Fantasy God Slayer [IC|Closed]

[The Black Knight]

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  The Caroline king, Edmond Caroline, sat upon the throne with his wife, the Queen of Caroline, Michelle, at his side. Advisors reminded them daily about the titans that loomed on the horizon. They made no motion to approach the walls, but their lingering made the watch towers uncomfortable. The entire kingdom was on edge, waiting for Ydis to send his children to decimate them all. It was a time of great appreciation. The survivors were more appreciative of their lives than they ever were before the meteor. Every day was precious. Every second where a family could spend time together was savored. Even as Edmond sat with his wife, his hand was informally resting over her own no matter how much it may have violated decorum.
  
  The doors to the throne room burst open as a young, gold-blonde man marched in donning a medium armor bronze in color. His hand rested upon the long sword at his hip and his chin remained parallel with the floor if not slightly raised with pride. The man needed no announcement for the king and queen were very familiar with him. Prince Destinian Caroline, heir to the throne, and the royal family’s only child. He stopped before the steps of the throne and took a proper knee. Leaning in a slight bow, the prince greeted his parents: “Mother; Father.”
  
  Edmond’s white brows contracted as he gazed upon his son. He was wearing armor. Did he think he was going to war? “You’re wearing your armor,” the king curiously noted. He glanced to Michelle who gave him a concerned look.
  
  Destinian raised his head and smiled at his parents. “Yes, I am father. I have come here not to ask for your permission but to say goodbye.”
  
  Michelle blinked and asked her son, “Destin, what are you talking about? Where are you going?”
  
  “I am going to kill Ydis, mother.”
  
  The king stood abruptly from his seat as though the very mention of the god’s name would summon him in the court. “What? Boy, are you daft?”
  
  Michelle’s hand rose to her mouth as she gasped in horror.
  
  The prince rose to his feet and proudly defended, “No father. I am not daft. I am tired of hiding and sitting here waiting for those things to come here!” He thrust a hand down the throne room, indicating the direction of his future travel. “I am going to take 1,000 men and lead them into battle against the Titans. The mountain sleeps. Now is the time to attack!”
  
  “We know nothing about that monster. Our scouts get murdered every time they attempt to uproot anything about him. We need our soldiers here, and I will not have my son risk his life for naught. I have sent messengers throughout Beloriel to find heroes who will brave this task so that none of our people have to.”
  
  “And where are they?” Destinian questioned. He turned in a circle, pretending to search about. He faced his father, smiled and guffawed in his face, “Those birds were probably picked apart by the dragons or lost in the Forest of Whispers. All you did was notify the gods that we want to destroy them.”
  
  Edmond frowned. “If they are truly gods, then they already know whether I sent a dove or not. I forbid you to go. I will order every soldier not to follow you. I will have you bound to your quarters.”
  
  Michelle glanced frantically between her husband and son. “Edmond, please! You can’t lock up our son.”
  
  Destin’s face flushed red with anger. “You would lock up your only son! You’re such a coward. Why don’t you understand what I’m trying to do?”
  
  “I understand completely and your mission is foolish!”
  
  While the king and prince continued to bicker, the throne room doors opened. An escort passed through the doorway and announced throughout the throne room: “Sire! I do not mean to interrupt but some warriors have requested an audience with you. It concerns the doves.”
  
  The prince’s heart sank and his head snapped in the direction of the doors to see a group of grungy warriors standing behind the crier. He became speechless as his father anxiously descended the steps of the throne. Even in his old age, he jogged down the red strip of carpet to meet the party at the door. The king paced before them. His son curiously approached from behind, staring wide-eyed at the colorful group. Michelle eventually wandered over, feeling alone at her throne and hurried down the carpet in her white and beige flowing skirts.
  
  The warriors were filthy and smelled. The musk was so great the prince turned up his nose. Despite their odor, the king was scrutinizing them, weighing their experience with his eyes as though he were examining a fine horse. “Yes; look at you. Big; strong; you have weapons.”
  
  The king clapped his hands together and joyfully laughed. Destinian stared at his father as though he had lost his marbles. “Father; why are you laughing?”
  
  “Do you not see boy? They came! They’re here! Ah! And I’m being rude,” the king exclaimed. He walked in a circle shouting to his servants. “Bring food, water, wine, bring everything here! I am sure these warriors are tired and famished.”
  
  Destin didn’t at all look impressed, especially by the ugly one (Band’lur). “You want to feed strangers who appeared at our door claiming to be the heroes you seek? How do you know they’re not trying to fool you father? You could feed and clothe these barbarians, and then all they’ll do is run off, crawling back into their holes. I see nothing but bandits or they could even be envoys of the gods.”
  
  The prince boldly stepped closer to the group. His hand was upon the pummel of his sword as he stared each of them down. “Identify yourselves.”
  
  As much as the king wanted to protest his son’s treatment of their guests, he felt his lips part but no words left them. Deep down, at least in this moment, he knew his son was right. He had reacted out of desperation, but those warriors could have been con artists seeking to rob them of their hope.
  
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  [imageFloat=left][img](image url of character portrait. You can link the ones in the Characters tab if you want.)[/img][/imageFloat]
  [b]Name:
  Race:[/b] (Human or Demi-Human?)
  [b]Date/Time:[/b] 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning (Erase this parenthesis but for your information, 10 years "After Meteor" (A.M.).
  [b]Location:[/b] Where is your character?
  [b]Tagging:[/b] This is where you tag @mention those your character is talking to directly or thinking about. If not, then write "Open" if you are open for interaction and "Closed" if you don't want anyone interacting with your character at this time or Closed only to those specified.
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• Beloriel used to be a prosperous planet. Human and Demi-Human resided in peace until the meteor came. The area of the map now deemed “The Womb” was once a great city. It was the largest city in all of Beloriel, and it was ruled by a Demi-Human King and Queen. The meteor landed on the city, and in an instant, the Demi Kingdom was erased from existence. The Demi-Humans, another name for Beastmen, had lost their land of origin. But this catastrophe was only the beginning. Monsters unlike anything anyone had ever seen began to crawl, slither, and fly from the crater where the meteorite had landed. The creatures burned, ate, and ravaged the surrounding lands, wiping out villages, races, and people. Great sea monsters appeared in the oceans capsizing and destroying ships. Titans appeared on the frontier. Finally, seven powerful beings emerged. They called themselves gods and their desire was to assimilate and destroy. Entire armies were corrupted by the gods and turned on their own kingdoms. Civilizations bent the knee to the gods and sacrificed their humanity for the god’s power.
  
  Thousands of refugees fled to the west to the second largest kingdom now only known as “The Last Kingdom.” The Last Kingdom is the last haven where uncorrupted Humans and Demi-Humans reside. It is surrounded by the servants of the gods—their monsters—and has managed to survive with great sacrifice. Many guardians have been sacrificed in battles to protect the walls from being breached by the demons, and many have died in their desperate expeditions to find food. The gods seek to starve The Last Kingdom and break the people. Already, there are secret sects of worshipers appearing in the kingdom. Anyone caught worshiping the gods are quickly imprisoned for it won’t be long until they become one of the god’s monstrous disciples.
  
  The Last Kingdom, before it was known as such, was called Caroline. The Caroline King and Queen preside over it, and in their desperation, they sent out ten doves with a tiny scroll tied about their legs. The doves were a cry for help, a summons to any hero who still exist. Who was strong and brave enough to destroy the gods? It was a frightening task that many a warrior turned the other cheek to. Who could destroy a god? On a summons to The Last Kingdom, the Caroline Kingdom, our heroes emerge.
  
  
  
  
  
  There are seven extraterrestrial gods.
  
  ► Ydis, God of the Titans. They say he is the size of a mountain. When he sleeps, he becomes a mountain and from his rocky hide, the Titans are born. The smaller versions of the Children of Ydis are known as the Stone Men. They are at times the size of an average human, and are sculpted to resemble one. They can be very deceptive for one would only know they are talking to a Stone Man by touching their stone-like skin or studying their expressionless faces. No normal arrow or blade can pierce or cut their skin.
  ► Eulla, Goddess of the Fae. She makes her home in The Forest of Whispers, and her influence stretches to the Forest of the Father. The fairies, the elves, the gnomes, and dwarves, they are all her children, and they are all treacherous. Her magic is bewitching. Those who venture into the forests never return as themselves.
  ► Dhadros, God of Dragons. His children torch the planet, steal its riches, and gluttonize on all its people and food. It is no wonder the Dragon Lands are barren. They have been sucked dry by his children and slowly, his influence is spreading.
  ► Agnos, God of the Earth. They are neuter, male and female. They are The Great Worm. All worms are Children of Agnos. The worms put tunnels in the planet, drinking its nutrients dry like a worm through an apple. The worms cause great sink holes and will bury civilizations in the sand. They eat and they eat, devouring everything in their path. The Great Devourers. Beware crossing The Worm Lands.
  ► Isgaard, God of Ice. Isgaard desires only to preserve the planet in ice. His children are the Snow Men. The Snow Men are either made of ice or were once Human and Demi-Human. His ice is creeping down the mountains and gradually freezing the remaining civilizations.
  ► Manera, Goddess of the Sea and Storms. Her children are the mermaids and mermen. Her pets are the sea monsters. She will destroy anyone or anything who dares to cross into her waters without her permission and without sacrifice. She seeks to flood the entire planet. The Sea of Storms is her home, and there, it never stops raining.
  ► The Egg. It is a mysterious moon that appeared in the sky after the meteor dropped. It is white and resembles an egg. Every day under the sun’s incubating light, The Egg grows larger. During an eclipse, the sun shines through its shell and reveals the monster within. Its blood hue bathes the planet like a foreshadow that is to come. Who knows when The Egg will finally hatch, and who knows who gave birth to it?
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  If more rules need to be made, then this list will update as needed.
• Chapter One Summary: The God Slayers were summoned by the Last King of the Humans; King of Caroline; Edmond Caroline. After a rough reception, they were drafted into the Caroline prince’s army to confront the Titan god, Ydis. Faced against the god’s children, the army was near decimated. Working together, the God Slayers slayed who they thought was the god himself but was instead a lowly Centurion. Rescued by a red crow who was revealed to be a witch of the Witch’s Shallows, the God Slayers escape the wrath of Ydis and travel north.

 

[Axel The Englishman]

Name: Wil Ostberg, the Marshland Halberdier
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The King's Throne Room
Tagging: N/A

The last few days had been eventful, to say the least. The Toblins had been stirring up quite a ruckus in the Marshlands, and Ost had been paid a fair sum to deal with the problem. The matter had been resolved, but not before he could collect his reward. A courier dispatched by the King himself had called for him specifically. Word had spread about how the shadows of the Children of Ydis had been looming over the walls of Caroline and its people, and Edmund Caroline needed a skilled band of warriors in his service. Ost couldn't reject, for it would be treason. Not just against the King, but against his fellow kinsman too. Besides, this was wonderous opportunity for Ost to hone his skills.

Without a stead t ride, it had taken about a day and a half to reach the gates of Caroline. Ost had become accustomed to the sores on his feet, and now he paid them little attention. Once he had arrived, he pondered on how much the Kingdom had changed since his last visit. Ost would spend months away from the security of the Kingdom's walls, perfecting his craft away in distant foreign lands. But there was no time to take into account the sights. Ost had to get to the castle, as soon as possible.

Ost encountered six other fellow adventurers in the reception. A burly lizardman, whose scales glinted in the light of burning torches. A powerful knight, who seemed as if he carried about a sense of royalty with him. A humble maiden of the forest, whose purity was ever so visible. A warrior of some sort, who appeared to have come from a distant land to the south judging by his sun-kissed skin. What appeared to be a cunning rogue, though it was quite strange of her sort to being carrying about a longsword. A stoic giantess, who concealed her right eye with a patch forged from metal. And then there was Ost: half-armoured and exposing his sweat-stained shirt to an unwilling crowd. He kept the rest of his gear on his back. Whilst not the most presentable, surely there was no need for courtly customs in this hour of need.

It was evident that, once they were in the presence of the King himself, their status as heroes was brought into a question. A young lad - the prince in fact - was unimpressed with this display, and had approached the party with a hand on his sword. Ost ought to have put the brat in his place for this transgression, but it was probably considered poor taste to strike the son of a royal. Instead, he stepped forward. His audience was with the King, and no one else.

"My name is Wilhelm Ostberg." He announced.

"Son of Sir Klaus, who was once in service to your court, m'lord. As he did many years before, I am here to offer you my right hand."

 

[_Line 213]

Name: Annelia Lastelle du Lema
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The Throne Room
Tagging: N/A


Heavy footsteps and the clink of metal announced the arrival of the supposed heroes, Annelia counted amongst their number.

Her pace was brisk, rhythm heightened by impending business, but it did not come without a desire for pause, yet not due to nervousness. The walls and halls of the Carolinian castle were sights she thought she would never see, that she would only be able to imagine with the help of written description and patiently-etched imagery. Stone from her very own hills supported elegant carvings and masterful paintings, metal supports driven into individual blocks to hang tapestries many times older than she. Metalwork, wrought by the hands of her own countrymen, laced the halls with a delicateness that betrayed the strength of the material. The closeness of the two cities seemed nearly a relic in and of itself, given what now felt like immeasurable distance between them.

The great double-doors leading into the throne room were thrust open, the band of travelers presented before the king and queen of former Caroline with more desperation than fanfare; those assembled had barely spoken to one-another, such was their urgency. They had not even traded names, such was the state of their bond.

All things in due time, perhaps.

She had not expected a glowing reception. With the weight of the world upon the minds of each and every man and woman, such was perhaps too much to ask of anyone, especially not the sleepless king and queen before them. Yet, the young man within the chamber appeared to regard those present with a level of indignity that she had not accounted for. Indeed, he spoke against them all--even her, despite the crest upon her tabard. Even in isolation from her birthright, she had learned every detail of the seal of Caroline; and yet, in the midst of her court, it seemed that they had all forgotten her own.

As the man concluded his introduction, Annelia stepped forward, offering her own as she knelt before the king, head turned downward and one arm upon her knee. Her cloak shifted with her motion of respect, words rolling outward with sharpness yet flatness, as if her very tones had been honed to the point where they granted her voice a natural unfeeling, unbreakable weight. "My king. I present myself as Dame Annelia Lastelle du Lema, fourth daughter of Alfons Lastelle du Lema, Duke of the Province of Lema, under your crown." Giving space to her words, she returned to her full height, towering above all but two of the adventurers assembled. "Much like the esteemed Wilhelm Ostberg, my family has served your own for many generations." Despite continuing on in the same even, unwavering tone that she had introduced herself with, her words, now, appeared addressed to the prince, a single icy-blue eye locking onto him with the same unnatural steadiness embodied by her voice. "For years nigh-countless have your men sported weapons birthed from our forges, a duty given body in the form of the Highblade, something with which you are no doubt familiar."

Her eyes flicked forward to the true monarch. "It pains me to see that our house has fallen out of memory in generations most recent. Yet, such is understandable. I pray that my actions may rekindle the flame of remembrance within such minds once more." Perhaps her words had been more for the prince all along.

 

[fluticasone]

Name: Ryland Nustram
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The Throne Room
Tagging: N/A

It had been more than a decade since he last stepped foot in these halls. Gray eyes studied the changes; most had remained the same. Servants continued to scurry around unseen and barely heard. The same ostentatious paintings still decorated the walls once every few steps. He even recognized a couple from his days patrolling this very building; memories that felt like they happened a lifetime ago. But these similarities to his past were eclipsed by the changes that did occur.

Nobles once made regular visits to the castle, filling the air with their gossip and sending the servants scrambling to fulfill their demands. Extravagant flower arrangements had marked the halls at regular intervals, attended to by the royal family's preferred florists. Now the atmosphere hung heavy, slipping into every crevice and nook with no blooms to dispel the gloom. He knew the flowers had been a luxury, but now Ryland understood why there had once been so many.

His present company did nothing to help the mood. No one spoke, even so much shared a name. He couldn't blame them, as he himself had an expression befitting of one hitting the gallows. It wasn't the task at hand that caused the expression; it was the place. For him, the Last Kingdom's castle was a place where his ideals were ignored and birthright stood above all else, even in the face of right and wrong. But now was not the time to think about scorned ideals. They had arrived at the double doors to the throne room, and he would soon come face to face with the royal family. There were problems bigger than his own disillusionment. The very same problems he and the others around him had been summoned to solve.

Ryland was not surprised to hear animosity in the prince's voice. He was the picture of every naive noble child he'd encountered in his squire years. As he did many years before, he chose to ignore his ilk. The introductions of the two before him registered in his mind; he'd heard stories of both in his travels. He had no doubt he'd have heard of everyone else as well. When the two finished, he stepped forward and knelt onto one knee. Despite the time that passed, the action they'd been forced to perfect for years had not left him as easily as others had. As he did, he brought out a small medal, laying it on the flat of his palm as he raised it to the king. On it was the crest of the royal family, embedded against a shield. It was something given to men as they became knights of Caroline.

"Ryland Nustram, once one of your knights." He paused, allowing that to register. "I left with your permission, eventually founding Belvedere. I now kneel before you as their leader."

 

[Ramjammer]

Name: Band'lur Wallbreaker
Race: Demi-Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning.
Location: The Throne Room
Tagging: Open.


"Alright. Gather 'round and listen, you lil' shits."

Anyone listening to Band'lur address the group of small dirty children in front of him, would be naturally inclined to assume that he didn't like them. His voice was coarse, and even when squatting near the ground, his hulking form towered over them. A scarred face seemed to scowl more than anything down at the little orphans, and the man's eyes glinted keenly as he stared at them. The Lizardman seemed ready to make the gaggle of children his next meal, and worse still, not a single adult in the cramped and dirty street seemed poised to stop him.

None of that mattered to the children, however. They trotted towards Band'lur at the sound of his voice, tumbling over each other like a band of puppies. They were underweight, dirty, and dressed raggedly. All in all, each one fit perfectly the image of an Orphan living in the Last Kingdom. Bright smiles and gleaming eyes met Band'lur's gaze, and one little girl made it a point to climb on the man's back. She sat up there with her chin propped in both hands, knowing that her bony elbows would do nothing to harm the Demi-Human's thick skull. The other children crowded closer. A pair reached out to hold each of Band'lur's large hands, mindful of the claws that adorned them. Another held tightly onto his tail like a doll. The children knew what adults of the kingdom did not. At least adults that chose to remain blind to the world around them. There was no danger when Band'lur was around, not for them. Certainly not for anyone that truly knew the man.

Which is why each one of the assembled children did their very best to annoy Band'lur.

"You shouldn't say shit." The little girl perched on his back said. "That's a bad word."

"It is a bad word." Band'lur replied. "And you just said it right now, so shut your tiny mouth and listen. I got somethin' important to say."

Another child's hand shot up, the boy looking unbelievably smug for someone that was essentially homeless. "Bandy, you said we were allowed to say one swear word each!" The Lizardman stared at the boy with exasperation written clearly on his scaled face. "On your birthdays! Is it Lucille's birthday?" He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful before reach back and around to pull the girl off of his back and hold her up to his face. "Lucille, is it your birthday?"

The girl shrugged as she dangled there in Band'lur's hands. "I dunno."

The man set her down with the rest of the children and shook his head. "I'm gonna have a talk with your school teacher before I leave. Now listen. Bandy has some business to take care of at the Castle. 'm goin' to meet the King."

Another girl piped up, eyes gleaming bright with excitement as she stared at the Lizardman. "Are you going to kick his ass like you always say you will?"

Band'lur pointed a claw at the girl. "That is not the endgame for today's meeting, but it is absolutely on the table." The man's statement was punctuated by a small 'Yes!' from the girl. "Because as you all know, Band'lur can, and will beat anyone's ass. And if you kids come across someone that says otherwise, they're a liar, have poor taste, and are not to be trusted under any circumstances." All of the children nodded sagely as if this was the most reasonable thing in the world to them.

"Alright, now listen. You all know I gotta leave these walls soon." The Lizardman said. "So you all need to take care of each other while 'm gone. Might be a week. Might be a year. Nobody knows, least of all you lot, since apparently not a one of you can read a damn calendar." At that, another child's hand shot up and he waved it around excitedly. "The man that lives under the bridge says that time isn't real anyway and that every action we take is just another step in the long march towards death."

"Yer gonna stop goin' to visit the man under the bridge. And if you see him, you take a long march in the opposite direction." Came the Lizardman's stern reply. The boy only huffed in mild consternation amidst giggles from his peers and lowered his hand.

Band'lur was fairly positive that the children would be alright while he was gone. They lived in the Orphanage and the Matron took care of them as best she was able. The streets weren't the safest place for a child, but all of them were quick and fairly clever. While homes and parents could not be afforded to them, the little Shanty town's adults kept a close eye on them. Offering a meal in exchange for errands and chores completed for them. It wasn't an ideal system by any stretch. But it was far preferable to what they'd had when Band'lur had first arrived.

Unfortunately, children had a tendency to pick up habits from all sorts of places, and Band'lur didn't want them to start getting any weird ideas. Or at least any ideas that were weirder than what a child would normally conceive.

The Lizardman stood with a sigh and an audible creaking of his knees. A few of the children laughed at the signs of Band'lur's advancing age, and the Demi-Human hushed them. "Be quiet, else I'll start puntin' you over the wall. A man's age is no laughing matter!" He did not want to linger for too long. Saying goodbye to the Children was never enjoyable and Band'lur knew that this time he'd be gone for far longer than any of them were prepared for. The longer he stretched the ordeal, the harder it would be to leave and Band'lur could slowly feel his resolve beginning to crumble.

"C'mere. Give ol' Bandy a hug. There we go." He chuckled gruffly as a mass of limbs assaulted his legs and patted the children's heads one by one. "Be good. Listen to your Elders, but you know how to tell which ones is lookin' out for you yeah? The bad ones you don't pay any mind. Now get outta here, 'm sick of lookin' at you." He sent the gaggle of children away amidst a chorus of screams and laughter. They disappeared from the man's sight almost immediately, but he could still hear their crowing for a while after.

Band'lur was positive that he would miss that sound most of all.

He wasted no more time then, hoisting his satchel filled with personal effects over one shoulder and pushing his way into the shabby throng. Band'lur worried a lot. About the children, about the other good men and woman trying to eke out a living in the shadow of the Wall. About what sorts of foul people that might slither their way back in while he was gone. They were all valid concerns, and Band'lur wondered if answering the King's summons was worth the effort. Who would look after everyone while he was gone?

His answer came in the form of friendly nods and smiles from the other townspeople.

Well, they would look after each other of course. How could he have been so foolish?

In the slums, there were very few rules to be had. Any and everything was fair game. But the past decade had given way to a new law within the fringes of the Last Kingdom.

You avoided bothering Band'lur and anything he happened to be taking an interest in.

It was a rule met with some pushback in the sprawling ghettos of the Last Kingdom. Particularly among the wretched masses' more 'distinguished' citizens. Thieves, Smugglers and all manner of people with ill intent made an effort to get rid of the Lizardman in some capacity. But Band'lur wasn't having it. He'd come to like the Slums just fine. He'd found good folk among the refuse, still clinging to hope in the steadily darkening days. And so he set himself down among the rickety shacks cramped in too narrow streets and did one of the few things he was any good at.

Namely, he beat the everloving shit out of anyone that managed to irritate him.

Band'lur was NOT liked among the slum's rougher denizens, but that dislike was overshadowed by fear. The Lizardman wasn't subtle and was overwhelmingly stubborn. And word passed around quickly that if Band'lur didn't approve of something that you were doing, you'd hear about it loudly and violently.

If Band'lur didn't want Loan Sharks, shaking down struggling merchants for a few coins, he'd chase them off and they simply wouldn't come back. If Band'lur didn't want thieves making off with hard-earned food and money that the innocent had managed to scrape up, he'd beat them senseless and redistribute whatever they'd taken. If Band'lur didn't want men old enough to know better trying to lure girls that obviously didn't into their beds and into back alleys, they'd meet an early grave but not a well dug one.

The Lizardman had in essence, showed up out of the blue one day, decided that he made the rules and everyone had to deal with it.

Of course, those that disliked the new rules were vastly outnumbered by those that did. The slums were not a pleasant place. Guards did not make it a point to come there, and the Nobels did their best to forget that they existed at all. Food was hard to come by, and money harder still. The people were dirty, exhausted, and hungry. But they had something that was in short supply. They had hope.

Over the years they'd began to stand a little straighter, smile a little brighter. They laughed more than they cried and shared what little they had with each other. Not all of the people were strong like Band'lur. But hardship had taught them to endure and strife taught them to adapt. Those that knew anything about wielding a weapon taught those that didn't. Anyone that could fight kept watch on the corners and from the rooftops. Those in Power had seemingly forgotten about the people living in the slums. And so they watched each other. Chattering Housewives kept an ear out for trouble, and the Rumor Mill was put to good use, alerting people of rising danger.

Not all could be saved. The Slums were vast, and Evil was stubborn. But even those that perished didn't die cast aside and forgotten. Graves were dug, tears shed, and flowers laid at headstones. Where the world forgot the poor, they chose to remember each other. Even in a world where monsters gnawed constantly at the courage of people until there was nothing left, they had each other.

Band'lur was warmed by the thought.



The Castle was exactly as ostentatious as the Lizardman had expected. Soaring towers and gleaming walls greeted him outside and the Lizardman fought back the urge to start punching everyone and everything around him. It came as no shock to him that the closer he got to the Castle, the higher the quality of life became. But that did not mean the Lizardman had to like any of it. The Rich were not people that Band'lur admired in the slightest. He found them wasteful, far too arrogant and utterly blind to what was happening around them.

'As if coin will save any of your asses when the wall come tumblin' down.' The Demi-Human thought irritably as he was led through the cavernous halls of the castle. Here everything looked new, even if it was immeasurably old. The stones in the walls and floors shone with glistening polish, and Band'lur's clawed feet clacked loudly as he jogged after his appointed escort. It was all rather jarring to the Demi-Human's humble sensibilities. Stones were meant to be left in the dirt where you found them. Sometimes you picked them up and hurled them at people you didn't like. And if you found one that was particularly round and smooth, you gave it to the person you fancied.

But you didn't cut and arrange them into tiles, and you certainly didn't POLISH them.

Aside from the regular click-clack of Band'lur's clawed feet, the trip was oppressively silent. The people around Band'lur seemed equally disinterested in their surroundings as best as he could tell. But moreover, they were silent. Too silent. Band'lur didn't like it in the slightest. The Lizardman was a talker, but something about the air of the Castle pricked at his instincts, urging him to be silent. A few of the people within the ragtag group seemed at least familiar with this sort of place, undoubtedly they were Human. At least they smelled Human to the Lizardman. But sweat and an assortment of other unpleasant odors made it somewhat hard to tell.

Clearly, these were the other Heroes that the King had called for. Each one looking exhausted, grimy, and slightly suspicious. While the Demi-Human couldn't quite confirm it, he got the sense that all of these people were incredibly dangerous in their own ways. Trusting them with his life was sure to end in disaster.

All in all, Band'lur had a good feeling about these people.

They were shuffled unceremoniously into the where the King and Queen awaited them and their escort left with nary a backward glance or word. Band'lur had heard of the King and Queen, but he wasn't quite sure what to make of them. They were Human, that much was clear. As was their increasingly obnoxious son, if the word 'Father' held any meaning. The aging man and woman in front of Band'lur certainly looked rather typical for Humans. But he could see deep tiredness in their eyes, and an air of sadness clung to the two if even faintly.

To Band'lur, the King and Queen of Caroline looked about as sick of everything as the rest of the Kingdom.

The loud brat's demands that they introduce themselves was about impressive as hand he rested pointedly on his hand. If the Prince meant business, he was certainly acting the part. But Band'lur refused to be impressed by anyone that actively chose to wear a shirt while trying to be threatening. The Humans knelt as a show of their reverence, and as a sign of their station. They were or had been in the case of one man, Knights. To them, this must have been a rather typical affair. Service to the King and all in his name was undoubtedly familiar to them. But it was not so with Band'lur.

The Lizardman was not a Knight. And for the longest time, he'd been only vaguely aware of the King's existence. He wasn't sure what the standard protocol was for a man in his position right now, but he at least attempted to be polite.

All things considered, that amounted to absolutely nothing.

The burly Demi-Human swaggered forward with an easy grin and greeted the royals in a booming voice. "Well met! Well met! 'm Band'lur the Wallbreaker, 's nice meetin' you fine folks! Now, don't let the name worry you none. This ol' Lizard promises not to go knockin' these walls down. And might I say that this is a lovely home you folks got here. Very lovely. A bit big for my tastes, not enough furs either. But to each their own." The Demi-Human's crass manner drew no shortage of gasps from the assembled Servants, and at least one visibly cringed.

'Band'lur you are absolutely nailing this.' The Lizardman thought proudly to himself. He bowed at the waist before the king, continuing to ramble on from his position. "I found one of your birds! It was in a snare I set, don't worry I didn't eat it. Doves 'ain't good eatin', so I sent in on back. Read the scroll and now here I am!" Band'lur straightened back up, continuing to loom over the trio with an easy grin. "'m uh....here about the Monster problem. And the Titan problem. And a bunch of other problems that need fixin'. Don't yall worry none, Band'lur will do the very best he can, so you can count on me!"

He shuffled back into line, thereby allowing the person next to him to introduce themselves. As far as Band'lur was concerned, he'd made an incredible first impression. He might have even been the most liked person in the entire room.

But he probably wasn't.

 

[Euaion]

Name: Ynyri/Niri Allementhium
Race: Demi-human; snake.
Date/Time: 736 A.M.; Spring; Morning.
Location: The kings throne room.
Tagging: Open(?)

10 long years and now it was time for a gathering if the great to fight back these gods. Niri has been rather tired of these faefolk, whom taken hold over the forest of whispers; her home. She is too stubborn to let the fae completely take over, so she lived as a guardian of sort, for those who traveled long and far through the now dangerous lands to seek sanctuary in the Last Kingdom. The serpent like woman honestly wished nothing more but for her peaceful forest to return to the way it was before- for the world to return to the way it was.

For 10 long years, Niri was somber and less jovial among those who she lead through the forest, a strange coldness taking over the druid who - despite her cold blooded attributes, was warm to any she crossed. With this, Niri has grown more distant. Afraid. She soon rarely spoke to anyone. But all of that will change when a little dove came with wings of hope and a letter from the royal family. The contents it had ignited a new sense of purpose, and Niri made her way through the forest with the idea to come back stronger and with others.

The womans arrival to the kingdom she had aided many to, she had to admit it was quite beautiful, though with the moral so low, it felt as if it was a living grave. She listened to the people murmur among each other, of heros entering the kingdom to save them. It peaked her curiosity, hearing a few familiar names. It made Niri feel less anxious about what is to come and who she will see. She trusted the stories the wind and people carry.

It took a while for Niri to actually find the others and the throne room. She had to find people who were guardians of this grand home. It made her curious why everyone lived outside such a beautiful place. The woman was now standing among heros of all sorts, whom had such an outstanding presence. She, herself, did not have much if one, though she came off as meek. It made her feel out of place.

Niri then took a small step forward, eyes trained on the prince who was awfully rude at first, to call everyone here liars. Its almost the end of their world, who would do such a thing if not the gods? "I am Ynyri. There are people who call me the Heart of the Forest of Whispers. Your little dove flew strong and your words invoke hope. I am pleased to gather in service of our world." She says, a thin graceful smile upon her lips. Her eyes shine in the tall glass windows, shimmering with a strange colorful reflection.

 

[RI.a]

Name: Luna/Tatiana Yurievna
Race: Demi-human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: Castle Throne Room
Tagging: The Black Knight Euaion Ramjammer fluticasone _Line 213 Axel The Englishman

It took an entire day for the demi-human to reach the outskirts of the Last Kingdom. The sun had set a while ago as she passed through the entrance. Dark stains blotted her clothing and her dark hair stuck to her face and neck. "Curse the sun", "bring winter back", was what the young girl muttered countless times throughout her journey; her flask long empty before the sky turned dark. The guards let her through without question, though she could have sworn one gave her a stink eye. She didn't know who shat in his bowl, but she couldn't care less. She needed water, stat. Surely she could afford to get something to drink before meeting the ones who sent the message.

There was a surprising amount of humans and demi-humans within meters of the walls. She wasn't used to being around so many especially during the night. The townsfolk outside the walls would have secured their doors and windows by now. While people were spilling out on the streets, she realised it wasn't because the walls kept them safe. But rather it was because the derelict buildings had no space to house everyone. Scared eyes of the young and old watched the newcomer pass. A tugging feeling in her heart as she passed by members of society that had all lost their homes.

The closer Luna got to the grand castle, the less people there were on the streets. The paths became even and clean, the buildings became taller and the windows were still lit. Upon entering an inn, the floor became quiet and all eyes set on her. She cautiously carried on to the barkeep and placed a few silver and copper coins on the counter. "Is this enough for water, food and a bed?" Her voice coarse as she asked him.

The skinny middle-aged man snorted, continuing to wipe the glass with a cloth. "We don't serve your kind here." Kind? Luna didn't understand his use of the word. She wasn't a monster, and she could pay for the things she's asked for. But she's seen this kind of treatment before in a couple of towns. The humans refused to share their resources with demi-humans even if they had a common enemy. Guess the kingdom was no different. Luna rolled her eyes and collected her coins. She wouldn't want to spend on this selfish establishment anyway.

With her unsuccessful attempt, Luna searched for a river. Surely such a big kingdom would have one, and using her senses she found one. She jumped down to the concrete banks and filled her flask. Hungrily gulping down the cooling liquid, she made sure the flask was full again before leaving. Scaling a wall, she easily got up to the roof. The view was certainly one she's never seen before. And the Kingdom was a lot bigger than she thought. Settling on the tiled roof, she put her mask on. She didn't feel secure without it at night.

Luna kept her mask on even when morning came. Since the humans here were unfair towards demis, she didn't think the leaders were any different. The guards at the castle questioned her this time, asking for her purpose. The masked figure dug through her bag for the small scroll. Her voice was slightly muffled due to the mask as she handed the paper to the guard. "I got this message."

The guard inspected the message, his eyes flicking between her and the paper. "What about the dove?"

"I had it for supper."

A look of shock flashed on the guard's face at how fast the strange fighter responded before composing himself with a fake cough. "T-this way," He stuttered before escorting her. It wasn't long before Luna was accompanied by a few more. A couple of armoured men, a woman of steel, a giant lizard, and a dainty looking maiden. Were they all here for the same purpose? The silence among them as they waited for an audience with the people in charge certainly didn't answer the question. Finally, they were brought to another grand room, but before the old man could explain things, the young blonde demanded their names. One would think they'd share their own before asking others.

One by one, the men and women introduced themselves. Luna watched as they did. The armoured knights kneeled, the Wallbreaker had a long speech, and the maiden-- Ynyri thankfully brought the session back down to a level of comfort. When it came to her turn, Luna peeled her black mask off, her fluffy black ears sprung up from her head and her round blue eyes studied the three assumed leaders. "I am Luna from Darkwich Village. Some call me Nightwalker because I kill monsters at night." She paused, "I came to kill the bigger monsters." Her answer was straightforward, she didn't know how else to put her reason being there. She did however, have something to say about the castle.

"If you are the leaders of the kingdom, why do you not share the castle with the people outside? I was taught that leaders should not keep resource to themselves but share it with those that have none. Does that not apply here?" The girl's insolence could easily cause her to be kicked out, but she has no knowledge of the hierarchy, no allegiance to the Kingdom. So in her eyes, everyone was equal.

 

[The Black Knight]

Edmond’s pale brows rose when a son of Sir Klaus knelt before him. He hadn’t expected the offspring of one of his knights. The doves must have traveled the world and yet a hero was so close. “Klaus,” the king uttered thoughtfully. “Forgive me, but I am surprised. I didn’t know he had a son, and I did not expect his son to come here and offer me his sword or well…” The king managed to smile through the stress that had been wrinkling his brows of late. “…his right hand.”

Destinian regarded Wil with half-lidded eyes as he bluntly spoke: “I am certain your father knew how to kneel before his king.”

The tall woman stepped forth next, she having learned from the first warrior’s mistake (so the prince believed). She bent the knee and addressed his father as should be expected. As Annelia revealed who she was, the king was stunned once more. He echoed, “Lema?” Before the dame had finished. Another loyally in service to the crown had come forth. “Yes; I know Lema.”

The king brushed a hand against his cape, pushing it back to reveal the pummel of his own sword. “This sword is Leman Truesteel.”

The prince smiled proudly when the woman, taller than even him had looked his way. His hand clapped the pummel of his own sword as he interjected: “As is mine. Thank you; because of your people’s smithing skills The Last Kingdom still stands. Unlike the other whose shadow our kingdom always stood in.”

Edmond cleared his throat. His son’s cutting comment and smug smile had made his heart skip nervously. He wasn’t sure if his son was familiar with Demi-Humans, but they had various forms from beastman to partial and the king from his own personal experience maintaining relations with them knew that there were three among them besides the most evident one. Destin always saw the Demi-Humans as inferior to the humans, and he was perhaps envious of their strength and how the Kingdom of Anima had been the most powerful land, air, and sea force before its demise.

Ryland knelt next, introducing himself with a badge. The king stepped forward to closely inspect it. Throughout his many years alive, he knew what a real Caroline crest looked like. They were difficult to imitate like the Leman Truesteel craftworks. “Welcome back Sir Nustram. Belvedere you say. Does The Last Kingdom have the swords of your band?”

Destinian raised a hand before his mouth to stifle a yawn. He was starting to regret asking the warriors for their names. If he knew that introductions would have taken this long, then he would have spared himself. He regretted stopping his father for a feast and a cup of wine were too desirable in that moment. The sudden approach by the overgrown lizard made the prince’s eyes glint as though threatened. He rushed between the lizard and his father, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword but still not drawing it.

“Get back!” he warned.

Edmond grasped his son’s arm. His grip was firm and scolding in nature as he looked Destin in his eyes when he turned his head. “Calm yourself. I am convinced that these warriors are not here to harm us. Three of them have served me, and I am certain they would not let any harm befall The Last King.”

Destinian glanced back at Band’lur and frowned. His hand lowered from his sword as his nerves settled a little. The beast was monstrous. He looked like one of Dhadros’s spawn. “Did your mother mate with a dragon?” Destin asked. The implication may have been deemed insulting, but it was an honest, ignorant question.

Michelle scurried over to her son and husband. She saw that Edmond was doing his best to keep the peace, but Destinian was being unreasonable. She stood before her son, facing the warriors with her hands folded against her lap. She gazed up at Band’lur and said, “Thank you Lord Wallbreaker. We are grateful to have your power among those who’ve braved the journey here. I feel at ease. You appear strong enough to fell a Titan.”

An exotic woman seemed to smoothly creep forward. Michelle gazed upon the blue and white scales that covered her cheeks and neck. She said she was from the Forest of Whispers, and it explained her earthly adornments. The queen was speechless and uncertain. The Forest of Whispers was a treacherous and deceptive place. She had heard horrible tales about the Goddess Eulla. In her opinion, she had been the most frightening of all. Destin stepped to the side to glare suspiciously passed his mother at Ynyri: “You say you are from The Forest of Whispers? How can you convince us that you are not a servant of the goddess? Eulla uses many tricks. She could be tricking us now.”

A nervous tension settled over the room that even the guards were regarding Ynyri as a potential threat—even more than Band’lur. The masked woman unveiled her face next and for a moment, Destin’s eyes widened in surprise. If not for the black ears that raised upon her head, Destin may have been able to put his prejudice aside and see her as beautiful. The Nightwalker as she identified herself was rude and a fool. Shame. He had hoped she would have been different from the other Demi-Humans.

Destin stepped passed his mother to stand before Luna, scowling at her. “Because everyone wants to kill my father. He is The Last King. The Last Human King, and if the gods kill him, then all hope in this kingdom will die with him. You come here to kill the gods, but you don’t sound like you know anything about them. Darkwich? Is that some hole in the wall? Any of those people out there, and even you, could be a disciple of the gods. We are accepting a great risk allowing you here. You all claim to have answered the doves, then why aren’t there more of you? Why didn’t you bring an army with you? There’s only six of you, and you are to convince us that you six will destroy all the gods? You must think were mental or your hubris blinds you. Prior to all of you coming here, I was about to leave with a thousand men to go slay Ydis myself. A thousand men. Not six.” Destin happened to glance at the one warrior who hadn't spoken or made any effort to introduce himself. Six…there were indeed six. Destin regarded the warrior as though he were gazing upon a barbarian.

The silent warrior’s blonde hair had grown so long that it hung like wheat over his shoulders and his beard was curly and thick kept tame by possibly a small blade. He wore leathers and smelled musky like the rest of them. Out of all the warriors who had presented themselves so far, he resembled one off the streets. Was the dove a lucky find? “And who are you?”

Name: King Leonhardt Animaeus
Race: Demi-Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: Caroline Castle
Tagging: Axel The Englishman RI.a Euaion Ramjammer fluticasone _Line 213

The warrior’s golden eyes motioned to the prince briefly before they gazed absently across the room. He answered, “No one.”

Destin grinned and laughed. He glanced between “No One” and his father. “Do you see now father? Anyone could have received those doves.” He stepped closer to the long-haired warrior and inspected his overall appearance. “Well at least this one is honest. What were your intentions? Did you want to rob us? Eat our food and leave?”

The quiet warrior’s eyes darted over to the prince as he gazed upon him. Despite his insults, the warrior’s eyes were nonchalant and gentle. He answered, “I did not come here to rob your family. I came here because I received a cry for help. You don’t have to feed me; clothe me; or give me anything—in fact, I will sleep outside. I have come here to inform you that I am here to slay the gods, and I do not intend to fail.”

The royals fell silent. Even the prince was having a difficult time constructing a jeer or witty response. His smile was crooked as he laughed weakly. “Well…” He blanked on a statement. The prince stepped back from the group and observed them as one party. The king stared at the quiet stranger. His posture and the manner in which he spoke, even with all that hair and dirt hiding his face, he had a feeling that he wasn’t a “No One.” There was something…familiar about him. Had he seen him before? Was he crazy for thinking so?

“I think I’ve had a change of mind, Father. Since these warriors who claim to be strong enough to take down the gods have traveled all the way here, I want to make them a part of my army. Me; these six; and a thousand men. We will destroy Ydis. I will then be able to witness their might on the battlefield for myself.”

“We will discuss this another time,” King Edmond said—exasperated by his son’s insistence to ride off to his death. “All of you will join me for a feast, whether you’re bandits, crooks, or actual heroes. I believe in you—I want to believe in you because I don’t believe in anyone or anything anymore. My life, this kingdom, and my family are all I have left to lose until then, I open my doors to you God Slayers.”

Leonhardt found his mind meditating over what the king had said. He had time to fear losing everything. Leonhardt didn’t know which he would have preferred: fearing his family's and kingdom’s demise or having it all disappear before he had a chance to do so. He had cried alone. Leon’s lips tightened with restrained anger. This was not the time or place for his reflections.

“Come please,” the king beckoned with the wave of his hand. He led the six into an adjacent chamber with a massive banquet table at the center. His summons from earlier had led to it becoming adorned with silver dishes, napkins, candelabras, and the lidded gleaming domes of steel platters. Cooked meats and spices permeated the air like a warm broth. “Please have a seat,” the king happily insisted. “We don’t have much, but we have enough to give to saviors of the kingdom.”

Destinian narrowed his eyes as he muttered, “They aren’t saviors yet.”

 

[Axel The Englishman]

Name: Wil Ostberg, the Marshland Halberdier
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The King's Throne Room
Tagging: The Black Knight

To not punch the young prince in his flapping gums was a battle of the mind. He was far from presenting himself as someone that was even remotely likeable, but even then it was impossible to put his sort back in their place, without finding themselves head down on the executioner’s block. No, Ost would have to bear through this annoyance with every fibre of his being. The sooner Ydis was dead, the better.

But even then, he had the feeling that this young brat doubted the extent of his abilities. Perhaps even the King himself was unsure. Such an insult would dig deep into his skin, and he felt the urge to make it clear that he was stronger than a thousand swords put together. This was an extreme, but Ost only deals in extremes.

“Stop!” Ost seized his sword by the hilt, drawing it up into the air, before aiming the tip of the blade directly at the prince himself. Servants gasped, shocked that a mere mercenary would dare draw his weapon upon royalty. Tension was in the air; more so than there was before.

“I see no reason to state the obvious, but it is abundantly clear that my skill has been brought into question. And I will not stand for such doubt...” Ost exclaimed, ensuring that everyone - even the King - had his attention.

“I will show you all that you have no reason to doubt. Bring forth your strongest soldiers, should you wish to be proven wrong. Be it the entire Carolinian Army, if that’s what you want! No matter who they are or how many there are of them, I can - nay, I will defeat anyone who stands against me!”

 

[The Black Knight]

Name: King Leonhardt Animaeus
Race: Demi-Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: Caroline Castle
Tagging: Axel The Englishman

As the mercenary drew his sword, the queen gasped in fright when Ost directed it at her son. She rushed to his side and stood between him and the sword with her skirts clenched in her hands. Destinian turned, his blonde brows raised in surprise. His blue eyes settled on the blade before they motioned to his father. “I am surprised that one of your 'loyal servants' would draw a sword on me,” Destinian said with hardly any surprise in his voice. A smirk cocked on his face as he savored how he had riled the warrior up.

King Edmond was unnerved and his anger was growing. “What is the meaning of this? I invite you into my home and you draw a sword on my only son!”

Leonhardt frowned. Was this the kind of warriors he would have to deal with? He was more disappointed in anyone who would rise to the prince’s baiting. The long-haired warrior calmly approached Ost and stopped next to him. His golden, leonine eyes settled on the mercenary while he still continued to point his sword at the prince. “What do you have to prove that you don’t already know? Why should they waste their soldiers on your ego? If you can slay a god, then show them when the time comes. Put your sword away before your selfish desires gets everyone put in chains;” Leon had kept his tone low for the two of them. Although, anyone with unnatural hearing could have heard the conversation.

Leonhardt stayed at Ost’s side staring at him, waiting for him to sheathe his sword and retract his declaration.

 

[Axel The Englishman]

Name: Wil Ostberg, the Marshland Halberdier
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The King's Throne Room
Tagging: The Black Knight

Ost took note of the hooded warrior that stepped between and the prince. He was indeed a visage of physical power, tucked beneath a soiled façade of overgrown hair and unwashed pores. It almost amazed him; even in the Marshlands, there will still standards of hygiene. But there was truth to his words, regardless of how he felt. Slaughtering an entire army does little to boost relations between a mercenary and his contractor, nor does it help them in the slightest when they face off against the Titans.

Ost conceded. It may have gone against his principles, but at the end of the day he still wanted his pay. He sheathed his sword as quickly as he drew it, but abstained from removing his hand from the hilt. He spat on the cobbled floor, hoping the disgust of yielding so easily would leave his body. But he wasn't done just yet. "My father may have been a knight in service to your court, your majesty..." He stared him in the eyes with a brow just as furrowed as his.

"But, I am not another dog on a leash, nor am I just as expandable." Finished, he fell back in with the rest of the mercenary party, but not before exchanging glances with prince.

 

[_Line 213]

Name: Annelia Lastelle du Lema
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The Throne Room
Tagging: Axel The Englishman , The Black Knight


A confrontation, yet the giant remained ever-silent.

This courtroom was a strange place, full of people who were more than prepared to act and overreact, if the gasping of the king and queen and sudden spikes of hostility and defensiveness were anything to go on. To Annelia, even though the man's actions were coated thickly with an uncouth veneer, his message and intentions were more than clear, and more than logical. Indeed, she had expected a test of some sort far before a banquet. And, so it was, either to cover or to clarify, that her single blue eye flicked back to the king as she offered her own words.

"If I may distill this man's behavior into something more acceptable," she began, her voice raised slightly, giving it just enough power to ring out through the courtroom, and hopefully hold the king and queen's respective attentions, "though his motions may appear laced with aggression, I would posit that his judgement, as strange as such may seem, is rather sound."

She turned to her supposed comrades for several moments, looking them up and down as a collective before turning her eye to Ostberg and the remains of his rescinded challenge. "Though your belief in us is appreciated, your hope is ultimately empty and borne on the backs of the lives of your people without so much as the slightest examination of our respective capabilities. And, without knowing what all here are capable of, so is the effectiveness of our own supposed party diminished. This is something that both the summoned Ostberg and the prince seem to understand, even if they voice said understanding from opposite ends. Just as one would not admit a man to your personal guard without examining his chivalry and swordplay, one must not place the everyday lives of hundreds of thousands upon an unproven few with little more than good faith. I would say, then, that though the summoned Ostberg may appear out of line, at their base his actions and desire to prove himself before you are the marker of any truly just man. I would only expect the opposite--unwillingness to demonstrate, to act, to prove, to reassure--from liars and thieves who wish to take advantage of the hospitality you have so readily and generously offered."

A brief shift of her gaze toward the prince. "That, I am sure, is something that we all wish to avoid."

With that, her steeled blue returned to the king. "If we decide we are tired from our journey, then allow us to rest, so we may have our wits about us. If we are hungry, then allow us to eat, so that you may see us at our best. Yet, see through the mention of challenge; there is nothing but benefit to it."

 

[Ramjammer]

Name: Band'lur Wallbreaker
Race: Demi-Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning.
Location: The Throne Room
Tagging: _Line 213 Axel The Englishman Euaion

The little Prince was growing more obnoxious by the second. Band'lur wasn't sure how the boy had managed to stay alive for as long as he had. Particularly with a mouth and attitude so foul. Well, when he really thought about it, Band'lur knew the reason well enough. A title and a good bloodline could afford people much. Oftentimes far more than they deserved in the Lizardman's honest opinion. Still, the Lizardman was adamant on behaving himself during the meeting. He was in another person's home after all. Invited as a gesture of not only goodwill but hope as well. It wouldn't do for Band'lur to misbehave, much as he wanted to.

And so Band'lur had smiled crookedly as the little Prince gripped his blade and ordered him to stand back. He'd rewarded the man a gruff chuckle for his overly bold and ignorant question. "A Dragon? No, my Mama didn't marry no Dragon. Hell, as I recall she WAS the Dragon. Boy, that woman damn sure had a temper, I tell ya." He replied happily. Band'lur was willing to ignore the Prince, to disregard the man's scathing statements and hateful looks. But it was admittedly growing harder by the moment.

Because the boy just wouldn't shut the Hell up.

Every person that stepped forward. Every new face. Every name uttered drew the young man's ire. Band'lur could not help but feel a flare of anger on behalf of the other Demi-Humans present. They'd dragged themselves all the way to the Castle to answer the King's summons personally after all. The very least that the boy could do was show a smidgen of gratefulness.

"I tell you. If he were my kid, I'd have popped him in the mouth long before now." The Lizardman muttered quietly to the scaled woman next to him. Band'lur wasn't quite sure as to how Humans raised their children. But both the King and Queen seemed to be pleasant individuals. Surely they hadn't raised their son to be such a brat, had they? No, it had to be something else. Perhaps the boy had been dropped as a child? Whatever the case, his attitude wasn't just rubbing Band'lur the wrong way.

Another man, Ost his name was, as Band'lur recalled, didn't take very kindly to his battle prowess being called into question. Band'lur flicked his tail nervously, not liking the sudden downturn in the atmosphere. A drawn blade was always causing for both concern and notice, and in the King's own hall to boot. It was different for the Beastmen of the fringe Tribes, Band'lur knew. Challenges were not issued lightly, and almost always ended in the death of one participant. He knew that it was often the same for Humans, but their customs made it difficult to navigate the nuances of issuing such a challenge to another. They could be denied or overturned altogether based on vague rulings that the Demi-Human had no concept of.

It became quite apparent that this was becoming the case. The man with no name strode forward without a care towards the irate Knight. He held no fear of the man's blade, brandished so carelessly and so easily. It was clear, however from the hooded man's stance and the haste with which he'd approached Ost, that he was NOT amused. Band'lur could not boast the best hearing in his Clan, that honor had gone to others. But it was keen enough. The hooded man spoke in subdued tones, but their intent was clear to Band'lur from where he stood.

Ost seemed to agree, if only in a begrudging manner. The matter of his skill being brought into question had clearly left a bitter taste in the armored man's mouth. Band'lur could understand at least on some level. Strength and its application was central to the Demi-Human's existence after all. Without his strength, Band'lur would not be The Wallbreaker, after all. Ost apparently was the same way, but he seemed different as well. Different in a manner that perturbed and worried Band'lur slightly.

'Every man has a hill they'll die on, without fail. But some of 'em sure do seem less grassy than others.' He mused silently. Whatever the case it didn't matter anyhow. The formerly threatening Knight had calmed down and a measure of peace was restored. It was a tense peace, however. Band'lur could see servants casting fearful gazes at each other, and more than a few were muttering back and forth while casting dark looks at the shabby group.

All in all, the meeting was going less than smoothly.

The sound of a stern voice drew the Demi-Human's attention, and his steely gaze settled upon the armored woman. She spoke plainly, with a measure of haste. Clearly not one to mince words, Band'lur appreciated that a great deal. Talker though he was, when a point needed to be made, he preferred that it was made quickly.

She was right, Annelia. And she made her point in a much more pleasant manner than the little Prince had. So she was quite the step up from him in many regards.

She was tall too. Or at least as tall a Human could be. Band'lur was of the opinion that the taller a person was, the better they were. Naturally as the tallest person present, that made Band'lur the very best. But he was at least humble enough not to say so aloud.

The Lizardman hummed and scratched at his scaled chin with a claw. He mused over his thoughts for a moment, brow furrowed in deep concentration. Thinking for Band'lur was not a difficult affair, but one wouldn't know that from looking at him. From the outside, it looked as if Band'lur was wracked by the most excruciating pain a man could experience. A few concerned glances were thrown the man's way, but a claw pointing up and a breathy 'Ah-ha!' quelled any concerns about the man's physical wellness.


Band'lur shuffled over and around a tad, to clap Ost on the shoulder. "The tall lady is right! As she should be, because tall people know more than everybody else." The Lizardman drawled loudly. "The King here don't know if we're lyin' or not. And much as I don't like to agree with the whelpling over there, he's right to be suspicious." Band'lur gave Ost a toothy grin and a friendly shake of the shoulder. "How's about this. After we've done eatin' and the like, you and I can go a round. 'm a pretty sturdy fellow, and used to havin' my ass kicked, so's no worries about hurtin' me. You'll get that fight you want and the chance to prove how tough you are. May even give these fine folks a laugh or two. Whaddaya say?"

 

[Euaion]

Name: Ynyri/Niri Allementhium
Race: Demi-human; snake.
Date/Time: 736 A.M.; Spring; Morning.
Location: The kings throne room.
Tagging: @.everyone

There are some things that niri just cant stand. Parasites, bitter things, and ignorant pampered oafs that runs their mouth. A brief debate on rather in not she should send a flaming beast after the prince crossed Niri's mind. But she knew enough that killing the prince will not serve a greater purpose other than temporary satifaction. She raised her thin brow in question to the princes actions and then to the King and Queen. Would they allow their offspring to be so insufferable - and go so far to protect them for their wrong doing? If such thing were allowed in a parent, then that explain a why this man is so dim and narrow minded. It seemed she wasn't the only one thinking such things when the lizardman, Band'lur, whispered to her about 'popping him in the mouth'. She raises up a sleeved hand to her grinning lips and stifles a laugh, though her amusement danced in her eyes.

She took the princes words but quickly discarded them. If she were Ellua, the Queen would've died upon touching her cheek. By the stars, if any of them were onenof the gods, the prince probably would've had his head rolling at his mothers feet by now. The humans arrogance knows no bounds and Niri is sure that he will fall off his little nest eventually. All she has to do is wait. She didnt have to wait long (unsurprisingly), as the male smith drew his sword and pointed it towards the prince. As nice as it is to know that others have a similar distaste for this man, but making a scene right now wouldn't be wise. They are supposed to be saviors, not murderers.

Niri was about to speak up when the nameless warrior stides in with a fearless presence, leaning in to whisper words of reason to the one named Ost. There's a slight tilt of her head as she observes this man. He was a mystery from the start, but he carried himself well. Hard to ignore, but also quite reserved. Respectful. It was admirable. She had been staring for quite some time that she didn't realize she was lost in thought until another hero spoke. Lema, the armored woman. She was tall, had a calm attitude and seemed curt. Niri was glad she did not have to speak for anyone, being more... primitive, in her way of solving situations. As the room simmers down and Band'lur approaches Ost, bringing a merry attitude with him, things seem to go a bit more smoothly. "Yes. Let us feast, and you may prove your skill with Band'lur afterword." She chimes. Looking expectantly towards everyone in the room, she did not want to be standing around any longer, or being threatened by an ignorant boy who didn't know when to hold his tongue. Plus, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't hungry right now.

 

[fluticasone]

Name: Ryland Nustram
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The Throne Room
Tagging: everyone

It was easily evident who was familiar with human customs, and who was not. They were not unlike Belvedere's own men, where Human and Demi-Human alike struggled to navigate each other's culture. That gave him a measure of comfort; the idea of returning back to the customs of knighthood held no appeal to Ryland. He imagined he'd most have the most trouble with Lady Annelia, as her formality would likely drive him up the wall. Her interactions with the royal family, however, at least told him the giant woman saw beyond the birthright that had been granted to her.

He sorely wished that he could say the same of the prince.

With every word that left the heir's lips, the image of a quintessential royal brat only further imprinted itself on his mind. His parents seemed like people with good sense, but he had no idea if the same was true before the tragedy that currently plagued their world. You learnt quickly, or you perished. The prince seemed deadset to ride off into his death, alongside the hundreds of idiots who would doubtlessly follow him. How old was the prince? Was it simply the foolhardiness of youth? Would he age well like wine, or would he turn into something befitting the bedpan? Ryland had no personal interest, but for the sake of Caroline's people, he hoped it would be the former and not the latter.

Not everyone had his patience, and the first to succumb to the prince's provocations was the man named Ostberg. Before he could intervene, the last of their group calmed him down. Though he couldn't hear the words exchanged, it was evident that it had been enough to get the knight's son to sheathe his sword. The armored woman diffused the tension further. Proving their abilities was something he had expected coming here. He simply nodded in agreement when the giant Demi-Human spoke, looking briefly towards the one from the Forest of Whispers as she voiced her own opinion. He looked warily at Band'lur, already knowing that any lesser weapons would be broken against his skin. It would be a good measure of a smith's skill, though he wasn't sure about much else.

 

[The Black Knight]

Name: King Leonhardt Animaeus
Race: Demi-Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: Caroline Castle
Tagging: Axel The Englishman RI.a Euaion Ramjammer fluticasone _Line 213

The prince cracked a grin as he watched Ost lower his sword. He didn’t know what the long-haired barbarian had told him, but it amused him nonetheless that he didn’t have the guts to dare attack him. Their entire band would have been thrown into the dungeons, and what a waste of time their journey to the castle would have been. The giant woman spoke up right after. Destinian’s arms crossed before his chest as he listened to her declaration.

As she finished, the prince laughed condescendingly at her. “Aren’t you confused? My father’s hope is not within you six. It is within me foolish girl.” He spoke to her as though she were but a child. “You are mere augmentations to my army. Whether you can or cannot doesn’t matter. A thousand and six soldiers will march into battle against the Children of Ydis, and whether you all survive or not, Ydis will be destroyed. Whether this entire army prevails or fails, we have no choice but to wage war against the Titans. If we fail, then it was fated to be. But since The Last Kingdom has survived this long, then I know we are meant to survive and prevail.”

Dropping his arms, the prince started walking toward the throne room doors, waving his hand dismissively, “Eat; sleep; do as you please before the war starts. Hopefully, this won’t be your last meal. With as little food we have, we have the best chefs in the land. You should feel privileged.”

The queen called her son, “Destin, where are you going?”

“To my quarters. I cannot eat around such stench,” he scoffed.

As the prince took his leave, a silence thickened after the resonating slam of the throne room doors. The queen’s eyes fell to the floor dejectedly. The king was feeling similar, but he attempted to push his feelings aside. “I apologize for my son’s behavior. There is a lot of pressure on his shoulders being the future king—the future king of a dwindling people. I believe that he finds his inheritance during such a grave time to be unfair. He wanted to rule a kingdom in peace, but now he may rule a kingdom in pieces if there is any kingdom left. He always saw Anima as his competition, and I feel that he still does. I beg, please. Do not take his behavior to heart. Come eat and rest. I do not ask that you demonstrate your strength. You could all be conmen and I would not be bothered for there isn’t much time and there isn’t much left here. I only ask that you take what you need before you leave, and I hope that it is enough for you to succeed.”

Leonhardt was quiet through the exchange, and he could feel as well as see the king’s and queen’s desperation. They weren’t concerned with displays of power or other games. All they wanted was for someone to get the job done, and it could have been anyone. Without further delay, Leonhardt marched into the banquet hall. He found a random seat at one of the chairs—there were more chairs than there were people—and he took a seat. Pushing the hood of his cloak behind his head, he removed a cord of leather that was tied about his wrist and used it to pull back his blonde locks into a tail. Taking the cloth napkin, he spread it across his lap and waited patiently as a servant standing behind his chair grabbed a pitcher of red wine and began to fill his bronze goblet. The servant then poured him a glass of water and removed one of the lids on the table to present a tray of oysters cooked in a white wine and herb broth. Leonhardt was familiar with table etiquette and the order of meals. First course was always an appetizer; second, soup; third, fish or pasta; fourth, a meat entrée; fifth, more meat but usually poultry or veg for vegetarians; sixth, a digestive drink stronger than the wine served at the table; seventh, roasted foods; eighth, salad; ninth, cold dish; tenth, dessert; and finally, eleventh, assorted fruits and cheeses. The full course meal was intended to go in that order, but not even Leonhardt was sure that his appetite as well as the appetites of the other warriors would follow such a strict routine.

Spoiler: Feast

The king sat at the head of the table with his wife next to him. He watched Leonhardt sip from his water glass rather than guzzle it and cleanly slurp from the oysters served to him. His sitting posture was straight and upright and he made sure to dab his mouth after consuming each oyster. He most certainly wasn’t a ‘No One.’ The king cupped his bronze goblet and curiously called to Leonhardt, “Your table etiquette is not something taught to vagabonds and nomads. Were you a noble?” The king felt his heart begin to tremble the more curious he became. “Were you…royal once?”

Leonhardt paused in his eating. His eyes closed and a scowl weighed on his face. It was such a sore topic. It pained and angered him to talk about his identity. It was easier to just forget who he used to be. “I rather not say,” Leon answered.

The queen could see how the interrogation bothered the warrior and she rested her hand upon the king’s wrist and whispered, “You pry too deep, my husband. Your questions wound him.”

The king blushed in embarrassment. He was so eager to know who the warrior was that he hadn’t even considered his feelings about it. “Forgive me. I won’t ask anymore. It was not my intention to upset you.”

Opening his eyes half-way, Leonhardt peered down at his plate, waiting for the simmering anger inside him to subside. “It is quite all right.”

 

[RI.a]

Name: Luna/Tatiana Yurievna
Race: Demi-human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: Castle Throne Room -> Banquet Hall
Tagging: everyone

The amount of hate in the prince's eyes and words didn't falter the woman in black. A king? Does that entitle one person to be able to hide within these luxurious walls all by himself? She hated whoever came up with that. They were just as selfish as the one who turned a blind eye to her mother. Luna could care less what race the king was, but that obviously mattered to the prick of a male. Maybe the king in question earned his title. But this jerk of a son obviously didn't. His clean clothes, a strand of hair not out of place. But he could enjoy all the riches just because he was their child. She was getting angrier by the second, but she maintained her stoic face.

Though the moment he mocked her home, her lips pulled back in a snarl, showing her slightly sharper canines. A threatening growl rumbled in her throat. Her hand reached for the hilt on her short sword by her waist. She pulled it just enough for the sharp blade to shine. One swing from where she stood was all it would take. Or she could just bite his face off. No one would see it coming, but she wouldn't get away with it. It was clear to her that the prince saw strength in numbers instead of the individuals that gathered as he rambled on. It seemed like she wasn't the only one angered by the twig of a man as Ostberg pointed his blade at him too. Having the courtesy to demand a duel than just cut his tongue out. She watched the quick actions of the guards, noticing a few keeping a close eye on her as well.

The last man amongst them to introduce himself seemed to know how to calm the situation. Her ears perked and picked up on his words, causing her to sheath back her own weapon and stepping back next to Ynyri and Band'lur. The humans sure liked to talk a lot. She remained silent the rest of the time, the words exchanged didn't mean much to her after all. She glared at the prince and scoffed, "Bet he wouldn't even make a decent meal." Luna said softly enough for the demi-humans to hear. Her blue eyes landed back on the blonde male. Both hair and beard long and unkempt, but the shape of it certainly reminded her of a wise lion. Thus, she decided to nickname him 'Leo'; until he decides to share his name like the rest of them.

The king once again invited them all for food, adamant on feeding them before they depart on their journey. Luna wasn't going to say no to food, but she was sure as hell not following the prince and his army. They can perish beyond the walls for all she cares. Luna followed Leo, her steps silent as always. She could already smell the herbs and spices from the previous room, but as she entered the hall she was overwhelmed by the alluring scent. The table was nearly as long as the room and was filled to the brim dishes to last an entire week. Her stomach growled and she began to salivate. She watched the king and queen sit at the end of the table and Leo sitting himself randomly. She didn't know if there was assigned seats or whatever the humans liked to do, but she pulled the chair opposite Leo. Leaning her longsword at the back of the tall backrest before planting her arse on the plush cushion.

The number of silver and china confused her, though she had to admit she's never seen something so shiny on a dinner table. Recognising the simple fork and spoon, she grabbed the biggest ones and held one in each hand. She moved the white cloth on her plate over to the side and leaned forward to scoop a hefty portion on her plate. Luna gave the servant a questioning look when he approached her after, she could see him breaking out in nervous sweat as he poured the red liquid and water in her glasses. Scooping up an oyster in the big spoon, she took a daring bite of it (shell and all). An audible crack sounded through the hall when she broke the shell in half with her teeth. The white meat wasn't too bad, but the shell tasted horrible and left a dry taste in her mouth. Ah-- that must be why the servant gave her the drink. She grabbed the cup and took a big gulp of it only to cough it up moments later.

Her black ears flattened against her scalp, and her face flushed from discomfort. "The hell--" She cussed in between coughing fits, trying to get the bitter taste of her tongue. "That's disgusting." She placed the bronze cup further away from her before chugging down the glass of water. Setting the cup down once it was empty, Luna noticed Leo's clean plates and pile of shells. She gave him a quizzical look, curious as to how he knew what to do with all the things before him. The clothes on his back didn't seem much and the demi-human was pretty sure he was one too. "Could you.. teach me, Leo? How to eat like you do." She felt like the child she was all those years ago, wanting to learn how to hunt and jump like the villagers did. This was entirely new to her, and now she wanted to know how to eat as clean as him.

 

[Ramjammer]

View attachment 532958Name: Band'lur Wallbreaker
Race: Demi-Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning.
Location: The Banquet Hall
Tagging: Open.

Band'lur scowled deeply as his arm slipped from around Wil's shoulders. It was quite clear to him that the Prince was not interested in making friends. Only in assuring that it was HIS name, that future generations would give their thanks to, if there was a future to be had at all. He postured, proclaimed and insulted everyone gathered with the practiced ease of someone who'd done these things before. Destininan seemed quite adamant that his fate was one worth writing stories about. But Band'lur didn't quite agree. Watching the young man swagger away imperiously, the Demi-Human sighed. "Head full of rocks, that one has. I just hope that sword arm of his has as much strength as his mouth. Or, I 'spose if the worst comes to it, he could try talkin' the Children of Ydis to death." The Lizardman's gruff chuckling was shortly cut off by the King and Queen's apologetic demeanor and he could not help a frown.

"Well why would you go and apologize for him? Your son is a man, grown and with a mind of his own. All men, pay the price for their words and actions, come what may." Band'lur paused to scratch idly at his snout. "And all men gotta live and die by 'em too. 'm sure you folks did the best you could. 's his own damn fault he never learned anything from the two of you."

The Lizardman knew well that children often emulated the adults around them. He'd spent years attempting to act as a good role model for whatever children he'd found that had no parents. And even before the world had been torn asunder, he'd watched as his own Clan's children sat at the feet of their Elders, soaking in the lessons passed to them. Good people, made good children that was simply the way of things.

But sometimes. Sometimes, a child simply grew to be awful. Change was inevitable. And Band'lur knew well that all young men and women would challenge the words of their Elders at some point. That was how growing worked. Children became adults, but both would always be their own person. Nothing would ever change that. And so there was that ocassional child that would no listen to the stories and lessons. The child that scoffed as their peers copied the Elders. And they changed and grew into something different.

And it was almost always something awful.

A good wallop might have set the Prince straight for a time, but it was clear that the boy's habits and opinions were deeply entrenched. He'd not let go of either, not for anything or anyone. But, as Band'lur also knew, war changed boys. And war changed me. Perhaps it was a good thing that the Prince sought to lead an army into the waiting jaws of doom. Who in all of existence was a better teacher than Death itself?

'A little carnage might do the boy some good.' The Lizardman mused to himself. Seeing some bloodshed, and watching your own spill freely had quite the sobering effect on a person. If the Prince wanted to wage war, then Band'lur saw no reason to stop him. It was well time for the boy to leave the nest, so to speak.

The Demi-Human snorted and grumbled a string of incomprehensible words as Servants ushered them all into what was clearly the dinning area. The King seemed especially eager to put the nasty encounter behind them all, and Band'lur was in silent agreement. He could worry about whether he lived or die when the time came. Now, however, it was time for the man to concern himself with matters much more important.

Namely, how much food he shove down his throat in a single sitting.

The table was positively laden with food, and its accompanying cutlery. Band'lur had never seen bowls and platters made of precious metals, only used to simple wooden and stone affairs. It was all a bit much for the Demi-Human. And it seemed like a waste of perfectly good metal to boot. 'I guess this is what being rich gets you. The right to just waste whatever you want.' The Lizardman though dourly. He spared no more time to his musing, and merely ambled over to the table. Band'lur plopped himself down heavily in the chair next to Luna, and struggled noticeably for a moment to find room enough for his thick tail. Band'lur had always preferred to eat his meals with company and that wasn't going to change any time soon. While the bearded man seated across from them seemed pleasant enough, his stern and evasive nature meant that he'd probably not be engaging in much conversation this evening. The Demi-Human took a moment to glance at the other 'Heroes' this meal was set in honor for, hoping that they proved to be livelier now that they were in less serious circumstances.

Band'lur sniffed suspiciously at an approaching Servant, and the man leaned back and away as if startled. Food was not meant to be brought to a person by anything other than a friend, otherwise, you served yourself. You never knew who could be trusted, and the Lizardman wasn't sure he liked the idea of his meal being handled by so many different people. The large man tried to calm himself in silence. Everyone else treated the affair as if it were normal, and Band'lur was willing to tolerate Human customs, even if they were utterly nonsensical to him.

Wine was not really to the Lizardman's liking and so he ignored that in favor of the water poured in his second goblet. There were too many different kinds of cutlery for Band'lur to make sense of, so he settled for a reasonably sized fork and spoon to eat his meal with. Besides, none of that mattered in the man's mind anyhow. He was far more interested in the food being served.

Life in the high peaks didn't offer much variety in the way of cuisine. You ate whatever you could find, and didn't complain about the taste, or lack thereof. It was much the same in the Slums, though it had given Band'lur access to more things than he'd tasted back home. All in all, while the man's own palette was limited he was eager to expand it by any means possible. The Oyster proved to be no challenge to eat, thankfully. All you had to do was scoop out the tasty bits and discard the rest. Band'lur found the small shellfish to be rather delicious, if lacking in substance and merely focused on trying to identify the variety of flavors that composed them.

"Hrmmm. Wine...uh, not that sweet stuff, something lighter. Butter, that one's easy. Huh, Dill. Good for fish is what everyone says. Easy to find the stuff growin' all over. The man reached down towards the foot of his chair, searching the small stachel he'd placed there on his arrival. Withdrawing a small leatherbound journal and a stick of charcoal, the Lizardman began to scribble notes on the yellowed paper. "A simple recipe, but I'd need a lot of Oysters to even consider callin' this a meal. I hear not all of 'em are good for eaten too. Like the little weird ones that grow on the rocks near the river. Those 'aint too good." He resumed eating, if a bit noisily, slurping the contents of the shellfish audibly before tossing the empty shells onto his plate with a clatter.

Silence, and embarassed looks reigned in the room, and Band'lur frowned. That would not do at all. Mealtime, was a time for talking. For sharing stories, and telling jokes. He could tell that most everyone was still a bit tense from the Prince's behavior and the Lizardman resolved to fix that. He decided to start with something simple and gazed around the table at the ragtag group. "So, I know all of you are from out of town. Tell me about the trip here! See anythin'? Do anythin'? Did ya kill anythin' on the way over? I know it gets a bit dicey out in them hills."

 

[Euaion]

Name: Ynyri/Niri Allementhium
Race: Demi-human; snake.
Date/Time: 736 A.M.; Spring; Morning.
Location: The kings throne room.
Tagging: @.everyone

The scaled woman remained quiet, offering looks of acknowledgement as they make their way down to the dining hall. The displays on the walls and needless decorations had Niri question what was the purpose of a castle when the kingsoms current population could fit inside this place. Did status really mean something to these people still? When the people are on the verge of extinction? Niri lowered her eyes, taking a seat next to Leon. Due to her previous travels, she has delt with nobles before. She knows the basics and sits, waiting paitently for the food to arrive. Niri is naturally poise and so she never had yo worry about appearing 'unlady like', though she usually covers her mouth around humans due to her ability to widen her mouth to an uncomfortable degree.

Niri glances to the now unhooded man, tilting her head slightly and watching him. Its no doubt he is a noble of some sort. But she does not pry any further than the king does since its clear its not something to freely discuss - as such things are better buried in the past. Niri looks down at the food placed in front of her, but does not move to eat. She doesnt give away why she doesnt touch her food, as her expression remains leveled and cool. There was a sense of displeasure from her, though not directly at the food. She turns her attention to Luna and Band'lur, watching them and their mannerisms. A small hum vibrates from her throat, so amused by them. She found Luna to he rather cute since she is eager to learn human customs, eyes round but sharply perceptive of what is going on around her. While Band'lur surprised her with his strong taste buds and ability to identify different spices and flavors.

Niri didn't mind the messy plate or the loud slurping, her hands remained folded neatly on her lap as Band'lur spoke up. She thinks for a moment. "My journey was mostly uneventful, but i have gathered a bountiful amount of honey. I still have some if any of you would care to try." Niri offers, moving under her robe to the double leather straps along her hips that carried various of things in pouches or twine. From it, she pulls a leaf pouch and those with a sensitive nose would smell a strong sweet scent. Niri holds up to display it, looking about everyone to see if anyone is interested.

 

[fluticasone]

Name: Ryland Nustram
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The Throne Room
Tagging: everyone

Embarrassment hung in the room as the prince left. It was a feeling he knew all too well from some of the less humble members of his guild. It was clear the King and Queen were eager to move on from that episode, and everyone had the grace to let them. They followed after, everyone choosing their places shortly after 'No One' had seated himself. He decided on a seat across Band'lur, the reason being simple curiosity of the Demi-Humans just in front of him. He'd met a few of them, even lived amongst some in his hometown considering its proximity to Anima, but each clan and family had their own idiosyncrasies. If he would be with them for any length of time, it was best he learnt their habits and preferences.

Like the other rooms in the palace, the dining hall held a feeling of extravagance and quiet importance. But unlike the throne room and the multitude of hallways they'd gone through to get there, Ryland was much more at ease. For one thing, the smell of food lent the place life. The colors of the banquet on the table replaced the purpose flowers once had, while the candles chased away the shadows. All that was missing was the sound of voices, which Band'lur was happy to begin with a question on everyone's travels.

Ryland was content to let others converse, listening and observing them rather than speak up for himself. He didn't make himself comfortable; that was impossible considering the location and company. But he did lean into the cushioned backrest somewhat as he surveyed the utensils in front of him. There was more than he remembered there being; he'd had his encounters with elaborate dining sets, but none on the level of royalty. But food was food, and it was unlikely he would ever get to eat like this again. It wasn't the time to be shy. Any guilt he felt he would have to bury; this was barely a tenth of what they would owe should they succeed slaying even one god.

He took his share of oysters, and began to slurp them from the shells with practiced ease. It was a familiar taste, one that reminded him of home. He remembered oyster harvesting at home, near one of the deltas where river met sea. However, none of them had tasted quite like what the royal chefs prepared. He supposed it was all the additional ingredients that Band'lur had guessed at.

Gray eyes briefly glanced towards Niri's empty plate as she showed off the honey, but did not mention it. The conversation between 'No One' and the royal couple was still fresh in the air; Ryland did not want a repeat of the incident with her. Her eyes met his briefly as she surveyed for who wanted a taste, he politely shook his head in refusal.

"I don't eat many sweets." He took a guzzle of wine, just barely hiding his wince at the sweet flavor. He still preferred the ale they served in those outposts outside. "Didn't fight much myself on the way here. I was with some members when I got the summons; they cleared the way. Told me to save my energy for the god slaying. " There was obvious affection in his words as he spoke, though he worried for some of the members who'd been all too eager to offer their sword for him. Hopefully the others would watch out for them - no one else would.

 

[The Black Knight]

Name: King Leonhardt Animaeus
Race: Demi-Human
Date/Time: 11 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: Caroline Castle
Tagging: Axel The Englishman RI.a Euaion Ramjammer fluticasone _Line 213

Could you ..teach me, Leo? How to eat like you do.

The bearded warrior’s fork and knife paused upon his plate as he held down the shell of an oyster, using the fork to pull free its succulent white meat. His golden eyes were wide and body tense in shock. His stunned eyes rose to gaze across the table at Luna as he wondered how did she know his name? He silently stared at her for an uncomfortable minute, studying her face. Had he seen her before? Had she seen him? He couldn’t recall. She had said his name so casually.

Meanwhile, Michelle had been listening to the great lizard mutter to himself. She was amazed at his culinary knowledge. Shamefully, she hadn’t expected such a creature to even be interested in cooking. She smiled softly and spoke to him, “Yes. You are right. I didn’t know that you were a chef.” She heard his comment about the smaller shellfish. “Those are called barnacles. I don’t know anyone who eats them.” She then jumped like a startled rabbit at Band’lur’s crude slurping.

At Band’lur’s topic-starter, the king nodded. “Yes; I would love to hear tales of your journey here.”

At Niri’s offering of the honey she had collected, the royal family were hesitant at first. Destinian had made them superstitious in regards to the snake woman. It was Michelle, however, who smiled and further broke the ice. If the honey did wind up being poisoned or bewitched, then it was better her than her husband. “I would love a taste,” she told her. The queen then looked to the servant behind her chair. The servant retrieved a bread roll for her from across the lengthy table and then walked around it to Niri’s side, hoping to retrieve the offered honey.

As conversation started to bubble, Leon’s attention had returned to his plate as he wanted to believe that Luna’s request would have vanished in the increase in conversation. The oysters were beginning to feel like a torturous appetizer. They were light and barely filled the void that begged for something more filling. Leon set his silverware upon his plate and lowered his hands, signaling that he was finished with the first course. The servant by his chair took the plate and silverware and briskly vanished into the kitchen. Shortly, there would be a new plate—a saucer with a bowl. A silver lid was removed from a four-legged pot containing chicken soup with rice and herbs. With a ladle, the steaming contents were poured into Leon’s bowl. Grabbing the soup spoon, one particular spoon out of the rows of cutlery, Leon scooped up some broth, rice, and broken chicken and gently blew upon the heated meal.

The king gazed about at the guests. Majority seemed to struggle to eat at the table. The table manners and etiquette were perhaps foreign to all but the No One. One of them didn’t even eat. Feeling a little embarrassed, the king insisted, “Please do not let the silverware frighten you. Eat. Eat as much as you want. You all must be famished from your journey. Please regain your strength.”

Leon’s spoon lowered from his mouth. He tensely gazed upon his soup bowl as his mind replayed the king granting them permission to break decorum in his presence. Leon had a lot of pride, and normally, if things had been different, he might have mustered through his etiquette. But who was he kidding!? You’re not a prince anymore, his conscience told him. His black pupils gradually shrank and thinned into slits as a bestial rumble left his chest. There was a thunk as the spoon was dropped upon the table. The bowl was grasped within both of his hands and raised to his mouth where he began gulping down the soup, chicken, and rice. Setting the bowl down, there was a loud screech of a wooden chair’s legs being abruptly pushed back. Leon had rose to his feet and reached across the table. His fingers splayed and his claws raked into the crispy bronze leg of the fire-grilled goose. The leg was taken right off as though an actual lion had swept it free. He brought the leg to his mouth, maw widening and bestial fangs glinting into the candlelight. He sank his teeth into the leg and with an audible crunch ripped the dripping meat free.

The king’s and queen’s mouths fell agape in shock. They couldn’t speak or even think! All they could do was watch as though spellbound.

 

[Axel The Englishman]

Name: Wil Ostberg, the Marshland Halberdier
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The King's Throne Room
Tagging: The Black Knight

Not much else could be done, other than take a seat with everyone else. And so Ost did, although begrudgingly. The salted wounds inflicted upon his pride were yet to heal, and he could feel watchful eyes staring down upon him, wary of what he might do. He was uncomfortable being here, but he might as well make the most of it.

The selection of meats and delicacies were a bit much for Ost. He was raised on simple things. He was unfamiliar with this banquet of confectionary. Ost could have sworn he saw a cow’s tongue on the table. It was disgusting to put someone else’s tongue in their mouth. He couldn’t grasp why someone would even eat one willingly. It seemed more like a method of torture. High society was a strange place, and it was occupied by strange people.

But his situation wasn’t entirely hopeless. A roasted bird, buttered and seasoned to perfection. It may not have been battered toblin, but it was still something. But others noticed what he had discovered. The greedy bastards were trying to take away what little he had. He wouldn’t stand for this. He grabbed a steak knife, and stabbed it into the table, right in front of those cursed beings. He had earned their attention, as well as the guards’ once more.

“This is mine...” he proclaimed, with a sense of pride and dignity, protecting what was rightfully his. “Fight me in honourable combat, and those who prove themselves worthy shall earn their share.”

 

[Ramjammer]

Name: Band'lur Wallbreaker
Race: Demi-Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning.
Location: The Banquet Hall.
Tagging: Open.

"Me? A Chef?" The Lizardman chuckled gruffly, the sound akin to gravel crunching together. "No, Band'lur 'ain't no Chef, Miss Queen Lady." The man stated. "'m just uh...I guess the word you could use is 'adventurous' with my food. Where I come from, there wasn't a whole lot to eat. And whatever there was to eat didn't taste any good neither. So ol' Band'lur is always lookin' for new things to try, then I write about it in this here book I got with me in case I want to try makin' it later." The Demi-Human held up his tattered journal proudly, displaying pages of cramped writing and detailed sketches that depicted flora and fauna from around the area. Notably, almost everything displayed on the parchment was something edible, but there were a few entries that seemed questionable at best.

Band'lur placed the journal back down and was prepared to resume eating, but his ears perked as the scaled woman from the Forest decided to speak up. She was a waifish thing and didn't look as if she'd had a meal in weeks from where Band'lur was sitting. He wasn't sure if it was due to her still unknown Beast Heritage, the fact that she hailed from the Forest of Whispers, or if she was truly malnourished. All the same, Band'lur didn't particularly enjoy the sight of someone not eating. Life in the Peaks meant that food was scarce and he was quite familiar with the feeling of an empty stomach. The Slums were far worse in that regard, and even if Band'lur made it a point to share whatever he hunted with everyone, there would still always be people that went to bed hungry.

All in all, the sight of an empty plate didn't exactly sit right with the man.

"'ey Lady." The Lizardman growled while gesturing to the scaled woman's empty plate. "You should listen to what the King says and eat somethin'. Are you gonna fight Gods on an empty stomach? That 'ain't no good. Sides, yer as thin as a stalk of grass. If you don't eat, you won't get to be big and strong! Like me, Band'lur." The Demi-Human grinned crookedly at her, though a mouth filled with sharp teeth probably made him look a little less friendly than he was. The atmosphere was still too tense for the man's liking, and he wondered if it was nerves that caused the other Demi-Human's lack of appetite. He couldn't exactly blame her for it. The somewhat dour mood combined with the oppressive air of a strange place could do that to a person.

"I will take some of that Honey though! I like Honey, don't like Bees much, however. I don't think they like me neither, but their opinions don't matter! If Bees wanted me to take 'em seriously, they'd be bigger." It was a concept that made perfect sense to Band'lur, and he would under no circumstances explain it to anyone at the table. The half-dressed Knight declined Yniri's offer of honey, something about not liking sweets. A strange concept to Band'lur. All food was good food! But Humans were a notoriously picky race. The Demi-Human merely nodded at the man's own mention of his travels. "No troubles on the road then, huh? 's good I guess. Sound like you got some good pals if they were so willin' to cut a path for you out here. Not many these days are so lucky, yanno?"

It was a sobering thought. Traveling outside the walls for any reason was incredibly dangerous, but to do it alone was near suicidal. Band'lur supposed that they were all fortunate that they'd be traveling with a detachment of Soldiers. Or, as fortunate as they could be when traveling with a spoiled brat. The Demi-Human hadn't exactly been looking forward to the journey to begin with. But something told him that he'd be doing more babysitting than fighting in the coming days. He took another look at his Companions, sizing them up carefully. Band'lur still wasn't completely sold on them. Anyone there who seemed capable of fighting seemed too wrapped up in their own worries for the Lizardman's tastes. Even if they could reasonably swing a blade, could he consider them reliable? Would they come to his aid if he asked? Would any of them care if he fell in battle? Band'lur didn't like to think ill of strangers, particularly ones that hadn't done anything thing to him and so he strived to push the somber thoughts aside for the remainder of the meal. He'd just have to jump off of that particular bridge when he came to it.

As the meal went on, Band'lur noticed that the level of tension was slowly, but surely decreasing. This was good. A tense meal was an unenjoyable meal, and Band'lur was at least glad to see his companions loosening up, even if only slightly. The line of courses continued with little fanfare, and the Lizardman was in the midst of lapping his own portion of soup out of a bowl delicately (He had manners after all!) when a sudden commotion a few seats away drew his attention. He'd been so caught up in his own meal, that Band'lur missed a good portion of whatever it was that had seemingly set off the man calling himself 'Nobody'.

He was for all intents and purposes, losing his dammned mind.

Whatever manners that the man had been displaying up until that point seemed to have been forgotten, and then tossed aside in short order. The Lizardman's eyes narrowed as her regard the man's sudden and aggressive change in behavior wasn't offputting so much as it was highly suspicious. Band'lur saw the man's pupils, now slits regarding everything in front of him with a predatory hunger, and he spied the man's fangs as he bared them at his meal. The man calling himself 'Nobody' was clearly a Demi-Human, but he certainly put up a good front as a Human. It was confusing to Band'lur and quite frankly the idea irritated him.

The Lizardman had never been ashamed of what he was. A life among the Beastmen in the border Clans afforded him that kind of security, as their contact with Humans was quite sparse. And even if he had been ashamed, there was no real way to hide what he was anyhow. Short of being blind, or overwhelmingly stupid a person could tell what Band'lur was immediately on meeting him. The Demi-Human liked his scales, and he liked his fangs and claws just fine. His Clan had spoken briefly, and none too kindly of some of their own that felt otherwise. Demi-Humans that passed very well for Humans and did everything in their power to act the part. Each one hoping that no one would notice the farce that they were. They filed their teeth and clipped their own claws. They sat and talked like Humans and played the part very well.

It was truly shameful, and it made the Lizardman's stomach turn with anger. He couldn't say if 'Nobody' had wanted to pass as Human or had even been trying to. His ongoing desecration of the poor Roasted Goose in front of him certainly proved otherwise. Perhaps he was tired of hiding. Perhaps he simply felt that there was nothing left to lose, not when tomorrow wasn't even the barest hint of a promise.

Or, perhaps he'd merely had enough.

Either way, he'd started to lay claim to a startling amount of food at the table and Band'lur had no intention of being left out. The Lizardman laid claim to an entire Ham, surrounded by roasted vegetables of all kinds. He pulled a basket of rolls closer too, along with an entire wheel of cheese and hunched over his haul in a protective manner. There was more than enough at the table for everyone there, and then some. The Demi-Human did not think he was in any danger of having his own portion taken away, not here at least and so there was no need for violence at the moment.

Ost's proclamation that he'd do battle for a roasted bird DID strike a particularly vindictive chord within the Lizardman, however. The Demi-Human eyed the Human carefully, sizing up not only him but also the chicken in front of him. Chickens were good to eat, but the effort required to pull the meat from their many bones deterred the Lizardman from starting a fight with the shorter man. As with almost everything else, Band'lur was not above fighting for a meal, but he'd gladly steal someone else's to prove a point, no matter how minuscule.

A more civilized part of Band'lur's brain strove to remind the man that he was a guest. Of Royalty no less and that he should try to retain a bit of decorum. Or at least what passed for decorum in Band'lur's mind. He continued to hunch over his own meal and picked up the cheese wheel in both hands before taking a large bite out of it. His companion's own meals were safe for the time being, but the Lizardman kept a wary eye on them all, lest they make any sudden moves towards his plate.

 

[_Line 213]

Name: Annelia Lastelle du Lema
Race: Human
Date/Time: 10 A.M.; Spring; Morning
Location: The Throne Room
Tagging: Axel The Englishman , The Black Knight


Though the meeting had settled down for the time being, the state of everything failed to set well in the knight's mind. With mere moments set between them, fraying connections and wildly-contrasting demeanors had already managed to make themselves more than present. It was if airs and undertones of dormant violence constantly surrounded the attempt at a slaying-party; though the king and queen were no doubt trying to keep such a thought as far from their minds as they possibly could, it seemed, at least to Annelia, that there was a very real chance of their interpersonal differences striking them down long before any supposed God truly could.

In truth, she was not particularly in the mood for a dinner of any sort. Yet, with both the potential offense of royalty and the renewed escalation of submerged tensions on the line, she figured that she might as well partake. Whether consciously or not, she resolved to do so in absolute silence, offering nothing more than a polite nod and a near-muttered "thank-you" in response to the three hosts (one unwilling) and their waitstaff. Honey on the part of a stranger was, of course, denied, albeit as politely as one could reject a fresh acquaintance, if that.

The meal before the group was an immediate visual treat, even without the engagement of nose and tongue. For an eye that had seen little other than shades of greys and browns in nearly all things, the sights of red berries and caramelized meats caused her singular eye to widen in a display of amazement, despite her attempts to minimize the sudden emotion's impact on her normally-unmovable demeanor. Restraint nonetheless reigned the moment that she sat down to eat, taking the time to undo some of the more restrictive portions of her immaculately polished gear with the partial help of a nearby servant. In her mind, the space between seeing the food and sitting down to eat it was nothing if not an eternity, followed by the time it took for her to pick what she wanted and add it to her plate.

A touch of all things were present by the time her process of selection had come to a close, her searching eye continuing to take in the details of what sat before her. There were images of such thing within the fort's codexes, yet seeing a full royal meal before her in the flesh was nothing compared to what she had initially imagined. The true nature of each and every sight and smell was something ultimately unknown to her before this very moment; though her mounting excitement only grew, it did so alongside a growing hole in her heart, the knowledge that her family, far from her, likely regularly enjoyed such things--at least once upon a time.

Her amazement was silent, yet clearly plain and present in full-force upon her face as she ate, her hands shaking lightly as she continued to restrain herself within the confines of proper table manners. Mind fought against mind as her forcefully-calmed hands brought her food to her in reasonable bites with reasonable timing, not once breaking expected decorum despite her will to shovel tastes she had never truly experienced into her mouth as quickly as possible, her sense of taste longing for sweetness and sensations she had never once experienced over the course of her life. What could have been a magical evening, were it to take place within the pretext of normality, was nonetheless overshadowed by an incoming burden, as well as the strange actions of those with which Annelia was to share it.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she saw one of the men-beasts abandon any and all sense of decorum, wolfing down his food in a manner which--she was forced to profess to herself--she would have enjoyed, had she not known the polite and proper way of going about it all. Fingers tightened lightly around her silverware as she watched, eventually forcing herself to tear her eyes away, lest she witness any further indecency. And yet it was that as soon as she did so, her eyes landed on Ostberg, the very man she had defended earlier, once more begging to make a fool out of himself at a time most inopportune. Energy in abundance or no, this was no way for anyone--especially not the guests of monarchs, however desperate--to act at a dinner table.

Yet, it was not her place to speak, not at this given moment.

She returned to her food, knife grinding against a portion of meat in clear distaste until the morsel had been cut all the way through. Hoping that another mouthful of delicious cuts would keep her from having to say anything out of turn, she placed the item into her mouth neatly, sliding it off the fork without a sound, as much as she wanted to angrily shove it in.

 

[Euaion]

Name: Ynyri/Niri Allementhium
Race: Demi-human; snake.
Date/Time: 736 A.M.; Spring; Morning.
Location: The kings throne room.
Tagging: @.everyone

The scaled woman had an somewhat delighted look on her face when someone responded to wanting some honey, and despite the general weariness of her intentions from the royal family, she gladly added a nice generous amount to the queens loaf of bread when their servant made their round to her. "Please enjoy. I made sure to pick out the larvae." Niri says with a slight spark of amusement. Her eyes wander to the large scaled warrior at his comment, looking a bit guilty for appearing rude. "I suppose you're right. I've eaten little during my journey..." She proceeds to hand over some to Band'lur, giving a heafy portion due to his broad stature, looking over to the human who had rejected her offer kindly. "A shame, its very good." She says with a light smile. The sudden clanking of metal on porcelain and hard wood had her head turning in sudden alertness. "Oh," She says, as if this is completely normal. She lived in the forest, lived among lesser beasts and seen humans weighed with starvation. "Chew your food properly now." Niri says to everyone who begins to take example out of this behavior. Last thing she needed was one of them start choking - or worse, stab themselves with a stray bone.

The sorceress looks around the table for something that the others did not lay claim to yet, finding a small roast chicken within a ring of potatos, promptly taking it. She seems to stare at it for a moment, contemplating something. Briefly her eyes look to the royal family, returning to the chicken and then sighing. She takes hold of the hem of her sleeve and hides the lower half of her face from anyone on the side where the royals sit. She takes the chicken and raises it over her, tilting her head back, she opens her mouth. Those able to see what exactly shes doing could see she had fangs and her her tongue was rather thin and long, showing some resemblance of a snake (without a forked tongue of course). At first its seemingly normal, but her jaw unhinged and extended further than normal and she lowered the chicken into her mouth whole. The whole ordeal becomes stranger when she begins to swallow the damn thing. She shuts her mouth and one could see how her neck expands slowly as the chicken travels down to her belly, seeing parts of the chicken leg and wings push against her skin.

Niri doesnt stop eating, finishing up the plate and taking whatever else she could gather. Not once did she attempt to chew her food, swallowing everything with ease. The whole time she ate, her sleeve was held up, and after a few minutes. She felt satified and lowered it, leaning back in the chair with a content sigh. "Delicious. Do you perhaps have sweets?" She asks shortly after.