood from his seat. His rare appearance on the throne was enough to make them feel uneasy, with the added tension coming from the presence of the prince.

    The Godslayer continued, his commanding tone constant, “You are a foolish boy with foolish dreams. Apparently so naive to believe that I’d grant you access to my war trophies. The Astral Vault was denied to you long ago. What leads you to believe that I would entertain the idea of granting you access to my other treasures?”

    “Because in this life where you have constantly berated my efforts, you have made one promise to—...!”

    “—SILENCE!”

    His sudden anger made apparent, the Godslayer’s roar penetrated through the castle walls, alerting the guards outside to keep their focus high. Unanimously the guards from within the chamber straightened their posture in response, and Solara crouched instinctively to avoid trouble. The only one who remained steadfast was the prince himself, who kept his knee planted on the marble floor, his expression unmoved despite his father’s increasing wrath.

    “That promise was not made to grant you a path towards certain death. Must I repeat to you for years, that your ambitions will only lead you to join the countless others who have met their demise in pursuit of the same folly? Your mother pleaded with me to ensure you lived a peaceful life! I arranged matches with suitable wives from the Styrmirs to the De Gunst family, all to shield you from the inevitable… Yet you tarnish my efforts by willingly marching toward your own demise!?”

    His words erupted like a raging storm, striking fear into the heart of poor Solara. In conversations with her brother, his demeanor transformed, and unfiltered criticisms spilled from his lips. It was a familial dynamic that, despite her immaturity, Solara comprehended all too well—a side of her that harbored a quiet resentment toward her father for his cruelty against her brother.

    The prince took no second to spare a moment of respite, “You have always spoken about my dreams as if they were a death sentence. I must inquire, for the third time, what makes you so convinced that I will die on this journey?”

    “The self-proclaimed sages of yore attempted the very same quest. You endeavor to find the cure to end this world's eternal conflict. Because of the prophecies, which have already ended with the ashes of the Arterion Gods lost, are you convinced that the solution lies within the ruins of Avalon? Suppose that the wretched pillars managed to transcribe the solution, times have changed, and their wisdom is no longer considered ‘wise’. This war ends with Aeslengard in flames. And you, who advocate for pacifism, will not endure in a world where mercy is perceived as a weakness!”

    The Godslayer's words once again plunged the prince into silence, prompting him to ponder with patience. Maintaining eye contact proved challenging when one's own father regarded them with such disdain. As the emperor's speech neared its end, the prince rose from his kneeling position, no longer submissive. With newfound resolve, he raised his voice in a louder rebuttal.

    “You are correct. Times have changed. Just not the same way you have fooled yourself into believing.”

    The prince raised his head to face the Godslayer, his sapphire eyes widened with devotion. “Despite many’s disapproval of my actions, I have taken the last few months observing the culture of the Nephilims with my very own eyes, within the territories of their land. A general with the title of The Dicarion had allowed me entry, believing that my proposition to the King would begin a new era, where men and women no longer have to bear the expectations of dying in battle. I had the pleasure of speaking with the Aeslengardian ruler. But more so, with their heiress.”

    The Godslayer was taken aback as the prince removed his gloves, revealing the radiant amber gem adorning his ring finger. The guards, privy to the ring's origin, exchanged knowing glances, beyond question stunned by the revelation.

    “... You…”

    “The King is ill. The Arterion God Sindragar’s blessings are no longer protecting him from the curse. He had already sanctified the princess with his crown, her inauguration on the throne before the end of this year. I have taken her hand for marriage.”

    The proclamation broke the tension, eliciting a gasp from Solara at the unexpected announcement. Unaware of the significance of the ring her brother wore and the unfolding events, she found herself caught off guard. Even the Godslayer, whose silence was formidable, was visibly affected—but for reasons that had nothing to do with the unapproved marriage.

    “That ring belongs to only one woman,” The Godslayer mentioned with his armored finger pointing at the amber glow. “You… by which person did you obtain that from?”

    The prince, evidently confused by his father’s attention on the ring, took a glance at the gem. Although it made sense why he would find the presence of one of Aeslengard’s greatest treasures a surprise, the hyper fixation with the ring had made the prince question other things, more specifically why it was more important than the marriage itself.

    “It is… a tradition in the royal family, made to—”

    “I know of the pointless rituals those cretins practice! I ask you of the origin of that ring—the person who has given it to you!”

    The sudden surge of mana-infused aura enveloping the Godslayer sent a ripple of alertness among the guards, who braced themselves for the possibility of the prince's arrest. Though they hadn't yet aimed their spears at him, their tense readiness unsettled the prince deeply. Stepping back cautiously, he composed himself before addressing his father's question.

    “Naturally, the marriage was approved by the Sacretorium before this ring was gifted to me. The Priestess had returned from her travels to personally entrust me with it. I—”

    “You’ve encountered the Priestess…?”

    “She insisted that I take it personally from her. The queen had already passed years ago, and so the ring was kept within her possessions until it was passed down to me. Her cordiality and approval of my plans were endearing. I only wish that I had not taken the time she could have used to heal the cursed.”

    The Godslayer lowered his arm, his gaze lingering on the ring. His next words would only deepen the prince's perplexity. Already puzzled by his father's intense focus on the object, which to most was merely a symbolic ring representing the highest of the Aeslengardian hierarchy.

    “... Fatebreaker.” The Godslayer remarked, the word having no meaning to the prince or Solara who remained in the back, her curiosity on the brink of exploding. He continued muttering, “Why… why would she…”

    The storm of mana surrounding the Godslayer slowly weakened, his anger no longer visible. What remained was a countenance the prince had never before witnessed, in the countless years he had spent arguing with his father.

    The Godslayer turned to the side, only now realizing that a familiar guest had eavesdropped the discussion from a close, her inability to hide well made obvious by her strands of crimson hair flowing from the corner just before she tried to hide. There was remorse within the Godslayer’s heart, as he remembered the words of his dying first wife.

    It marked a sudden shift in demeanor, perhaps influenced by the ring. Whether for better or worse, the prince felt a wave of relief as he observed his father. Perhaps now, amidst this calm, a rational discussion could finally take place.

    “Ingreus will prepare you a letter before your departure tomorrow. Return by month's end with Lunastasia at your side. We'll resume this discussion in her presence, joined by the battalion generals.”

    Further relief washed over the prince, and he couldn't help but crack a smile, albeit with a touch of awkwardness due to the turbulent change in atmosphere. His curiosity was left unsatisfied, but he knew better than to press his father for answers while he remained composed. Believing it to be best to allow the conversation to end on a decent note, the prince kneeled, appreciating the gift.

    “Should you wish an audience with the Grand Enchantress, I shall let her know.” Letting his previous remarks fade into the background, the prince finally comprehended what had caused his father to lower his tone, as Solara clumsily tripped at the sight of her father, fearing that she had been discovered. The Godslayer merely stared, his expression unmoved. It was then when he had left the chamber, but not before leaving a message to the worried prince, who just watched her sister fall on her face.

    "You would do well to avoid the path I once walked. If you wish to see your dream come to fruition, keep your sympathies to yourself."

    It was a rare sight to hear his father offer him advice that was not born from willful ignorance. Seldom did he bother to raise his son, treating only Solara differently, the prince already aware of the tragic reason. Proven correct when he decided to help his daughter up from her clumsy mistake, the princess feared for verbal discipline, but was only met with her father’s empathy, as he dusted the dirt from her shoulders from her training at the courtyard.

    “I've heard you've made new friends. I'm certain your brother would be pleased to hear about it,” he said before departing, not waiting for a response from either of his children. He walked into the distance until he disappeared from the hallway, the guards excusing themselves after the prince dismissed their attendance. Now, only Solara and the prince remained in the throne room, with the latter worried about the condition Solara was in after suffering a devastating attack by the floor.

    “Solara!” the prince exclaimed, rushing to her side, “Are you alright? Is your head injured? What were you hiding over there?”

    The princess rubbed her forehead, fortunately unharmed as the impact was not enough to damage her skin. She mumbled her words, “Mmm… I didn’t… mean to…” she looked to the side, avoiding eye contact, “you’re barely here at the castle, and I just wanted to hang out before you leave again… I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…”

    A single tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another, each one gently wiped away by her brother as he knelt beside her to communicate more intimately with his beloved sister. A gentle smile occupied his face as he did so, “My apologies, I should have taken the time to speak with you when I saw you train with Sir Ingreus. I just didn’t want to bother you when you were so excited about becoming a knight. Did you enjoy yourself? ”

    The tears began to slow down as Solara was more comfortable making eye contact with her brother. Her temperament changed rather rapidly after the mention of her training with Ingreus, this time her words more like her original self, “He stinks. I want Idalia to be my trainer!”

    The prince chuckled at his sister's deadpan response. "Ah hah-hah! I was afraid you would say that. Don’t worry, I won’t be bringing my entourage for my next travels. I’ll ask if she’s available to train you from here on out. In fact, why don’t we go ask her now?"

    “Really!? Can you convince her?”

    The prince briefly took a moment to appreciate the excitement in Solara’s eyes, her flames blazing like no other in his life. Despite being only half-siblings and the whispers surrounding their father's affairs with another woman, the prince's affection for his sister remained unwavering. Regardless of circumstances, she remained his foremost inspiration, driving him to achieve many things.


    End of Reminiscent Embers: Our Silent Destiny
     
    Last edited:
  • New
  • Index
    • Year 3940 of the Lachesis Calendar

    The Fourth Divine Conflict unfolded unlike any strife before it. Though the Godslayer's march liberated countless lives and emancipated slaves on an unprecedented scale, it also exacted a heavy toll. Thousands perished, their homes reduced to ash and dust, amidst the devastation. Even a war fought for equality and fairness brought an endless amount of suffering. Families shattered by fathers that never returned to their wives and children, those same younglings harboring deep hatred towards those that their fathers fought against. A cycle that cannot be stopped, like the raging tides of the tsunami that once devoured the old civilization of Aegyium.

    When the conflict ended with the gods dead, silence ensued for years to come, as the opposing forces of the Godslayer returned to their homes to mourn the loss of their venerable deity. In fear of an invasion, diplomacy between the grand nations without skirmishes was held for the first time in eons, giving hope to those who wished to avoid another strife. However, the past was soaked in rivers of blood, and far too many were scared to allow agreements to be reached, eventually leading the forces of Aeslengard and Exultius to begin another sequence of battles, this time in a form of brawls between small groups of soldiers in expeditions. It would eventually grow into full-scale battles in an effort to regain stolen land, each encounter spawning a larger issue.

    It was not until the Godslayer had his firstborn with Queen Luciella, a slandered figure notorious for her previous occupation as a prostitute. Though not many dared to speak of the Godslayer’s name in vain, due to both respect and fear, hundreds would spread rumors about the past of the queen, naturally damaging the reputation of the prince for the years to come. But his perseverance remained steadfast, and as the prince reached adulthood, respect began to form as he regularly sat on the throne during his father’s absence, and made changes to the kingdom that brought forth peace of mind to the people that hoped for prosperity.

    His reign of influence would end when he agreed to return to Exultius from his journey west, where he looked to reconcile with the Nephilims. An execution followed swiftly afterward, called for by the Godslayer, his character poisoned by the curse of immortality that humans were never meant to have. With no one to stop the fierce king, the execution was carried out not by the members of the court, but instead personally by the man who sentenced him to death, his broadsword claiming another victim before the eyes of the pleading princess whose words merely echoed between the castle walls.

    Following this infamous event, with the decaying public trust of the Godslayer unavoidable, Exultius entered several stages of martial law. Gathering of the common folk to discuss the latest events was abruptly stopped and made illegal. Paintings and other forms of remembrance were taken into custody. Public speakers demanding the Godslayer be removed from his throne were swiftly dealt with either force or bribery. Although the Exultian military was understanding of the public, and violence was rarely deployed to silence the masses, no soul from Exultius could ever say that the influence of the prince left the kingdom following his death, as he was the catalyst that began everything.

    After the death of Prince Wilhelm, activities in the west began to accelerate. Continued expeditions and efforts to claim newly discovered Pyralite mines began more skirmishes that caused tensions to rise again. Ukrethian outposts were demolished by the Nephilims, revealing their coalition with rebel forces that planned the invasion of Aeslengard, further rousing unease in the western region. Each hour spawned a new problem for the world to face, resulting in the nations rapidly preparing for another round of conflict, this time without the guidance of the gods.

    End of Post
     
    Passage to the Veiled Past

    Two years following the execution of Prince Wilhelm, friends and allies of his previous ventures silently carried on his dream, and helped with the endeavor of his successor: Solara Evatriae von Evernight. Sharing a common ideology, many held the belief that only she possessed the capability to effectively tread the path he had forged. Unafraid of potential repercussions, devoted supporters of several occupations stationed themselves around the continent, working as covert agents for the princess over the years.

    Fortune favored the princess as the Godslayer soon descended into a deep slumber, mere days following the tragic familicide of his son. Whether a result of trauma stemming from his actions or the erratic activation of his chaos root that frequently endangered the lives of those around him, his fall ushered peace into the empire. Prestigious healers and other medical practitioners within Exultius attested to the anomaly of his condition, believing that time was the sole remedy for his illness, giving the princess enough months to prepare without bearing the consequences of relinquishing her title as the sole heiress of the imperial throne.

    On the fourth day of August in the year 3940, a letter of recruitment was sent to several individuals around Paymonia, namely those whose names were scribbled on the journal that the prince left behind, written in haste just days before his execution. It was never clarified why those names held such importance, other than that the prince had wanted his sister to convince them of their cooperation. For all one knows, he had managed to see into their destiny. Or they were adept warriors destined to one day confront the man who had vanquished the gods. Whatever the reason, the package was sent to them via enchanted crows, managed by the trusted associates of the princess.

    The package contained three items: a letter, an annotated map of the north-eastern region, and an azure sigil the size of a coin, marked on both sides a foreign symbol. Firstly, the contents of the letter spoke about the truth regarding the events that transpired two years ago. Whether the individual had already known about the Godslayer’s madness was not the point. What followed after was a personal request from the princess herself. To offer their strength in this battle to prevent a war that could end with the destruction of the entire continent, emphasizing that without a united effort, millions would perish, leaving no future for the people.

    The annotated map contained information about where they must go, should they accept the calling. Depending on where one travels from, it offered multiple paths that could lead to a place called “The Sanctuary”, with no further info about the destination other than the fact that it was located at the mountainside, on it an overgrown temple with a statue of Northias at the center. It suggested that they wait above the stairs, next to the statue, and recommended that they arrive just before sunset.

    The third item, arguably the most enigmatic within the package, weighed heavier than that of an ordinary coin. The inscribed symbols on its surface remained devoid of clear significance, making it improbable that any recipient of the letter would know of its purpose.

    ERode ERode lucenti lucenti AI10100 AI10100 Irradiant Irradiant Auda Auda November Witch November Witch NiftyNat NiftyNat locked n loaded locked n loaded Azukai Azukai Juju Juju​

    End of Post
     
    Last edited:
    Mintha Lamiaceae
    Ashen Knight / Healer
    Temple of Northias, "The Sanctuary"

    “Of course. Come see me if it gets worse. I’ll be in town for the next few days.”

    A woman with the traits of a reptilian spoke to a young man. A guard of the town who was injured when bandits attacked a few days ago. Mintha had just come into town, but as usual, she was offering her services as a healer to anyone who seemed as though they may need them. This, however, meant her supply was almost always low on everything. Something she would replenish with money she was either gifted as thanks, or earned doing odd jobs in the places she passed through. Speaking of which, it was time for her to see what exactly she could find around this town.

    She stood from the table in one of the inn’s rooms, only for a bird’s call to startle her. There on the windowsill was some sort of magical bird. Initially, Mintha was weary. Paranoid. She knew she was wanted and had almost been captured or killed on multiple occasions. She cautiously approached, and closed her eyes as she opened the package. A mark disappeared from her skin. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes to see the contents. What caught her eye was the letter and map. She’d sit down on the bed and read through everything. Over and over. In excruciating detail. She could find no telltale signs it was from or written by anyone she may have known back when she was still an Aeslengardian. But it didn’t stop the worry and doubt making the girl hesitate.

    Mintha would sleep on this knowledge.

    She would sleep on it for multiple nights.

    The obstacle holding her back wasn’t the fact that it could be false or a trap. Mintha simply had little motivation left for anything. Especially anything on such a scale. Her ambition was long lost, and she failed to see how she could play a role, or even help the princess. Surely there were tens of thousands of other candidates who were batter. So why her?

    The girl would set off on her journey soon after. Her driving factors were two in number. She had nothing else to do. No more motivation or goals. She might as well see what this was about. The second factor was a simple question. ‘Why her?’ Was it a mistake? Was it meant for her deceased friend? Was she really the best they could come up with?

    These thoughts whirled around the head of the Nephilim every hour of every day she traveled. Speaking of which, her journey was relatively uneventful, thankfully. Save for a landslide the girl decided to precariously climb over the aftermath of instead of going around. But such was typical when one didn’t much care for the consequences of their actions. Apparently, there had been more rain than usual in this area recently. And the Nephilim could certainly tell. The paths were muddy and slippery. Despite it being clear at the moment, she made sure to take a mental note. If she ran across another town before arriving at her destination, she would purchase an umbrella.

    Alas, it wasn’t to be. Just as the sun was getting ready to set, the girl came upon her destination… But found it oddly devoid of life. It was empty, as far as she could tell. No one was here. Well, she had all the time in the world. She would climb the stairs and sit down, leaning against a pillar. She would remove the gauntlet from her right arm and inspect it. The padding, after so many years, was starting to crumble away. The bare metal had started chafing against her skin for the last portion of her journey. There was even a cut the metal had created, digging into her forearm at some point. She’d open her backpack and remove some medical supplies. She’d apply an ointment to reduce the pain of the tender chafed areas and clean out the cut before applying gauze to it. Mintha moved her arm around in many directions, to make sure it wouldn’t come undone. A clear vial of viscous liquid would then be opened, and some contents laid across the length of some folded gauze which the girl would stick into her gauntlet. Makeshift padding for now.

    Once this was finished, she would begin putting her items away, only to see someone before her. The next person to find the statue. Mintha had no idea how long they had been there. Her eye would meet theirs for a moment, but nothing would be said. She would continue to pack her items back into her stowage.

    End of Post
     
    Last edited:
    Chen Tang-Ruo
    Ashen Knights / Vanguard
    Temple of Northias, "The Sanctuary"


    A letter from Princess Solara, delivered by Lady Idalia, recalling once more the fate that befell Prince Wilhelm.

    So much royalty, so much prestige, and so much at risk.

    What reason did Tang-Ruo have to refuse?

    …

    The end of summer, blooming with a heavy, dry warmth. The end of the day, staining the skies that familiar crimson and magenta. He had left behind all that he could not have carried, but the Bestiard did not have much in terms of possessions to begin with. He had shaved away what was unnecessary over his two year pilgrimage, sleeping beneath the stars and staying only a week or so at every village he passed. It was mystery enough how the crow found him, when he was certain that Lady Idalia knew nothing of a former Fang, but it was a mystery that did not need answers.

    He would have come, no matter the reason.

    Who knew though, whether he was what they wanted?

    A tiger who pulled out his own fangs was left only with the strength of his natural body, and though the world was once more at peril, he did not swear his oaths in order to break them within two years. He did not resign from the military so that he would wage war upon foreign lands.

    So yes, he would come, no matter the reason, in order to ascertain the reasons for such summons.

    And now, he broke through the foliage, a dead rabbit hanging loosely from his index claw. Supper, once dressed and boiled, though he certainly had not expected another pilgrim to have arrived at the Sanctuary before he did. The Bestiard blinked at the strange woman, eyeing the splotches of green curling up her jawline, smelling the ointment that had been smeared upon her arm.

    “Evening, stranger,” he said, flashing rows of sharp teeth in a disarming smile. The rabbit was raised up, its limp body flopping side to side. “Could I ask you to start a fire for me?”

    Tang-Ruo shrugged his pack off his shoulders, the weight of it all enough to be felt through the ground as it thumped down.

    “Figure I’d fix up some soup while waiting for sunset; you’re free to partake.”

    End of Post
     
    Kyreth Ranolus
    Ashen Knight / Healer
    The Sanctuary

    Kyreth watched as the adventuring party she had accompanied cheered, mugs of ale in their hands and joyous laughter spilling out of their mouths. They had successfully collected as much material as they could within a one-week deadline and their mentor had been pleased about their performance. Kyreth had only tagged along at the request of their mentor to make sure that they didn't kick the bucket on this trip. The mentor was strict, but she was not merciless. The two talked for a while regarding how the party had handled things and how often Kyreth had to intervene. She provided her honest opinions and observations during the entire trip. After that, the mentor thanked her and handed her the promised payment before joining the rambunctious adventuring party in their celebrations. Kyreth had to hold back a laugh when the mentor easily removed the grip of the vanguard of the group and slammed him onto the table and launching into a lecture to the laughter of his fellow party members.

    A few minutes later, she retired for the night.

    The following morning, she woke up to tapping on her window. Curiously, she peered into it to see an enchanted crow. She opened the window to let it in and retrieved the package. And so she read through the contents of the letter while fiddling with the coin, flipping it across her knuckles. It had explained a lot of things Kyreth wondered about two years prior, how the prince had found himself at the end of the Godslayer's blade. The letter ended with a plea for help, carrying the same words that the prince had once told her when they traveled before— a united front against a large threat. Then, a map that led to Sanctuary. She traced the path she would need to take to get there. It was, undoubtedly, a long trip. But who was she to refuse?

    Once she had packed her things, she headed for the stables where Kon was required to stay at due to his size. She fed him some spare meat from the inn and rubbed the hellhound's head. "It appears that we have another long journey ahead of us. We best get going."

    The trip was uneventful. She passed by towns as much as possible for extra provision and hunted when they were too low on food. Thankfully, Kon could pick up the slack in the latter case, bringing back food that would be enough for the both of them. The length of the travel gave her much to think about; such as why she would be summoned now. Kyreth would accept any reason either way, having already given her word to the prince of her loyalty, but an explanation would be nice.

    She set down on the dirt path, pushing errant foliage out of the way. Kon followed behind her, keeping his nose to the air and ears perked for any signs of immediate danger. The temple was within sight when her pet alerted her of sound, ears flattening against his head as the bestiard spoke. Kyreth shushed him gently and reassured him before moving forward to reveal herself to the strangers. Before she could greet, she noticed the rabbit in the bestiard's hands. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as a smile crept up her face. "Having an early dinner, sir?"

    "Fair evening to you both." She greeted with a small bow of her head as respect. The other woman's aura appeared blemished, a small injury that would be of no cause for concern so she kept her mouth shut about it. Kyreth was fairly certain they came for the same thing as she, as why would there be a reason for anyone else to be here? Still, it would be best to keep silent about it should that not be the case. "Oh and he's friendly. Don't worry." She continued as she gestured towards Kon who followed her up the stairs. The hellhound immediately laid down, eyes on the bestiard's rabbit. Kyreth crouched down and placed a hand on Kon's neck as if to keep him there. "Do you need help gathering firewood?"

    End of Post
     
    Jacoliene De Gunst
    Ashen Knights / Hunter
    Temple of Northias, The Sanctuary

    If not for the familiar cry of a crow, two people's throats could have been torn to shreds: two assassins, one an experienced killer and one their student. A simple argument could quickly become a deadly duel if a single word is misused. But with a distraction, it rapidly dissipated into curiosity. The bird swiftly flew and perched over a young woman with ebony hair. She tried to shake her head to make the bird leave her alone, but a voice stopped her and viciously whispered, "Stay still, Liene!"

    With a groan, she obeyed her mentor begrudgingly. Liene proposed that she needed to pursue something else, devoid of blood and death, which started their argument in the first place. And well, her mentor didn't take it lightly. “Here. It's for you.” Despite their previous hostilities towards each other, an underlying fondness was still buried deep inside them. Liene felt a weight on her hands. The more her fingers danced around the item, the more recognisable it became for the sightless woman.

    A package for me? How could they find me in a place like this? Who… who sent this? Liene was almost scared to open the package. She feared it was her father and that he would come for her. But alas, if it were her father, he would've at least sent her a piece of paper that allowed her to read and identify herself with it. A relief almost washed over Liene. But another set of anxiousness nearly replaced that in an instant. Who is this package from?

    She turned towards her mentor, or at least towards her best guess and said, “Leyola. I know it's not the best time, but can you please read this for me?” Liene could hear her footsteps near her, and soon, the papers were out of her hands. Liene skillfully tucked the coin between her fingers and into the depths of her pocket.

    After a few moments of silence, Leyola broke the silence with her eerily calm voice. “It seems like you're going to have your freedom after all.”

    Her mentor informed her of every detail drawn on the parchment. These are things Liene was already aware of from the rumours. For two years, it was all her colleagues could talk about. So she wasn't surprised at all about that part. But what surprised her the most was the mention of the princess herself, even more so when it details the need for Liene's attendance. How would the princess even know her name? She was relatively young when she left her noble life, and she barely got any recognition from all the gatherings her father forced her to attend. Or at least, she had hoped for that lack of acknowledgement.

    Nonetheless, the invitation couldn't have come at a better time. It gave Leine another opportunity—a beginning she desperately wanted. Perhaps she was running mindlessly towards this thread of hope she was given, but it has blossomed into something of great importance for her from the moment freedom entered her mind.

    One Week Later…

    Despite her mentor’s detailed explanation of the path she had to travel alone, it contrasted pretty heavily with her actual physical journey. She relied heavily on the people's direction, which she loathed, and it backfired heavily on her. Liene has been misled a few times by pranksters; after all, it is easier to fool a blind woman. But she eventually got the information she needed through the people who pointed her in the right direction.

    The open world was nothing like the labyrinth of sewers she called home. It was much more expansive and confusing… And yet so freeing and new. She could feel the dry summer air, and she relished the feeling of it before winter could bite back with its cold sunsets.

    Finally, she reached the promised place just in time. She let her cane take the lead, always hovering above the button that would free the blade from its sheathe. From her travels and experience, you can never be too careful, especially after hearing faint voices from the meeting place itself. She remained guarded as she made her way closer to the voices.

    Liene’s cane glided adequately at the surface of the stone, and she cleared her throat as she neared the voices she had heard earlier. “Hello? Is anyone there?” she called out when she noticed a subtle silence in the air. “I heard someone talking about firewood?” Liene’s voice dripped with curiosity. Her main concern now is if she was in the right place, and she hoped dearly that she was.

    End of Post
     
    Vinestria
    Ashen Knight / Hunter
    Temple of Northias, the Sanctuary

    "T-Thank you....Thank you for saving my baby...Thank you. Thank you..."

    Over and over, the sobbing mother continued to express her gratitude towards Vinestria. The daughter who was clutched in her arms began squirming in protest, but that only prompted an even tighter squeeze. "Y-You're never leaving my s-side again." The mother blubbered in between sniffs. "I-I c-can't lose you t-too--..." At this point even the daughter had begun to cry.

    Vinestria had found the girl, lost in the nearby woods, and had promptly saved her from the jaws of a couple fiends. Normally, he would have simply guided her from afar, but she had immediately clung to his leg and refused to let go. Now, having been led to the doorstep of a rather run-down home, Vinestria was stuck standing there, unsure of what to do. There were multiple conflicting emotions swirling within himself--the desire to run away, a warmth stemming from the praise, and unexpectedly, a twinge of pain within his heart.

    Jealousy? Vinestria pondered while placing a hand over his chest. Memories of the past surfaced in his mind; the multitude of mothers and their children crying for mercy, for someone to save them from their deaths. Even himself, doing the same...but Vinestria quickly shook his head. It was to no one's benefit to dwell on the tragedies of the past, and thankfully, he was given an excuse not too when the call of a crow turned his attention to the sky. Wild crows weren't known to frequent the region he was in, nor were they ever outfitted with a package in tow. There was a clear reason the bird was here, and it certainly wasn't for any of the villagers from an unmarked town. Stepping back from the doorstep, Vinestria extended his left arm away from his body and soon felt the weight of the bird land on his wrist. He pulled the creature closer to his face and immediately connected with its mind at the price of a mark.

    "To what pleasure do I owe the visit of such a noble crow." Vinestria inquired, his tone dripping with noticeable flattery. The bird began to chuckle (caw), amused at Vinestria's choice in words. "Flattery will get no additional information from me. I am here to deliver a message from Exultius...or should I say an opportunity." The crow winked. "Tis all I can share."

    Vinestria gave the crow a nod of appreciation, untied the package from its leg, and watched as the bird took flight in the direction he had came. Once it had flown past the horizon, he turned his attention to the small sack in his hand. Based on the crow's answer, there were a few ideas brewing about in his head, but nothing concrete enough to know without opening the package. Either way, the village center was not the place for the contents of a special delivery, and so he pocketed the sack and turned to leave; or rather, attempted to leave until he felt a small tug on his robe. The young girl was shyly staring at the ground with a small wild flower extended from her other hand.

    For a moment, Vinestria froze. Again, he was unsure of what to do, but this time, he made a decision. With a warm smile on his face, he knelt down and gently took the flower from her hands. Immediately, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed after a couple of chews; again a mark vanished from the back of his hand. The girl was visibly confused; however, her emotions quickly turned to smiles and laughter as she watched Vinestria raise his hands into the air. Both began to transform into a far more draconic form, but all along the surface of his claws were numerous wildflowers sprouting in various colors.

    "So pretty." She cooed, mesmerized by the magic Vinestria had performed. From the doorstep, the mother fondly observed the exchange with a smile on her face.

    As gently as he could, Vinestria reached forward and gave the girl a gentle pat on her head; to the mother he gave a curt nod; before sprinting off into the distance. Somewhere along the way, a raven in flight, approached at his side and began speaking in a rather snooty-sounding caw, "Power wasted by a cheating whore." She projected into his mind, referencing the friendly exchange he had had with the crow. To that Vinestria rolled his eyes; though, the comment did remind him of the mystery sack.

    "Let's see what the city wants with me." He uttered under his breath.

    ------- One Week Later ------

    The journey Northeast was hardly a struggle for a trailblazer such as Vinestria. The true endeavor had been making a decision. It had taken multiple nights of contemplation for him to finally decide, and even then he remained somewhat suspicious of the situation. He opted to arrive a little earlier in order to scope out of the happenings of the night. Shrouded by the foliage of the temple's surrounding woods, he waited and watched. It was only after several arrivals and their rather casual requests, that he opted to show himself to the gathering.

    To the absentminded, it might have seemed like he had simply manifested--his movements making no sound as he hopped from a nearby tree and landed at a short distance from the crowd. In his hands were a bundle of wild vegetables and herbs, which he tossed towards the Beastiard. Quickly, he pointed towards the rabbit, as if to say "For the soup."



    End of Post
     
    Last edited:
    Mintha Lamiaceae
    Ashen Knight / Healer
    Temple of Northias, "The Sanctuary"

    The person before her? A large Bestiard with feline traits. Specifically that of what seemed to be a tiger. He gave a friendly smile along with a greeting only to ask her to prepare a fire. She felt it probable that he was also here for the same reason she was. It made sense that multiple letters would be sent out. Mintha would give a wordless response to the Bestiard, a nod. After sliding the gauntlet back onto her arm and standing up, she’d see someone else enter the ruins.

    A female who seemed of Azelthyrian blood… Or possibly a Bestiard-Human hybrid. Though Mintha leaned towards the former. Actually, she was sure of it as the vile beast came into view. It seemed calm, and to follow the Azelthyrian, so Mintha wasn’t exactly scared. Her suspicions were confirmed when the girl assured the two, he was nice.

    “No, but I won’t dissuade you from helping if you so wish.”

    Mintha said. Her voice was soft and gentle, moreso than what her appearance would hint at. As she spoke, anyone with good eyes could see snake-like fangs and even a forked tongue to accompany her scales and reptilian pupils. Mintha took a single step towards the stairs, in order to fetch some wood, but that was when another woman came upon the group… It was fairly obvious she had some sort of sight impairment. Though the degree of which was unknown to Mintha, it had to be serious to warrant the use of a cane. She seemed to be a Human or Nephilim origin as she sported none of the obvious physical traits the other races sported. Though, she could also be a half blood of some sort. Either way, it wasn’t her business.

    “Correct. I’m going to gather some.”

    Mintha was unsure if this person was lost or here for the same reason, she, and presumably the others, were. So, she’d speak on that as well.

    “If you received a letter, you’re in the correct place.”

    A fourth person would make their presence known, coming up the stairs behind the blind woman. This person was very clearly an Aerouant. They said nothing but offered a bundle of leaves, stems and other items to the Bestiard. If she had to guess, they were spices, or had something to do with the food. Mintha took a moment to look around at those here. She didn’t recognize anyone, but some of them certainly look more capable than herself. She could see why some of them might be here. Others, she was confused about, herself included.

    “Am I the outlier, or is anyone else missing context as to why they are here?”

    She’d shoot a question towards everyone present, out of curiosity more than anything. She had no connection to the princess, the Godslayer, the prince, or anyone else that could be connected with whatever this was. At least, not to her knowledge.

    End of Post
     
    Last edited:
    Saran Qacaye
    Ashen Knights / Caster
    temple of northias, the sanctuary

    Trills, both jarring and melodious, filled the marketplace. The performance earned the source of the noise a handful of wry looks from the locals, though none of them had the confidence to tell him to stop. They hoped the outsider would get the hint after a few loud, uncomfortable comments, but seeing how deeply the Bestiard was immersed in his own little world, it seemed unsuccessful. It didn't help that the children were flocking to his call, apparently attracted by the simple novelty of something different.

    It hadn't occurred to Saran to spend most of the morning in his own corner of the busy square. It was supposed to be just a quick pit stop to fill his bags with supplies and sell some furs for cheap coins. Except somewhere in his search for new pouches, he caught the attention of some star-struck youngsters, and when the first child approached him, there was no stopping their wave of wonder and demand for information. Eventually they noticed the instrument hanging from his belt, and since then the ears of everyone in the vicinity have had the unfortunate pleasure of becoming familiar with his lack of musical talent.

    The last note of his childhood melody sounded and slowly ebbed away with the wind before Saran lowered his flute once more. A chorus of excited "Agains" immediately followed, making his current smile a little wider, and he would have gladly complied with their wishes hadn't a strange crow flown straight into his chest. More startled than hurt, Saran took a step back, almost dropping his belongings as he tried to catch the bird. He watched as the animal perched itself on his shoulder, increasingly clawing at him. Only then did the package come into Saran's field of vision, causing his eyebrows to furrow as he tried to figure out who or what exactly it contained.

    After a moment of intense stare-down with the bird, Saran turned back to the children, his voice apologetic, "Sadly, it seems our time has come to an end, but I must applaud you all. You have been the finest audience I have ever had the pleasure of entertaining." He smiled and gave them a small bow, reveling in the giggles that followed, unaware of the weight of the message on his shoulder.

    ═ ࿔ ═

    His flight to the ruins was uneventful. The sky was usually a fairly reliable way to reach a distant destination safely. Most of the airborne predators left him alone due to the sheer difference in size, while the ones that didn't Saran avoided heartily. It was there, above the clouds, that he could mostly drift, contemplating and rearranging the knowledge presented to him in the letter. A common theme ran through all his thoughts, alongside the honour and responsibility he felt, a simple why him?

    The question would remain unanswered until the moment Saran broke through the skyline, gliding slowly through the darkening sky as he approached the rendezvous point. As he glanced at each of the adventurers already present, his gaze inadvertently fell on the Vile Beast and its keeper. A nervous shiver ran through his feathers as he gently landed at a safe distance from them, though everything spoke against a sudden lashing from a poorly trained pet.

    His attention turned to the last person to speak, his curious gaze settling on her reptilian features before Saran focused on what she was saying. A question that struck a chord within him as well. "I believe I speak for all of us when I say that the desire to prevent an impending war unites us, but when it comes to personal requirements..." he paused, his eyes flicking around, "I am not sure what qualifies me to receive such an invitation or knowledge."

    End of Post
     
    Aldricor
    Ashen Knights | Elementalist
    Temple of Northias, The Sanctuary

    “Where do you suppose you're headed next, traveller?"

    The question awoke Aldricor from his light slumber. The man didn’t realize he dozed off, lulled gently to sleep by the back and forth of the wagon. The patch of hay he turned into a makeshift bed was far more comfortable than the hard and rugged surface of the ground or the bark of a tree.

    “Why—” Aldricor stifled a yawn, “—are you growing tired of me, perhaps?” he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his lips
    .
    “Ah—no, it’s just that we’re nearing my home and if you’d like, maybe you can stay the night. It’s the least I could do for my saviour after all.” The Nephilim wondered if he’d receive the same treatment if they knew of his origins.

    “Now what did I do to deserve such a title? It just so happens that I stumbled into you, and a couple of wolves were hardly a threat.”

    “Still, if you hadn’t appeared at that moment, I fear I wouldn’t have made it back home to enjoy a warm meal.” Now that piqued his interest.

    “A warm meal you say?” Aldricor couldn’t remember the last time he settled down in a town or village. He has been mainly surviving off fruits, berries, and the occasional meat or fish that has been charred by his flames.

    “Then what about you join me and my family for supper as a friend instead?” The old man offered, seemingly catching his overeagerness for a hearty meal.

    How could Aldricor refuse?

    Once again, his eyelids grew heavy and as he was about to slip into a blissful sleep, a sudden uproar made Aldricor jump. The horse that was pulling the wagon grew restless, and the old man was trying his best to calm the stallion. Aldricor thought there was another pack of wolves nearby, before his eyes settled on a bird perched on the other side staring at him intently, package at hand.

    “I’m guessing that’s for me?” The crow continued to stare in response.

    Well, this is certainly awkward.

    With nothing else to do, Aldricor hesitantly reached out for the package, preparing himself in case the crow decided to bite his fingers off. When the bird showed no signs of hostility, he quickly snatched the package before opening it to see its contents. There was a letter, a map, and the first thing that caught his interest—a coin of some sort. He quickly found out that it wasn’t a coin at all but rather a sigil, and upon further inspection, he couldn’t seem to figure out what it meant or what it was for. Still, it looked important, so he stashed it inside his box for later use.

    He then browsed the content of the letter. Aldricor didn’t know what to expect, but he could’ve had a million guesses, and he still wouldn’t have guessed the beginnings of a possible Fifth Divine Conflict. The more he read, the heavier the weight on his stomach became.

    “Is everything alright?” The old man asked, dragging him out of his stupor. Aldricor could only offer a strained smile in response.

    Aldricor then opened the map, showing him the way to a place called ‘The Sanctuary’. The only problem being that the closest path to the area was the opposite way that the wagon was heading. With a defeated sigh, the man quickly prepared for the long journey ahead, removing straws of hay from his hair and tightening the strap attached to his box. Such is the fate of a traveller, he supposed.

    “I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you and your family as I’m needed elsewhere.” Aldricor hopped off the wagon and stretched out his limbs, his joints popping in protest.

    “Are you certain? The sun is about to set.” Worry laced the old man’s words.

    “Yes, the sun is about to set so you best hurry along and get home.” Aldricor started making his way towards the sanctuary, offering the old man one final wave.

    The letter talked of a battle, of a future filled with destruction and chaos. The journey leading towards it, however, was an uneventful one. The birds sang their usual tune when he passed through a canopy of trees, adventurers and merchants alike offered him a smile in passing. The sun rose and fell just the same.

    After walking for days, almost a week, Aldricor finally spotted his destination from a distance. As he neared the temple, his steps seemed to falter just a little bit. He chose to ignore the implications of the letter, deciding to cross the bridge when he got there, but now he’s at the edge and he was hesitant. He wasn’t a seasoned warrior nor was he blessed with intellect for strategizing. All he had was the prince’s trust, and it’ll be enough. It needs to be enough.

    Aldricor could hear the beginnings of a conversation the more be climbed the stairs. The moment he reached the top, he was greeted by a group of people who he figured were here for the same reason as he was. The person who came before him mirrored his own sentiments as Aldricor also struggled to find the reason why he was invited in the first place.

    “Everything should be clearer once everyone arrives, though I’m not sure how many were still on their way.” Aldricor said in response to the feathered Bestiard as he finally made himself know to the group. His eyes then immediately landed on the vile beast, and he unconsciously took a step back. It’s obviously tamed, but the Nephilim hoped he didn’t have any cuts nor scratches that’ll alert the beast and its retainer of his origins.

    “Ah—I’m Aldricor, by the way. Nice meeting you all.” He greeted everyone with a wave, hoping to cover up his uneasiness. “By the looks of it, dinner is about to be made. I hope I’m not intruding, but I haven’t had a proper meal since I left a nearby village days ago.”

    Aldricor made his way towards the middle of the temple, just in front of the statue. “If it’s fire that's missing, I believe I can conjure something real quick.” It’ll cost a mark, and most would probably call it a waste, but if it meant sharing a warm meal then it’ll be worth it in the end.

    End of Post
     
    Alexander Von Styrmir
    Ashen Knights / Elementalist
    Orichalcos Grand Theater

    The Orichalcos Grand Theater. That dome-like structure, built in part due to the late baron’s fondness of the performing arts. Along with the institution of the first democratic office in Orichalcos, the theater numbered another vestige of the late baron’s legacy. It recently opened its doors to a showing of The Princess’ Ultimatum, a popular work that had been collecting dust since the prince's execution.

    “And so, faced with the choice of pursuing peace for her nation, or abandoning her lover, the princess chose the former.”

    Atop the stage, bathed under a soft red light, was that same princess. Her lover, staring into her eyes, stood quietly in front of her. He would grab her by the arm, and pull her back into an embrace. But she would repel his advance, peeling away his fingers, which began to tremble at the realization of her betrayal. One step in the opposite direction soon turned to two, which no sooner turned to four. No longer illuminated, the lover would slowly fade into the background, his figure now but a shadow among many other shadows.

    The stage was pitch-black, aside from the princess, who presented motionless, leaving the audience in suspense. An attempt at stoicism would threaten to curl her lips into neutrality. But a flood of tears would shatter the facade all the same. A pained cry would echo to the farthest reaches of the theater. And after that, a poignant silence. Neither lines from the actor, nor the occasional clamor from the audience would disturb it. Now the princess herself was starting to fade to black, the spotlight on her dimming with each second. Soon, she too was but a shadow among shadows.

    The unmistakable clanking of metal could be heard from the stage, rousing the audience’s attention. But the darkness made it hard to ascertain what was happening. Fortunately, the spotlight would flash once more, revealing the princess in a full suit of armor and a sword at her side. The scene would depict the princess’ resolve, by having her trade a life of blissful ignorance for a life of war. She would put the people before herself.

    If it weren’t for the fact that Isidora penned the play, Alexander would view its meaning differently. But with the added context, he felt… conflicted. No matter how vehemently she would deny it whenever he would confront her, Alexander had always been aware of Isidora’s pining for the stage. He could still recall her words from back then. “It takes more than a victory in some war to soothe the aches of the heart, you know.” Isidora sat next to Alexander, and seeing the glint in her eyes, her undivided focus on every aspect of the production, Alexander knew that the stage was where she truly belonged. It was her second home, a proverbial golden ticket to greener pastures, a safe haven from harsh realities. Yet, she would forsake it for the battlefield. Alexander believed he bore some of the blame for this. If he’d just silently endured, and not sought out Isidora for comfort during all those times training ran him ragged, then perhaps she wouldn’t have felt compelled to close the curtains on a potential career as an actor.

    Of course, Alexander would not directly communicate this to his sister. He could already imagine what she would say, if he did.

    “I do this of my own volition, Alexander.”

    “If my dreams are the price for a brighter future for Orichalcos, then I would not think twice to give them up.”

    “But what about your dreams, Alexander? The Thunderbrand shackles you to a life of servitude. Did you not wish to become a scholar? What have you given up, brother?”

    Isidora always had a way of turning the tables on him. She was not one to mince words, which sometimes earned her a scolding from their father. Though she generally meant well. She may be tactless to a fault, but one cannot deny she is sincere at her core.

    Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Alexander had given up on previous dreams, whether out of sacrifice or loss of passion. However, Isidora would be wrong on one point. The Thunderbrand was no shackle: for Alexander, it would be the driving force behind a new dream.
    Temple of Northias

    A sudden lashing of wind would alert the others of Alexander’s arrival at the temple. “Apologies for the disturbance, friends!” Alexander exclaimed, casting a penitent gaze at each member of the Ashen Knights who were gathered. The blonde man, riding on his wyvern, had attempted to land too quickly, which resulted in a panicked stop.

    “It seems I misjudged our speed...” His wyvern, Minerva, felt sorry as well. She lowered her head, letting out a gentle growl.

    Aldricor would announce himself to the group not long after Alexander, and unbeknownst to the white-haired fellow, a male chameleon with a penchant for pranks would be trailing behind him, rustling nearby fauna. Alexander was well-aware of the chameleon’s presence. His eyes would follow the Vile Beast to ensure he wasn’t up to his usual antics.

    Fortunately, the chameleon was feeling obedient today, manifesting next to Alexander and patiently awaiting orders. This behavior would be short-lived, however. Upon catching a glimpse of a hell-hound, Cell would excitedly make a beeline for it, prompting a sigh from Alexander. It was the chameleon’s first time meeting another domesticated Vile Beast, so the excitement was warranted. But Alexander worried about the hell-hound’s reaction, and more importantly, its owner’s reaction. A rushing chameleon — the size of a wyvern, no less — would be an unwelcome surprise for anyone. Alexander feared what the hell-hound would do, should it misread Cell’s intentions. Locking eyes with the hell-hound’s master, he offered more words of apology. “Pardon his… enthusiasm, miss. Cell does not get to fraternize with his kind very often.” And that was that. Or, so he hoped.

    Noticing a need for fire, Aldricor proposed lighting one for the group through his Chaos Root. However, Alexander would interject with an alternative option. He put a hand on the Elementalist’s shoulder. “Your generosity is appreciated, Aldricor. But you needn’t waste a mark. Allow me.”

    Alexander would command Minerva to produce an ore from the scales of her wings.

    “This particular stone is known as a firestarter in my homeland,” he explained, picking up a piece of firewood. By rubbing the newly-produced ore against it, he would cause it to spark and subsequently ignite. A small flame now danced at its tip.

    Remembering when his father would take him to Orichalcos’ peaks at night, Alexander chuckled slightly. “It is a quintessential item for many of Orichalcos’ adventurers, for several reasons. You see, during my trips…” He trailed off. “I forget myself. Sorry, friend. If I’m not careful, I tend to prattle on ceaselessly. This is... a cardinal sin of mine, and I shan’t subject you to it on our first meeting.”

    Turning to Tang-Ruo with fire and stone in hand, Alexander would ask, “Will these do?”

    End of Post
     
    Last edited:
    Rubiliaxx
    Ashen Knights / Vanguard
    temple of northias


    It had been ages since Rubiliaxx last left the valley, and the passage of time was made all the more clear as she struggled to follow the stained map's directions. She recognized the general path, and the name of the region, but as she flew above the land she couldn’t help but feel a stranger to it. Where forests once stood there now lay cities and settlements, where a river once turned now sat a small lake. Even the scents had changed, carried up to her by the southern winds beneath her wings. At the very least, the air currents remained the same, ever flowing in their unseen celestial streams.

    Rubiliaxx kept her flight low and along forests or other unpopulated areas, an old habit she and her brethren had adopted out of necessity. She was pleased to see that not all of her old routes had vanished, though she often had to take detours around villages so as not to send the residents into a panic. While the land had changed, she was not certain if the people had too. There was no sense in taking chances. Despite the delays, her travel was blessed with fair winds and weather, and it was only a matter of days before her arrival at the predetermined location.

    The temple came into sight at around the same time as a dark and winged creature did. Even from a distance, Rubiliaxx could recognize it as a vile beast, and a large one at that. Such a creature could be a problem, something that was even more concerning as it dipped down into the large clearing that made up the temple grounds. The old aerouant's thoughts immediately turned to the worst case scenario, spurring her wingbeats to quicken in chase after the diving creature.

    Rubiliaxx swooped lower, gliding to where she had seen the creature disappear below the treeline. The trees parted way to reveal an overgrown temple, the aged marble thick with coiling vines and moss. Her eye scanned it, quick to spot the vile beast she had pursued. Much to her surprise, it was not the only one. Two others were nearby, one a reptile of sorts and the other a hellhound. Her 'target' now lumbered towards the latter like some overjoyed pup.

    Just what sort of menagerie was this? The stair of the temple was nearly overrun, leaving hardly any room for the crowd of humanoids that stood around a newborn fire. Among them, she spotted a woman with the telltale horns of an Azelthyrian. The master of these beasts, no doubt.

    Branches swayed in gusts born of Rubiliaxx’s wings as she descended, stirring dust and dried leaves from the old marble. The ground shook from the weight of her as claws touched down upon the much-too-small pathway, now completely overtaken by the towering dragon. Silver scales caught glimmers of the dying sunlight as webbed wings folded, and a long tail swayed in mild irritation.

    Were these the Ashen Knights?

    As Rubiliaxx gazed upon those gathered, she couldn’t help but question if she was indeed at the correct location. This did not look like an order of knights. At most, they could pass as a band of mercenaries. For all she knew, they could be the same sell-swords sent to cut down the true bearer of her Chaos Root. Smiles and pleasantries were exchanged, but within it was the glint of steel and the scent of blood. Words were cheap, and even at a quick glance, Rubiliaxx could tell that every single one of them were seasoned warriors. She had no doubt that in the span of a heartbeat, they could be upon her throat with blade or root. Whatever she did, she could not let her guard down.

    Distrustful of those before her, the aerouant kept her stance low, wings held loosely upon her flank and head low to the ground like some stalking wolf. Steam curled up from her nostrils, her good eye glinting like an ember in the gathering dusk. Her gaze lingered on Liene the longest, peering at her with unclouded suspicion. Of all those present, she fit the 'noble human woman' description best, save for the blindness. Cynrad had spoken of the princess often, yet none of his tales made mention of blindness.

    This, then, begged a question.

    “Where is the princess…?” the aerouant demanded, her growling voice echoing off the cold marble. Her tail swayed slowly behind her, as if she were a cat contemplating its pounce.

    Her glare only softened momentarily when she noticed the presence of a young Aerouant in their midst, but she was quick to return to her defensive stance.

    End of Post
     
    Chen Tang-Ruo
    Ashen Knights / Vanguard
    Temple of Northias, "The Sanctuary"


    More emerged from the shadows of his surroundings, at a pace so rapid in succession that Tang-Ruo questioned why they had not all travelled together, or even encountered each other beforehand. Still, they were all good-natured individuals, at least on the surface level, and for now, that would be enough. A horned devil with her beast, a blind woman whose voice contained a hint of uncertainty, a dragon-child half-fused with nature, a fellow Bestiard who bore great wings, a ghost-like wanderer who offered flame, and…

    Alexander Von Styrmir, the ruler of Orichalos. A captain within the Imperial Knights, and a future baron of a territory rich in ores and alliances. The bearer too, of the Thunderbrand, a legacy Chaos Root that granted dominion over the fastest of the elements. Any soldier of the Godslayer would know of Alexander and his menagerie of beasts, that archetypical knight bearing armaments of liquid metal.

    Of those present, only he could be named.

    But Tang-Ruo had shed his own position long ago, so only offered the Imperial Knight a nod and a “these certainly will do” as he took the ignited firewood and proceeded to build a cooking fire from it. Branches weren’t hard to come across around the temple, stone even less so. It took minimal effort to gather enough for a steady burn, and from there, all he had to do was set the pot over the flames and dump the contents of a waterskin into it. Others conversed about reasons and such, their own confidence lacking, but was there any real reason to be concerned? They could have ignored the summons and yet they made the journey regardless. In the face of something so weighty as preventing war, of facing against the titans that sat at the end of the world’s order, they had arrived regardless.

    The Bestiard used one claw to snip the vegetables and herbs into smaller portions, scattering them into the pot. He followed by snipping the rabbit’s fur around its ankles, then handily pulling off its coat like one would with a pair of socks. The rest was simple. A quick disembowelment, a picking-apart of organs that were edible and undesirable, followed by the crick-crack-slice of breaking the bones and portioning the meat. Of course, with so many present, he certainly could not feed them all off a single rabbit, so Tang-Ruo used his clean hand to retrieve stale bread and dried meat from his stores as well, crumbling it into the simmer broth before dropping a wooden lid atop it all.

    This he had done, amidst the dragon’s descent, amidst her gut-rumbling interrogation.

    Vile beasts and drakes. Chaos root wielders en masse. Rather than anything to be afraid of, it was a nostalgic sensation. Perhaps it ought to do well to show some apprehension, some fear, when he himself was just a Bestiard, but…

    “The princess has yet to appear, friend, for the sun had yet to set,” Tang-Ruo said, patting the stone floor beside him. “I understand that the circumstances of the summons were mysterious, and that we make for quite a motley crew, but could I ask you to take ten paces to your left side?”

    He smiled, in a kindly, patient manner.

    “The day has not yet died, so I’d like to enjoy sunlight for a moment longer before shadows merge into darkness. And in matters regarding a previous topic, Aldricor…desire itself becomes the qualification.”

    End of Post
     
    Kyreth Ranolus
    Ashen Knight / Healer
    Temple of Northias, "The Sanctuary"

    "I shall help you then." Kyreth wasn't one to stay idle for too long. The moment she stood up to accompany the reptilian bestiard, Kon perked up and turned towards his master instead of focusing solely on the meat that was not his. Other people were beginning to gather around the temple, all from varying origins and varying walks of life. It appeared that they also received a letter from the princess and she couldn't help but relax a little. That meant that she was in the right spot.

    "There are four of us currently." The Azelthyrian alerted their visually impaired companion, just in case she wanted the complete picture of the current group. However, when the Aerouant appeared to throw what seemed to be herbs toward their feline bestiard, Kyreth let out a chuckle. "And counting."

    The arrival of other people appeared to alert Kon even further as he stood up from his position to pad towards Kyreth as she helped the other gather firewood. It would be best to keep him close for now. While he was friendly, a slow introduction to the people he would be adventuring with was required. She ran a calming hand across his fur repeatedly to let him know that he was in a safe place— that he was among what Kyreth hoped to be friends. He appeared a little more agitated than usual, alerting her of some form of danger, but Kyreth just gently dissuaded him from it. Once he settled down, she went back to gathering firewood and handing it over to the pile.

    More and more people began to arrive and she noted each one. A violent gust of wind descended upon them as a wyvern and her rider touched down on the ground. Kyreth couldn't help but marvel at seeing the vile beast— she had always wondered what it would be like to have a wyvern. Curious enough to wonder, but not reckless enough to pluck an egg away from one's nest to raise as her own. A low growl from Kon brought Kyreth back to her senses and she turned to see a chameleon rushing toward her pet. However, its friendly and curious demeanor appeared to abate Kon's caution as he began to sniff at the chameleon, barely showing any aggression. Kyreth laughed and waved her hand dismissively. "Quite alright. Kon's at that stage where I think he might benefit from having a friend around."

    She spoke as if she was talking about a pup instead of a large hellhound.

    Their reptilian companion spoke about their invitations. Rather, why they were invited in the first place? What were the criteria for being invited to this temple? They looked like capable fighters or adventurers, at the very least, as they had managed to get all the way here. But the letter bore no reason as to why they were chosen or what they would be doing. Even the others who had just arrived could not provide an answer to the question. Much like what Aldricor claimed, perhaps they would get their answer once everyone else had arrived and the sun had set. It made Kyreth idly wonder exactly how many had been called via these enchanted crow letters.

    An Aerouant in their dragon form, clearly alert and wary, landed in the clearing. One look at the dragon caused Kyreth to understand such caution. The damage did not appear evident on a cursory glance but she seemed to have gone through a lot. Perhaps it could even be considered a miracle that Kyreth viewed a fully healed horn, knowing that most Aerouant's would have succumbed to such a grave injury. The bestiard was calm, despite the circumstances, and answered with the kind of patience most would not be able to muster in the face of such danger. It was admirable. Kyreth took a few steps towards the fire and sat down, occasionally looking over to Cell and Kon to make sure that their playful natures wouldn't cause too much of a ruckus.

    "I hope you have no qualms with waiting with us for the princess to arrive." Kyreth said as she turned to the dragon, dipping her head as a show of respect. "Though I may not know anyone here, I believe I can trust the princess's judgment in her choice of people." Then again, it was not like she actually knew the princess. Most of her trust hinged on the idea that the princess was much like her older brother. Why else would she have found out about Kyreth? There was an incredibly low chance that a royal would take note of a random healer in adventuring parties.

    End of Post
     
    Tsunbuyla
    Ashen Knights / Vanguard
    Ruins of Italas

    Italas. A shelter of times long past, now reduced to rubble and ruins amidst the desert sands. That glorious city of the Draculus has become a hotbed for treasure hunters seeking to find their fortune in relics and manuscripts of smelted steel. Yet there is new hope, even amidst an occupation as inglorious as scavenging. A passage of knowledge to those most in need, gifted by a homeward-bound guide to a group of Bestiard adventurers seeking to bring back strength to defend their homeland.

    Even facing the remnants of her people, Tsunbuyla stands tall, unclaimed by the presence of sorrow beyond a faint, trembling remembrance of a forgotten time. It was a tragedy, but tragedies are many, and time is short. She moves on, as always, shedding every pretense of the past but its sweetest memories. From those memories though, she cannot help but feel that her people would have felt that the passage of their mastery would have been best entrusted to a new people, seeking to found a new, flourishing sanctuary. Yet even if they wanted to differ, what can the dead do when the living have already struck a deal in coin and thrill? Still, Tsunbuyla won’t pester their memories too much beyond this trip. This will be one final legacy completed, and after that, a new journey.

    Thinking back to the crow she’d received, Tsunbuyla’s lips curl; a sharp, rough thing. What an exciting idea it is, to fight against the world itself. One worth celebrating with a battle to sweep out the old and usher in the new.

    Swirling flecks of black cover her vision, a sandstorm blanketing the atmosphere like a swarm of all-prevailing lotus, and dark shadows flirt within the sand’s depths. Vile Beasts, having spent the past hour waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

    One of Tsunbuyla’s hands falls to the hilt of her sword, and the other caresses her wrist, where two stark marks remain. She turns to the adventurers behind her, their loot securely strapped to their backs.

    “I’m breaking through,” she says, form sharpening into something bestial as her Arts flare to life. “Just focus on protecting each other’s backs, and I’ll find you a way past, aye?”
    Temple of Northias, "The Sanctuary"

    Verdant forests loom tall above Tsunbuyla as she treks through the final leg of her journey, pack slung across a single shoulder to avoid putting pressure on her injured arm. For all her lack of pain, it’s important to avoid straining her wounds lest she delay their healing.

    After all, the time is soon, as marked by the passage of figures on the wind and the silence of the forest. Why else would the birds have stopped singing on a day as pleasant as this if not for the presence of people?

    Tsunbuyla continues forward, breaking through the tree line to catch sight of an assembly gathered in the fading gold of the sun. The Ashen Knights, still absent a leader or a shelter.

    Looking towards the temple, Tsunbuyla palms her gifted sigil and raises it to her eyes. “I’d almost think to toss it into a well if only there were one,” she says idly before letting the gift fall, once again tucking it away. “Perhaps it’d open up to reveal the Sanctuary that we were called here for."

    In the meantime, with no wells and waiting destined ahead, she integrates herself into the subset of Knights gathered around the thoughts of dinner, amused gaze lingering on the few ingredients waiting to be prepared. “Since we’re in need of more food, I wouldn’t mind attempting to find some for the table, though hunting may be a bit difficult in the time we have left.”

    Her hand falls to her pack, slinging forward in an easy-going offer. “I still have some provisions left over. Perhaps you could make use of biscuits or sausage to add some substance? Of course, they’re not nearly as fresh, so I’ll leave it to the chefs.”

    End of Post
     
    Last edited:
    Igris Raywood
    Ashen Knights / Hunter
    The Sanctuary (“Temple of Northias”)

    On the way home after a long afternoon of performing routinely mundane tasks, today would mark yet another unfulfilling day, one wasted away to the sands of time. Igris had not been counting the days—at least, not consecutively—but since he had been entrusted the care of a Chaos Root by his anonymous savior, he began to seriously believe that he may have had a place in the world after all. Whenever he was able to, and with what little knowledge he had about the Arts, Igris would practice honing his skills as best he could in order to become as powerful as he could be within the shortest amount of time it would take him to become a master of the Hunter class. However, as many Chaos Root bearers would know, it did not come easy, and there were days where he would fall back into his doubts and question the purpose of it all, of Chaos Roots, of life; today was another day where skepticism would plague him, and he would grow preoccupied with his thoughts until a pair of slender black talons would perch onto his shoulder from behind, with sharp claws piercing through fabric, daring to puncture flesh. The unexpected sensation caused Igris to jolt, reminding him, if only for a fraction of a second, of the gashes inflicted upon him from when the Vile Beasts from two years prior could have torn him apart to shreds. Out of reflex, Igris’ hand shot towards his shoulder as his other hand reached for the ax that was slung on his back, prepared to lop off a limb of the proposed threat if necessary. Fortunately for him, that was not the case.

    “Hey—! Hey, it's alright…. It's alright,” a woman cooed at him. It would be none other than his caretaker and guardian, Nesta, who had been walking alongside him and was trying to soothe both Igris and the startled bird. He had let his guard down again, leaving his backside vulnerable as his head was in the clouds. He should learn to stop doing that.

    “What have you got with you, friend?” she asked the flighted creature, as the sound of unraveling could be heard. The woman would remove the contents from its petite package, revealing to her two scrolls of parchment and a coin-sized talisman of inquisitive nature.

    The further she read through the letter, the more concerned she grew for her dependent. She had learned of how he grew to be visually impaired, and to subject him to the horrors of the world after such a travesty was the last thing she would want for him, but she knew that this summon from the Princess would be exactly what he wanted.

    She knew he didn't care much about building peace between the nations; to his knowledge, war was almost all that Paymonia had ever known. It was rather that this request regarded carrying out the Princess’s decree. Knowing well that there was an amicable dynamic between the sibling heirs, it was likely that by extension there was something about the Prince's will that she would be attempting to fulfill throughout this expedition. Knowing that the Prince was a venerable patriarchal figure to Igris, Nesta knew that his involvement in such matters, if it meant that he would be involved with executing orders in the Prince’s favor, meant that he could die happily knowing he had done something for someone—arguably the only one—he cared deeply about. As such, despite her reluctance, she had informed Igris of the contents within the letter and of the annotated map, and permitted him to leave on the condition that she could accompany him in his travel until he would reach the mountain that led to The Sanctuary. He saw no reason to deny her company, especially when it would prove to be more useful than that of passersby.

    The journey was slightly tedious, but it was more tolerable for Igris knowing he was in the presence and aid of someone familiar to him. Before long, they had made it to the edge of the mountainside, and it was time to go their separate ways.

    “Will you be able to make it back home by yourself?” she asked, already having been worried about anticipating his return.

    For a moment, he paused.

    “You shouldn't have to worry about that.”

    If the mission turned out to be a success, then he would find a way to return, if that was what he wished for. However, if he, by some unfortunate chance, were to die in battle or by other means, then he would not wish for her to wait endlessly for his return, nor would he wish for her to grieve over him. In fact, he felt quite sorry that she was obligated to take responsibility for his upbringing. The least he could do was show her his gratitude for her services.

    “Thank you for your hospitality over the years, but from now on, don't worry about me. Just focus on yourself,” he would say, before he turned around to face the entry path that led to the temple, ”and take care.”

    〔 … 〕​

    When he had arrived, a small crowd of people already seemed to have gathered around, huddling around a source of warmth. Judging by the sound of liquid boiling and the wafts of smoke in the air, Igris would assume that their dinner was just about ready. Fortunately for him, he would not have to force himself to mingle with the others over a shared meal, as his Nesta had already helped him acquire provisions and the like. Unfortunately for him, if these people were also summoned like he had been—which, thinking about it now, it would make more sense to recruit a small handful of individuals than a single one—he would have to integrate himself into the group regardless. A small sigh escaped him as he exhaled from his nose. Would it be better to wait for the Princess, or to make an attempt to acquaint himself with the strangers in front of him? If it was not them, he would risk the feeling of embarrassment, yet what were the chances that a group of people would meet here, of all places, at this time of day, for recreational purposes?

    After taking a moment to think about it, Igris took a small breath to brace himself before joining the crowd and throwing himself into the fire.

    “.... Hi.
    … I… I believe we're all here for the same thing.”

    He was uncertain whether or not it would be alright to discuss so openly the contents of the letter.

    Perhaps there was something he could show instead. If they were also recruits, then surely they would have the sigil as well.

    “So…” he began, taking out the small object from his pocket, “do you all have something like this, too? Sorry, I… can't see all that well. I can't even tell what this... thing... is supposed to be.”

    End of Post
     
    Last edited:
    Jacoliene De Gunst
    Ashen Knights / Hunter
    Temple of Northias, The Sanctuary

    “If that’s the case, I am in the correct place.” She nodded and smiled at the feminine voice directed at her. Liene fiddled with the letter before tucking it behind her pockets and swiftly pulling out the coin-like sigil. She played with the item between her fingers before another voice approached her. It was unfamiliar, feminine and somewhat soft. So far, the voices she has heard are new and cordial, compelling her to stop hovering over the cane’s button.

    After the polite chuckle, it was only then that Liene became aware of another presence. Her ears picked up the footsteps behind her, and she stepped to the side, creating a space for the person to enter. She returned her jest with a curt nod and a polite smile. “Ah, understood.”

    As she exercised her freedom to explore her area, she couldn’t help but slightly pick up the new arrival’s voice; it was meek, shy and almost quiet. If she weren’t focusing enough, she might’ve missed the wisp of a voice. The more her cane explored the open areas around her, the more familiar she became with her space. She settled herself far yet close enough to be visible to the five of them… Six, now that the sixth person appeared from the sky. The busy rustling of feathers from above caught her attention initially, and she feared it would’ve been some sort of Vile Beast, but the gentle and precarious voice that soon followed afterwards put her mind at ease. This time, it was more masculine than the previous arrival.

    Liene felt for the leather pouches in her bag, and when she found the correct one, she reached for her bag of dried grapes. She leaned on her bag, slowly relaxing while her cane rested idly by her side. By the time comfort encapsulated her, the seventh person had arrived and introduced himself as Aldricor. She immediately captured his voice in her memory and identified him as the affable Aldricor.

    Her tattered coat violently fluttered and stirred at the sudden surge of wind. One hand held her bag of snacks, while the other rested on her cane, ready to unsheathe it. But as she gauged the group’s reaction, she deemed her blade entirely unnecessary; perhaps her harsh travels and experiences had only sharpened her mistrust in others. She quickly relaxed as the new arrivals familiarised themselves with the group. His voice had a hint of familiarity that she couldn’t expressly point out. Her doubts and guesses bore no fruit the longer she thought about it. However, at the simple mention of Orichalcos, Liene’s sightless gaze held a lifelike wonder. She wonders if the voice belonged to someone she had once met at a formal gathering when she was a noble.

    Another aggressive set of wings caught her attention, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was the only one in the group without wings. The voice almost rattled Liene’s eardrums with its guttural and nearly reptilian speech. She could feel its sight on her, and if Liene could have sight, she would’ve gladly stared back at the creature with the same intensity.

    The tenth person arrived soon, and it almost surprised Liene that she heard no thundering wingbeats. But she gladly welcomed the silence and civil conversations. By the time she finished her bag of dried grapes, the wafting fragrant smell of the simmering soup had warmed Liene’s noise, and the final arrival had made his entrance. His voice was hesitant and careful; she couldn’t help but feel a slight sympathy for the individual. She wonders what sort of horrors he went through to get here.

    It was then that Liene spoke. “You and me both, friend. The abyss will always greet my sight.” She welcomed the newcomer warmly, ensuring her voice was loud enough for him to hear. “As for the sigils itself… I think that they are some sort of ticket. To ensure our entry and perhaps our identity even?” Liene shrugged, speaking her thoughts out loud. “One could only speculate. So it would be within our best interest to keep them close.”

    Liene shoved the small empty bag deep in the pockets of her leather bag and reached for her sigil, skillfully playing with it between her fingers. Unfamiliar voices and location surrounded her, and yet, at the same time, the feeling of familiarity embraced her as if she was once again a new recruit. For Liene, the cycle repeats itself; she is now much more knowledgeable and experienced. Her heart could only hope for freedom while her mind raced with gruesome ideas of how her time would end with the Ashen Knights. From one criminal organisation to another. The thought itself made Liene release a smirk. One could only try to be hopeful in times like these.

    End of Post
     
    Temple of Northias, The Sanctuary

    The travelers arrived one by one, each entering the temple with an introduction of their own. Approximately half an hour would elapse after the last person, Igris, made their presence known to the group. As the evening drew near, the sun began to descend, casting shadows from the mountains on the horizon across the temple. As ordered in the letter, the group would wait until sunset, and when nightfall came, strange anomalies would begin to occur that could possibly garner the interest of those involved.

    At the center of the temple was the Status of Northias, a renowned figure in the northern regions of Paymonia, but relatively unknown elsewhere in the world. While seemingly a normal statue, when the sunlight no longer reached the temple, the statue revealed a series of odd symbols that seemed to glow in the dark, albeit only slightly. These symbols would be carved on the lower platform where the statue stood. Those without vision would be able to feel the carvings.

    The second occurrence was the sudden buildup of heat within the sigil that everyone held in their inventory. Were someone to take it out from their pockets, the circular object would be glowing bright blue, and the symbol inscribed on the surface would have changed depending on the holder. Should someone exchange their sigil with another, the symbol would change, meaning that it was tied to their identity. However, the symbols carved into the statue were different compared to the sigil everyone held.

    Another significant detail was the arrangement of the symbols. Upon counting, one would discern a total of 17 characters, with precisely 12 spaces interspersed among them. Perhaps coincidentally, these spaces appeared tailor-made for the insertion of the sigils. However, attempting to place the sigils in any of the vacant slots failed to create any discernible effect.

    The final clue was the specific language that the characters symbolized. Those who know of the ancient Azelthyrian language would notice that the characters resembled it, but not in its entirety. Those who were knowledgeable in runes from their interest in alchemy and potion brewing would notice that some characters borrowed from the design. Mixing the two clues together would suggest that the characters carved into the statue were trying to convey a sentence.

    Further examination of the area would uncover additional details, some important to the puzzle at hand, while others proved irrelevant. Upon careful observation of the temple outside the center statue, some could notice that there were other, smaller statues surrounding the platform. A total of twelve of them stood on a podium similar to the statue of Northias. On the side were the exact same type of symbols, but this time with a complete line of symbols, unlike Northias.

    When someone with a sigil corresponding to the statue got closer, there would be a magnetic pull towards the podium, not strong enough for someone to lose grasp of their sigil, but a noticeable amount that would catch the interest of anyone. Placing the sigil anywhere on the surface would not do anything. However, when those with vision would get a closer look, a coherent sentence would appear below the symbols, visible only to the holder of the sigil. Those blind would be able to feel the smooth texture of the letters.

    It would read the following:

    Why was the first steel forged into blade's form,
    Crafted with care in the inferno’s warmth?
    For what purpose did the anvils ring,
    Give birth to weapons, shaped with molten dreams?

    ERode ERode lucenti lucenti AI10100 AI10100 Irradiant Irradiant Auda Auda November Witch November Witch NiftyNat NiftyNat locked n loaded locked n loaded Azukai Azukai Juju Juju​

    End of Post
     
    Rubiliaxx
    Ashen Knights / Vanguard
    temple of northias

    It was the feline beastiard that spoke first, his voice devoid of all aggression and fear. With such a relaxed demeanour one could easily believe he had just greeted a neighbour or friend rather than an agitated dragon.

    Rubiliaxx blinked in surprise, caught off-guard by the unusual warmth of the greeting. It was far from what she had anticipated, and she found herself unsure of how to interpret such mannerisms. Should she be put at ease at the beastiard's friendliness, or suspicious? He requested that she move to the side, to reveal the low-hanging sun she had blotted out. It was a simple request, so simple that she couldn’t help but wonder if it was sincere.

    Her eye flicked over to the Azelthyrian woman as she spoke next, offering a respectful nod and an even tone. She invited Rubiliaxx to mingle with them as they awaited the princess’ arrival, offering reassurances regarding the heiress’ judgment.

    The old aerouant gave the group one last look before relaxing her stance. She shifted her wings, tucking both sets against her sides, and then peered down at the horned woman. Although Rubiliaxx’s voice still held a wariness to it, the sharpness had been worn down into a weariness.

    “Very well…” The she-dragon nodded, agreeing to the Azelthyrian’s proposition, “I shall await the arrival of this princess. And her judgment.”

    While it may have seemed as if the old aerouant had referred to the mismatched group, out of all those present she was the surest outlier here. If anything, her suspicion was born of the unhappy circumstances that brought her here. The invitation she carried did not belong to her, and she was keenly aware that its blood-stained state would do little to support her claims. All she could do was wait, just as these two would-be knights had suggested.

    Eye still locked onto the peculiar group, Rubiliaxx stalked over to the left of the pathway, returning those fleeting rays of sun that Tan-Ruo had requested. Shrubs flattened beneath giant paws, the night dew kept at bay from the warmth of her scales. Slowly, the dragon settled onto her haunches and watched the group, tail curled around her claws, its glowing tip twitching.

    It would have been far more convenient to adopt a humanoid form, but it was less suited for combat. Her dragon form was far more consistent, so until the princess revealed herself, she would stubbornly maintain it. Her guard may have lowered somewhat, but she was still not at ease.

    Now that her cautious hostility had been dampened, Rubiliaxx seemed awkward, anxious in what had once again become a social gathering. Maintaining her distance, she sat apart from the rest and observed their interactions from afar. They appeared to be cooperating on the creation of a soup, perhaps a new custom for gathering? She could easily ask, but she didn’t have the heart for it.

    She could smell rabbit and herbs and the thinness of the broth. Cracked bone would have been better, or the rich fat of a forest boar. Regardless of her thoughts, she would wordlessly observe the creation of this modern dish.

    End of Post
     
    Mintha Lamiaceae
    Ashen Knight / Healer
    temple of northias, "the sanctuary"

    Mintha’s question lingered in the air for a moment, and she was sure those present were mulling it over seriously. Why were they here? The first to speak up was a newcomer she had seen walking towards the temple from a little bit away. He looked to be part Beastiard like herself. Though he shared the traits of an avian, not a reptile. Her gaze cast down to the floor for a moment as he spoke his answer. It was, in fact, not something that applied to them all. Mintha didn’t care about any war. Well, not in the sense that everyone else likely did. If it could ease her guilt, perhaps it was worth participating in and preventing a war. But she knew deep down that if she wasn’t filled with guilt or shame or self-loathing, she would not have heeded the call. However, her single eye returned to the avian before her as he went on. At least she wasn’t alone when it came to missing information.

    Standing atop the stairs, she had a clear view of those who would trickle in and climb the stairs everyone before had. Another man would be seen approaching, and no distinguishing features could be seen upon him. Human? Nephilim? Or maybe a half blood of some kind? Mintha didn’t know, and frankly, didn’t care much. He spoke the truth, and exactly what Mintha herself was thinking. It was likely once everyone had gathered, someone would explain what was happening to them all… Or perhaps they were to be slaughtered for daring to even entertain the idea of meddling in kingdom affairs. It was just as likely in Mintha’s mind. The man then went on to introduce himself as Aldricor. Mintha felt as if it was a little early for introductions, considering they didn’t know if this was truth or a trap. But it wasn’t like she had to introduce herself. He would then invite himself to the dinner being prepared, which Mintha thought was quite rude. How was anyone supposed to get anything out of a single rabbit and some spices? Only the one cooking and supplying the rabbit should be the one deciding who eats and who doesn’t. But it wasn’t her call to make, so she pushed the thought to the side. At least he offered to supply the fire. Maybe she wouldn’t have to scavenge for firewood.

    Well, it was soon to be night. Perhaps a fire to simply gather around would still be wanted. So, she would gather some more with the help of anyone else to volunteer before stopping near the stairs.

    A sudden rush of the wind would alert Mintha to another attendant to the meeting. Her clothing would flap about, and her hands would calm both of her braids which turned into whips at this point in the wind. Though it wasn’t for long as the one causing this landed. A man dismounted his pet. She’d watch him climb the stairs and apologize, only for more animals to be added to the group. He seemed talkative and open. Again, no distinguishing traits could be found. He could be a hybrid with his features hidden by clothing. Or perhaps a human or Nephilim. Though he didn’t seem to carry himself like the latter. He’d start talking and offer fire for cooking. While Mintha may not have been the biggest fan of people as talkative as him, at least he was helping the group.

    With the problem of fire and cooking solved, Mintha would drop her gathered wood then return to the pillar nearest the back of the ring where her bag leaned against. She would sit against the pillar on the ground and simply people watch as those here mingled. The talk of food had made Mintha realize she hadn’t eaten for too long. She would fish some berries and jerky from her bag to eat. She didn’t need soup. The reptilian had her own food. There was no need to rely on others…

    As she took in the sights before her and enjoyed the sweetness of the berries against the savory flavor of the spiced meat, she would spot something in the colored sky. Something against the orange, pink and purple hues. It was a dragon, and much too close for comfort. Thankfully, it seemed to land on the pathway, making her the farthest from the creature. This put everyone else in between herself and the dragon. Meaning Mintha remained mostly relaxed. If something was tried, she would have more than enough time to react. She chewed her food and couldn’t help but find the dragon somewhat relatable. To the point, and suspicious of what was happening. If this was someone else who had received the letter, Mintha felt like she would get along with the person behind the scaled beast.

    The Bestiard who had arrived just after her spoke up first to the dragon’s rumbling request. Friendly and seemingly jovial despite the situation, he seemed adept at diffusing situations. Perhaps he had a history doing something of the sort? She ruminated on this a bit, only to quickly find something else to think on. The Beastiard offered an answer to Aldricor. One Mintha herself found amusing, because if she followed that logic herself, she wasn’t anywhere qualified to be here. She chuckled to herself, and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the last rays of the day on her face. The parts that weren’t covered, anyway.

    The Azelthyrian would speak to the owner of the other animals, and to the dragon next. Mintha still wasn’t sure what to make of her, though she had helped Mintha gather firewood. So that earned her some points.

    It was then that her sharp eye saw someone slink up the stairs and integrate herself into the group, already offering food for the soup. This person, however, Mintha thought she could be a Draculus. The telltale signs were there. While she hadn’t seen many in the first half of her life, the other hundred plus years had exposed her to quite a few. Mintha disliked how open the other was, but at least she was already offering to the group. But did everyone here have to be so trusting and open? Perhaps it was a consequence of their lives. Mintha had to often remind herself she was the way she was because she had to be. These others probably weren’t being hunted. It was only natural to act the way they did, right?

    Mintha sighed, casting a look at the other outlier from the group. The Aerouant, still in her dragon form. Mintha was silent, just watching for a moment before turning back to the crowd that she sat away from. Her eyes would find yet another newcomer climbing the stairs.

    Another male who didn’t seem to have any real distinguishing traits, which narrowed down his race. He seemed to be nervous? Unsure? Well, at least he wasn’t so confident he had no questions, like most people here did. It made Mintha question whether the others were just overconfident, or actually powerful enough to not be phased by being surrounded by many strangers. Seeing this made her think more favorably of the male. But then more was revealed. Another with bad eyesight? Mintha wasn’t going to question their abilities, but two of them in their little group? What were the chances of that? No matter, if she had to help them out, she would. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d cared for the visually impaired.

    Before she could speak up, the other woman who seemingly shared his plight spoke up and the two got to talking. Well, at least they would find some camaraderie with one another. Or so Mintha hoped. Mintha wandered to the last time she had felt that way with people. She shook her head and smiled a shameful, sad smile. Over one hundred years ago. And it still felt so recent. The ground subtly shaking woke Mintha from the cold memories replaying in her mind. The dragon moved to give the rest of the occupants of the platform sunlight, which also put the Aerouant closer to Mintha. Within talking distance now, actually.

    “You’re smart to not trust anyone yet. I certainly don’t.”

    She’d tell the mammoth creature, finishing off the food she’d started eating earlier. Mintha pulled her knees to her chest, rested her head on her knees, and watched the group that was on the other side of the platform. Mintha was also feeling somewhat odd, just watching the group she was supposedly here to join. So, she hoped talking to the Aerouant might lessen the awkwardness she felt they both were feeling.

    End of Post
     
    Alexander Von Styrmir
    Ashen Knights / Elementalist
    Temple of Northias

    The journey to the Temple of Northias had sapped much of Alexander’s energy, to say nothing of Minerva’s. Alexander expected to arrive at the temple sooner than he actually had, but the logistics of traveling with 2 Vile Beasts made that all but impossible. With Cell taking to the ground, Alexander paused from time to time to allow the chameleon to catch up. Meanwhile, Minerva simply cruised the air without any obstacles. At the speed she was going, if she had continued her pace, poor Cell would have been left in the dust, and Alexander would have been forced to endure a week-long tantrum from a Vile Beast that could multiply into the hundreds. A chill ran down his spine merely at the thought of it.

    Now Alexander’s stomach grumbled, after not having eaten anything since he’d departed from Orichalcos. Hunger. It was a weapon mighty enough to strike down even the most grizzled veteran. Fortunately, Tang-Ruo’s stew appeared to be nearing completion. As Alexander approached the Bestiard, he could see pieces of rabbit meat, obviously carefully prepared, simmering to the top of the pan. A collection of vegetables would complement the protein, and it too was carefully prepared, as if intended to decorate the otherwise barren display of cuisine.

    Alexander would be reminded of his mother. Painting was the baroness’ greatest hobby, and in his spare time, Alexander often watched her as she worked. With brush in hand, she would splatter ink on an empty canvas, seemingly without any rhyme or reason. To the untrained eye, it would seem messy, and lacking in regard for the details. And yet, in the end, those dubious blotches would always come together to tell a story.

    “Color can enhance any painting,” the baroness explained during one of her tangents. “But one must designate it a purpose.” Alexander could only look on in quiet curiosity, unsure of where his mother was headed. He was no painter, after all.

    The baroness straightened her canvas before once again lifting the brush she had set down. “Bright colors…” A quick stroke of orange, performed in one clean motion across the page. “... tend to evoke more positive emotions.” This time, a touch of blue, subtle but purposeful. Turning towards Alexander, she would ask, “Now tell me, dear: how does this make you feel?”

    Wordlessly, Alexander inspected the painting.

    The rising sun served as a backdrop to a grand castle, and its orange rays passed through skies of the clearest blue, dispelling the shadows cast by the castle's eaves. A princess stood on the castle balcony, and facing throngs of people, she greeted them with a wave. The princess’ armor reflected the sun’s light, its sheen represented by a line of white among grays. Gripped by the princess’ left hand was a sword, and it too gleamed with white on half of its blade, the other half glinting silver. She raised it high, celebrating some sort of victory.

    “Hopeful, Mother. It makes me feel… hopeful.” Through its composition, Alexander understood clearly the kind of scene it attempted to depict.

    Perhaps it was a stretch to compare his mother’s paintings to Tang-Ruo’s stew. Inappropriate, even. Still, Alexander could observe that there were similar principles at play. Painters had their brushes, and chefs their spatulas. In place of colors were meats, herbs, vegetables, and spices. The only difference was that cooking was an art form for the tongue, and not the eyes.

    “Resourceful, as always,” Alexander commented towards Tang-Ruo, letting the slightest hint of a smirk tug at his lips. “If there is one thing time cannot beat out of you, it is that.”

    “Say, Tang-Ruo…”     He dropped to the ground to meet the Bestiard at eye level. “I must thank you for your aid in Platina all those years ago.”

    Of the countless Imperial Knights that came to Platina’s defense during Aeslengard’s assault, Tang-Ruo numbered among them. Alexander had hoped to personally express his gratitude to the man. But following the prince’s untimely demise, the Bestiard was nowhere to be found. It was as if he had vanished with the wind.

    A chuckle would be expelled from Alexander’s lips. “It is truly funny, the whims of fate. To have us meet again like this…” His eyes would wander to nothing in particular, before circling back to Tang-Ruo. “Had reinforcements not come that day, I reckon…”

    A sudden quip. “Ha! Yes, I reckon I’d be nothing more than a casket in the ground. Buried six-feet under. A flame prematurely snuffed out, like many others…”

    It was true. Between the conjured meteor that was poised to grind the city to dust and the Aeslengard Chaos Root users that besieged the Adamas, Alexander found himself spread thin. His platoon fared no better, having to evacuate the citizenry while dealing with the Vile Beasts that stormed the city now that its walls had been torn down. “A house divided will fall.” Aeslengard had thought it through, accounting for the Vile Beasts that roamed Orichalcos’ highlands in their plan. Fighting Aeslengard on one front, and hordes of Vile Beasts on another, defeat seemed all but imminent. At least, that was what Alexander believed, until his father arrived with more Imperial Knights in tow. “An act of providence,” Alexander would call it, turning the tide of battle.

    … He had let the conversation turn too heavy. “But enough gloomy talk.” Waving a hand, Alexander steered the topic elsewhere. “You would be glad to know that the city has since risen from its ashes. Like the phoenix, if you fancy an analogy!”

    A playful sigh. “Though the process of reconstruction was certainly nothing fantastical. Rubble isn’t going to move itself, after all.”

    “In any case, might an old comrade-in-arms inquire what the former Fang has been up to?”

    Interaction(s): ERode ERode

    End of Post
     
    Last edited:
    Chen Tang-Ruo
    Ashen Knights / Vanguard
    Temple of Northias, "The Sanctuary"


    Time passed gradually, the sun dipping beneath the horizon. The soup, bolstered further by additions of dried meat, hardtack, and herbs, was taking on a passable aroma now as it bubbled over the ashes and embers. Despite the initial aggression displayed by some, in the end, everyone settled into their various camps. Some vocalized their understandable distrust, while others were open to at least exuding a friendly veneer. Tang-Ruo himself sat near the middle, of course, occasional scraping the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon to make sure that nothing burned. It would be done soon enough, but before then…

    He shuffled over to face Alexander as the younger man approached, a bushy brow arcing with some surprise.

    “It’s an honor that you’d remember my name, but a single Fang, no matter how sharp, can do little to turn such tides.” His golden eyes flickered towards that soft-spoken woman amongst them, the one with clouded eyes, before turning back to the Thunderbrand’s inheritor. “Regardless, without reinforcement, I’d wager that you’d have found some other way to secure your people, if not your home.”

    And if that wasn’t possible, he’d believe too, that the vassals of the von Styrmir would rather knock the young Knight unconscious and have him delivered to safety rather than risk the arcane lineage that had been so engrained within Orichalos’s history. It was gloomy talk though, and there wasn’t enough alcohol in Tang-Ruo’s pack to get both drunk enough to start delving into their sorrows.

    “For myself though, I’ve just been making do, travelling from village to village and picking up what work there is. It’s a peaceful enough life. Certainly, less hectic than yours.”

    The warming of the sigil that he had been gifted, as well as the glowing of the statues in the vicinity, ended his own reminiscence however, his gaze shifting once more to his surroundings. Even fire-blind as he was, the Bestiard could still make out the symbols that emerged upon the statues…but as for those actually blind, he supposed they’d have less luck in that department.

    “Well now,” he called out. “The soup’s ready but I’ve only mugs for four, so bring your own and c’mon over, friends of the Princess. A shame that she’s seen fit to give us another trial rather than grace us with her presence. I see one great statue, and know of 12 lesser statues, in the area, all of which now seem to be possessed with curious glowing marks upon them. A mismatched coincidence, when there’s 11 of us, but perhaps there’s meaning in it after all?”

    The Bestiard smiled. He hadn’t sensed an additional presences, but Chaos Roots provided superseding capabilities.

    “Or mayhaps our twelfth is yet too shy to show their face.”

    End of Post
     
    Reader mode
    You must log in or register to reply here.

    Users who are viewing this thread

    Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

    Similar threads

    JSPD2000
    Fantasy Blood & Ruin (A Dark Fantasy Roleplay)[IC]
    Replies
    20
    Views
    591
    Wyll
    Wyll
    TanteRegenbogen
    Fantasy Is The Demon Lord A Myth [Arcanepunk High Fantasy]
    demons high fantasy retrofuturistic
    Replies
    13
    Views
    285
    TanteRegenbogen
    TanteRegenbogen
    Hell0NHighWater
    Multiple Settings Life's A Game ⎨IC⎬
    apocalypse dark fantasy dice system: d20
    Replies
    22
    Views
    533
    Cara
    Cara
    Darkbloom
    Futuristic Humanity Chapter 1
    Replies
    5
    Views
    133
    Wyll
    Wyll
    DarKnight36
    Fantasy Embers of Telani
    adventure collaborative exploration
    Replies
    1
    Views
    95
    PiePillager
    PiePillager
    Back
    Top