Fantasy Lost Sanctuary (Main Thread)

[The Prophet]

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔲𝔰 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔦 ℭ𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡​

Glittering jewelry. Expensive clothing. Boisterous laughter and juicy gossip. These sights and sounds permeated the baroque ballroom as a well dressed young man took it all in, quietly sipping on the usual fine wine that catered to the nobility's expensive tastes. Casting warm hazel eyes over the priceless paintings above them, the dark skinned noble appraised the work; picking out the artist almost immediately. You don't quite so easily forget your father's own work after all. With a faint smile he set down the glass lightly on a table, resolving to dance some more until business was to be conducted. Spying his mother chatting up a small crowd he waved politely, getting one in return just as he'd found his next dance partner.

"Julius Mori Crestwood, pleasure to meet you." he began, smiling at her facial recognition. "Would you be so kind as to honor me with a dance? I fear I'll go mad just sipping wine all night." A short nod and giggle later, and they were away onto the floor. It was a tad annoying on Julius's part, having to hold off and move to accommodate someone who seemed unused to dancing, but the young nobleman managed to still make the dance as elegant as she would allow him to with graceful steps and smooth twirls. The soft clicks of Julius's formal shoes kept time, seconds clocking in time to the drop of his heels and the time spent frivolously partying. At last the familiar tune of attention being called gave him a moment to separate himself from the noblewoman with a polite bow, and find the side of his mother. The two remained silent until after the King spoke, before briefly sharing a quiet back and forth.

"A shame I haven't inherited father's titles yet; that seems like an interesting competition."

"You'll be fine, royalty wouldn't suit our house anyways. Your father is quite satisfied in the position we have now."

"Of course mother, I only expressed interest. Competition with the heads of our peer houses as only an heir would hardly be wise. I can always support one of them, should they desire the aid." Julius mused, lightly touching his earrings as he watched the table lintently. The sanctuaries' situation wasn't a secret to the higher up nobles, or even a noble paying enough attention for that matter. Their King's orders were reasonable, though he shared Lady Mortegala's sentiment of it being vague. Cuculdo's words drove a certain twitch to his face, though he dismissed it for now. It would be improper to speak up, not to mention impolite. Leaning closer to his mother, Julius quietly posed a question. "Is Father here yet? I've yet to see him and I feel this is important."

His mother reacted in kind, quietly shaking her head with a small sigh. "Of course not, he's back at the estate still working on that sculpture for the courtyard. Marble and gold this time, I believe." Julius nodded, turning back to watch events unfold, hands folded behind his back.

"I believe our days are about to become much busier."

 

[powerline]

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In the Surly Goat, no one dug for your story. Most inns were similar in that respect, but Bai Tung-Mei capitalized on this. She took special care of her patrons: once you stepped past that threshold, you might as well have disappeared from Trine. She earned loyalty that way. The unsavory came for sanctuary and—so long as they had the coin and minded themselves well enough—they stayed for a good while. In turn, she never needled her way into their lives, never needed to know more than an alias. It made things easier; when the lawman came sniffing, she couldn’t give them a scent even if she wanted to.

But En was different. En, whom she had known since she was tied to the inn by marriage; whose boxed up belongings found a home in her closet when he left her and whose coming and goings were as abrupt as spring showers. En, a man marked only in his eyes by the passage of time all the while she herself withered.

So when he climbed down the steps from his room on the third floor, ducked under a low beam, vaulted over the bar, and offered an extended hand for her to slip her own into, it only felt natural. It felt light and breezy, so very much like En as he spun her once, twice, thrice and waltzed slow beside a litany of bottles. The pub was dead and the sparse, early morning clientele were either too into their drink or stupor to pay the pair anything other than a glassy eyed stare. Just them, them alone. She smelled the fermented grapes on his breath, smelled the smokey agarwood buried in his clothes, the rosewater misted on his skin.

“The occasion?”

“No occasion,” he replied, dipping her low as his humming drew to a close. “We’re alive.”

She fingered the wild tresses pulled free from his updo, cupped his cheek before snorting, wresting her other hand from his grasp and righting herself again. “You’re an idiot,” she said.

Buildings crowded around the stretch of cobbled road, tall and tipsy like the people who left the pub. Passersby moved in clusters, linking arms in solidarity: protesters. En could sense the unrest. That familiar undercurrent of mounting anger; a blistering infection ready to burst. And it made him uneasy to think where he’d be when it finally did. He heard a gun overhead, threw on his wool cloak and, like the crowd spilling around the bend, scurried into an alleyway adjacent. The drunkard gave him pause and, when he stooped down to eye level, his nose wrinkled at the acrid smell. He peeled back fabric from dewy skin, dug his hands through the lining of his clothes until his fingers met coin. Sandwiched between two fingers, he flashed a copper to a motionless body. “Cheers.”

Apothecarium, embellished in gold. He knocked his boots against a step leading into the shop, shucking off mud before entering. Pushing the remainder of a soft pastry into his mouth, his gaze swung from owner, to apprentice, to customer, all gathered around a table. Aware of himself, he pointed to his chest with a finger then gestured to the door with a thumb. “Sorry,” he brought a balled fist to cover his mouth as he chewed. “Too early?”

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[Fiddle_Leaf_Fig]

Mariam Wills
​

Bright grass green eyes were staring back at the girl, her perfect twin looking at her from the small almost dried up puddle of water, it was her but distorted and in disarray. Mariam softly lifted up her coco colored hands from its placement on her thigh and poked at the distorted twin, a frown in her brows formed as she saw the mimic of her disappeared with the soft ripples of the warm muggy water.

"Such a shame when you become alone again."

She spoke to no one in peculiar, just the wandering spirits tilting their pretty little heads in confusion and amazement to see what the young witch was doing. She was sitting quietly in a little spot in the forest that was once hidden by bush and overgrown trees, sadly all she could see now was dead bush and slowly decaying trees. her little hideaway where no one can poke their noses in her face and ask her what their grandmother's favorite silk was, was gone. Mariam chuckled to herself at the thought of snotty no goods throwing money at her, well that is one way to look at it. Mariam's curious eyes looked up from the depressing muddy water, her gaze scanning the area around her...it was once so beautiful. Mariam imaged herself surrounded by lush green trees and flowers of all shapes, colors, and sizes. She imaged how the grass was soft like the wool of a baby sheep and the wildlife wouldn't even acknowledge her! She noted as a graceful buck casually strolled up next to her and took a sip of the little water that was left. The soft breeze danced through her wild curly hair, a soft pleasant smile appearing on her round plump lips.

"What do you think city folk are doing? Certainly not doing this! The outside may be a little...out of order? But it's still nice to get out."

Mariam spoke to the deer that was staring at her with much confusion, he seemed to be contemplating whether to run or stay for the sacred mud puddle. Mariam giggled and stood up, her flowy beige dress falling into place, the wind shifting it a tad. She picked up her basket of herbs, everything Mariam touched seemed to be with such grace and always gentle. She quickly picked up her velvet black pointy hat and started walking towards her little home. A short satisfying sigh escaped her glossed lips as her captivating gaze looked back at the once hidden place once more and she set off, taking playful long strides and little skips as the spirits played through her hair and tickled her ankles. Mariam took it back, who knew being alone could be so pleasing...with the right mindset of course.

 

[Melon Bomb]

"Don't come down too hard now, wouldn't want our fair folk to end up like your kids." A shit-eating grin accompanied the verbal jab, courtesy of none other than Lord Fiamma Garahadt. The spry younger man looked perhaps the most out of place at this gathering, dressed in simple robes more suited for lounging around at home. "Alright, is that all? I've got a suggestion. Let's all lay out what we plan to do, best we didn't discover some of us had the same idea later down the road."

The king nodded in concurrence.

"Thank you, thank you. I'd personally like to expose the many corrupt nobles in our midst and have them tried in court -- like our senior Cuculdo here, and sir Manaan a little ways down the table," he casually accused. "My fair Lady Artuum, might I say you've been acting quite suspicious as of late as well? I hear you've been in contact with our resident underground friends recently, what's all that about, I wonder?"

"Always the jokester." Artuum was unamused by his attack on her character, and curtly flicked her gaze away from the man. "I had been petitioning for our men to recapture that iron quarry in the east for some time, perhaps now the suggestion will be taken a little more seriously. The longer we wait, the sooner Odu will run it dry."

"Me? Corrupt?" Manaan scoffed, the second to address Garahadt's claims. "No more than you, or anyone else seated here today; consequences are for lesser folk. I propose we ban the practice of the Legion's faith; they have been a thorny barb in our side for far longer than we ever should have endured, and this... 'Red Hand' figure they worship, I'll see him seized and hanged for the good of us all."

"Stopping the champagne with cork, are we?" Lord Kaine replied, wisely stroking his mustache. "Hiding the problem will not remove it, my good sir. Now, I may be... somewhat biased, but I wish to wield a greater cudgel with which to chasten the Fourth Eye, so to speak. If they return what they stole from me, all the better. And, I mean this in no offense to Lady Artuum; Lord Garahadt's allegations of your involvement are merely as such."

"It's been so long since I've gone hunting," said Lady Mortegala, leaning back dramatically into her chair. "I'm in the mood for big game... if you know what I mean." And they did, of course. Scouting reports had informed them that at least two corrupted Guardians have been spotted roaming the wilderness -- the ultimate hamper to any form of large scale expedition. "In a perfect world I would kill them both, but I'll be content with just one too. Might lose several dozen men or more in the process... but that's life."

The decidedly realistic projection of their losses left the room momentarily unsettled, but at length the awkward silence was broken again. "I... don't know for sure if this will work, but I may have something that can help with our heat problem." Lady Silvertree chimed in, rather sheepishly as she fingered the old key around her neck. "But I... might have to borrow Snow for a few days... for a delve. It's not too far."

Finally, Lady Lyon raised a hand to her lips and cleared her throat. Making sure she had gathered everyone's undivided attention, she spoke.

"I believe we should redistribute our wealth."

After a few seconds of silence, the entire table pointed at her and immediately burst into laughter.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I apologize, Garahadt, miss Lyon here seems to be the real joker."

"Haha! Oh, that's a good one! You might even say it's 'rich'! Good luck getting that past the court!"

"My Lady, please, we are attempting to have a serious discussion here...!"

In spite of the overwhelming mockery, the noble remained steadfast. Only a handful did not laugh, including the royal family, save for Ari and Alisa who doubled down on their uncontrollable fits of giggling. Mortegala wiped a tear from her eye.

"There's a better position available for you: Have you considered court jester?" The room howled with laughter again.

Lady Lyon glanced to Garahadt, who returned her gaze with a knowing smile. Guess it's plan B after all.

Nulix The Prophet

***

Two horses trotted up to the front of the Apothecarium in a hurry, towing a pair of injured men afflicted by black sludge that oozed from several open wounds. The accompanying guardsman shoved En out of the way and ushered the men in, cupping a hand over his mouth. "Is the doctor present? We have tar victims over here! Time is of the absolute essence!"

DarKnight36 egglover obscured_light powerline

 

[EmeraldSplash]

A weapon of choice... ​

The calm before the storm wasn't as calming for the cries and brawls of the city were loud as ever. It's been getting worse and worse and soon there would be an apex of these events. When? Today? Tommorow?

Nobody knew and nobody would try to even guess but the fact stayed as presented... It would be soon. Soon enough.

"Oh birdie, enjoy the chaos. In time you will be remember as the destroyer of this place, destroyer of this sanctuary. You should be proud" Sapphire spoke as she made her way along with Birdie towards a crowd of people "protesting".

Birdie was not in any way shape or form convinced or proud... He felt as if all of the world is crashing down on him. Depressed he shrugged but Sapphire didn't see for she was in front of him.

"So about the blade... I guess we didn't give them the description properly so they refused to make it." Tracey thought crossing her arms. "We need to be more descriptive Birdie. So the sword, you want it to be light weight of course and it should be long like at least what one meter? Something like that? Hmm..." At this point the woman was talking only to herself and Birdie's input, if there was one, would go unnoticed.

"And on the sides of the blade... No... The blade should be shaped like a... a... Fishbone! So if you penetrate someone with it, you pull out all the intestines."

"Awww this will be awesome!" Tracey trembled at this thought for it brought her joy with a rush of adrenaline. This was followed by a laughter.

"Nobody can make that kind of a blade those blacksmiths told you! What's going to happen, is that we will come there, he's gonna tell you that it's impossible, then you kill him and we go to another smith. THE CITY AND WE, ESPECIALLY NEED BLACKSMITHS, THEY CREATE TOOLS WE KILL PEOPLE WITH! "

Sapphire stopped.

Birdie stopped.

For two minutes, they stood there in silence. Birdie could feel a chill going down his spine however they started walking again. Although he knew that his words were truthful... He stepped out of the line.

"It's not he... It's a she... remember?" she ask trying to hold the anger inside.

"Hmm?"

"The now-decapitated-blacksmith mentioned HER... Do you EVER pay attention?" she wanted to raise her voice but didn't. "The name was something like... Like...... Fuck, I don't remember."

"Well what now?"

"Well it's not like I can go back and ask him."

"That is correct"

"You are truly getting on my nerve dickhead.. Anyway, we have the location of the smith so the name is not important."

"It was something like Sigur? Sgeritte? S-.. Segrunde? You know what let's just move."

After a while...

"This is the place huh?"

"Got a problem with that?"

"No, it's just. Women are not good at smithing weapons and I know that from personal experience."

Sapphire smiled. " I have a good feeling about this one. "

" Okay so I'm guessing the usual, you go through the back and I'll take the roof?" Birdie asked while stretching his legs.

"It's a woman dumbass we stroll right in and politely ask." she answered nonchalantly.

Getting closer, Sapphire put on a mas covering her nose and mouth. It was more like a bandana than a mask. It had no magical ability it was more for intimidation if needed.

She kicked the door open and came in followed by birdie wearing his mask.

AI10100 Colorless Spectrum

 

[ThatGoldenCrisp]

The Stonewall

"Stonewall! Stonewall!" A voice cried out - young and juvenile. "Stonewall!" It echoed. "Stonewall, come play!" Stonewall, as they called him. As they called Einrik. It was a title of sorts, gifted to a man who few can stagger. Many believed Einrik to be such a man. He stood three heads taller than most, and was built sturdier than a Night Rider's destrier. His strength alone warranted recognition.

As a member of Trine’s Militia, Einrik spent his days maintaining peace within the walls. A brawl between drunkards, or a dispute between haggling merchants, could be resolved peacefully from his mere presence. Early in the morning, Einrik - along with his compatriots - had to disperse a protest led by Legion fanatics within the Middle Ring’s Solar Square, near the barracks. They fashioned themselves a more agreeable sort once they caught sight of the Stonewall.

As noon approached, Einrik led a lonesome patrol down the streets of the Jade Square. Dens of thieves and robbers made their nests here, yet no less an expected consequence given the district's supply of commercial and luxury goods. Like flies to shit, as they delicately put it.

Not long after his arrival, young children began to surround Einrik - a mix of urchin beggars and pampered youths, united in their curiosity. "Stonewall!" They sang in unison. He chuckled. It was like this, more often than not, and yet the children remained as enthusiastic as they did the first time. He picked a youth from the crowd - a young pale girl no older than ten, dressed in ragged cloth - and carried her on his shoulders as the others marched alongside him, accompanying him on patrol.​

 

[Nulix]

"Nyah! Ha! Ha! HA!" Cuculdo laughed with the nobles, slapping the meat of his thigh heartily. Lady Lyon's stupidity had them in an uproar. Cuculdo raised a hand wisely, quieting the room. "For all the fanciful and wild scenarios we've heard today I do count myself blessed to be able to hear them," Cuculdo said, his smile fading as his voice grew sincere. "We have all had our differences in times past, but let none of us forget... no matter how we fight and squabble, we all come from noble blood. We are birthed by leaders and protectors. We are the fathers of children." Cuculdo paused, closing his eyes impassionedly. "A toast to our King, who instead of letting this Sanctuary fall to it's own chaos, has gathered the adults in the room to combat the growing unrest." Cuculdo turned to the King at the end of the table, his family beside him, and gave a slight bow. "He has recognized a disease deep in his liver... the sick old man of Trine sees the reaper at his door and has gathered his doctors to operate. Bravo."

Cuculdo's long journey of a metaphor concluded and the gathered nobility in the room began to clap. Cuculdo smiled weakly and downed his drink before sitting again. As other of the Sanctuary's top nobility gathered began to speak Cuculdo's eyes traced over to Lady Lyon, who had given a glance to Lord Garahadt. Cuculdo remained silent, instead turning to look out at the hall and the gathering that was being celebrated. They sat at the head of the reception hall, by the throne, whilst the lesser nobility occupied the hall beyond. Each with worse house colours than the last. The colours of the Trinian royals lined the castle walls: blue and white. The guardsmen stationed in the corners were similarly dressed.

Cuculdo paused, spotting a white and silver cloak in the crowd. He locked eyes with the Knight of Cuculdo in attendance and gave a subtle lift of his finger toward Lyon and Garahadt opposite him. The white-cloaked Knight gave a nod before making their way through the ball, toward a table of lesser nobility- where they could keep an eye on the two rabblerousers...

Melon Bomb The Prophet

 

[Coyote Hart]

​

Euphoria never lasts. Lycidas tended to envelop himself with the rapture of killing for as long as possible, but it felt to Lycidas that the ecstasy of killing was beginning to last less and less. That was problematic. Lycidas was getting bored of the same stuff over and over again. Perhaps it was time to spice things up?

But what to change? Maybe a change of weapon? No, it was quick and familiar for Lycidas to use his psionic knives, and with one flourish he could make the evidence vanish into nothing. Perhaps a torture device of some kind? Lycidas hadn't delved into torture before, and he didn't know whether he would like it or not. Sometimes the screams when he killed hurt his ears. Imagining it amplified two times... ouch.

Eh, what was there to lose? That was Lycidas's thought as he flipped one of the coins he had plundered from the dead family's house. He had money to burn.

So with that, Lycidas took a sharp turn took a sharp turn away from the Jade district to go more towards the Bronze district. His sudden change of direction caused him to catch the person who was walking behind him off balance. Like the perfect gentleman he was, Lycidas caught her by the shoulders and stopped her from falling backwards. With a slightly odd smile and a pat, Lycidas was off like nothing had happened.

Lycidas knew that it would be difficult to find a blacksmith group willing to keep such a request quiet, so he instead looked for a smaller blacksmith house. Like who in their right minds wouldn't report a slightly crazy man asking for 'something to really inflict pain on someone, and keep it hush hush!' Yup, nobody.

A small blacksmith's house caught Lycidas's attention as he walked. Not because it was famous or notable-- rather because it looked like a lady was in the middle of climbing out of a window and two scary people were pulling masks on their faces and barging through the front door. Lycidas shouldn't have interfered with whatever was going on. But chaos often came from meddling with other people's business. And this seemed quite like a nugget of chaos.

"Fufufu," Lycidas chucked sinisterly, "What do we have here?"

Lycidas approached the blacksmith's house, and the sound of voices began to become audible. He couldn't hear whatever they were saying, but by the devil were there a lot of voices for such a small house. Boy, did Lycidas like chaos!

"Heyyy!!" Lycidas called cheerfully as he rapped his knuckles against the doorframe of the front door, "Are you open for business, buddy?"

Well, based on how the two scary people barged through the door, it would seem like they were in business. But it was always nice to knock on the door to check.

Colorless Spectrum EmeraldSplash
AI10100 . D O V E

 

[AI10100]

S C H A N Z E E , A R T
Interacting with: Colorless Spectrum . D O V E
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Before Sigrid could even reply to his serious inquiry, Art noticed that Ash had already disappeared from his side. He wondered idly to himself if it was responding to his agitation - to his burning want to see Azy again for reasons completely unromantic and unplatonic. He clicked his tongue and patted Sigrid's shoulder just as the door creaked open. "I'm sorry for barging in." And it was obvious that something was off with this. He's never been apologetic for entering the blacksmith's house without reason. He always just welcomed himself inside as if it was his own home - as if they were each other's blood.

He entered the house swiftly, following the tracks his own guardian made. His ears picked up the low growl of his guardian and Art rushed towards the noise. The rush that he felt definitely wasn't from excitement and he didn't want to think it was of anger either - but with each step towards Azy came the dawning realization that maybe it was anger. Fury. Azy - she had to be involved with Aiden's disappearance. There was no other explanation. It was definitely from her family. Then she never went down after his disappearance, not even giving Art an explanation. Art thought of them as friends and he felt like he deserved something from all of this. Maybe not words of affirmation that his brother was alive, but just... something. Anything.

A thought in the back of his head entered - Sigrid said that she had an amnesia, right? Was that for real, or-

Thud!

All the questions that swirled his mind disappeared the instant he saw the blonde. Every word got caught in his throat. What did he want to ask again? Did he even have something solid to ask her? Everything in his mind came to a screeching halt and his body just went rigid. Ash ducked down her head, seemingly apologizing for yanking too hard that the woman might have been injured. Or maybe it was from fear of her own master's turmoil.

Her words snapped him out of his thoughts - or lack thereof - and his body relaxed. "Do you know it's rude to leave your friend hanging for two months?" Came his voice, a little tired than usual but there was a small smile on his face. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. He extended his hand to her so he could help her up. "Where..." He started but something stopped him from continuing. Which should he start off with first?

"Where have you been?"

 

[. D O V E]

Out of all the things Azy thought Art would say to her, a "where have you been," has to be the most plain sailing of them all. Yet, it was still ever-so difficult to answer. The droopy smile on her face didn't falter even as she took his hand and pulled herself back on her feet. She caught sight of Ash shooting her an apologetic look at the corner of her vision, causing the blonde to bend down and give her soothing rubs in return. As her fingers ran through its pristine furs, she was reminded of another ward guardian and his master- Julius Crestwood. She couldn't help but wonder: would everything be different if she stayed with him?

However, now was not the time to dwell on regrets. She straightened up and faced Art with that persisting smile of hers. "Where else but hell," her shoulders rolled to a shrug. Azy, or Cordelia, had often referred to the inner ring as the hell dressed like paradise. A place of devils.

"I apologize for that. However, I didn't disappear by choice." She began and a somber look replaced her expression. "My family...," several voices echoed from the other side of the door. It would be fair to assume they were customers from the way they sounded. Rowdy bunches though. Probably the type who wouldn't think twice about surrendering her to the De Lucas.

"It's getting a bit too crowded in here, and I don't think this is the right place to talk." The door didn't have a lock after all, and they could hear the voices from the other side. "Let's head someplace else." She whispered as she gestured at the open window.

AI10100

 

[Athanas]

People often make stupid assumptions about many a thing. Some call the Sun a God. Some say that the tar is divine punishment. Some say that the guardians are naught but wardens, meant to entrap all sentient life in these sanctuaries.

One can never fault such assumptions, however, for the times are dark, and rationality is nowhere to be found. That is all fine. However, the trouble starts when these assumptions, for whatever reason, are treated as facts.

And yet, that is exactly what the militia seemed to be doing. They assumed the riots to be the fault of Legion, or perhaps some other vile force. Some even threw the idea around that all of this was the cunning ploy of some noble.

The truth was much simpler, much more grim-The people were starving. They were desperate, and rumors claimed the guardian was ever-weakening. Of course they feared for the future. Of course they thought the royalty hoarded all of the resources.

"And Gods above, you absolute buffoons, stop whacking them! Can you not see? Every time leaves them feeling a little bit more betrayed. A little bit more like you're naught but hired muscle of the noblemen that keep them down. Hadn't you thought of that?"

That final remark was an actual question, directed at the woman dressed in Militia attire in front of him. Unfortunately for the flow of that conversation, the woman remained silent. One could not fault her, however, as most would agree that talking while dead is a monumental task.

"Not worthy of an answer, huh? Well, fine, have it your way. I may just be talking out of my ass"

With that, Myrlond took another large bite out of her chest. Normally, he would not dare be so callous as to enjoy his meal here-but low public order truly allowed for so many wonderful innovations. He could faintly hear the riot raging nearby still-It was beggining to die down, but it would be a long while before the militia patrols returned to normal. And that meant no interruptions during feeding time. Which suited him just fine-after all, dinnertime was sacred, and none should dare interrupt it.

There were two other bodies in that shack-These militiamen had been cut off from their unit due to the rabble. They had taken shelter in this abandoned shack, but unbeknowst to them, Myrlond had been partaking in the festivities, and was all too eager to feast. But who can fault him? Meat is a rarity. Any opportunity must be taken advantage of...

The other two had already been stripped down to the bone. Such was his hunger. But on this third one he was finally nearing a sated state. Besides, the riot really was dying down now, and he'd best not waste too much time. Sighing, he got up, burping loudly and wiping the blood off of his mouth. He began packing up their things-some loose silvers in pouches, their swords, what armor they may have had. Finally, determined to let nothing go to waste, he carved up several more morsels from the female, as well as skinning the face-The former, he would cook to enjoy at a later convenience. The latter, he would cure for a special purpose....

Whistling happily, he exited the shack, making sure to jam the lock so that any potential scavenger after him would be delayed. Now that he had some coin and spare weapons, it might be a good idea to go to Sig, finally get some protection commissioned. After all, magic alone might not suffice, eventually.

It took him a while to get to her workshop. He had to admit, Trine could be a bit confusing. Or maybe it was just that he was unused to civilization. Whatever it might've been, by the time he arrived, it seemed that several more people had already beaten him to the punch! Some of them wearing intimidating masks, which made Myrlond chuckle rather loudly-little things thought that they seemed intimidating, bless their hearts!

Unfortunately for them, the amusement they had brought him was not enough to make him overlook the fact that they had kicked down the door. And while in most other occasions he'd have been overjoyed to sit back and watch Sig take them on, he owed her one-That probably entailed sticking by her in such a situation. Slowly, deliberately, he drew his mace, bringing it up to his head.

"What's that? Oh, surely, you jest! None would be that stupid to try and rob a smithy in broad daylight! Surely, this is some elaborate plank?"

He listened intently for a few seconds, occasionally nodding, as if the mace was making a convincing arguement only he can hear. Then, with a wide smile unhinged enough to unnerve even staunch veterans, he entered the building, ducking so his massive frame didn't clip with the doorframe.

"No... Of course not. These are clearly customers. Very rude customers, to be sure, showing up overdressed and not knocking politely. But! I am more than certain they will compensate Siggy by tipping handsomely. Won't you, lads? Speaking o'which....SIGGYYYY! I'M BACK! AND THERE'S CUSTOMERS HERE! GET OFF THAT FORGE!"

He did not take his eyes off of the newcomers, merely looming over them with his tremendously bulkier presence. All the while, he kept the mace close to his ear, listening...


(For some odd reason I cannot ping aaa)

 

[Melon Bomb]

"Then, we are all aware of what we must do. This meeting is adjourned," said the king, ignoring Cuculdo's grievous insults. He planted his hands on the table and rose from his chair. "You may continue to enjoy the night's festivities, if you so desire. There will be long days ahead of us tomorrow onward. Anna. Children. Come." The Queen ushered Princess Atela up, quietly scolding her as she peeled her away from the table. With that, the royal family took their leave, disappearing down the hall with little fanfare.

One by one, the elite nobles parted from their seats and followed suit, leaving only Lady Mortegala calmly sipping her wine alone. Her, and Lady Silvertree who had wished to excuse herself last.

"My, my... everyone is in such a hurry," Mortegala said to no one in particular.

"Will you be staying a while longer?" Silvertree asked.

"Certainly. I've nowhere to be."

"I see. I shall be taking my leave as well, I hope for the best in your endeavors." The young noblewoman bowed and scurried out of the room.

Nulix The Prophet

 

[egglover]

"Not at all," Myril replied to En, surprise in her voice at the amount of customers so early in the morning, "How can I--"

Suddenly her words were cut off as three new people entered the scene, two of which who were injured with the curse. The doctor stood straight and immediately went into motion, ushering the cursed pair toward the double doors in the back where, if En, Khilith, and the guard were to follow, they would be led down a short hallway, past a set of stairs and through to a room not unlike the one they were just in. Along the walls were four currently empty beds to which the men were gestured to one each. Myril hurried to a shelf, plucked two bottles from a glass cabinet and handed one to Urshta who had followed behind her. She pointed to one of the men, "Force that one to drink."

The man sitting on the bed closest to Myril had no time to speak before she uncorked the bottle and slammed the bright green liquid down his gullet. Like convincing a child to swallow medicine, the doctor held the mans mouth shut until he drank and sputtered at her assault. Once she was convinced that he had swallowed it all she gave a curt nod, "Good," her eyes went to the guard, "How were they injured? How long ago?"

Melon Bomb DarKnight36 powerline obscured_light

 

[AI10100]

S C H A N Z E E , A R T
Interacting with: . D O V E
Mentions:
​

"Your life is one I will never be jealous of." He responded with a scrunched up face. Art's opinion of the nobility and the inner circle was less than stellar, much like everyone else that lived beneath the people who leeched off of the people's hardwork. Living among them was something he could barely imagine and when he did, it was always accompanied by dread. Azy - or rather Cordelia - wasn't an exception at first. As pompous and snobby as Cordelia was when they met, her gradual softening and subsequent actions had at least improved his opinion of her.

Her explanation was cut short at the sound of people outside. "Sig doesn't have many customers usually. Frankly, I'm surprised." Art admitted while rubbing the back of his neck, though not irritated. He heard a familiar voice booming within those walls - one that brought a genuine smile to his face. While they might not see eye to eye about everything, this man was effective on the field and that's what he appreciated.

But at the same time, Cordelia was right. They had to leave before anyone sees her.

"Yeah. I think I know a place where we can get some semblance of privacy." He looked up at the window she was trying to get out of earlier and chuckled. "For someone of your upbringing, you're like a rat." He teased and moved towards the window to give her a boost. He paused for a moment, thinking of something before unclipping his cloak and placing it onto her without her express permission. They always met with her having something covering her face - whether it be a mask or a cowl. Seems like this time she had neither of those. He reached towards the hood and pulled it up to hide her face. "I'd love to say that I'm surprised Sig didn't recognize you from the posters plastered around. But knowing her, she probably didn't pay attention enough to have seen it." He muttered before letting go of the hood and squatting with his hands together and gesturing for her to hurry up.

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Sigrid Lindstrom

Before Sigrid could follow Art to the back of the shop, her attention was taken by the sound of the front door being kicked. With a furrowed brow she wondered who it was that came to her shop. From what she saw, they by no means were people that she knew. She looked back to the opening that connected the workshop to the house and figured that Art can handle what had made Ash go inside in the first place. He could also meet Azy, though it would have been much better if she could introduce her old friend and new friend herself but...

"Yes? Is there anything that I can do for you?" She asked from behind the counter with a smile plastered on her face although her heart means otherwise. She's didn't like that they were wearing masks, and she isn't very fond of people barging into her shop so rudely.

A knock came from the door. Sigrid blinked, the tiniest of frown on her lips as another customer had come by. "We are, please come in!" She shouted over so that the person outside could hear. This... Doesn't always happen. Most of her customers relay their requests from the Guild, only a few people like Art and Myr come by her shop.

She took in a deep breath and faced her customers, "I'm sorry that I don't have a seat to offer for the three of you-"

A familiar voice bellowed from behind her customers, one that she knew and brought a rather genuine grin to her face. She always finds it amusing how he refers to her as Siggy. Something that reminded her often of her siblings. "Myr!" She called out to the giant hunk of flesh and blue skin. It's not like she was that small as she stood with a height of six feet and three inches but he was still taller.

"How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while, have I? Here to commission too?" She chatted merrily to her friend before she turned her attention back to her customers. "As for you three, just tell me what it is I have to make then we can talk about the pricing later." The sooner we finish this, the sooner you leave. She thought to the three strangers, "If you could just wait for a bit Myr, I'll get to yours as soon as I finish."

mention: . D O V E AI10100 || interaction: Athanas EmeraldSplash Coyote Hart

 

[. D O V E]

Pleased with Art's agreement, Azy inched closer and propped herself over the window. However, just as she was about to cross, a soft sensation overcame her and she realized her friend had wrapped his cloak around her. "Thank you," she muttered with a grateful smile, eyes squinting as the man pulled the hood to cover her facial features. "I've only been with Sigrid for a few days, but she seems to be completely clueless of almost everything except her craft." She said as she watched Art slightly crouch with his hands joined.

Azy couldn't help but suppress a chuckle at this, however, she still took the kind offer. "My, what a gentleman. You're a step away from redeeming yourself." After all, he did barge into an occupied bathroom mere minutes ago. She carefully stepped on the offered hands, smoothly crossed the aperture, and hopped onto the ground. The blacksmith's bathroom was located in the first floor, so neither of them had to worry about any fall damage.

The cloaked blonde dusted herself as she waited for Art to follow. It was only when she felt his presence beside her did she look around the bustling Middle Ring. Most of her life was spent in the Inner Ring, she would only be allowed to venture out once in a while. However, everything changed when she met Aiden.

"I've been detached from society for over two months now, and I spent the last few days unconscious. I thought I could get some updates from Sigrid, but that's clearly impossible since she's but a breath away from becoming a bonafide hermit." Azy shared, sounding concerned as she continued scanning her surroundings. Among the moving populace and the busy stalls, Azy caught sight of a nearby billboard standing like a rock in a flowing stream. She cautiously adjusted her hood as she moved closer. Posted on the wooden surface were different notes and posters; one of which stood out to her like a sore thumb.

Spoiler: Poster

MISSING:

Cordelia De Luca
Reward: 100 gold

​

She blankly stared at her own portrait. "What a generous offer," she remarked as she continued to read the rest of the information. The address of the De Luca estate was written in a smaller font, along with ways of getting in contact. As expected, her family was very much keen on getting her back- dead or alive. She knew they wouldn't be above hiring assassins to get the job done. Either case, virtually everyone in Trine would do anything to get their hands on a hundred gold.

Azy knew: it was the hunt, and she was the prey.

AI10100

 

[Melon Bomb]

The guardsman anxiously scratched his head and spit out a rough estimate to the doctor's query. "Uh... m-maybe half an hour? Give or take... Both of 'em got clawed up by some tarred up pigeons, all along the arms 'n upper body. I swear, ain't nothing like this ever happened before in my six years as a watchman... What's this world comin' to?"

On the bed, Darin wheezed out some of the fluid from his lungs, head swimming from the paranoid thoughts that filled his brain since he'd been afflicted.

"What's going to happen to me?" he asked with wide, panicked eyes, tugging at Myril's garb as he pulled her closer. "What's going to happen to me? Am I going to die?"

"You're not gonna fuckin' die," his mate said from the other bed, half tempted to fling his pillow at the drama rouser. "So we got a few cuts, big deal. All we have to do is... is... drain it or something, and we'll be good. Right?"

egglover DarKnight36 powerline obscured_light

 

[AI10100]

S C H A N Z E E , A R T
Interacting with: . D O V E
Mentions:
​

"She's a good person. But she tends to hyperfocus on smithing." Though he knew that his friend had put on an effort to help him find Aiden. It wasn't often that she reached out to her friends to find someone and ask around, so he really did appreciate her for trying. But if he wanted the latest gossips in Trine, he would have to go to his own guildhouse or one of the taverns. Those bartenders always seemed to know whatever was going on in the town. It was like they had ears everywhere. Frankly, it was both impressive and terrifying.

He stuck his tongue out playfully at her. "You're still in hot water Del." The nickname slipped so easily. He had bounced around her names, from her incognito Azy to her formal Cordelia - but he always preferred to call her by the nickname that he had graciously given upon her at the sixth meeting. That was around the time he had gotten to get a better feel of her, a better... opinion, shall we say. Though it wasn't reciprocated until much later as his first prank on the girl ended with his reputation taking a tanking dive. How was he to know Cordelia was a noble in hiding?

Once she was over and out of the window, Art waved his hand in front of his guardian and Ash disappeared into his gauntlets and the shiny glint to it reappeared. He turned around and grabbed onto the window and jumped down, landing beside her with no problem. Of course, they couldn't have looked more suspicious from jumping out of the blacksmith's bathroom but no one paid them any mind. Keep your head down and mind your own business. That's how you survive in this place.

"Smithing is a full time job and I typically get her supplies for her so..." Art shrugged. Sigrid didn't really have much of a reason to go outside. While Art would have rather died than stay cooped up inside a house all day, Sigrid was different. He won't judge. "Anyway come on I- Del?"

He turned to see that she had moved towards the billboard where her own missing - wanted - poster was tacked on. Just like in most other billboards in the entire sanctuary. Art came up to her side, reading over it as well. He whistled. "That's some gold." Art wasn't the kind to go after gold though. It was a nice side job - selling ward weapons and all. The money that came with it helped his parents and him as well as funds to search for Aiden now. But his parents never really saw the merit of having so much money like the nobles. Art could understand. He leaned forward and his voice lowered to a whisper. "They really want you found, huh?"

He pulled away again before she could answer the rhetorical question. He gingerly touched her arm to tug her towards a more secure space. The longer they spend outside, the more risk they were at being discovered.

 

[. D O V E]

"They really want you found" would be the understatement of the day. How many properties could someone buy with a hundred gold? Azy couldn't say she was surprised though. If the positions were reversed and she was in their shoes, she would probably resort to the same thing. The secret she learned of was dangerous- something that could plunge Trine deep into chaos faster than the curse itself. She didn't know if there could ever be a time when she'd have the courage to tell a soul about it.

Even so, she only jested with a "they got the nose wrong," as she allowed Art to lead the way. The path to the Outer Ring was busy as expected, and the two blended in perfectly with the moving crowd. The guards facilitating the passage didn't give them much trouble, granting them a smooth entry after a few words with Azy.

The next thing Azy knew, they were navigating through one of the many slums in the Outer Ring. They eventually arrived in one of the more remote corners of the ghetto where a lone shack sat. It looked rather shabby, yet familiar.

"Ah, your hideout." She has been inside twice in her lifetime. It was the perfect spot to lay low while dozens of guards flip the area inside-out searching for them. "This brings back memories." The comment left her mouth as she drew closer to the hut, waiting for Art to open the door.

AI10100

 

[AI10100]

S C H A N Z E E , A R T
Interacting with: . D O V E
Mentions:
​

Art snorted at her comment and for a moment entertained the idea of pinching her nose, but that would have probably been too familiar. So he opted to just walk away instead. She was in deep thought for a moment, not something he really blamed her for. Currently, she was likely one of the most wanted people in Trine. That was not an easy position to be in, that's for sure. It was nice while the anonymity lasted, but Art still had his. Aiden and Cordelia were compromised but at least he was safe - not that the thought of his brother being in grave danger brought any joy to that fact.

At least Art could survive out there.

The walk to the Outer Ring was uneventful and he was thankful for that. He eyed some of the pickpockets who were hanging around and they understood fully well that he wasn't here to play. They ended up in the small hideout him and his friends used to hang out in, just to talk. People from all walks of life that just... wanted to get away from stuffy titles and jobs and just relax. Art felt his heart ache from the memories, knowing the future that befell the group that led to him being the only one who ever returned to the shack.

"All good ones, I hope." He hummed as he opened the door for her to go in. Once she did, he locked it behind her - not like it was going to hold against much force - and pulled up a chair for her as he hopped onto a table and made his perch there. With a shine of the light, Ash materialized once more, making herself comfortable near Azy's feet.

"I really do hope you have a good explanation, Del. I really don't want to wrangle information out of you about my brother and what the fuck happened."

He paused for a moment and a question sat on his tongue as he remembered the missing poster from earlier. "Before that though, we need to change what you look like. For your safety and mine. What do you say about a haircut?" He grinned as he continued. "And maybe a few scars to make you less recognizable yeah?"

 

[egglover]

Myril examined Darin carefully, her gaze tracing up his arms where black goo oozed out of small lacerations. After a long moment she looked the man in the eyes, "You may live, but we will have to amputate both arms."

She did not speak to his friend.

 

[. D O V E]

Azy scanned the room as soon as she entered. It didn't look any different than before, except for the new scraps here and there. The place was solely illuminated by what little sunlight could pass through its tattered roof and windows. The grave lighting and the screeches of the chair against the floor made her think she was about to be subjected to brutal interrogation. Brushing the awful thought aside, Azy took the offered seat and allowed Ash to settle by her feet.

"I, for one, don't enjoy getting wrangled, so I share your sentiment." She replied with her trademark, closed-lips smile and slightly squinted eyes. Perhaps the familiar expression was what urged Art to present his suggestions.

She unconsciously ran her hand through her platinum locks and down the curves of her face. He was right; her appearance would surely pose a problem. She saw herself in the mirror back in Sigrid's house, and even an eight-year-old would be able to tell she was the missing lady in the posters.

Art's grin convinced Azy that he might take joy from what was to happen inside the isolated shack. Although she grew up in nobility, Azy never gave personal care to her appearance. She was taught to make herself look presentable and to observe the proper decorum at all times, but that was the extent of her vanity.

She hummed, "Very well. I've always wanted to try a new style." A light chuckle escorted the confirmation, as if she didn't just agree to letting him chop her long hair and carve scars upon her face. She then tapped the skin just above her left brow and let the tip of her finger glide across her eye vertically. Her body was still littered with aching bruises and unhealed cuts, but if Art deemed it necessary to give her new ones then he had her permission.

It would be nothing compared to the pain waiting for him.

"I'm ready when you are." She smiled.

AI10100

 

[EmeraldSplash]

The rule of three... ​

Sapphire saw a shadow of a figure. The entity stood behind her and it was huge, she assumed it's just a well-built man, maybe a friend of the smith's or possibly a protector which would make things considerably harder. The assassin wanted to make a comment but she was cut short by this creature yelling.

Tracey was okay with yelling however Birdie is a different story. He lives in silence. Back in headquarters, even his room is the furthest and he even got to the point of isolating it. Letting none of the noise catch his ears.
He turned around visibly frustrated and angry with his right eye twitching.

"Oh so you are one of those..." at this point, Tracey, who was just waiting for the smith and not listening turned around towards the creature and saw a massive shark person standing menacingly, now in front of them. However it did not shake her. She had seen worse things in her life.

"Listen here, human wannabe, the only tip she'll get is not loosing her head" he said while cracking his hands.

"Quiet Birdie we didn't come here to make trouble"

Birdie did not even flinch when he heard those words being said in a dominant manner.
"You don't belong here hybrid."

"Birdie..."

"You think you are better than us just because you look tougher. But the truth is... You all bleed the same."

Sapphire noticed a sudden movement of Birdie's and so she took action and placed her hand on his hand. Birdie was about to pull out a dagger and if Sapphire hadn't notice it... Then it would end badly.

"Cut that shit out! You either obey the rule of three or I'll personally go to your lovebird and cut her eyes out! This is your second, so don't fucking waste it!" she screamed and stayed unmoving. So did Birdie.

After looking in each other's eyes, Sapphire apologized.

"I'm very sorry for my colleague here, he's been having a wild day. I will discipline him later."

The smith came suddenly and both of them acted like nothing happened. Both of the assassins stood there while the smith was chatting with this creature and when she turned to them she was sweet but Sapphire knew she wants them to get the fuck out.

"Hey cutie" Sapphire started placing her hands on the table. "I would like you to craft me a sword. A long one, but light so Birdie here doesn't hurt himself with it." she leaned forward closer to Sigrid. "A sword shaped like a fishbone with ridges and something like, like... I just... want... you know.. A sword that when I push it into somebody's stomach, then when I remove it with a one swift motion, everything will fall out and I mean everything honey!"

"You think you can do it?" she said with a playful smile.

Colorless Spectrum Athanas Coyote Hart

 

[PiePillager]

The blood-stained beak tore through the a leathery spotted exterior to consume the flesh therein! Liver, heart, brain, bone, bloody sinews stringing together tough tendons and joints! All consumed were they! To the gizzard they went! And then, in but a moment, it was done! The flesh consumed, the bovine stripped bare! The farmers did good labor, their king should commend them! The beast was well fed and it showed. It would be long before the King of the Condors hunted again!

The feast done, his hunger sated, what left to do but return to keeping a watchful eye o'er the ignorant and ignoble?! What curious cretins they were, and how troublesome! Not know they, how to run a land, a kingdom! Nobles with no nobility, honor-guard with no honor! Among the beasts, they only had the crownless kings! The conquering queens! They protected their people, served their kind well! Those that did not fell and became prey! But the flightless, two legs...they prey on themselves! An endless cycle of cannibalism! Unthinkable! Where was the honor in their battles?! Where were the duels of rulership?!

" 'Tis no wonder a pox will consume them!" he scoffed from his high perch atop the Royal Castle. "Walking the path of the coward, 'tis their own people they'll first condemn!"

 

[Melon Bomb]

Darin stared up blankly at Myril, processing her words. Then, slowly, he rotated his body and set his feet down on the floor. And ran.

A basin of medical supplies flipped and clattered against the floor as his forearm swiped it in his haste, leaving tarred fingerprints on the doorframe when he curbed his surging momentum against it. The sound of squeaking boots pierced the room, and in his frenzied eyes, the world transformed into a blur of colors that only meant two things -- the way out, or not. Stopping on a dime outside the Apothecarium, he whipped his head around and sprinted down the road like a madman, shooting into an alleyway and disappearing from sight.

Inside the building, the other patient gazed in bewilderment at what had just occurred. "Hey, hey, hey... this is-- this is bad, somebody needs to stop him!" he blurted, momentarily distracted from his own fate. If an outbreak spread within the city walls...

egglover DarKnight36 powerline obscured_light

***

The day was approaching noon. Waves of oppressive heat beat down on Trine, amplified by the humidity of its temperate atmosphere. Village folk in the outer rings slowed down in their work, cooling off under the shade of their cottages. At this time, various notice boards throughout the city were beginning to buzz with activity as clients came and went posting jobs and special requests, and food carts began rolling out into the squares to serve lunches to the public.

A primly dressed young man flattened a sheet of parchment against one such board, striking four pins into the page to hold it in place. The azure twin butterfly stamp in the corner signified it as an official request from the ministries of the sanctuary, reading:

HUNTING CONTRACT
The council of Trine has established a bounty upon the great bird which
has been abducting precious livestock within the Outer Ring. It is of pressing
concern to this community that it be swiftly slain, to the reward of 500
gold pieces for the person or persons who are responsible for delivering
its head to the Ennead lodge.
- Lord Serrin Hughes, Trine City Consul​

Passing through a neighboring square, crouching city children took turns rolling over a dead rat with a branch, only looking up when a large shadow fell upon them. A wagon's carriage groaned under the weight of its burden, its wheels clicking between the divots scattered in the cobbled road. Three casually dressed (but visibly armed) men towed the cart along, feeling it bounce and chirr every few steps. A lone crate of tremendous size, obscured by canvas, rested upon it. The peculiar size of their cargo drew a few glances here and there, but they were able to carry on largely undisturbed -- after bribing away a few patrols of nosy guards, of course.

Whatever they were transporting, a low rumble seemed to emanate underneath the cover, guttural and animalistic. However, unknown to even its transporters, the thing inside began to jostle free of its trappings, with only the sound of clanking chains against steel to warn them...