Fantasy 𝙇𝙚𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙕𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤 (closed)

[Impius]

Rowan O'Daly Uprising Diner ​

Rowan silently looked around the room, his mind lost in a swirrling liquor storm. The glow from the lights seemed bright and fuzzier while each clink on distant plates sounded as electrifiying as a Banshee in the depths of his ears. His attention was brought to the stewardess, announcing the carriage stocked with foods and drink. Her words ran a song within him, a soft bed sang like a Siren to his soon to be migrane.

"I cannot imagine they would be much longer." Hazed green orbs flicked back to the empty seats with a shrug. His attention drew back to the Wolf Slayer with a drunken half smile. "I believe you are right, I have only ever seen her in that blue armor. And I have heard no other stories of a woman in blue armor. I think with our combined forces, will can take on the forest with no issue," Rowan lifted his arm with a hand balled into a fist, slapping his other hand onto the bicep with a confident grin. Everyone had a skillset that complimented another on their little team. As long as none of them did a suicide rush, then the money would overflow his purse and Rowan would be on his merry way away from the city. Any city. Civilization, people, alone as a mountain man in the woods. No one wo worry about but himself and the land he worked.

"I have actually seen her around, in a general store I have frequently visited. Yet, it never clicked who Azyra could actually be, despite passing her on numerous occasions." He tapped a finger on his chin in thought. "Isn't it strange how someone who has gained a name for themselves can slip through the crowds without turning a single head, isn't it?"

He let out a small sigh and looked into his emptying glass. His eyes unfocused as his minds eye drifted into lands built within his own metaphysical world. People who have never existed, homes he's never had, a family, daydreams all just barely out of reach. His eyes refocused and he glanced up from his cup after a few seconds of blank staring.

"Who wants to bet one gold piece on finishing an entire bottle first?" A flash of gold dropped onto athe table as the coin spiraled to a stop. Impulsive as always, Rowan looked at the two comrades at the table with a competitive smirk.

 

[Heavenchi]

​

the ride through the slums . . .

After another twenty minutes or so of light conversation and snacking, the healer and tank of the group returned. A small smile adorned Kito's face at the sight, deep down she had assumed they might've fled. After double-checking with a staff member on the supplies packaged, Kito lead the group back to the carriage.

"We'll be heading to Merda, specifically the port. There we'll meet with an Inferno Guild smith to enchant our armor and weaponry," Kito explained nonchalantly. However, nothing was simple about her statement. Enchantments were terribly expensive and typically required sponsors in order to receive them. Depending on the enchanter, one's weaponry could develop into something of legends. Because of the power enchanted items held, enchanters were mandated by the Council to document all those who received such weaponry and armor. For this expedition to require enchantments said volumes.

It didn't take long for the carriage to reach the slums, where the cries of the poor and desperate echoed as the group journeyed past. Kito knew better than to toss coin, less she wanted to incite a violent frenzy. A lesson learned as a child long ago. Fortunately, because of the less than extravagant decor of the carriage, the crowds didn't plead or follow for long. However, the same could not be said for the cloaked figures that trailed behind in the shadows, every so often, peaking out to match pace with the horses.

Unfortunately for the assailants, the speed in which the Barren Guild's horses galloped outclassed their stealth. Within an hour or two, the carriage was out of eyesight for the cloaked trio.

The smaller statured of the three, removed their hood, revealing a feminine face.

"Don't worry, we haven't lost them just yet," she assured the other two before falling into a prayer position. The other two nodded in response before facing away from the Seer. With a few mumbles, the eyes of the woman began to glow, and a spell was heard clearly.

"Reveal."

("Reveal." - In exchange for a week's worth of mana, the caster will be touched by Trinity, allowing them to see critical plot points to come. )

---

​

𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓭𝓪; The City of Opportunity

Five days had passed since the party had left Gento. During the past couple of days, the group had slept in miscellaneous inns and taverns where they were treated with excessive hospitality in the face of Kito. Although they paled in comparison in terms of extravagance when compared to the Uprising Diner, the inns provided the best rooms and service they could muster. The team separated based on gender, with the women in one room while the men were in the other. This provided Osran and Rowan with four nights of quality time. Knowing this separation would not last once they were in the forest, Kito informed the group they'd have to all share a room on the trip back to get accustomed to one another.

Throughout this time, the group learned many things about one another and began to pick up on the habits and quirks of their peers. For Kito, admiration and mild rivalry formed with the competent and composed Azyra, and a sisterly gaze developed for Nina. The men humored Kito, their competence and dynamics alleviated any concern towards them.

Currently, the group had reached Merda's port, making their way through the bustling streets towards an inconspicuous little smithy. There, Kito flashed her iconic great sword, making her identity apparent. With a nod, a small old man beckoned the group to the back of the smithy where a large hatch was placed on the ground. With a small mantra, the underground door opened, revealing a dramatic and imposing staircase.

"Follow me," the old man instructed.

---

​

a time for 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 . . .

Bulky torches adorned the walls of the stairway, lighting the path with an ominous orange hue. The group held their tongues, following the elder and Kito quietly, hopefully with trust. After two minutes of seemingly endless stairs, the group reached a grandiose oval room. In the center, was a dragon statue that breathed a sacred flame at an enchanted forge. The marble floor possessed a large artwork that alluded to Barren, however to many's surprise, Noah was honored in the art piece as well. Faint blues were scattered among the tiles, contrasting with the orange and reds. This room told and possessed a story lost to time.

On the second floor of the room, stood a veiled feminine figure in blue. Without a word, she outstretched her arm, and a waft of crisp salty air emitted from her movements. She was a priestess of Noah. The God's cool presence emanated from her very being. Surprisingly, the power she emitted seemed to startle even her, the potency of today's blessing was out of the ordinary. Her presence juxtaposed the unbearable heat of the sacred flames. Despite the raging inferno in front of the party, the room felt unnaturally cool and the air was light, giving a sense of vitality. Was Myera present?

The elder led the group to the forge, where his true nature began to show. His long grey hair flickered with hints of white, but when the light from the inferno lapped at his figure, his shadow revealed a burly and powerful physique. Who was he? Deciding to keep her questions to herself, Kito stood at the base of the forge's stairs, looking up at the "old man".

"Only one item may be enchanted, only the Gods know what you'll receive," the elder said nonchalantly, before outreaching his hand towards Kito.

With a nod, Kito lifted her sword before taking a step back when the cool air from the Noah priestess snatched her weapon away, leading it to the man's arms. A frown decorated the warrior's face but she said nothing.

Turning from the group, the "old man" lifted Kito's sword towards the forge. There, the lava within rose and swallowed the blade, before anticlimactically, sliding off the sword's blade, and dropping back into the forge's pool.

The old man grinned ecstatically before tossing the sword up in the air where it stayed afloat. Surprise and glee adorned the forger's face as his eyes darted from each spark the forge emitted. He appeared to see something the others could not.

"Next!" the senior commanded impatiently, eyes still glued on the fires of the forge. The priestess above outreached her other hand, her veil and pale blue dress fluttering softly with her movements.

"The Gods are watching," she whispered in disbelief before falling to her knees, arms still outreached upwards.

What was happening? Kito tried her best to remain composed but truthfully, she had no clue why the council mandated this trip. She was truly as clueless as her party.

---

The assigned patrons watched their chosen carefully, the faint laughter of Trinity taunting them.

"Choose for your beloved wisely, choose for your child carefully. Choose as if there's even a choice at all," the Goddess of Time cackled.

The God's energies pulsed at Trinity's taunts, but their attention remained on the blessed.

. . .

In the air, Kito's sword appeared unchanged. Why hadn't it been enchanted yet? Little did she or the group know, the Gods were stumped.​

 

[Impius]

Rowan O'Daly

Merda, the City Prosperity ​

At first, Rowan didn't put much effort into barrading his comrades with questions, he sat quietly for some time,his mind wondering off into distant daydreams. Rowans main goal was to try his damnest to break Sourpuss's overbearing shield of avoidance over the duration of the trip. Osran did a good job at avoiding Rowan and his pestering questions for the most part. Answering questions with questions or simply not responding. On the next night of travel, the bowman pushed his luck with Osran and ended up woth Kito involved in their shenanigans. Rowan had too much to drink that day and was feeling pretty good about himself. Why not try and force his way through that rough exterior?

That wasn't a great idea on the bowmans behalf as Osran retaliated with physical violence, Rowan sending the same energy back. Before either knew it, the world around was gone and the men were scrapping. The thuds, bangs, and the dual disgruntled drunk man noises was enough to bring Kito crashing through the door. Their fight ended like banging pans around a cat fight. Rowan didn't removed himself from the bed in which he had been thrown upon. He slumped over and wiggled his way under the covers before passing out. Emberesment could truly drain any reminaing energy out of someone. The door stayed where Kito left it. In the morning, Rowan made sure to talk to the inn keeper himself about the door. The man became angry at first but with a few muttered words in the ear from the older bowman, things were settled and repair costs were quickly voided.

Then Rowan lost most of a day. He couldn't really remeber much of what had happened after meeting the shadowman at a bar. He knew Osran and himself had began a drinking contest and next thing he knew, he was waking in his rented bed. He didn't remeber the entirety of the drinking contest or getting kicked out with Osran. He defiantly had no memory of being mostly carried back to the Inn, as he barely kept pace with Osran but had gone beyond his limits of alcohol.

Fuzzy moments phased through his mind all throughout the next day. He could vaguely remeber an empty tavern and.. laughter? Something positive? He was doubtful if it involved Osran, but thats who he did remeber being there the entire time. Remembering was like trying to catch your shadow on a dark night. Rowan rubbed his temples and took sips off iced water. His emberesment from the other night with Kito still hung over him like a cloud.

Rowan noticed Osran seemed much more at ease around him after his blacked out night. He didn't ask what had happened or push the surprise friendliness too far. Rowan accepted it and road the wave, as he had figured out that would be the best method to getting to know his comrade better. Everyone, in fact.

He avoided Azyra after he pushed his luck on conversation, touched her shoulder, and recieved a look from Death itself that followed with a punch that made the man see stars. He would rather get thrown against the wall by Kito again then have beef with the Myera's blessed after that.

Then there was sweet Nina. He happily offered her his purse so that she may go about town if she pleased, get what she wanted, do what she wanted. By the time they reached Merda, of what coin he had, there was enough to get him through a week's of drink. And still, he would hand over his last piece to her if she asked nicely. Rowan adored her and saw her as this innocent person who got the rough end of the stick. If he could do anything to make that pain any less bearing, he would. The empathetic part of him controlled his interactions with Nina.

Rowan gave his sincerest apologies to Kito in private about the scuffle he had wkth Osran that night. He took the blame for having started it, admktting to having egged the man on as he had too much drink that night and tried his luck. He also informed her that he had personally taken care of the door issue that fateful night, with the costs voided from her tab. "The innkeep had a wife, with some children. Yet, as I made my way around town, he had a different woman and child with him, shopping. So I threatened to expose his secret." Rowan shrugged after this. "Golden words gain golden coin." Rowan winked at Kito and stood to make his leave of their private conversation. "If you need anything, at all, never heistate." Rown shut the door behind him as he left.

...​

Rowan expected the forge to have been accused by hiking through the greenery, perhaps hidden in one of the beautiful oasis areas of Merda. He couldn't have been more wrong, which led to some mild disappointment at first. He held his tongue and trusted their leader to steer them in the right direction, even if it was just some smithy by the port. His attitude was quickly adjusted once they were led to the back and a mantra unsealed a hatch, leading them to their true destination. Rowan raised and brow, slightly impressed and easily followed through the hatch. The occasional grunt escaped the old man when he stepped with his right leg. Going up and down anything for extended periods could be a real pain.

The last thing Rowan expected was to walk into a cooled cavern with a massive forge before them. His jaw dropped slightly, awe stricken and curious. Enchanted items seemed like a bit of a for fetched idea until now. He didn't expect to actually get a full on enchantment. If that's what this was, for all Rowan knew, Kito just led them here as sacrifices to some dragon God. It is what it is, if that's the case.

He watched the Priestess snatch Kitos blades throwing it into the forge as it seemed to devour her weapon. Would it even survive something like that? Rowan gripped his bow between his hands. Wood and string didn't stand a chance would it? Even as her sword hovered in the air, suspicion hung around Rowan about this. His bow was snatched while he was lost in his own thought of anxieties, and tossed in the forge. He stood there, unmoving like a child who just had a popsicle taken from him.

Rowan finally relaxed once the bow he had spent so many days and she'd so much blood over making popped back out, and hovered with Kitos sword.

A small bubble began to form at the Viewing held for the blessings of power, slowly growing larger as it seemed to be pulling water from an atomic level from every direction. Yet, this was not water. The growth grew rapid and a humanoid shape took its place with a slow stretch. Noah acknowledged the other Gods and waited with them as their chosen made their way to the forge.

His body seemed to ripple and sway like the tides of the sea as he floated amongst his brethren. His physical form held no absolute shape, ever shifting with unlimited fluidity within the Gods Realm. Golden droplets admist sparkling cobalt slowly trickled away from his body, disappearing into the distant stars.

"This is the Will of Noah's Gift, remeber who You really are, old timer. Awaken the beast that has lain dormant within."

Noah's liquid state began to cloud, sparks of light flickering within. Within seconds, it seemed as if Noah harnessed the spiraling anger of the skies, trapped within his tranquil form. Through the flashes of electric charges, the silhouette of a large serpent snaked from cloud to cloud before disappearing.

"The serpent that still resides within shall be unsealed." The essence of Noah's head shook back and forth slowly, as if he were a disappointed grandfather. "It's a shame he was sealed away in the first place." Noah waved his hand, as he had formed, his form began to break apart and disapate in every direction of the cosmos, until there was no trace of the God left.

Spoiler

The City of Merda was not one that Rowan desired to be in again. Despite the peace he felt around the tropical setting, a dark looming cloud hung in the back of his head. He kept his relaxed, charismatic disposition as they arrived and moved through the streets. Yet his eyes betrayed his easy manner, darting back and forth as if he was on the lookout for someone. Yet no one ever approached, and he never recognzied a face. Rowan put his underlying worries to rest and distracted himself with his team members. Merda was too beautiful to let such looming thoughts ruin a visit. A colorful parrot sat among the trees with several other, less colorful birds, looking down at the people bustling below. It's head turning side to side as it began staring at the group of obvious slayers passing by. The bird let out a small squawk and took flight into the city.

 

[Mineczka]

Azyra Constanza "The Cerulean Lancer"

How many days had passed? How long had it been since the last stop? When can I get off this damned torture device? What was a simple five days, for Azyra had felt like weeks, as she spent most of her days in the carriage feeling violently ill, or, in the taverns and inns, feeling she needed to battle away the endless add-ons due to her employer's mere presence. She was getting tired of it all, yet, as the five arrived within the city of Merda, Azyra couldn't help but think of her travels, and what bonds she had with each of the members of her party.

The first, and by far, the loudest was Rowan. The chosen of Noah. Things had started off quite rough between the two, as on one of the first nights, Azyra had not expected him to have come so close, even placing a hand over her shoulder... With a death gaze, she had punched him, thankfully without putting her full strength into the strike, as she didn't want to kill the poor man. He seemed to avoid her after that moment, much to Azyra's dismay. She wanted a way to apologize for her actions, but, couldn't get close enough to get to that point...

Next was Osran, who also was not too close with Azyra, as she intended. T'was best to keep him at arms-length for the time, as he seemed to pick up on her hiding information about her curse, and the last thing she desired was anyone past Nina knowing her curse's existence. The last thing she wanted, was to be called a monster for whatever reason or another, of course, he would know eventually, but, Azyra hadn't the time to build her trust with him, as, both seemed quite anti-social.

The next was Nina, whom bear the knowledge of Azyra's curse with her. Much like Kito, Azyra felt she had become more of an older sister to her, after all, she was her shield, even going far enough to help give pointers on her double-bladed glaive of sorts. She did her best to remain on at least amicable terms with her new fey companion, Azyra had always made sure any fey she was with felt at least sheltered near her, one les person coveting their blood, and one more protective barrier from those who would.

Finally, Kito. The two seemed to have a rough go about at first, as they appeared to be rivals of sorts, yet, deep down, both understood and admired one-another as warriors. Kito seemed to be a foil to Azyra in a way of things, whether it be personality-wise, or simply fighting wise. T'was not abnormal to see the two sparring several nights in a row, testing each other's steel and resolve. Azyra fully believed that if push came to shove, it would only be a matter of seconds before the two responded, likely having the other's back at that.

• • •

'And yet here we are... I'm definitely not home anymore...' As that thought passed by Azyra's mind, as she glanced about the small courtyard that she had taken for simple practice, working through her techniques, both with her shield, and without. There was never a day that Azyra went without rising before the sun, and continually practicing her abilities, she felt the need to push herself much harder now, as, there were people depending on her shield, she wasn't going to let herself dull for even a moment. Hours would pass, and at the first signs that others were waking, the Cerulean Lancer would quickly pick up her belongings and return to her room for the morning, hoping she'd have privacy for the baths again, as the last thing she wanted was people looking over the many scars that crossed her body, let alone the slow-growing black mass over her abdomen. Eventually, she would eat yet another small meal, though she wasn't paying, Azyra still carried herself as if she was, and would not take any complains otherwise. Yet, the day's activities were not over, far from it. Thankfully, Azyra need not get back into a godsdamned carriage again, as if there was another day of it, she was certain to finally break from her perpetual travel sickness, and someone may end up hurt from it...

Yet, instead, the five seemed to walk to a small smithy, and as Kito flashed her sword, the older gentleman had beckoned the group to a back-room of sorts, where a hatch lay closed. It felt so odd to her, as a small prayer seemed to be mumbled, before the hatch opened to a staircase. Clacking down the stairs, Azyra could hear the ever so often grunts of Rowan over the clicks and clanks of her armour bouncing against the chain that was underneath. It was apparent his leg was getting the better of him, and she knew his pain. Taking a few steps ahead, Azyra would do what she could to help ease that pain, acting as an extra support, that won't punch him in the face this time. By the time the party reached the bottom, Azyra questioned how far down they had gone, after all, this was a port city. However, the question soon faded within the large oval room, as her emerald eyes darted around for a moment, looking at every detail, before settling on the woman clad in azure, whom seemed to have already taken Kito's sword, and thrown it into the fire.

They wanted to bless the weapons and armour to each of the slayers... But only one. As the ritual commenced for Kito's weapon, Azyra's eyes found the gallery, where it would appear several entities formed, one of which seemed quite familiar, a woman, covered with the same Cerulean colour Azyra wore, adorned with the silver of steel, with long golden hair flowing from her winged helmet. Azyra knew, the Goddess watched over her for so long, and today, she was not alone. Stepping foward, Azyra unlatched her shield, following suit with her previous two companions, she watched her shield float over to the forge, it had defended her for so long, surely it would not falter here. Watching it bathe in fire, the resolve of Azyra hadn't wavered, and in the presence of her Goddess, Azyra made sure to present her wings, going as far to stretch them briefly given the space, the ivory feathers ending once more with crimson tips. While her shield float listlessly with Kito's blade, and Rowan's bow, Azyra's gaze met Myera's once more, she had no words for her Goddess, but, words were not needed between the two. Both had an understanding of the other...

 

[sophocles]

LOCATION: merda, the forge of the gods

MOOD: nervous, uneasy, rageful

INTERACTIONS: none

osran gyves

health

Why are we here?

Osran was the last to pass through the hatch in the floor, being careful to not knock his head against the stone on the way down. Within seconds, his eye adjusted to the orange glow of the torches that lined the stairway. He reached out a hand, running his fingers against the stone wall as they descended. The air smelled old, but not in the way one would expect a forgotten basement to smell. There was no hint of dampness, no stench of old mold. No, the air here; it smelled— ancient, and powerful. As if it had existed here for a thousand years. As if it had been drawn into the lungs of omnipotent beings.

It made Osran nervous.

Where are we going?

The downward trek felt like it had gone on for hours, but the muffled silence that befell the party was calming to him. After a small while, the stairwell opened up into a large, ovular, room, the ceiling far above their heads. Even Osran felt small here, the height towering over his own frame.

A soft noise from across the room caught his attention; were they not alone here? Osran raised his gaze to a large window above the wings of the dragon, a hand reaching instinctively towards one of the daggers strapped to his thigh. A woman stood in the center, her entire figure draped in blue garments. His gaze switched from her to the old man, but their guide did not seem concerned with her presence. Not entirely convinced, he kept his eye on her as they made their way further into the room, watching as she raised her arm out towards them.

To his surprise, within seconds, he could feel the air change around him. The atmosphere was thick with salt— it reminded him of when waves broke upon the shores of the ocean. The air vibrated with unseen power which only brought back his feelings of unease. The woman wielded an incredible force inside her— though that power was not of her own. She was a priestess, of a god Osran was not familiar with, but could guess all the same.

What is going on?

The old man brought them to a stop at the edge of the forge— though his shadow no longer appeared to them as such. Osran remained a few paces behind the others, unsure and unwilling to move any closer.

"Only one item may be enchanted, only the Gods know what you'll receive."

As the Wolf Slayer raised her sword in the air, Osran's eye widened in unfortunate understanding.

No. Not this. Not... Damn.

He watched in disdain as the Wolf Slayer offered up her sword. He bristled as the sword was lifted into the air and swallowed by the lava of the forge— only to remain unharmed. The old man's smile seemed wolfish in the light of the flames.

“The gods are watching.”

Osran squinted his eye, turning back to the priestess with obvious doubt. At first, he felt— nothing. No presence, besides their own. Given how far disconnected he was from his own religion, this should have come as no surprise to him. However, as stubborn as he was, he would always trust his own senses before the words of another.

Yet, her words nagged at him. A shiver ran down his spine, as he began to feel an intense amount of spirituality around him; spirituality emanating from his own comrades. Hesitantly, he turned his gaze from above to those in front of him. The priestess' words rang true; he was caught by surprise, forcing him to take a step backward. He had no way of recognizing such omnipotence. He had no connection to these deities. Yet, It was if he could see the connection in each one of them.

Barren. Noah. Myera. Ada.

This place held power beyond his imagination. He did not like it.

He looked down at his own form, expecting to see the same. Nothing. He stood bare before the flames of the forge, naked of any connection. He held out his hands, turning them over and over, palm to knuckles, again and again. Nothing. No strange magic surrounded him. He scoffed to himself, a small smirk forming on his lips. Was this it? After all these years, had he rid himself of his curse? Had he freed himself from his imprisonment?

"No, child."

Osran froze in absolute shock.

A soft voice. A familiarity that came crawling from the recesses of Osran's mind. A presence he had tried so hard to bury within himself, dragged out by the power flowing within the room. He did not have the strength to fight it back; not in this place.

Osran's mind was clouded with hatred. How dare. How dare he. How dare he speak. How dare he wander within his mind. How dare he act as if Osran hadn't spent the last five years acknowledging he didn't exist. As if nothing had happened.

As if the god still loved him.

His eye filled with tears as his rage began to blind him. He wanted to scream, but he would not give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Do you still fight me?" The voice sounded sad and tired, but he did not care. He would not care.

Trembling, Osran's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He closed his eye, his lips folded in a grimace. He began to sway, back and forth, heel to toe, muttering a mantra of the same five words.

Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head—

"Osran—"

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

The voice was silenced and did not speak again.

...

Hm? Was it his turn? He had no longer been paying attention, but he felt the forger's gaze upon him.

He wanted nothing more than to spit on the favor of the god who ruined him, to denounce his name in front of all those present. Osran wanted nothing from him, and would give nothing to him. A favor was worthless to him. He had spent five years attempting to purge all influence from his life, only to be led here, to this very moment in time. Perhaps, if he had been more open about the non-relationship between himself and his patron, he would not have been forced into this position.

The forger's gaze was still upon him.

No, he could not refuse, no matter how much he wanted to. He would not cause any more of an issue than he already had for the Wolf Slayer, though every fiber of his being begged him to.

He swallowed, still trembling, as he tried to consider his options, of which there were few. He refused to offer any weapon to the fire. Nothing that he needed to trust in battle. Not after what happened. Yet what else was there? Osran was a man of very little possession, besides the clothes upon his back and the weapons secured to his body.

Wait. That's not true.

Almost as if it was being led, his mind drifted to a memory. A memory from a lifetime ago, and a relic from an age long past for him.

The forger's gaze was still upon him, as now were the eyes of his comrades.

He wanted to shrink.

"Uh, one— one second." He offered the old man a tight-lipped smile as he began to dig through the pack at his side. Every second that passed seemed like an eternity to him. Where was the damned thing?

After a short while, he let out a sigh, his shoulders drooping in relief. The ring felt cold in his hand. He held it up cautiously, firmly gripped between two fingers. The amethysts gleamed as they caught the light from the fire.

He raised his eye up to look at the items floating above the forge. The others had offered their weapons and armor to their patrons; should he not do the same? What better use could a forgotten ring grant him than one of his many daggers? The swords he carried upon his back? Yet, he could not help but feel drawn to the ring he held in the palm of his hand. Only a few days ago, he had sworn to toss it aside, to stop allowing it to haunt him.

No.

That was the point. An item he could just forget about.

Hesitation coursed through his body, but he held out the ring to the forger as it lay in the center of his palm. He expected the old man to be disappointed with his choice, but he said nothing. The forger gave Osran a short, solemn nod before tossing the ring into the forge. It was almost as if he was aware of the struggle that Osran just faced. He frowned; that thought did not make him feel any better.

As the ring floated in the air among the weapons and armor of his comrades, Osran knew, in the back of his mind, that he would never use it.

No matter what "gift" his patron bestowed upon him, he would never put the ring on.

code by valen t.

Imani heaved a sigh, looking down upon the boy with sadness in his eyes. Even here, standing before the forge of the gods, Osran refused to acknowledge him.​

His grief still haunted him. His anger still consumed him. He still laid the blame upon the god for what happened.

He felt it, as he was sure they all did.

“Do you still harbor hope for your prodigal child?” Trinity’s voice dripped with condescension.

The god took one look at the man who stood before them. Beaten, broken, faithless, who wanted nothing more than to die.
He did not hesitate.

“I do. I must. Not for my sake, but for his own."​

 

[Heavenchi]

( x_Tasia_X )​

 

[x_Tasia_X]

Nina Simone Rivera

The past few days have been rather baffling for Nina. Nina had observed that the majority of her party had grown fond of her rather quickly. It wasn’t the worst thing that could possibly happen, but Nina was very sure of how she should respond to that. Markus Lee was basically the only person she was willing to accept genuine care from and even then, he was far from the doting type. These past few days were surprisingly eventful, there was no battle or fights (well– there was one scuffle…) but there was a lot of talking. Socializing tired Nina out, she was used to traveling in a comfortable silence. So the party’s mingling (mostly Rowan) was unfamiliar to her. Did Nina like it? She wasn’t sure, Nina didn’t like unfamiliar things. So even if she did enjoy having people to talk to by her side consistently, it would be hard to admit it. She could accept it though, it was something to get used to that could become something she appreciated.

What Nina didn’t appreciate was the little scuffle Osran and Rowan got into. Nina hated conflict between allies because she was bad at resolving it, she wished that she could come between people finding with honeyed words and logical dissuasion. But Nina just ended up having her tongue caught in her throat. Maybe she was a coward. All Nina was capable of doing was smoothing things out in the aftermath with a slice of her arm. Many people felt guilt when she’d have to hurt herself to heal them after they made rash decisions. And Nina would be sure to flinch a little more noticeably or appear a little more dazed the next day to really rub in the message. But they didn’t allow her to do that here. She was strictly forbidden from healing her party members unless it was dire. It pissed Nina off. Yet she wasn’t quite sure who to be pissed at. Herself? Them? They were simply being decent, considerate people. They couldn’t be to blame, so it must be her fault. Perhaps they didn’t feel comfortable having her heal them. They must not trust her yet.

Nina was lost in thought when they arrived at Merda’s Port. The small smithy they entered revealed what appeared to be endless spiraling stairs, with little hesitation Nina followed Kito and the older gentleman down the stairs. Nina didn’t really know what she expected the smithy to look like, but she wasn’t expecting this. Nina didn’t see Noah and Barren honored in the same piece unless it was a piece dedicated to every god. Nina didn’t spot any odes the the remaining members of the pantheon. The group was led the the foot of a set of stairs that led to a large forge. The sacred flames roared, yet the room was still cool. Nina didn’t quell on that for long, as the old man reached out to Kito, informing her of the terms of the enchantment. Nina kept her eyes on Kito. Then it was Rowan, then Azyra, then Osran. And it was her turn at last.

Nina had taken a while to think of what she would offer but she decided on her gauntlets. She cautiously removed her arm guards with faux hesitance and watched as the priestess tossed them into the forge. Nina’s arms were completely covered in scarring, there wasn't even an inch of skin that was scarless. The scars were all rather small, the kind of scars that shrink in size as one grows older. Nina doesn’t see her scars very often. Even when she sleeps, the gauntlets stay on, Nina felt naked without them. Nina rubbed her arms with a silent sigh. Paired with her demeanor anyone could figure what they were from, what she used to be. If they weren’t already aware from her reputation or rumors. Nina didn’t necessarily try to hide her past. However shameful it was, it gave people like her hope. Nina watched her golden gauntlets float along with the others belongings. Her expression was an indescribable yet subtle type of yearning and forlornness.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Ada watched her pupil with a guilty gaze. Ada knew that her chosen one would not look at her. There was an unspoken connection between them, and they were both acutely aware of how the other felt. Ada could not understand why her protege thought the way she did. Ada came to her as a child and forced a blessing upon her. A blessing that brought that child nothing but pain and misfortune.

Instead of being angry at her, the cause of said “blessing”, she chose to blame herself for not fighting back. Nina claimed that she had tainted the sanctity of the goddess’s blessing and apologized to her. She devoted herself to Ada further in order to repay her. Ada was always considered to be the softest of the pantheon. Some of her peers in the pantheon envied her for having such a devoted chosen one. But Nina’s blind devotion filled Ada with a sick feeling of guilt. Yet she’s led Nina into danger again.

coded by: s e v e n ​

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Apologies if this isn’t up to standard, I’ve been out of practice.