Fantasy The Prisal Advance Party

[Berries]

​

Isreian Imperial Army | City of Catly

After receiving word of Prisal's invasion of Ticedo, Isreia had been thrown into chaos. The three kingdoms had been at peace for decades now and it seemed unreasonable that Prisal would so suddenly lash out: even though their conscription practices had begun four years ago, neither Isreia nor Ticedo had viewed it as an immediate threat. However, here they were, with Ticedo's capital captured. General Mayor Lintin, the highest ranking official in the Isreian army, was now hosting an urgent meeting of all high ranking officers on what to do in order to combat the uprising threat. The meeting had been going on for around an hour now, and all faces in the room were grim.

"We cannot be sure that Prisal's offense will stop at Ticedo. There is every chance that we may face invasion as well, and so we need to prioritize the safety of our borders," the General was saying. Isreia's border with Prisal was highly mountainous and hard to transverse, so they anticipated an attack through Ticedo's border which was much more accessible.

"For this reason, I have appointed Major General Ukuza Lunga as the Head of the Isreia Watchtower and Border Defense Patrol." The General declared, gesturing to the half-elf seated near the head of the table. On queue, Ukuza stood up from his seat. The room was quiet to begin with, but now there was an anticipatory hush. Ukuza was well-known: the boy who took on an army, the survivor, he had many names. After the decades of peace in Isreia, this man was the only one who had known recent combat, and many anticipated his promotion to Lieutenant General.

"Thank you, General." Ukuza said, his golden eyes scanning the assembled military personnel. "I am honored to be put in a position to help defend our Kingdom, and I guarantee you I will do my best to protect our borders. In order to help me achieve this goal, I have asked Colonel Marianna Tuk to serve as my second in command." The half-elf pronounced, looking over at the tall she-elf who stood up on command.

Marianna Tuk wasn't a name that was well-known, so there was a lot of hushed muttering as the people around the table exchanged information to find out who she was. Legendary... Spiritual magic... Recent addition... Waiting a few seconds before continuing to ensure the room was up to date, Ukuza nodded again to Marianna who sat back down.

"We will be immediately resuming our posts and working with the currently stationed soldiers to ensure that we have an effective work force. We anticipate at least a scouting party from Prisal within the next two weeks, and will be working to have a polished line of defense by that time. We look forward to serving our kingdom, thank you for your trust in us." Ukuza said smoothly before returning to his seat. General Mayor stood back up and continued the meeting. Meanwhile, Ukuza and Marianna exchanged a small nod between them as they began to set their plan in motion.

 

[Jon]

Royal Palace | Barden, Capital City of Ticedo

Rolling his feet out of the bed, Vincent sat up as he rubbed his temples. "I honestly thought you'd be out for a week..." Laughed a knight who stood at a large table in the center of the room. "Dark magic is easier to digest oddly enough..." Vincent remarked as he stood up to stretch before moving over to the table to join Marcus. "After so many nights in the field its strange sleeping in such a large bed, in a palace even..." Vincent then added as he glanced around the kings chambers before turning his attention to the reports that covered the massive table. "You should not forget that you are a Prince my lord...if it would suit you I could have one of the princesses come join you..." Marcus smirked. "The King's second daughter is a sight to behold, fiery red hair, massive..." The knight continued, pausing only under the Prince's glare. "...of course such a union could also facilitate this transition of power. There are still rebels and portions of the army that do not accept the Kings surrender. A marriage would legitimize Prisal's rule."

"Part of the King's surrender was that his family would be protected. I will honor that..." Vincent responded, pausing only to show that the topic wasn't up for discussion. "...we will deal with rebels just as we did in Prisal, this is no different. If anything they are much weaker than our forces." Vincent began to explain as he started to draw lines on the large map of Ticedo before them. "We'll divide the army in two to secure the northern and eastern borders of Ticedo, they will deal with the remaining Ticedian forces accordingly."

"Yes my Prince, it is as we had planned...however, have you given any thought to the Queens orders if you recall them?" Marcus then asked as Vincent simply took a seat in the chair beside him. His mother had rarely interfered with his war efforts other than to identify their enemies, but Vincent was beginning to question where it would end. Unifying Prisal after his absence was a necessary task for their very survival. Ticedo, an ancient enemy whose very existence taunted their rule was due to fall by his sword, its capital crumbling even before his arrival proved the point. However, Vincent could find no justification for her orders to attack Isreia. Yes they had never been an ally to Prisal, but such an arbitrary declaration of war would make them nothing but conquers, an image Vincent was doing his best to fight now in Ticedo.

"Any word from our messenger? How long have I been asleep?" Vincent then asked as Marcus simply shook his head. "No further word from the queen or our men in Prisal, though it has only been 3 days." Marcus continued to explain as he started to move pieces on the map. "We would not be able to afford sending any forces north if we do plan to attack Isreia, we may have to call for reinforcements from Prisal as well, they will certainly be preparing for an attack after hearing about how quickly we took Barden."

"No, we continue with Ticedo as planned, we cannot risk losing the momentum we've gained. The rebels still pose a serious threat if we give them time to rally support, especially if we allow any of the slavers to band together. This war would have been much different if we didn't have an element of surprise...there would have been many more casualties..." Vincent remarked, knowing this was the danger he faced now with Isreia. "...what of the volunteers and conscripts?" Vincent then asked, hesitation in his voice. "We had a fair number, more than I had expected." Marcus quickly answered as he motioned to a large stack of papers at the end of the table.

Moving to the pile, Vincent quickly began to glance through them, his face twisting with confusion with each passing sheet. Finally holding up a leaf, "...what the hell is this?" the Prince asked as Marcus shrugged, "a fairy, she said it would be easier for her to write that way." Marcus explained as Vincent could only laugh as he started to read off the sheets. "A goblin, an orc, another goblin, almost 20 healers...do any of them even know how to fight? Many of them even appear to be slave races...oh and an old monk with apparent god powers?" Vincent continued, looking for another explanation from the knight commander.

"To be fair my Prince Ticedo is the most diverse kingdom in the realm, home to many of these races. Further more, it would appear that many do truly have the will to fight after having been freed by our army so to speak. Ticedo was not just oppressive to Prisal, but to their own people as well. Many see this as being part of a new beginning, others see it as joining the winning team...the lower races also have few other options."

"We shall see if they feel they are on the winning side when they are marching on Isreia's border, fire and magic missiles raining down around them..." Vincent said before sighing heavily. "Have those with prior combat training or any decent level of magical ability muster in the courtyard, send the rest back to the shelters..." Vincent then ordered as Marcus simply nodded before dismissing himself.

Getting dressed, Vincent began to run his options through his head. An army of conscripts would have no chance against the Isreian army, and there was no way he could simply throw such an untrained force in with his soldiers and mages. They were useless, Vincent convinced himself as he stepped out into the courtyard, eyeing the men, women, and everything else that stood before Marcus. The knight commander glancing back to see the Prince quickly called the group to attention as Vincent reached them.

"You all are very brave, I want to thank you for offering your service to me..." Vincent called out to the crowd as translators took their places beside him. "...I do know though that many of you are probably afraid about the future of Ticedo, afraid about your own futures. I am here to tell you that this is the beginning of a new age for the kingdom, one where brave fighters like yourselves will have nothing to fear! Your old King was unworthy of you, for what I see before me is great potential...show me that you see what I see...show me that I am not wrong about this fallen kingdom..." Vincent said as he turned to Marcus.

"Have them come out one by one to display their powers, we'll judge what to do with them individually..." Vincent informed him as a soldier brought him a chair at the far end of the courtyard. "My Prince, there are concerns that there may be rebels in the group, assassins even, you should watch from the balcony..." Marcus then suggested. "...what point would that make? Let them go prepare and start them out..." Vincent said with a laugh before motioning them all away with a wave of his hand as he moved to his seat.

Having Marcus lead each of them out one by one, Vincent hid his emotions well whether it was disappointment or amazement. Offering each of them only a modest round of applause.

Berries Colie Vaan Nisa Alias AI10100 Kenjinx LocKeii @theendergod

 

[Alias]

Hammer? Check!
Tongs? Check!
Chisel? Check!
Whetstone? Check!
Fireproof gloves? Check!
Longsword? In perfect condition!

"Why do you need tools?", a coworker asked as he watched Bart prepared his equipment. Il'lidan, an elvish blacksmith working in the shop, stopped working on the blade commissioned to him. "You're going to war right? I think you should leave those here", he said, pointing on his leather toolbelt. "Are you kidding me?", Bart exclaimed. "I know I'm gonna be a soldier, but I'm still a blacksmith at heart! I'm as useful as a dead corpse if I can't fix anyone's weapons"

"That's my boy!", His father laughed as he entered the workshop. His large hands patted Bart's back, making him cough a little. "Never leaving his tools no matter what! I've taught you well."

"You're both idiots", Il'lidan sighed and continued his work.
"Shut up and get back to work", his father retorted.
"What do you think am I doing?"

"Barry, dear?", his mother walked inside, carrying a small rucksack. "I know the army gives out rations to their soldiers but please bring this with you". Bart took the rucksack and peeked inside. It has 2 loaves of bread and a canteen of water. "Thanks mom", he smiled. "But... Barry?", his mother said in a worrying tone. "Can you promise me you'll come home safe? can you also promise me you'll stay out of trouble?"

"Stay out of trouble?", his father laughed once again. His rough voice now loud enough to hear outside the workshop despite the roar of the forge and Il'lidan loudly hammering the blade. "He's gonna be a soldier! Getting into trouble is part of the job"

"How can you be so nonchalant about this, Bernard?!", his mother broke into tears. "Our eldest is missing and now you're sending our youngest to war?! You... you...", she ran outside the room sobbing. "Emily, wait!", his father, Bernard, yelled as he tried to stop her from leaving. "This is exactly what happened when my brother left", Bart chuckled. "Yeah...", Bernard's hearty laugh turned into a soft, weak sigh. "Listen kid, Borris may be important to me but so are you. I can't ask you to stay out of trouble but be smart okay? There is no shame in running away from a fight you can't win. A dead soldier is more useless that a cowardly soldier".

"Oh c'mon dad, I'll be fine", Bart grinned. "I'll bring that dumb brother of mine home with me, I promise"

"Yeah yeah, this is heartwarming and all but you still owe me 50 gold from last week", Il'lidan said without looking up. "Better pay up before leaving" Bart smiled. "I'll miss you too, bro". And with Il'lidan yelling his protests, he left the workshop.
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Nobody told me anything about tryouts, he gulped as he stood at the courtyard. It was his turn to show what he can do and now everyone has their eyes on him, including the prince of Prisal. Calm down, he told himself. Just think of this as trying to sell someone a newly made sword, except this time you're trying to sell yourself... god, that sounds wrong.

"Um... hello", he cleared his throat. "I'm Bartholomew Fulton. I work as a blacksmith a few blocks from here. I can fix weapons and armors and I also do maintenance if necessary. But I can fight too", he pointed to the longsword strapped on his back. "And um... what else... Oh, I can also do this!", he raised his left hand which is now burning. "And this!", he raised his right hand, with water shooting out of it like a fountain.

"And....", the fire and water from both of his hands disappeared. His left hand began glowing red while his right hand glowed blue. "This!", he clasped both his hands together and a large steam cloud exploded, covering him and everything within 50 meters. He always did this whenever he gets into fights and has always helped him win them, especially since he can sense everything that's inside the steam cloud and everyone else inside and outside it can't. When the steam cloud disappeared, Bart and the ground around him was soaking wet. "Umm...", and with that he awkwardly went back to the group.

 

[AI10100]

"Do you understand your mission?"

The blonde female patted the horse before looking at the owner of the voice. There was no hint of care in his voice, only yearning for the results of their master plan. Adira knew that perfectly well. Among the many Bzulvic mages who were sent to enter the army, she was the one who was directly applied to the army in Ticedo. She had no qualms about it; it wasn't like they were going to listen anyway. The commands of the Bzulvic Patriarch was final.

But to think that he, himself, had graced her of his presence to see her off was surprising. He probably didn't trust her enough for this. There was no other reason for him to show his face to her. He was anything but caring to the people around him - he only saw pawns in the playing field after all. Adira bowed her head and placed a hand over her chest as she said, "Yes." She looked up again to see him nod.

"Good. I only expect the best results Ms. Adira." He then placed his hand inside his pocket before taking something out. He gestured for her to hold out her hand and she did. He dropped a gold coin onto her hand. She brought it up to her face and inspected it. It wasn't a regular gold coin to be used for trading, it was a sort of badge that the recognized Bzulvic family members were given. It was only a little bigger than the usual coin but it held much more worth. "Use that in the case that you need to get into contact with any of the families in Ticedo or Isreia. They are bound by the family rules to help you along the way. Use it sparingly. If Prisal fails, the Isreian kingdom must not suspect our family that resides there."

Adira nodded once more before placing it into her inner pocket. "Your help is much appreciated." She said with another bow before mounting the horse. She took one look back at the Patriarch who merely nodded before she rode off to where the Prince of Prisal was holding the supposed initiation. She threw up her hood once she arrived before leaving the horse in one of the many Bzulvic branch family houses that dotted Ticedo. She looked at the state of the house and it was no less extravagant than the main house in Prisal. She dismounted the horse and then walked inside, only to be met by a black haired maid who silently took the horse and hurried inside.

Perhaps everyone was taking this 'keep the interactions to a minimum' a bit too seriously. But then again, they were working under the guise that her family and the branches at Isreia and Ticedo were not connected much and have had 'disagreements' because of their respective 'loyalty' to their countries. Adira continued to the courtyard on foot, mostly sticking to the walls and avoiding getting caught up in any crowds. The thought of the once proud Ticedo Empire was reduced to this was almost laughable. She wondered if any of her ancestors saw this coming. Considering their convoluted but rather keen perception of the world, they probably were planning countermeasures for everything.

Adira slipped into the crowd in the courtyard, dispelling any other thoughts that occupied her mind and focused solely on the task at hand - to help Prince Vincent win this war. She crossed her arms before leaning casually onto a wall as she waited for the Prince to make his appearance. She was literally going in blind here as she was given no information about the people present aside from the Royal Forces themselves. She didn't like not knowing anything about the people she would be fighting with but there was no helping it. Besides, it's interesting to get to know people personally. Sometimes, information brokers can be very inaccurate.

The Prince and the Knight Commander finally arrived and they announced... oh, they were going to show off their skills to the Prince? That... probably wasn't good for her. Her own powers weren't something to ogle at, especially when seen out of combat. Perhaps just showing it would be fine? She wasn't sure if it would be enough to impress both of the though, considering how powerful they all were. She chuckled quietly to herself, well now, this would be interesting.

They stepped up one by one but there was this boy who stepped up. A nervous person that one, it was painfully obvious. An elementalist huh? Two elements too. His work seemed to fall in line with the elements though - a blacksmith that knows how to use a sword. He could also make that steam cloud, certainly useful for when they have to escape. Though, she wondered why he decided to join up. It didn't make much sense to her considering that he should have been relatively unaffected by the fall of Ticedo but she guessed there were other elements in play.

Leaning off the wall, she put her hood down and stepped up. "Greetings, my name is Adira Bzulvic. As you would expect, I can come in handy for getting information or getting something you need as I did grow up in a household of merchants. It seemed apt that we give you our aid." She hoped that was enough for skills without magic to show off. All of the others seemed to be fighters but she excelled more on diplomacy.

"As for magic..." She then took a deep breath before holding her hands out. Light enveloped around the area in front of her. In a moment, two figures were formed. It looked to be a warrior clad in a rather ancient Ticedo armor and was wielding an great axe. The other was that of an archer, this time a soldier of ancient Prisal. The warrior let out a battle cry as he headed towards the prince and their troupe with his axe raised, as if attempting to take the Prince of Prisal's life. Adira swiped her arm and the warrior and archer disappeared in another burst of light. "Spiritual magic." She then bowed her head before heading back to her original position. She wasn't sure how well that went but hopefully good enough. The Ticedo warrior seemed to show extra aggression to the Prisal Prince. Old memories of a time long past perhaps?

 

[Colie]

The sun started to rise over the hills. The old temple of Iveda started its daily task. It took in the energy from the sun and transfered it to the people that prayed there. Sadly, for the past 90 years only one person prayed. It was a small man named Aghamore. He is a monk of Iveda and has lived in the temple for almost his entire life. Aghamore woke from his bed of leaves and put on his day robes. He went to the statue of Iveda in the center of the temple and kneeled down. He started the morning prayer. O‘lam Icku de fruz, de lum o mun... He continued the prayer for the next few minutes and once finished energy rushed out of the statue. It flowed around Aghamore and lifted him off the ground. His eye opened widely, allowing energy to fly through them. He slowly was set back on the ground. Next to him there sat a letter.

He picked up the letter and opened with his left hand while tapping to the left of his eye with his right hand. His eye glowed as he read the message. To all the brave heros of our realm we need help. Come before the prince in his court yard and be ready to show your greatest skills. Come with haste. After reading the end of the letter Aghamore laughed while looking at his cane.

“Why Iveda did you give me the letter?“

The statue of Iveda glowed with energy as though she was talking.

“You think I need to spice up my life?!“

The statue glowed as if she was agreeing.

“You know what...I will do this and show you who needs to spice up there life!“

Aghamore slowly got up and grabbed his cane. He went back to his leaf bed and reached underneath. Pulling out the map Aghamore thought to himself where the castle would be. He scanned the map and realized it would probably be the castles courtyard. Aghamore grabbed his map, a small pack of food and water, his necklace of Iveda and his cane. He then headed off down a forested path to the castle.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Aghamore stood in a line with a bunch of strong warriors and fierce mages, but no one that seemed to be his age. Good, a challenge thought Aghamore. He made his way through the line and then when it got to his turn he hobbled out to the courtyard. “I am Aghamore monk of Iveda and I am here to present myself to the prince today.“

He sat down in the middle of the courtyard and let all thoughts go away. He started to form a ball of energy in his hand. While he held the ball with both hands, he started to pull away his arms. The ball grew until it covered the whole courtyard, protecting it and blocking it off from the world. Then he put his hands together above his head and formed 10 more balls. They started to circle around him and then suddenly Aghamore opened both his eyes, or at least an eye and an empty eye socket. His eyes poured energy out of them and Aghamore started a loud chant.

“Lucaras de kumpo, Lucaras de kumpo, Lucaras deritza KUMPO!“

Aghamore‘s whole body became surrounded in bright energy. The balls that were orbiting around him now surrounded him, one layer at a time. Aghamore shot out his arms and jerked them downwards. All of the balls of energy, including the one surrounding the courtyard shattered. The pieces flew to his eyes and Aghamore said two final words before closing his eyes. “Good day.“

With that aghamore went back to line.

 

[Jon]

Vincent had little hope for the volunteers, but he still found himself rather excited about their presentations. At best, he would find a few capable warriors and mages to fill a platoon. A scouting party to test Isreia's defenses with no loss to his forces. At the very least he could use a few familiar with the kingdom to help his army maintain order.

Offering a respectful nod to each of them as they entered, Vincent kept a tally of the warriors, mages, and healers in his mind. Minus a few whose skills suited the circus more than a battlefield, it would seem he would have his platoon, perhaps, even more, the Prince thought as he eyed the next three approaching the courtyard.

The timid boys elemental magic did little to impress, but for a blacksmith, it was a rather odd combination. "The boy should stick to his trade, we've got enough of these damn mages. We could always do with another good smith though." Commented one of the guards standing beside the Prince. "My teacher had a companion with a similar ability. A blacksmith who had mastered the elements. He could forge a blade with nothing but his hands and an iron bar. He made me my first real sword..." Vincent recalled aloud as he watched the boy head back. "...he does not appear to be as skilled, but if he can do that with horse shoes he'll have a job." The Prince laughed as they waited for Marcus to send out the next one.

"This one is a spy." Vincent then said as they watched a young woman enter the courtyard. "How can you tell? Shall we arrest her?" Asked another guard as Vincent motioned for them to settle down. "No, no, she has done nothing wrong yet, but you can simply tell by her eyes. She is hiding something." Vincent said as he sat up, paying close attention to Adria as she spoke. "Her eyes look like every woman's eyes, my prince..." Remarked a guard, wondering what they were all looking for. "Perhaps all the women you meet are spies." Another quickly retorted before the three guards readied their spears to defend the Prince. Watching the fierce warriors vanish before them, the Prince let out a laugh as he nodded to Marcus to show that everything was alright.

Glaring at Adria, Marcus made his way to the center of the courtyard before the next in line could enter. "Please refrain from attacking the Prince or our guard, we have training dummies upon request," Marcus explained, sighing with a bit of relief as he saw the next in line was an old monk.

The soldiers stood in awe of the light show before them as guards quickly surrounded the courtyard. "HOLD!!!" Dorian ordered, not sensing any danger from the spell though he could make little sense of what was truly happening. Raising a hand, Dorian stood ready to stop the spell before it appeared to shatter, leaving the soldiers bewildered as the old man moved back to join the others. Laughing hesitantly, Vincent shared a glance with Marcus before he returned to his seat and motioned the guards back to their posts. Marcus quickly returning to the center of the courtyard, "EVERYONE IS TO EXPLAIN THEIR SPELL BEFORE THEY CAST ANYTHING!!!" Marcus shouted before taking a deep breath. "Fail to comply and you can take it up with our archers." Marcus then added as he motioned to the sentires stationed on the wall above them. "NEXT!!"

 

[Vaan]

Truthfully, Bhexxi had never seen anyone conjure water, or any element for that matter, in her lifetime. The goblin sanctuary was home to many gifted individuals, but few followers of Umes. The sheer idea of someone being able to create water actually alarmed her, as the Gold Trails were susceptible to flooding; whether it be by nature or man. Imagine… a society destroyed at the hands of a single devout elementalist. She felt her fear was justified. However, this was but a boy with a novelty-like trick, as seen by his sudden bursting steam cloud that overtook the courtyard.

"I'm Bartholomew Fulton,” she repeated to herself. What a mouthful.

Upon the steam’s clearing, new participants once again took the stage with most of them failing to grasp even Bheexi’s attention. To impress the Prince was to bet all your coins on the same horse; to spin your entire character on a memorable angle. Bartholomew was a blacksmith. Easy to remember and useful.

Most of the conscripts appeared to be soldiers, presumably from Ticedo’s fallen forces, each looking to start anew. Their properties had been stripped, their friends killed and their families separated; it sounded all too familiar. Yet, amongst this tapestry of warriors laid the next notable character and perhaps the most vile: Adira Bzulvic. No, Bheexi did not know this woman personally… but to know one Bzulvic was to know them all.

They were scam artists boasting themselves as nobility.

Bheexi was surprised that Adira even had the guts to announce herself. With the plethora of people that owed debts to the Bzulvic family; a kidnapping almost seemed reasonable. Upon the summoning demonstration, however, the kidnapping-idea was quickly dismissed. A Bzulvic with a talent for spirits. Having never met any of the Bzulvic’s in person (only Goblins were allowed in the Gold Trails), Bheexi could not say whether or not this was common…. either way, she was impressed.

The amount of people waiting to showcase themselves was beginning to dwindle, though not fast enough for Bheexi’s taste. While there was no official line set to stand before the prince, there was sort of disorganized mass of people. As soon as the next demonstration had begun, utilizing the awe that overtook the crowd during a massive barrier generation, Bheexi slithered her way towards the front.

As soon as the old monk returned from his demonstration, Bheexi was presented as the next person up; stepping out from the shadow of the centaur behind her.

“My prince,” she begins, the background ambience of chattering soldiers turning from wonder to hushed whispers “I am Bheexi… a mere goblin soldier who joined your forces in Prisal and helped overtake Barden on your behalf. I stand before you not with magic or superb strength, but,” she pauses, “with loyalty.”

The goblin then turns a rather snarky glace to the distant Bzulvic girl, “Unlike other soliders you may come across, I understand that wealth is only valuable as a means to power. I am here to serve the rightful prince of Teva; nothing more.”

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

The capitol had been taken and while the war was far from over, there was at least a brief time for respite. Alreth leaned back comfortably in a wooden chair - like the other furniture in the tent, obtained from who knows where but the Half Elf wasn't particularly concerned with that as she dined absently on a meager meal of bread and fresh meat. Sitting anxiously on the table just inches from her plate was Tzeentch, his beady black eyes watching her impatiently as she casually tore a strip of meat from the chunk on her plate and dangled it before him. The raven snatched it greedily and gobbled it down before croaking at her for more, expanding his wings slightly before ruffling them. Arleth snorted softly, her stained lips curving into a slight smirk before she again used her fingers to begin tearing loose another chunk of meat.

It was then that the large tent flap opened and her father stepped in, laying his helmet down on the table, his gaze shifting from Tzeentch to his daughter, "Good morning, father," Arleth said serenely as she offered the piece of meat she just stripped from the slab to the raven who ate it up just like the last but when he was done this time hopped form the table and onto one of the other chairs nearby before beginning to preen his feathers. Arleth had her feet propped up on the chair Tzeentch flew to, but put them on the ground, turning so that she could better face her father, her sleek black hair with an uneven cut, longer in front than in back, framing her face as she rested a hand under her jaw. Her father had just come back from a meeting with the other commanders and she was interested in what he had to say, looking at him expectantly.

The sound of his armor rang out softly in the confines of the canvas constructed dwelling and he shortly sat down at the table beside Arleth, an aged hand moving over the smooth curve of his bald head as he glanced to Arleth's plate before back to his daughter, the black brow over his right eye, blind and marked by a scar that covered nearly the entire right side of his face - rising slightly in question. Arleth offered a sincere smile and pressed the partially eaten plate of food towards her father and he did as she had been doing, lifting the meat and tearing a piece from it though instead of feeding it to a bird, he placed it between his own lips chewing in silence before swallowing and then speaking, "the Prince is looking for volunteers."

Arleth placed both of her hands on the table, her fingers interlacing, the black painted and pointed tips of her nails tapping against her hands slightly as she gave her father much the same look as he had just given her, raising one eyebrow and gazing upon him questioningly. He was taking the delivery of this information in moderation, but it seemed the reason for that was because he wasn't expecting her to need knowledge of anything more than what he had just said, "you will volunteer?"

Her hands moved from where they were positioned, raising from the table though they remained connected as she looked away from her father. His questions were never just questions just like his suggestions were never what they seemed. They were his way of telling her to do something without actually telling her to do it. Her father thought certain ways about things and he left it to her to determine what the right choice was, even though for him the only correct choice was the one that he thought was correct so for the most part it was about reading between the lines. Arleth's hands remained as they were, cupping her chin with her fingers pressed against her lips as she spoke somewhat absently into them since she didn't exactly know what she was getting herself into, just that it was expected of her, "I suppose I shall."

* * * *
​

Flying to the designated location for the demonstration, Arleth in her raven form had perched atop one of the buildings surrounding the courtyard where the archers kept watch, keeping a steady gaze on those within and their displays of their abilities. She waited for a while and when she saw that there was an opening after the declaration had been made to announce spells before casting, she flew down, landing a respectable distance from the Prince, not wanting to alarm anyone and calling out in the low croaking sound that was common for the species she was currently parading as. The cry was really only to call attention to herself and after she had eyes on her she spread her wings, one of her talons stretching forward on the ground as her beak was dipped low in a sort of bow before her form began to increase in size and while her color stayed the same, her feathers morphed into fur, her beak softened and transformed into a feline muzzle, her eyes went from black to gold, and before long there was a full grown panther standing in the courtyard.

As her body had elongated into that of a great cat and the tail feathers of her former appearance solidified into a more mammalian tail, she switched the appendage placidly as a soft rumble emanated from her that almost sounded like a cross between a growl and a purr. She then raised her head before both of her front paws stretched out in front of her, her hind quarters raising as she stretched her back then just as she had done in her raven form, she lowered her head, bowing to the Prince again. This appearance seemed to not be the last part of her show as again the creature she was now began to morph.

This time the panther's fur did not give way to any other sort of animal hide instead the fur disappearing all together to the reveal pallid skin of a human form adorned by the gray fabric of a simple gown accentuated with decorative purple cloth covering the individual's head and clinging to the waist of what was definitely the figure of a woman. She was currently kneeling and soon rose to stand her full height, her arms stretching out to her sides before she offered the Prince and elegant bow then announcing in a firm though feminine voice her intentions, "drawing!"

It was then that she reached both hands behind her back just at her waist and drew two curved blades that had been in crossed sheathes over her bottom, raising them in front of her, she allowed the metal of the blades to draw across each other before her body broke into a whirlwind of speed, displaying her skill and grace with the bladed weapons she chose to wield. Her demonstration appeared to be nothing more than a quick though elegant dance as the drooping bell sleeves of her dress flew around in the air with the swift motion of her arms, her skirt flying around her pale legs with each practiced step she took. Though to the keen eye, despite the rapidity of her movements and the seemingly more evident display of elegance rather than skill, every strike she made with her weapons were placed in precisely the same spot of an invisible enemy that seemed to be set to her right.

When her demonstration was done, she sheathed her weapons once more and went back to stand where she had landed in her bird form, never coming within what could be called striking distance of the Prince. With her right hand balled into a fist, she placed it over her left breast and bowed in a more disciplined fashion than she had before. Only the lower half of her face was visible on account of the mask she had been wearing since she had returned to her human form, though in one fluid gesture, both hood and mask were pulled from her face before she spoke in the same self-assured tone as she had announced the drawing of her weapons, "Arleth Sylori Minaith'khlar. Shapeshifter, five forms. Eighteen years serving in Prisal's military."

With another bow, one that seemed was not as disciplined as the one she just gave but wasn't as extravagant as the others she had offered, she took several paces back from where she had stood before turning entirely and returning into the crowd, the expression on her features not letting on to anything she was feeling at that moment.

 

[Vaan]

Lenka did not travel with the advancing forces of Prisal to fight. In fact, she had very little interest in the expanding conquest that Prince Vincent held. Returning to Ticedo, if anything, had only stirred up bad memories of her departure from it.

Her departure from the Ticarden mountain.

She was simply here to establish a name for herself. For back in Prisal she did not have any family, or friends for that matter, to rely on; her successes and failures laid entirely in her own two hands. Upon achieving success she would not have to worry about sharing it; likewise for failure. And while the type of financial success and networking that Lenka craved was not unusual, it was perhaps unorthodox for a woman of her occupation. She was a procurer and a legal one at that.

The slums of Prisal were filled with taverns that she personally managed. —Full of girls that she hand selected to work as… entertainers. Two of these girls sat beside her currently. One of them with short blonde locks and a floral embroidered dress, a young human woman; and another equally-young elf whose form was sure to change with the next passing customer. On the table, before Lenka, sat a tall mug of ale. Lenka herself did not drink, but she was more than happy to discuss prices with an indulging customer.

This was the type of support that nobody wanted to talk about. However, Lenka’s job was as essential to the Prisal force as any other. Men (and women) could fight without distraction and at their best state of mind. For anyone who could name the right position or title, Lenka was more than happy to offer her girls services for free.

The commotion outside, however, was drawing her customers elsewhere. Her customers seemed more impressed with the wayward displays taking place than they did with her girls.

Then again, business was slower during the day.

“I’m stepping outside,” Lenka denotes to her entertainers, who both stand up and begin to tidy the makeshift tavern that the services were being provided out of. It wasn’t like the ones back home, but it would have to do. The human girl, Umora, seemed quite unpleased with the accommodations. Lenka didn’t care.

Lenka did care, however, about the close proximity of Prince Vincent upon stepping outside; she could seem him in the distance, looking upon a woman who displayed a dance-like routine with weapons. She recognized his aide Marcus from early exchanges in Prisal, all of which had taken place before the invasion of Ticedo. There was too many people lined up for her to make an easy entrance (where she would promptly greet Marcus). She could hear people talking amongst themselves about an advance group and with that in mind; it wasn’t hard to draw a conclusion about what was taking place. It was just difficult to figure out what role she could play in it. Prince Vincent was her ticket out of the slums and onto velvet.

Lenka’s entertainers couldn’t accompany her on such a mission, nor would they want to; she didn’t pay them enough. So, simply abandoning them, she finds herself waiting for the opportune moment to become meet acquaintance with Vincent. That moment comes none other than when the aforementioned Marcus needs to relieve himself (though this time of only liquids) and Lenka trails him straight back to the prince, who is the first of the two to catch glimpse of her hovering form.

“Marcus,” Lenka greets with a coy smile, “and of course… Vincent,” she adds, with specific emphasis on the lack of honorific, “I know this is not in line with your procedure, but I hope you’ll consider allowing me to travel amongst you on your mission. I am no warrior, but I am sure that your aide can provide you with the information that you need regarding my tremendous healing capabilities; after all… it seems that my girls' bite-marks are no longer present."

 

[LocKeii]

Hadrian || Ticedo Empire || Capital ~ Palace Courtyard

The letter was a formality they’d been told. Just a bit of customary paperwork before Hadrian would be able to enlist into the advance party. That night Trystane in a drunken stupor had raved and ranted about the unfairness of it all. That even with their vouches and their commanding officers support, their opinions had garnered nothing short of a dismissal. A murmur of agreement filtered through the Sevens Battalion. From afar they looked like a mismatched group of wanderers with perhaps the exception of Sebastian who with his perpetually polished armor fit the role of commandant just nicely. No one could’ve guessed that this ragtag team of seven had trekked half the length of Ticedo, punctured a hole in the capital’s defenses, and paved the way for the Prisal army.

For their services each and every one of them had been given an early exception from their four year conscription and compensated with enough gold to live a comfortable life. It was no surprise that nearly all of them had retired shortly thereafter with all sorts of peculiar plans for their newly acquired fortunes. Selvvy was ready to live a quiet and peaceful life with his husband, Deno was going to jump start his own antique shop with a cursed objects business on the side, Vispa planned to be the benefactor of the orphanage he grew up in, Barius and his cousin we’re going to explore the high-seas, and Trystane was going to “play with the cards he’s dealt with” so said the middle-aged sellsword. They may have all lived startlingly different lives but the last few months they’ve spent together had solidified a bond of comrade that would last a lifetime.

There were only two that had rejected the proposal to withdraw. Sebastian of course was a loyal officer and had no reason to resign from his high rank. Hadrian on the other hand had just been one of the many conscripted soldiers of the newly enacted law. During their journey the young swordsman had shown no passion to continue the path of war and felt a considerable level of sympathy for the Ticaden citizens. Trystane had even made the point of crassly comparing him to a mind user with all the emotions he was “soaking up”. Yet here he was trying to obtain a roster within another advance-party.

Initially there was confusion and even attempts to dissuade him from his sudden out of character decision. The sellsword of all people, the one who had done his best to aggravate and tease the drow elf had been nothing short of furious. It took an entire night of tense silence before he abruptly demanded that everyone write a letter of recommendation and for Sebastian to put his rank to use and get a word in with the frilly wigged wankers up in the top commands. If Hadrian’s decision had been confusing then Trystane’s change of heart was an out of body experience. Regardless all their efforts had seemingly panned out to nothing.

Suppose it was a disappointing turn of events but not something totally unexpected. This was after all a different mission with a different set of circumstances. The advance party of Ticedo was intended to be a failsafe, an insurance that was partly intended to enthuse the troops rather than make any significant contributions to the war effort. That may have been why it came as such a surprise when they managed to break through a garrison of city guards and didn’t just hold their own in the front lines but helped storm the citadel.

The advance party set for Isreia however required more than last minute heroics. In all honesty if they had tried to infiltrate Isreia like they had Ticedo it would have been suicide. There was a large difference between both realms and only a fool would disregard this. Not to mention after their compensation had become public the competition would no doubt double. In short the fact that his letter was guaranteed to reach the intended recipient was already a promising deal. Even if Trystane acted as if he was personally insulted Hadrian could see that he had similar thoughts. That night however would be their last together as the Sevens Battalion before going their separate ways. A bit of casual dramatics was long overdue.

The next morning had arrived all too soon and Hadrian found himself being ushered quickly through the capital's silent streets. No doubt its citizens were still coming to terms with the empire's downfall and the cold reception was hardly a surprise. In contrast the area around the Royal Palace was a beehive of activity. Prisal troops lined every nook and cranny, marching through the city square as the more resilient merchants continued on with their daily business. Being there it was easy to forget that a war had taken place except perhaps with the sudden surplus of soldiers.

Nearing the palace steps one could see a long line accompanied by a curious crowd of onlookers. Those in line were no doubt the ones looking to join the party and it was more than obvious that not all would be able to enter. Sebastian led the elf not towards the stairs but instead to a little back alley alcove before stopping at a particularly thick patch of ivy. Hadrian watched with curiosity as his friend shoved one gloved hand through the crawling plants. Moments later the ivy began to retract, folding upon itself until a dingy, cobblestone entrance was revealed.

“Something tells me I’m not supposed to know this exists.” Hadrian commented but nevertheless entered the dimly lit tunnel. “Never say I never did you any favors.” Sebastian replied grinning . As soon as the two entered the small space the opening seamlessly closed in on itself obscuring the entrance once again. “Technically this is an escape route used only for when the castle is under siege but it should also serve as a quick entrance to the courtyards.” Hadrian found himself at a loss for words. To think that the strict, law abiding party leader of the Seven Battalions was leading him through a no doubt highly confidential pathway was by all rights astonishing. Especially when the reason in itself was to smuggle a drow elf into a party which he never specified his own reasons for wanting to join.

By the time they reached the inconspicuously hidden exit a third of those who had been waiting outside we’re already filtering through the courtyard. “Remember you’ve already been accepted as a possible candidate, that much I could do, but now you’ll have to prove yourself on your own.” Hadrian nodded before clasping a hand onto the man's shoulder. “Thank you.” There was much more he wished to say, to express how truly grateful he was but hopefully his genuine sincerity was enough. Sebastian’s strict expression softened then as he returned the gesture.“I wish you luck, my friend.”

With that they separated. Hadrian moved to merge within the thin crowd and came to stand inconspicuously next to a young maiden and a man that looked no older than himself. The tension was palpable though whether it was out of enthusiasm or trepidation varied largely between individuals. The moment the Prince had stepped out onto the balcony the buzz escalated even as silence fell upon them. As announcements were made and an audition of sorts was proposed it rose to deafening heights. Only few looked wary at the sudden turn of events but most were sporting expressions of determination. Some openly showed their excitement.

It admittedly surprised him when the stranger that he had stood by daringly made the first move. He watched with rapt attention as the blacksmith ingeniously used his elemental magic to cover a good portion of the yard in a condensed fog. Several gasps of indignation erupted from the onlookers at the loss of their vision. Hadrian himself instinctively tensed but made no attempt to blindly grasp at his weapon. Slowly he relaxed into the hazy warmth until eventually it dissipated into a fine mist. By then Bartholomew, as soaking wet as a few other grumbling participants had slinked back into the group. Even as his clothes stuck uncomfortably damp against his skin Hadrian had to admit that it was a useful trick. Could come in handy for quick escapes and save those from much needed baths.

The next show of magic was less physical but a hell of a lot more bold. A screeching spirit fully decked in ancient Prisal armor sprinting towards the Prince was probably something most did not see on a daily basis. If it was within any normal circumstances the elf would’ve been tempted to laugh at the aghast looks some of the soldiers were wearing. As it stands he had to settle for a twitch of a grin. Across the courtyard Sebastian eyed him disapprovingly no doubt berating him for being influenced by Trystane’s crude sense of humor. ‘Bzulvic…’ The name had garnered a few contrasting reactions from the crowd as Hadrian wondered where he had heard that name before.

Unfortunately his thoughts were cut short by the chanting of an old mage. Truthfully he could have ignored the incantation but the blinding spheres of light were one too many for his concentration to stay intact. By the time Hadrian could no longer see spots dancing in his vision the next participant had settled on the hypothetical stage. He mentally made a note to seek out the old man; perhaps someone as wise and powerful as he could have answers to some of his questions...his concerns.

The next to peak his interests was a goblin. With her sharp features and sinewy build he had assumed she would be demonstrating with a weapon. To his surprise she instead offered her fidelity and perhaps he would’ve stayed pleasantly impressed at her boldness if she hadn’t made a jab at the Bzulvic girl. Personally he did not know what sort of business the two had with one another but even at the slim chance that they were to be a team they needed to work with one another. Things were not going to end well if they were constantly ripping at each other's throats.

The last two demonstrations proved to be the most entertaining thus far. A shapeshifter with an incredible range of abilities, morphing from one animal to the next in an exotic display of power was nothing short of impressive. What really took his breath away however was in the way she could handle a blade. Graceful but not theatric, deadly yet almost gentle in their arced curves and smooth strokes. It was as if he was watching an artist passionately display their craft and he was absorbed. Meanwhile Sebastian was trying and failing to keep a smile off his face. He knew better than anyone that Hadrian was a sucker for a good sword show and wondered if the young man even noticed just how enchanted he looked at that moment.

What came after wasn’t exactly as enchanting as the previous show but equally as captivating in its strangeness. A bodacious fairy with fiery hair and lips as plump as the red berries used to stain them flittered not onto the stage but right behind the prince and the commanding general. Hadrian having to stand with the others was too far to catch little more than a few words such as “no warrior” and “girl’s bite”. He tried to catch Sebastian's attention who was stationed not more than a feet away from the ensuing commotion. Eventually their eyes met, one imploring and the other as appalled as the expression they wore. Sebastian suddenly began twitching his head to the side further contributing to the confusion until Hadrian realized that he was gesturing to the center of the courtyard. Did he want him to perform now?

The swordsman responded with a shake of his head. He personally wanted to see where all of this was heading. The familiar squinty eyed glare that met his however all but shouted ‘You owe me’ and the silent battle came to a close. Amused at his friend's insistence he took a step forward, then another, and another until Hadrian stood at such a close proximity to the little group that he could almost hear the light flutter of the fairy’s wings. He could practically feel Sebastian’s eyes boring into his skull as his friend was no doubt questioning his sanity.

In truth Hadrian was doing the exact same thing before he unsheathed his sword. The reaction was instantaneous. The two nearest guards had their spears a hairs breath from his throat and the sound of many bowstrings being knocked filled the air. “The most important thing to do is to catch their attention!” Baruis’ advice echoed through his thoughts and judging from the situation at hand he certainly did just that. For better or worse. Disregarding the mass of weapons pointed in his general direction he met the Prince’s eyes with a measured gaze. “Be bold but courteous. Bravado will only get you so far.” Hadrian nearly smiled then as he could clearly hear Selvvy’s fatherly tone of voice. Instead however he very slowly moved to shift his weapon so that the hilt was pressed against his chest and the blade pointed towards the ground.

“It would be a great honor to pledge myself to you and your cause.” He began, letting the words ring and settle with truth. “I’ve only one request.” Hadrian briefly glanced at his friend and Sebastian’s look of disbelief brought about the memory of his words from last night. “Don’t do anything rash.”

Unfortunately, for once, Hadrian wouldn’t be taking the man’s advice. “I would be greatly humbled if I could show you my competence as a swordsman...in a duel.” He proclaimed before quickly clarifying with a “Between you and I.” when one of the spearman moved a little too close for comfort. As he awaited for a response he mulled over Trystane’s drunken ramblings. “To hell with that! If they want to see what you can do then show ‘em. Give their pompous asses a run for their money!” Perhaps he wouldn’t be making anyone run anytime soon but he’ll gladly ‘show ‘em’ what he could do.

Mentioned: Jon Alias AI10100 Colie Vaan Roleplay Skittle

 

[Kenjinx]

Tearing off another tough strip of his jerky, Shak idly watched the introductions and displays of power in the crowded courtyard. Presumably he would at least be aligned with many of these people if not working directly with them, so paying attention was the least that he could do. After all, he was a real stranger in this place.

Each one of the magically inclined demonstrations had something unique enough to spark his curiosity, and so he didn't find it difficult to sit through the entire thing. From the introductions of the blacksmith that seemed to have something good and honest about him to the mysterious "Bzulvic" woman, he remained in a state of quiet thought while not so quietly continuing to pick apart the food in his hands. He couldn't help but draw the corner of his mouth up into a toothy grin at the sight of the old monk, the beard reminding him of his friend back home. He once again found himself slightly amused as the Goblin came into view, although that was only passing. Their kind didn't tend to favor him too much for obvious reasons and he was used to simply preparing for the worst.

He almost unconsciously reached into the loose coverings around his legs to withdraw another strip of jerky. Now he was more focused on the shapeshifter that had revealed herself to the audience in the courtyard, the previously unseen forms that accompanied her. A mysterious shift always caught his eye, skeptical as he was, but he wasn't there to simply watch a show. Tearing apart his final snack with haste, he made his way through the crowds of people. Enough watching for now.

He kept his gaze on a small group of soldiers standing opposite from him in the courtyard, one of which he had been watching for some time (the broadest shoulders of the whole lot, of course). Only after a few relatively hushed words with the folks of authority did he step out to the middle of the courtyard, reaching his leather and fur covered hands up to grasp the edges of the wolf's skin that draped over his head and shoulders. Drawing it back, he let it fall and bundle up at his neck before turning to introduce himself in short and simple words.

"My name is Shak. This is no spell."

The large soldier of the lot started making his way into the courtyard, the result of the Orc's earlier words with the guards. A fighter like any other at first glance, shaved head and disciplined way of carrying himself. There were no statuesque tones to his figure however, his chest and stomach dull as beauty had been traded for practicality. He was not unlike the Orc he was about to face.

Shak himself had apparently forgone any armor even upon the shoulders, instead covering his arms only with the wrappings that served to better pad his hands. He raised a single hand in silent protest of the sparring weapons that were presented, opting instead to turn it into a contest of unarmed technique.

When it came time for the fight to begin, there was no chanting or stomping like the fighter's appearance may suggest. Instead, in a collected manner, he inched towards his opponent with caution and anticipation. There was the usual tentative dance, the slow start of a fight where neither is confident to attack nor has anything to defend against; that is, until the sudden snaps and jabs came from the Orc towards the soldier. No luck in decisive blows, but it certainly made its point by signalling the beginning of the melee and so the opponent retaliated with his own flurry of strikes. Turning slightly and twisting his arm, he brought it up in a quick and powerful punch aimed at Shak - unfortunately for him, the Orc slipped it and stepped around to wrap his arms around the man's waist.

They were both used to the sting of being struck in the head, but this was the first taste of it in the current bout. Shak's attempted hold was only met with a sharp elbow to the face which stunned him, followed up with a hard hooked fist to the jaw. The soldier promptly took the opportunity to lower himself and shoot in for a tackle to the ground while Shak pivoted and suddenly brought his right leg up for a straight kick to the ribs, enough to counter the charge send him staggering back (possibly to the ground if he wasn't such a stout man).

Right. Right. A hand to the shoulder, just under the soldier's neck, and a third powerful punch was sent towards his jaw. Shak had absolutely capitalized on his opponent's daze and bruised belly, and the response was simply a desperate unbalancing grasp to try and keep from being continuously pummeled. Figuring that this standing struggle of power was headed nowhere, Shak turned and slipped one of his legs around behind his opponent's, using his own arm as a lever to pull him and flip the man into a slam on the ground - all done from the hip. One quick and powerful rising headbutt later, both men were back into the seemingly endless struggle.

In actuality, despite all of the action and many phases, it hadn't been that long - a matter of a few minutes, if that. In an effort to end it, Shak used his opponent's (who was on his back, legs up as a defense) attempt to avoid being struck as an opportunity to instead maneuver the legs around and let them lock to his waist; the ultimate goal being to pick the soldier up and slam him. Anticipating this, the soldier flipped himself and ducked his head down, wrapping his arms around the Orc's legs in his own attempt at a takedown.

This had gone on long enough, and so with only a breath of preparation Shak wrapped both arms tightly around his opponent's midsection, heaved and lifted his opponent upwards in a huge display of strength before throwing himself backwards with a massive slam onto the soldier's back. With his opponent now lacking in breath and the energy to fight, Shak simply offered the man a pat on the shoulder and a brief moment of respite before collecting himself.

So he pulled the man up, drew his wolfskin back over his head, and exited the area. He wasn't quite sure if he had missed the point of these demonstrations, neglecting to show his actual ability to shapeshift. He only hoped that his choice in decoration at least hinted at it and it wouldn't be too much of an issue to reveal later. He was more interested in showing his capability in natural form before he displayed an attempt at other bodies.

 

[Jon]

"I am not the Prince of Teva, nor do I claim now to be a ruler of Ticedo..." Vincent responded rather harshly before pausing. His gaze still locked on the goblin, "...but I am a Prince of my people, of my soldiers. It is their loyalty that makes me a Prince, and as a conscript, I am happy to see you understand the value of such a trait in a soldier." Vincent continued as his tone lightened and he reclined in his chair. "I am sure you also understand that true loyalty is also proven with much more than a few simple words and a bow. I hope that is not all you can do..." Vincent finished before he motioned to Marcus to send the next person up.

A sudden cry then broke the silence, as a beast flew into the courtyard, settling in the center before starting to shift. "Let's not react unless someone is actually attacked," Marcus said aloud, calming the guards once again. "You cut the line..." Vincent then added before growing silent as the shifter took a human form. Dropping his smirk, Dorian watched the shifter closely, eying her mask as he simply nodded before motioning her off. "18 years, she is part of the army?" Asked a guard, as Vincent simply shook his head, "...we will find out in time." The Prince said before motioning for everyone to stop.

"We shall take a short break, you all will be provided with a meal, take the time to rest and perhaps better prepare," Vincent announced as he stood up. "This is a joke and a complete waste of my time," VIncent whispered to his guards as he moved towards Marcus. "See that they all eat something and we'll finish this in another hou..." Vincent started to explain before pausing as an insect flew between himself and Marcus.

"Is this the fairy Marcus?" Vincent then asked as the knight moved the Prince a few paces away before her magic could affect his condition.

"Umm, yes my prince...Lenka, a healer. She..." Marcus continued to explain before they were once again interrupted.

"...and you are?" Vincent asked the elf, clearly annoyed now as he didn't bother to dismiss the guards who held him at spear point.

Upon hearing the elf's challenge Vincent could not help but laugh as he pushed his guards aside. "I thought my instructions were very clear. I assume you, I assume all of you understand the basics of the common tongue? Is there some language more common here in Ticedo?" Vincent asked rhetorically, the sarcasm heavy in his voice. "I am looking for soldiers, a good soldier follows orders..." Vincent said aloud as he moved closer to the elf.

"I do admire the men who dare raise a sword to me though. I like to think myself modest, but still, I have earned a reputation as a swordsman, especially here in Ticedo. So those who challenge me are very brave, but those who challenge me are also my enemies..." Vincent said as he stared at the elf. "...unless you have mistaken this for a school and me your tutor? Is it sparring hour?" Vincent then asked rhetorically once again.

Taking the elf's sword Vincent paused surprised by how balanced it was but only allowed it to interrupt him for a moment. Pacing about as he spun the sword, "I do not expect you to think, I would have summoned tacticians if I did, and these tests would have been very different, but let us think for just a moment." Vincent said with a smile before offering the elf back his sword."If we were to fight, and you happen to be as skilled as this blade is crafted, do you honestly think that would make you more than any other conscript? As I explained before, loyalty is earned...even for those who do have talent and skill..." Vincent started to explain, stopping only to look for the goblin.

"...but you choose to challenge me? Perhaps to injure or kill me, like an assassin with some odd sense of honor. Perhaps given our skill I may even injure you, and what use would you be to me then? Hell, I may even lose, so you intend to humiliate your new prince? Maybe you do not trust my eye, that I cannot identify your trained form past the brutes I have already seen. I think it is that you do not trust me...that I must prove myself to you. You would be domesticated by someone worthy?" Vincent continued with his rant, quickly realizing that his temper had gotten the better of him as he was now making a rather large scene.

In truth it was really the queen who Vincent was so frustrated with. Since his return to Prisal he had seen nothing but battle, and now after his greatest victory, perhaps the greatest in the history of the kingdom, his mother would see him off to Isreia. His forces spread thin and the battle in Ticedo hardly won, Vincent saw few options, even fewer with these volunteers.

Pausing for a few moments as Vincent took a deep breath, "...my Prince?" Marcus then started to ask only to be interrupted. "Fetch my sword." Vincent then calmly ordered a guard as he moved to the center of the courtyard. "Come..." The prince then called back to the elf.

 

[LocKeii]

Hadrian || Ticedo Empire || Capital ~ Palace Courtyard

To say that Hadrian was shocked would have been an understatement. Whether it was due to the prince’s outburst, his following acceptance to the match, or how it had all gone as smoothly as it had was beyond him. As he turned to face his opponent a hand shot out, stopping him. “This is insanity!” Sebastian hissed. The soldier’s disbelief had long since past as both anger and frustration now festered in it’s place. That wasn’t all Hadrian could see however. Looking past the harsh glare and furrowed brow there was that familiar well of concern. One that was especially reserved for whenever one of the seven did something particularly idiotic or stupid.

The elf could count on one hand how many times that look was directed towards him; looking at the current situation it was more than justified. “Well that doesn’t sound good, I think I’m going to need all my sanity in the next couple of minutes.” Maybe it was the absurdity of the moment paired with the incredibly out of place joke that unwittingly but a smile unwittingly cracked Sebastian’s irritated mask. “Trust me.” Hadrian continued, meeting his friends unwavering gaze. It continued this way for a few more seconds until Sebastian relented with a sigh. “At least tell me that you have a plan.” Hadrian nodded. “Of course.” And it was the partial truth as the 'plan' had run it's course. The outcome and results however...weren’t exactly clear yet.

The prince’s words bombarded him then. Apart from getting the man’s attention what did he want from all of this. Did he want to win? To prove his worth through a foolhardy duel with someone who undoubtedly had twice his experience. Maybe he didn’t trust the prince to see past his age alone. That he would be written him off as some sort of naive swordsman parading around with a weapon he barely knew how to use. Perhaps in the end it’d be his race. Drow elves weren’t exactly seen in the best of light; not when they were born with an affinity to the dark. Not when he himself- “Then I trust you.” The iron clad grip on his arm fell away, snapping Hadrian’s attention forward.

Sebastian grinned back, enjoying the role reversal as for once today it was finally the latter's turn to look startled. The elf always did have a tendency to brood at the most inopportune times. “Go on before his highness decides otherwise.” Hadrian allowed himself to smile then, nodding briefly before finally turning to face the prince. It’s true that he had absolutely no clue how this match would end, what consequences it would hold but despite it all he knew what he had to do. With that in thought he approached the center of the courtyard with a calm mind. Beneath his skin however was that familiar thrum of anticipation as he assessed his opponent. Who could say that they had so boldly challenged the prince to a duel? Who here in the courtyard even thought it was a possibility? Who in this surreal scenario would be throwing the first strike?

 

[Jon]

Ticedo Empire || Capital ~ Palace Courtyard

"I won't hold back, prepare yourself," VIncent commanded the elf as a guard brought him a large great sword. Normally matching such a heavy weapon against the elf's swift blade would be suicide, but the Prince was no ordinary swordsman. Raising the massive blade up, Vincent lowered it with ease until the blade nearly covered the entire distance between them. "Co..." Vincent started before quickly recalling the blade and slamming it into the ground before him. Unsettling the stone tiles around him, the prince leaned against his sword, something clearly wrong as he closed his eyes.

The crowd simply watched on as the Prince lowered his head as if to cast some spell. Watching with great anticipation, time appeared to freeze as the Prince vomited an absurd amount of blood, staining all the tiles around him. Guards immediately flooded the courtyard, more so than before as they held the elf at knife point before moving to surround the other volunteers so that none dared move an inch.

"You are an idiot you know?" Marcus whispered as he took the Prince's arm before dragging him off. "You fought the entire king's guard, even the dark magic user. It would take you at least a week to recover..." Marcus scolded him as the Prince only coughed up a bit more blood in response.

The guards held everyone in the courtyard until VIncent was safely in the palace. "We took the city faster than usual but the battle takes the same toll on the Prince it would seem." Said one of the guards aloud before he was silenced by another who motioned to the volunteers. "Eat your meals, some of you should be happy you are getting something out of this!!!" Commanded the guard as they returned to their posts.

Maybe an hour passed before the Knight Commander returned, "we shall continue where we left off, who was next after the elf?" Marcus asked as a large orc appeared to step forward.

Of course one would question where the Prince was and if he was even alright, but his shadow was quickly spotted in one of the higher windows overlooking the courtyard. After the Orc only a few more volunteers were left when a guard delivered a large sheet of paper to Marcus. Glancing it over for a moment the knight commander began to call out a large number of names.

"All who I have mentioned are to report to the eastern barracks outside of the palace gates tomorrow morning. The rest of you...thank you for your support, but your service is not..." Marcus continued only to be interrupted by the guard with a second smaller sheet. Glancing it over, Marcus called out a few additional names. "...all of you are to remain in the courtyard for further orders," Marcus announced, a bit of confusion in his voice. "See that it is done..." Marcus ordered the guard next to him as he quickly headed back inside the palace.

The guards immediately set out to clear the courtyard, ushering out all of the volunteers until they were well past the palace gates. "Eastern barracks tomorrow morning at dawn." A captain reminded the few who had been chosen before they all returned to their duties. Now only a few that Marcus had called for remained in the courtyard, the few being the colorful few who happened to have made grand entrances or alerted the guards. The guards paid them little mind but in truth hoped that they had been kept to receive proper punishment, particularly the fairy and elf who had insulted the Prince.

 

[AI10100]

It would seem that the fright the warrior had gave the guards was unhealthy. Perhaps she should have tightened her hold on the warrior's grip more. She wondered if that would affect her induction to the group. Hopefully not. She then turned her attention to the next in line - a rather old man. Just from the age, she was guessing that the old man himself was around the power level of a monk. That was impressive really. The old man began to chant and presented quite a light show. It was by no means dangerous, she assumed, but one of the guards grew panicked and immediately announced that the others should explain what they would do before they do it.

Next was an odd sight. A goblin. Adira had only seen quite a few of them while on work. There were some working for her family, more as guides and helpers really. They were quite crafty and were skilled in their arts, but they had to keep a close eye on them lest some of their gold deposits would disappear. She had sent a snarky glance towards her, followed by a statement that obviously was targeted to her. The blonde woman just let out a silent chuckle and rubbed the back of her head. She wasn't going to take any offense to that - if they were going to be in the same team together, it might be problematic for the goblin but Adira couldn't care less. Though she was a bit surprised when the goblin did not present anything else other than that, and the prince was quick to call her out on it.

Before the next one from their group could step up, an animal's cry caught her attention and her eyes were dawn towards the demonstration area. It was rather captivating. Adira rarely saw anyone who showed off their shapeshifting prowess so she just couldn't help but stare. Although that wasn't everything she was hiding - she also demonstrated her skills with the curved swords. Adira was no combat veteran nor was she able to fully grasp just how graceful and efficient each of Arleth's strikes were, but she did know that it was certainly skillful. It would seem that she had served under Prisal's army for eighteen years, in which case, Adira wasn't surprised by her skills now that she had said that. Any soldier with such amount of experience would be at least that good correct?

A break huh? She guessed it has been quite some time since they had started. However, the meal was not to come as the prince stopped. Straining her eyes to see what was happening, she nodded to herself.

A fairy, though it did not seem she was here to present like her and the others as she had directly spoken to the prince and the knight commander. She could barely hear anything but given that kind of closeness, she guessed that she was also familiar with the knight commander at the very least. Perhaps she was also part of the Prisal Army for quite some time as well?

That was when this Elf stepped up and challenged the prince to a fight. The prince seemed unimpressed by this, and even felt insulted. However, he had still accepted the challenge. She could feel the anticipation that everyone felt. The guard came back with the prince's greatsword and the man drew it... before he slammed it on the ground and leaned on it. Adira seemed to stiffen up. Was something wrong? No, that wasn't the right question. What was wrong? She seemed to take a step forward, tilting her head to the side as the prince lowered his head.

And then spat out blood.

The guards immediately sprung to action. They stopped anyone from moving and the knight commander aided the prince back. It was quite disappointing to see that the match would not ensue but Adira couldn't help but feel worried. Should the prince be sick for a prolonged amount of time, or worse, be sick while they were going into battle, then that meant that Prisal would fail to defeat Isreia. She ran a hand through her hair as she stepped back once more.

Once the prince was out of sight, the guards then ordered them to eat a meal. It wasn't even a suggestion and they even made it feel like the meal wouldn't be served if not for the kindness of the prince's heart... or something like that. Perhaps he had been relatively unimpressed by everyone's display? Shrugging the thought off, she then took her meal and then sat off to the side before beginning to eat. Though one would believe that the Bzulvic family was a family of nobles and were accustomed to the lifestyle of one, the truth of the matter was that she and most of her family was used to a rather more common lifestyle. As merchants who traveled around, they have learned to adapt and not be choosy in the environment they would camp at.

Adira finished rather quickly and waited. The knight commander came back and it continued. An Orc had stepped up to show his skills against a guard. It was mighty impressive. Much like Goblins, she hasn't seen much of Orcs either because they were, more often than not, under some other employer. Their brute strength was always appreciated in the Bzulvic company.

Names were then called for people who were accepted. Then, he stopped after a guard gave him another letter and then she heard her name in it, along with some of the ones she thought were interesting. They were told to remain in the courtyard. The guards ushered the others out of the grounds. Rubbing the back of her head, she instinctively went to the closest one to her - the first person to step up.

"Bartholomew right?" Adira asked the brown haired blacksmith. "Do you have a guess on why we're being asked to stay?" She felt like they were going to be punished or something considering the fact that most of them here had pulled off the flashier and more dangerous stunts. She admitted that the warrior she had summoned who wanted to kill the prince might have created the assumption that she, herself, was out for the prince's life or something. Though in this blacksmith's case, his demonstration was innocent enough so she just didn't know what was going on in their minds.

Alias

 

[Colie]

Aghamore went to the back of the crowd and started to meditate. While the other contestants did their auditions, he rested. That was until he heard the prince start speaking. Aghamore couldn‘t hear much but could sense that the prince was about to fight. This is going to be interesting. Aghamore had to push and shove to get to the front but when he did, he saw the prince on the ground with blood coming from his mouth and a drow standing a couple feet away from him.

Aghamore could tell that the prince wasn‘t hit with any sword because the drow‘s sword wasn‘t bloody. There was only one explanation that Aghamore could think of. He is a-

Aghamore‘s thoughts were interrupted by a guard telling us to eat our meals. What meals? Aghamore then realized that he was too concentrated on thinking he didn‘t see the guards pass out the meals. This looks like mud, I am not eating this. Aghamore scanned the area and saw the drow sitting with a fairy. Aghamore walks up and says,“Where did you learn that kind of magic?“
LocKeii

 

[Alias]

The more Bart watched everyone's demonstrations, the more desperate he felt. A woman who can summon the spirits of dead warriors? An old monk who can make huge energy balls appear out of thin air? A shape-shifter with 18 years of experience in Prisal's military? How was he supposed to compete against that? These guys are overqualified as soldiers, there's no way he'd get picked. Calm down, he thought. They still haven't chosen anyone yet. Besides, if he can't get enlisted as a soldier, maybe they'll enlist him as a weaponsmith or an armorsmith. After all, blacksmiths are in demand during war time.

The announcement of a free meal lifted Bart's spirits, temporarily forgetting his worries. He was about to line up when an elf challenged the prince himself to a duel. But what surprised him more is that the prince accepted the challenge. Was it due to his ego? Was it because he wants to make an example out of him? Regardless of the reason, everyone's eyes were glued on the two combatants. The air was tense for a moment... until the prince crumpled to the ground, coughing up blood. Bart overheard a conversation from the other guards that the prince was still exhausted after their invasion at Barden. Then why did the prince accept the challenge? he wondered. In that condition, he should've been aware that he wasn't in a condition to fight. So why?

Bart sighed.
The ways of nobles are a mystery to him.

A guard, then, ordered them to take their meals. Despite their rather rude tone, Bart gladly wolfs down his meal. The loaves of bread he had in his rucksack were still wet due to the huge steam cloud he produced earlier, so it's either this or a soggy loaf of bread. After the break, they continued the try outs. This time, however, the prince was nowhere to be seen. There were a variety of people who stepped up. Humans. Elves. Even an orc at one point, who sparred with a soldier who was almost just as huge as the orc. Once everyone has finished the demonstration, an older man (who he assumes is the knight commander) began reading the names of those who are accepted.

Bart shut his eyes, listening carefully for his name to be announced. And after reading out the names, the man closed the list. He never heard his name. Trying his hardest not to cry out of frustration, he began walking out of the courtyard. He began to consider other ways to cross the Isreian border when the man began reading another set of names from another piece of paper. He turned right back to the court yard when he heard his name. It appears that he was just as confused as the man reading the list, especially when they were ordered to stay for further orders.

Wait, so I'm in?

He was about to ask someone why they were told to stay behind when a blond haired woman walked up to him. It was the one who demonstrated after him. She asked the same question he's been asking in his head. "To be honest, I have no idea. Although it would be great if they said we're in", he sighed.

"Hold on, Adira right?", his eyes gleamed as he started to remember. "You said you're a merchant yes? You should try to drop by Fulton's Fabulous Smithy sometime. Although we mainly sell swords and armors, we've also begun making lockets and rings a few months ago. Honestly, they're so well made, you can sell them for twice the price you've bought them and no one would bat an eye! You see, they have these ornate designs that look-", and he droned on and on about the products sold at the smithy. Since he was young, his father has always told him that whenever he sees a merchant at a tavern, he should always try to convince them to stop by the shop. This is because merchants tend to buy in bulk sometimes, which is good for their business. Now, whenever he finds out someone is a merchant, he'll just straight up advertise the shop by instinct.

AI10100

 

[AI10100]

"That... would be ideal, yes." Adira said with a nod though it was obvious that the man was clueless as well. Though, she supposed she shouldn't have expected anything else. Only the knight commander knew what was going to happen and it seemed that they would be waiting for a little longer before they would tell them anything. She glanced over to the others, wondering if they had any better guesses than the two of them.

Her attention was snapped back to Bartholomew when he began to advertise his shop, Fulton's Fabulous Smithy. From the name itself, it made her crack yet another smile. It would certainly be on her list of shops to visit once she had heard of it; though, this was the first time she did. He continued to go on and on about his shop, giving her good points about the merchandise. Adira didn't move to stop him and listened intently with a smile, nodding every so often. While currently, she isn't interested on doing any businesses with anyone as she has a different mission on her hands, she wouldn't pass up an opportunity to add another shop to their list of providers.

Once he had finished, she had decided to speak. "Bartholomew, you know fully well that I have come here as a soldier and not as a merchant... and as such, I am not able to engage in a trade with your shop." Though this news would certainly be disheartening, it wasn't the end of what she had in mind. "However, I will make a note to tell this to the other family members that are based here in Ticedo. While I cannot assure you that they will buy your merchandise, they will at least come to inspect." After all, they gave everyone a fair chance. They need to after all. There's always that lowly smith that could make the most amazing necklaces that fetch for a higher price than the original.

"You're quite something aren't you? Even when you're not on duty, even trying for a position outside your store, you still advertise it." Adira continued with a light chuckle. "The Bzulvic family appreciates hardworking people such as yourself. You've certainly left a mark - I'll be sure to put in a good word to your store." She continued with a wink. Though it still wasn't assured that they will definitely buy it, it still bolsters the chance that they will. Hopefully that would be enough to please the young man. He seemed like an honest lad. Besides, maybe when they start a partnership with Futlon's Fabulous Smithy, they'd get some form of discount or maybe they wouldn't even raise the price for their continuous business.

Alias

 

[Vaan]

"I am not the Prince of Teva, nor do I claim now to be a ruler of Ticedo...but I am a Prince of my people, of my soldiers. It is their loyalty that makes me a Prince, and as a conscript, I am happy to see you understand the value of such a trait in a soldier. I am sure you also understand that true loyalty is also proven with much more than a few simple words and a bow. I hope that is not all you can do…”

The goblin took this as her cue to leave. To be frank, she wasn’t sure what response her introduction was to warrant; this was perhaps one of the best. She had managed to showcase absolutely nothing, while still making a memorable impact. For while the prince would come to watch many warriors today, he was to exchange words with few. This method was obviously enough, as her name was categorized along with the Bzulvic and Monk; who were too valuable to otherwise be casted away.

"Eat your meals, some of you should be happy you are getting something out of this!!!"

How wonderful. Bhexxi was going to celebrate her successful demonstration with a meal, and a free one at that. Entering one of the food-tents, she began to pile her plate with the grey glop that was provided. She could swear that from the corner of her eye she saw the glop move by itself, so she picked up a piece of bread from the basket and tapped its surface several times; the food here was very similar to that of her wife’s cooking. It’s texture was an oddity and met her fangs with no resistance, but its taste was wonderful and flavored.

She should probably find a place to sit, rather than just stuffing her face while in line. The humans were beginning to look annoyed. Before she exits the tent, however, she manages to get a glimpse of conversation from behind her; mentally tuning in on it.

“I don’t discriminate, you of all people should know that, but I don’t trust that fairy. Earlier before your interruption, she had been volunteering to join the party despite her...occupation. Her successful occupation judging by her appearance.”

Bhexxi had never met a fairy, but she did recall a story her mother recited, claiming that goblins were just fairies that had lost their wings. This was obviously a load of crap, but there was no denying that the two races had some… likeness. At least when it came to height. As long as the fairies stuck to the skies and the goblins to the ground; there would be no issues. Yet, here Bhexxi was, on ground with another fairy. Level but not equal.

Scarfing down the rest of her plate, Bhexxi sets her empty plate onto one of the provided benches and takes a seat before it. While sitting, she scans the faces of the area and once again finds the Bzulvic girl, who was now fraternizing with the blacksmith. Cheap tactics. Bhexxi tries not to dwell on the idea that she is surrounded by enemies: an Orc, a Bzulvic and an already deemed untrustworthy fairy. She had to find an ally.

"The Bzulvic family appreciates hardworking people such as yourself,”

Perhaps it was better to just take other people's allies. Bhexxi stands up on her bench, stepping over the table and onto the opposite seating board; where she hopped into the grass and begin to make way to the blacksmith. “Bartholomew!” she yells loudly, “That was the name of…. —My father! How coincidental! I couldn’t help but overhear you speaking about your business back home… and while I am no merchant… I do have an eye for quality deals. Perhaps your business would like to make a presence in the Goblin world.”

 

[LocKeii]

Hadrian & Lenka || Ticedo Empire || Capital ~ Palace Courtyard

The second that that imposing weapon had been slammed into the ground Hadrian should’ve known that something was wrong. It was only when the prince bent over did a strange velvety sensation erupt in the pit of his stomach. Then there was crimson. It blossomed upon the grey concrete in the loveliest shades of scarlet and suddenly the world appeared so lifeless compared to the vivid color. Everything and everyone paled in contrast to the hues of liquid fire that flourished like wild roses. It’s very existence was so unbelievable, so unimaginable. If he were to just touch it, to confirm that it was real maybe then-

“HADRIAN.” The abrupt snap of reality drenched him like a bucket of ice water. The knife carving into his throat seemed inconsequential compared to what the elf had almost done. Sebastian immediately sheathed his sword. “Stand down.” He growled at the few who remained armed.

“But-”

“He and the rest are to remain here unharmed until further instructions are given. Were orders unclear?”

That quickly silenced any remaining opposition. As soon as the others had left he pulled Hadrian’s disconcertingly unresponsive body around to face him. A broad gash, wide against young man’s neck caused the man to cringe internally. Without a single word Sebastian reached into the inner crevice of his armor and produced a packet of gauze. As the soldier silently tended to the wound Hadrian let out an unexpected chuckle. Sebastian eyed him warily; an eyebrow raised in silent question.

“Do you have any rubbing alcohol in there as well? I could use a drink.” All previous sympathy he had for the latter’s sanity dissipated right then and there. If irritation, relief, and concern was a drink he would've been a perfectly mixed cocktail. “I should’ve known that you’d be worse than Trystane. Unlike him you’re humor actually has wit.” Hadrian openly laughed at that, eliciting a half smile from Sebastian himself.

“I’d say I’m beating him at his own game. You know...I never had the chance to formally apologize for wasting your efforts-”

“It wasn’t a waste,” Sebastian interjected, gaze hard and wordlessly expressing that this subject was not up for argument.

“Regardless, I’ve caused more trouble than my ‘services’ are worth. Whatever punishment I’m givin you have to swear to me that you will not interject.”

Sebastian pursed his lips. They both knew that wasn’t something that he would do out of his own volition. “Entertain my worries, Sebastian” Hadrian sighed, “Please.”

“...I swear.” The soldier finally relented before quickly adding “Until you somehow, inevitably make things worse and possibly land yourself on the execution block.”

Hadrian tensed, looking as if he was about to argue before a smile slowly tilted the corners of his lips. “Close enough.”

A pleasant hum of silence settled between them then. Hadrian took the chance to sheathe his sword. Suppose it was out of habit but the well worn leather of the hilt unconsciously eased his worries. Unfortunately there didn’t seem to be enough oxhide this time around to take his mind of what had just occurred. If he shared his sentiments with Sebastian the man would no doubt tell him that he couldn't have known how extensive the princes injuries were. In the back of his mind Hadrian knew that it was the truth but the realization did little to ease his concerns. Trystane had once said the elf cared far too much for those he barely knew but Hadrian would be hard pressed to think that he shouldn't at least take responsibility.

Brushing up against Sebastian's side, Lenka weasels her way before Hadrian and offers a curtsey of her black dress, followed by a hushed chuckle. The two had exchanged glances during his request for a duel and while his request overshadowed her own introduction, be it such an anomaly, she still took it upon herself to make acquaintance. “That was… quite the display,” she chimes in, taking her voice a bit softer, “Perhaps not what you intended?”

Looking down Hadrian was momentarily taken aback by the sudden barrage of scarlet. It fell in ripples and waves upon the fairy’s shoulder as she dipped forward in greeting. With a hand lightly pressed to his chest, the elf returned the gesture with a bow. A little something he picked up from Selvvy whose previous occupation required a show of etiquette. His relaxed posture and open smile however gave it a sense of amiability. “Not even close.” He admitted; although there hadn’t exactly been an intended course of action this wasn’t what he would’ve had in mind either.

“Be that as it may” Sebastian cut in, “I’m sure you’d be more inclined to take your meal while it’s still being offered.” Hadrian, for his part, was slightly taken aback. It was rare to see the older man be so blatantly dismissive to the point of disrespect. A glint lit up his eyes as he suddenly remembered that the latter had been at an awfully close proximity during the fairy’s noteworthy appearance. “And all that sword fighting has got me starved” He added, ignoring his companions prickly stare, “Mind if we join you?”

The fairy raised a tapping finger to her chin, as if she was contemplating the idea, only to nod in agreement. In her following statement, she was sure to address the trio as a whole, rather than just Hadrian, letting her eyes linger momentarily on each of their forms. “Do forgive me,” she begins, “I’m afraid I am a woman of small appetite… perhaps one of you would like to partake in my meal instead?” she says, with a particular fixation on Sebastian.

To his credit the soldier tried not to appear as flustered as he felt. Unfortunately, there was no hiding the splotches of color that stained both his neck and cheeks in hues of vibrant pink. Hadrian cocked an eyebrow in a faux show of confusion; just barely keeping an amused grin off his face. “I-I that wouldn’t be proper for a man to- to take a girl’s- no a women’s food- not that I’m assuming your age-” Sebastian’s bluster rose impossibly higher and the elf, having thoroughly enjoyed the show finally took pity. “What my companion is trying to say is that he’d be more than glad to offer his help.” Hadrian interjected, patting a reassuring hand on his friend’s stiff shoulder, “We’ll only take a moment.”

Even as he remained entirely perturbed Sebastian caught on quickly and stiffly followed the elf towards the food tents.

“Do you two know each other?” Hadrian inquired as he picked up an empty platter. Sebastian, in contrast to his earlier reaction, blanched. “Not intimately.”

The elf nodded. “Ah so did you choose Kate or Katherine?”

“I- what- how do you know?”

“Trystane and Barius had suggested a late night trip into the southern district.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Of course they did.” The officer then hesitantly eye’d the elf. “Did you…?”

“Do you really want to kno-”

“No, not at all” Sebastian quickly responded, blushing once again. By then both of their plates were filled with whatever manners of slop the army ingested. “I’m going to miss your cooking.”

Hadrian laughed at the abrupt confession. “I’d miss the street food in the slums compared to this.”

“I doubt anyone else knows the sorcery to transform dirt cheap ingredients into a cuisine.” Sebastian pressed, chuckling. His expression however was serious when he turned to face his friend. “I don’t discriminate, you of all people should know that, but I don’t trust that fairy. Earlier before your interruption, she had been volunteering to join the party despite her...occupation. Her successful occupation judging by her appearance.”

Glancing at her from a distance Hadrian could confirm that the fairy was far from the worn and slightly unkempt state of dress that someone of that profession commonly had. In fact he’d be hard pressed to have even assumed anything if Sebastian hadn’t been so obliviously obvious in his reactions.

“Tell me, why would she want to leave it all behind for the battlefield?” Sebastian continued before stopping a few meters away from her waiting form. “I’ll part ways here.”

Hadrian nodded, taking the last few steps back towards the eye catching mane of red hair. “Sorry for the wait. I had a hard time choosing between slate or concrete.” As if on cue the gray tinged mush on his plate wobbled ominously.

“No concern, I’m used to waiting,” Lenka says after a moment's reflection, relieved with her decision to abstain from eating, “It allows me time to think, about where I am… where I want to be,” she provides leadingly, positioning herself to the side of Hadrian and following his steps in suit, “Where is it you want to be?”

He considered the question, eyes wandering briefly before glistening with a sudden recollection.“There’s a mountain.” He responded, halting briefly as he moved towards one of the courtyards wrought iron benches. “Ticedo’s infamous dracon peak, said to house the very last dragon is also one of the best places to watch the Celestial Lights.” Shedding his cloak, Hadrian placed the cloth on the rough metal surface and gestured courteously for his new acquaintance to take a seat.

The fairy lowered herself onto the bench, beside Hadrian, taking a seat onto the makeshift cover. She nodded while he spoke, waiting until he finished to even speak herself, “The Ticarden mountain is my home. Unfortunately, it’s not safe right now and for the sake of the dragon,” she says affirmatively, “we mustn’t return until the war is done.” She does little to touch on the existence of the dragon, instead redirecting the topic, “I have a proposition for you, though it must stay between us.”

There was a subtle shift in Hadrian’s demeanor when Lenka divulged the location of her home. To find someone who spent years in the cold, beautiful, barren land under the same radiant lights was a rarity. It vanished as quickly as it came however replaced by a curious smile. The cold plate of drivel lay momentarily forgotten in his lap as the shift in topic peaked his interest. “I can keep a secret.” He stated, the affirmation in itself was vague but the intention was clear.

“If it’s something that interests you, after the war, I’ll let you accompany me to the Ticarden Mountain. You’ll be able to indulge in our icy winter, see the Celestial Lights and even witness the last remaining dragon. All I ask is that, in return, you extend your protection to myself during the war... “ she pauses, “Of course, I don’t want this to come off so suspiciously… you’ll need to front yourself as head over heels; a lover.” the last words words roll off her tongue a bit quieter, as she stands up from the bench. “Do you accept?”

“I accept.” The response was as quick and unexpected as the spoonful of grey grool he consumed. Hadrian didn’t even bat an eye as the spongy consistency slithered it’s way down his throat. In truth he’s eaten far worse. “If I’m accepted.” He adds, lips quirking in feigned amusement. The smile in itself was slightly bitter as his eyes imperceptibly flashed towards the blood stained tiles. He could only hope that the prince’s recovery was swift to both settle the tense situation and out of genuine concern. Their brief meeting wasn’t exactly on amicable terms but the elf admittedly developed a bit of respect for the man. If not for the boneheaded decision to fight with internal injuries then it would be the steadfastness to take on the challenge.

“Where did you learn that kind of magic?"

The monk's question startled Hadrian more than the old man's abrupt presence did. Even the muck caught in his throat until he managed to force it down with a strained cough. “Magic...” He repeated, his expression and tone turning oddly blank. An easy, nearly detached grin spread across his face quick enough to give an onlooker whiplash. “I’m afraid I don’t have much luck with it. All my uses lie in a blade.” In an offhanded manner he scooped another spoonful of ‘food’, swallowing the questionable contents whole before continuing. “On the other hand with your abilities you must have sensed something.”

mentioned: Jon Vaan Colie

 

[Colie]

"Magic...I'm afraid I don't have much luck with it all my uses lie in my blade." The man thinks he can lie to me that lying bas- "On the other hand with your abilities you must have sensed something.” Damn right I did thought, Aghamore. The pain by itself would be normal around now, a large crowd of warriors and wizards. The only odd thing out was that it was a drow elf, someone who would be proficient in dark magic, fighting. It wasn‘t too hard for Aghamore to connect the dots.
In a hushed voice Aghamore whispers, "Dark magic hurts me as much as an arrow to the heart would so I would appreciate if you don't use that near me. I don‘t know what kind of dark magic you did but don’t do it again. I must not steer away from my first question, where did you learn that kind of magic?"

LocKeii

 

[Kenjinx]

Flicking a thumb across his recently battered cheek, Shak couldn't help but draw his mouth up into another toothy grin. Maybe it was a combination of the interesting magic and the chance at a fight, or maybe even the food reminding him of his warden days, but he was starting to feel somewhat comfortable. While the would-be leader vomiting blood all over the tiles was somewhat off putting, all that came after it naturally took the Orc's mind off of the troubles.

He reached an arm down to scoop up his traveling bag by the straps, slinging it over his shoulder while he walked through the still crowded courtyard. He didn't pay too much mind to whether or not his name was immediately called by the guard, since hearing it late was better than never hearing it at all. Of course there was that pause that seemed to worry just about all of the others that he had been grouped with, these people ordered to stay and wait, but soon enough he heard it called and the courtyard was emptied.

"Huh. There it is."

Pack still in hand, the Orc strolled past the different conversing groups who were just as curious to see what would happen as he was. Instead he opted to step up and set his belongings down on one of the banisters, other hand resting next to it. The dark-clad woman with a name that seemed tenfold more complex than his own was nowhere to be seen in the other conversations, and so he took the opportunity to glance around and see if she had decided to fly off as quickly as she arrived. With a gruff-sounding clearing of his throat, Shak spoke out to no one in particular.

"I wonder if we all did particularly good or particularly bad to get called out here."

No matter what was to happen next, he only hoped that he would get at least one or two good stories to tell by the time he made it back home.

Roleplay Skittle

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

Remaining somewhat towards the front of the other candidates, Arleth's arms were loosely held behind her back, one hand clasping the wrist of her other arm. She was curious to see what sort of displays her rivals as well as potential comrades would present for the prince. Her previous vantage point had been exceedingly adequate for her means, and while being level with the other aspirants to the prince's cause was not particularly ideal, she didn't think it very prudent to transform and flit back to the roof.

As she was considering the abilities she had seen thus far, or seeming lack thereof as far as anything possibly interesting was concerned, she became aware that what appeared to be a Fairy had slipped past the guards. Her well groomed black brows raised slightly, certainly she had also cut in line, but this one had the audacity to not only cut, but to come within such a close proximity of the prince as well. Her arms folded loosely over the flat of her stomach as she watched intently to see how the interaction would play out, though the distraction was only momentary as her seemingly iridescent eyes caught movement off to the side and that movement soon turned into a commotion as arrows were nocked by the archers up on the walls and multiple guards directed spears towards the Elf that had also slipped the queue.

One of her arms raised, her index finger extending to align with the side of her face as her hand held the curve of her jaw. A challenge. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed the exchange, the prince visibly peeved by the disruptions after his declaration that they would take a break. From that moment she became rather impassive, casually strolling nearer to the scene so that she may better hear what was being said, though it appeared she wasn't the only one as the rather one-sided discussion drew to a close with the prince beckoning his challenger to follow. The corner of Arleth's mouth twitched, but only barely.

It was hard to say what her thoughts were on the proceedings, whether she hoped that the prince would prove the victor and establish once again that he was not one to be trifled with, though that was only supposing that his challenger was a worthy adversary. On the other hand, if his challenger did prove to be quite capable and ended up the victor what would that say for the prince, though at least it would prove that he would have a very capable volunteer under his command. Arleth's black claw-like nail tapped against the pale flesh of her soft cheek as her still narrowed eyes gazed thoughtfully on the two duelists while they prepared.

Though her thoughtful expression soon slipped away as the prince didn't finish what he was saying, both of her arms lowering to her sides. He may have been preparing to cast something, but the fact that his words ended so abruptly hinted to Arleth that it had not been his intention and her brow soon furrowed as he remained still for some time before and eruption of blood forcefully evacuated his system. Her colorful eyes widened slightly as her hands moved to cup her elbows when her arms loosely crossed over her stomach again, her features smoothing out as she glanced down at the old Dwarf that had moved towards the front near where she was standing and even before the guards moved to hold the volunteers where they stood, she hadn't moved. She wasn't a healer and couldn't help the prince in any way so there wouldn't have been a point. She simply watched as the Knight Commander dragged him off, waiting for the guards to ease up before she began to move away from the crowd, stretching her arms lazily as she somewhat sashayed over to one of the walls surrounding the courtyard, rolling her shoulders as she leaned against it.

She stayed against the wall, eyeing the gruel they had decided to serve with a raised eyebrow as someone passed by with a dish of it before drawing a small metal file from somewhere on her person and using it to more precisely shape her already pointed nails as she waited out the hour, only putting it away once Marcus had returned and called out the next volunteer on his list. Her hands rested on her hips as she watched the Orc perform with the same intent she had watched the other displays, though what she thought of any had hardly showed on her face nor in her posture.

As the demonstrations continued on, her interest evidently waning as she began to file her nails once more, taking a somewhat relaxed stance leaning against the wall. When the names began to be called she didn't even really seem to be listening and even though she hadn't heard her name called, she seemed entirely unbothered. At the pause before the smaller list of names was read, she momentarily halted in her activity and while she didn't look up, the corner of her mouth quirked into a faint smirk when she heard her name called before she held her hand out in front of her, tilting her head back slightly as she eyed the work she had done on her nails before the file was returned to its hidden locale on her person.

Arleth took a look around at those that were left in the courtyard, each conversing in their own little group about things that she had no interest in knowing and so made no effort to try and discern. She did step away from the wall, however and deciding to leave the others to their conversations, she went to the demonstration area, carefully avoiding the blood the prince had gushed out all over the stones and drew one of her swords, her hand nimbly manipulating it in the air as her wrist rotated, twirling the sword in a rather bored fashion despite the elegance of the action.

It was only for a moment that she went about this activity before she spotted someone who, like her, was not settled in with one of the preformed groups of chatters. The swinging of her blade was slowed, pausing for a moment as she watched him looking about as though he were seeking something before she sheathed her weapon and approached him in time to catch his brief statement, responding in the same self assured tone she had used upon her introduction, "I highly doubt we were called out for performing badly," she released a brief chuckle, "and considering not all of us did something that would draw the Prince's ire, I don't think that was why we were called either."

Kenjinx

 

[Alias]

"That's great! We'll look forward to your visit then", Bart smiled knowing that he has successfully reeled in another potential customer to their shop. His face flushed upon hearing her compliment him. He wasn't used to compliments so the comment caught him off guard. "W-well, I still haven't secured the position yet y'know", he stammered. "And besides, a blacksmith is still a blacksmith as long as he has his tools", he motioned to the tool belt still strapped around his waist.

The Bzulvic family...

Bart feels like he's heard that name before somewhere, but he can't quite remember. The name sounds like it's some old bloodline of nobles or something. "Wait a second", he suddenly realized something. "If you're a merchant, why would you need to go to war? Wouldn't it be safer to resume trading goods instead?".

"Bartholomew! That was the name of…. —My father! How coincidental!". At this point, a female goblin walked up to them. "Really? My uncle's name is also Bartholomew! Are you sure we're not related?". Bart cringed at the joke he made. It sounded funny in his head, but saying it out loud made him feel stupid. "The goblin world huh... I personally don't mind but my old man's a little hostile against goblins". Whenever he would ask his father (or anyone from his father's side of the family) about goblins, he would simply say 'I don't give a damn about them slave folk' in a grumpy voice and walk away. He didn't understand why they were so angry at them. We have some elves working for us and even mercenary orcs as regular customers, what's wrong with goblins?

"I'll find a way to convince him when I return", Bart smiled. "Customers are always good for business". He looked away for a moment as if he was trying to recall something. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier. Was it Becky?"

AI10100 Vaan

 

[AI10100]

"I see. Well, it is quite a good marketing strategy." Adira said with a nod. With that, she guessed that Bartholomew's shop is quite famous with the other merchants. Hopefully, they wouldn't be competing in terms of better quality from the same shop. That would be quite a problematic scenario but she would leave it up to the other members of the family to worry about that. She patted his shoulder and said, "Have more confidence. Who knows? We might be included in the advance party." The man had a strange lack of self-confidence despite earlier having a shine in his eyes as he talked about his shop. You can't advertise like that without having sufficient trust in yourself and your charm.

"An excellent question." She said without missing a beat. She expected this to happen. Everyone who was in with the plan knew that someone would question her motives. Why, in their gods' name, would someone who can still make a profit in the war join the army? "We wanted to aid the Prince of Prisal as our family is based there. Ah, other talented mages in my family joined the army though." She replied. It was the truth - they wanted to aid him, but not because of a simple thing such as loyalty to Prisal but because of the benefits it would spell for them. She then placed a hand inside her pocket, feeling the mark of the family inside it. "Besides, with the rising tensions between Prisal and Isreia, and the recent defeat of Ticedo, it has become increasingly difficult to make proper sales outside the kingdom."

The goblin then walked over and engaged in a conversation with Bartholomew. Instead of speaking up, Adira simply nodded to the goblin as a form of greeting. It wasn't like she had any reason to interfere. The goblin wasn't snatching a potential customer away so she couldn't really care less about the situation. Instead, she busied herself with looking at a snail pacing towards the other end. She guessed that it would take hours before the snail would get there. Poor guy.

She then looked up at the pair once more. "I believe it was Bheexi... correct?" She turned to the goblin to ask if she had remembered correctly. If anything, she prided in the fact that small bits of information doesn't pass over her head. She couldn't call herself a merchant if she couldn't pick up anything from other people even though they weren't talking to her directly. It may be called spying but she'd rather go for the term of 'information gathering'.

Alias Vaan