Fantasy War of the Dragons IC

[Rusty of Shackleford]

1366 PA (Post Ascension), 2nd of the Lupine Moon

Count Michael Peter Brightwall
"The White Griffon"
Vigil's Keep, Southern Byrne

Vigil's Keep had served as the staging ground of the rebellion since it's beginning. Once owned by the illustrious Greycastle family, it fell into ruin after their demise. Left to crumble for over a century, it was then given to Michael upon becoming a Count, and he quickly rebuilt the ruins into the formidable stronghold it once was. After defecting to Queen Mabynn, he offered for her to stay there, thus making the castle her unofficial capital for the time being. It was an old, old castle, built during Byrne's early years. It acted as the defense against any southern Invaders, it's impressive walls making it nearly impenetrable, especially from orc tribesman armed with spears and axes. But with this age came the draft. It was infamously damp and cold due to the way the castle was built, and no matter how hot it was outside, it was nearly always cold inside. Atop The keep flew the red dragon of Mabynn, proudly announcing the allegiance of this castle to all who saw, alongside the banners of every Lord, Lady, and knight who fought alongside her. The majority of the Queen's forces had been called to Vigil's Keep, as Michael was intending on launching another attack, continuing his strategy of capturing keeps and surrounding those that refused to bend the knee, thus guranteeing they could not receive any help. It had worked so far, as the war was tipped against Darius, and Michael hoped the war would end soon...

The Lord Marshall was in the war room, looking over the map of Byrne for the tenth time that day. Little flags and figurines dotted the map, indicated where the Rebel forces and keeps were, and likewise for the Loyalist's. He tapped his gloved finger on the thick wooden table, rubbing his bearded face as he heard the familiar sound of tiny little footsteps, and of something taking hold of a figure. "Amelia," he said in his deep, baritone voice, "put that back. Daddy's about to have an important meeting." The dark haired little girl pouted, placing the wooden piece back as she asked, "Is the pretty lady going to come, Papa?" Michael's face nearly went beet red, the Marshall saying, "I-uh...yes. I believe so, Amy. Now go sit down, please. If you're good, I'll have the cooks give you sweets. Understood?" The girl dutifully took a seat in the corner, swinging her legs back and forth as she waited, smiling at her father pleasantly. Even though he rarely go to spend time with her, Michael was very close to his daughter, and she was the apple of his eye. She was the reason he was fighting this war, so she could become a woman in a world that wasn't just a pile of ashes. Now he just had to win.
laceanddoodles
First Rose
alabast
The Fluffiest Floof
Peckinou
Neuro Vampire
Lindsey


King Darius Ambercrown
"The Just King"
The Royal Keep, Brafford, Central Byrne
The throne room was empty, cold. The silence was deafening, the shadows long. Several years ago, the throne room would have been bustling with activity, but now it was empty, except for the Just King, atop his throne. Brafford was quiet as well, everyone on edge. The King had grown more and more paranoid, convinced that spies and assassin's were everywhere. Hundreds had been ripped from their home and publicly lashed for speaking against the King, whether their guilt was real or not. It hardly mattered. All that mattered was keeping everyone in the dark. Darius, under Enryn's advice, had decreed that all news of the war not be shared. Anyone caught discussing it would be publicly lashed fifty times, with repeat offenses resulting in execution. Darius' mental state was slipping. His outbursts were becoming more and more frequent, and increasingly violent. He grew to fear Mabynn more and more, though his arrogance made him refuse to admit this. He'd never claim that news afraid of a woman.

The King slouched on his throne, grimacing as he thought of his situation. It was all because of that bitch. That ursurper who sought to take away his birthright, who turned the peasantry against him. They'd follow anyone who promised them wealth. They were a greedy, unsatisfied bunch. Darius would have to correct their treason after the head of the Renegade Queen adorned a spike atop the Royal Keep. The man had a plan. Well, his Marshall did, but he'd never admit that. He'd called every Lord and mercenary in the capital to speak with him, hopefully to make an counter attack on the Rebels. But everyone knew this war wouldn't last much longer. By all the laws and God's and Men, Mabynn was the rightful ruler. She had a direct blood connection to Darius' predecessor, and unlike him, had an heir. This infuriated the King. How could he be outplayed by her? She was just a girl, she'd never fought on a battlefield, or seen the life drain from her enemy's eyes. She hadn't seen the savages rape and pillage their way across Byrne. He'd die before he let that woman take away what he had fought and bled for. He would rally his followers, find the traitor and the Queen, and bring them to justice. Or that's what he told himself, at least. It was the only thing keeping his fragile mind together...

First Rose
Scavenger
The Fluffiest Floof
FantasticMoonlight
Dumplingboy
OldTurtle​

 

[NesyCelvestian]

In a disclosed location... ??? Somewhere in the plains.

The terrain stretched to what seemed enternity and the deep blue skies with feathery clouds hovered above the skies, over the great lumps of terrain in the distance. The sun's rays peeked out from the mountains, stretched across the beauitful landscape ahead. Nesy was an adventure but like nobody else and why? The truth is. He was a mutant who walked through the empty plains with flowars covering all over. It was peaceful; meaning it was quiet because there were no animals around. He was an adventurer like nobody else and he had traveled great distances over the entire country and perhaps other lands. He seemed to be a typical one.

He was born somewhere, the location is not known as if his mutation had destroyed his memory of where he had lived. Considering his high intelligence, he does have a very excellent memory and can remember far into the past but not since his mutation where something horrible happened to him or so he thought. The secret was is that he has gotten useful abilities that might as well be powerful or whatnot. He wore colourful clothes with all natural colours along with a belt strapped on his waist. His hair blew gracefully in the wind that whistled and the silence was entrancing. His magnificantly coloured eyes glimmered of the reflection of the sunlight. It was convinient but it was quite bright out there. Away from war and chaos or so he thought. The sword was by his side and was shethed.

He decided to bend down and watch the view from up here of the mountains in the distance. The thoughts spiraled in his head as he felt calm by the aura of the place. "...This place is awesome." He said to himself and was excited over his new discovery of this place. He had absoloutly no knowledge of the war that was going to happen soon but one thing was for sure, adventure called him and he could smell it. He felt a tingle come up through his spine and into his neck, shivering sensations seemed to overtake him as the wind blew through his clothes. He felt the cold wind that caused the sensation to amplify but eventually it ceased to nothing. It was a very strange feeling but at the same time he started to smile a little. It kind of made him laugh because tingly things does set his mood posetively. He loved laughter and friends indeed.

His heart was as if it had wings carrying it and there was just pureness but also innocence. By every single breath he could feel it lifting up from his chest but that was just a sensation he felt. He had thoughts that were posetive but there were some slight negative ones that were put behind his mind and locked inside of the vaults of his brain where it will never be found again. The only thing that he wanted to do is to go out there and show the world what he is made of one day when he gets the appourtunity to. Sacrificing himself to save a world is what he truly wants. But Patience is a virtue as.... He had determination in his mind and he felt it throughout his entire body like an angel carrying him through the though syrapy thoughts he had. Because sacrificing himself to save others? That is something he can love to work on.

That had to be done in the future instead. Because it's time to get heavy my friends!

 

[laceanddoodles]

Her Royal Majesty, Mabynn the Queen Renegade
Vigil's Keep, Southern Byrne


A boy announced Her Majesty's arrival, and the young woman swept into the war room, two of her junior ladies holding her train off the floor behind her. Once she approached the table, positioning herself so as to place her Lord Marshall on her right hand side, she gave the girls a nod, and they and the boy left the room wordlessly. She gave Michael a nod, looking over the battle map with keen and worried eyes. The Queen was an impressive figure, despite her youth. She was petite, but lithe and graceful, even under the heavy royal brocade and wool and fur of her houppelande. A cumbersome garment, but it kept the draft of the castle at bay while giving her that elusive air of majesty. She'd been well known for her beauty, as Princess of Byrne and then as Queen of Lys. The bard songs commissioned after her birth and before her wedding had praised her alabaster skin, her eyes like honeyed amber, eyes like fire and gold. When all was said and done, she was quite an intense young woman. Especially when one considered that the Queen, already a mother and a widow, was still, somehow, a teenager.

"Alright," she said, glancing at Michael. She tapped her foot against the smooth stone of the castle floor, impatiently waiting for the others to arrive. Their force was small, but it was mighty. She knew that. It was only a matter of time before she got her way in this war, unless something was to go horribly, terribly, wrong. A twinge of fear, of foreboding, rose up within her, but she quickly and neatly shoved it back down. Now was not the time for second guessing. Now was not the time for hesitation. Now was the time for boldness, direct action. Nothing less could be tolerable, for the longer they waited, the more her people would be made to suffer under the tyranny of one who only understood the language of war. Three wars was a nightmare, and she knew she was only adding stress upon her peasantry by presenting a fourth challenge. But once she was on the throne, she'd be able to broker a peace, and fix all of this. She had to fix all of this, it was her sworn duty. "I assume the others shall arrive presently?"

Rusty of Shackleford​

 

[First Rose]

“Indeed…” A familiar voice cooed in a low and solemn voice from beside the doorway. No sound was made to announce his presence, yet he always had a tendency to just, appear. There was no telling how long Tithys Vail had been leaning against the smooth dark wooden doorframe. His shoulders squared, and his arms crossed, he looked comfortable, yet insightful. He was always expecting the worst to come, but also the best. He was quite a perplexing old man, but he seemed to consistently talk and act, so simple.

Tithys had been in the kingdom for nearly a month, having traveled toward the Loyalist camp to get some info of the Loyalist. Though he didn’t have the best of news, he was the only one to escape after one of his own men had betrayed him. It was devasting, but it didn’t surprise him. Nothing did nowadays.

The male was in his usual recon wear, a tight dark black robe outlined in gold. He had his usual black and gold mask over his face, with slender pants and heavy boots on the bottom. His shoes were near completely covered in dry blood and mud. In fact, one of the maids had yelled at him for such inconvenience, he was supposedly tracking it everywhere. He was usually consoling toward the maids and others who kept the kingdom so elegant and tidy, they did more for such little appreciation. But today, he had been gone for far too long than he was comfortable, he had to make sure everything was the way it supposed to be.

Raising his unnaturally large and gloved hand to his face, Tithys took the mask off his face. A bruised and exhausted old man was seen underneath, but it was nothing a few herbs couldn’t fix, and perhaps a few good hours of sleep. Though he had no idea when that would happen, there were way too many things he had to make sure was in good shape before he’d lay down his head.

Despite how mashed his face was, despite the bloodshed and violence he had just witnessed, he smiled toward the Marshal and the Queen. “A little much for a small meeting don’t you think?” Tithys cheerfully mocked with a small low chuckle. He pushed off the wall and approached the two. His stride was large, two steps and he was hovering over the table, yet he made no sound. His eyes went into the Queens as his arm went across his chest, he bowed his head in respects before turning toward the War Marshal. Tithys extended the same hand, expecting a hard shake in greeting from him.

“Sir.” He said, then he looked between the two of them. “How has it been?”

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

The door to the warroom opened and a figure walked in. She was clad in cloth, which looked to have been quite beautiful clothes. But by now, they had been stiched and repaired so many times that there were only traces of how it had once looked. On the back of the female, that had entered, there was a sheath with an ornate hilt showing a weapon was within. The woman had no scars, besides her rugged looking clothes. She had brown hair and was slender in figure. Her face was neutral, as she entered the room. "Your Majesty.", she simply commented, however, there was no bow. Still, there was no lack of respect in her words.

The woman was Saria, a mercenary, yet still one of the most respect among the queens forces. Known as the 'Crimson Demon', the warrior was just as much awed at as she was feared. And she kept herself close to the queen at most times. She had not even asked for a payment, at some point the woman simply appeared and offered her service. And ever since, she had proven so useful and dedicated, willing to go through anything to help the cause and save as many innocent or rebel lives as she could.
She took a place next to the queen, nodding the the others present without greatly acknowledging them, however not ignoring either.

Saria had never been big on etiquette. Or politeness. She was not angering people on purpose, she simply behaved as she deemed it to be right. She showed her respect in her own ways and usually, it came across, unless somebody was too stuck on their own traditions to see what she was trying to get across. Generally, Saria was not as skilled with wordplay as a noble would. That meant, she spoke from her heart. Always. She did never sugar coat her words and did not think about how others might understand what she said. She was hard to deal with for some, due to that.

Looking at the people present, she seemed curious. "Why are we meeting today? Did something happen? Are we making a move?", she inquired. She was never one to work out incredibly sophisticated strategies. She had been a hothead before the curse and now she was simply one to get stuff done. Therefore, she oftenly just let others do the planning, said her bit about how she thought it might work and then did what was necessary.

 

[First Rose]

The sound of hard marching boots echoed through the keep as the General and her men walked in formation behind her. Aron at her right, and another on her left, with a name she could never pronounce. So much so, that she never tried, she called him red, that was all. For no particular reason, she liked the color, and that was his name. It was almost as complicated as that other girl’s name. She recalled the witch to be called something along the lines of Newtella...she wasn’t sure, and didn’t particularly care. She never did, but boy did she put on a show. General Gortho was known for being one of the most reliable and loyal soldiers in the king’s army, in fact, she commanded the army alone. The General smiled to herself, she remembered the memory well, too well in fact. She turned her head toward Aron for a moment, “make sure Red keeps his mouth shut during this meeting. I don’t need the King more pissed than usual, especially in my direction.”

The General wore a large dark brown pauldron on her right shoulder, not only showing her height in rank, but shoving that piece of metal into someone’s jaw usually knocked their teeth out. Then beneath was silver armor that covered her chest while a small bit of fur poked out around her neck. Beneath were iron greaves and her lames over her woolen pants and boots. Her expression was solid, she usually showed no emotion unless she wanted to, and when she did, it was only an act. A single streak of dark brown hair went down her scalp and leaned to the side, one of the few traditional things she took from her homelands.

Eventually, the General and her men came up to the throne door, it was opening before she even came within a few feet. She stopped as she let the large doors open before her. Her hands going behind her back as she waited. On her right hand was a black obsidian ring, with a particular symbol on the top of it, it was never seen up close by anyone, and those who did were [redacted]. Then on her torso was a grey decent-sized satchel, it looked to be holding a book within it, no one ever had a good look at that either. Really, no one knew much about the strange half-orc, and she didn’t really talk about who she was. Only that she was there to fight for justice, and that was all.

Once the doors opened, General Gortho walked in, her men filed at her sides. She walked with a calm swagger, making her feet clank on the hard tiles as if to announce her entrance with her worthy stride alone. Finally coming before the King, her knee buckled and her head bowed.

“Your highness,” She spoke to him with a gentle purr, as if she were a small child talking to respective figure, ignorant, stupid, but loyal. It’s how she genuinely spoke to the king, not saying much in her own regard, just following orders. The only time she did give a suggestion or a worthy plan, was when it was needed, or, when the King was just being reckless in general. Which, unfortunately, happened more often than not. The General avoided bumping heads with the King, because as much as she was needed in the side of the Loyalist, just a small mistake, and he would have her head. The King was losing his sanity by the day, but it was only a matter of time until she’d be able to sweep him up. That, was what she was waiting for.

 

[Dumplingboy]

Name: Lady Kahliky/loyalist
interactions: First Rose (mentioned)
Outfit : x
Extras: Inyoko, two slave girls

Neytiri sat in silence staring into a polished copper mirror she had brought from home. Two girls moved around her room barefooted in hopes to not interrupt Neytiri’s inner thoughts. One of the girls, who could have been around her mistress' age, was laying out clothing and doing her best to keep Inyoko on the bed. The other girl was older than the two. She had tasked herself in upkeeping Neytiti’s room. Unlike her father, and her father's father, Neytiri was born and raised in Pandora with her people. To keep her mistress happy, there were plant life from her home lands placed around the room. The room was also kept hot. They did not have fireplaces back with the Na’vi, but they quickly figured out the use of a flume and would occasionally run it up. Neytiri had arrived to donum in early spring, she had heard stories of winter, and was not looking forward to it. The younger servent walked over to Neytiri, timidly speaking “Inko-sazana…”
Neytitri let out a sigh, not looking away from her crude reflection as the slave girl brushed her hair. She looked down from the copper mirror to her vanity seeing a root next to various jewelry boxes. She wanted more than anything to pick up that root and chew on it, blackinging her now white teeth. She could hardly recognize herself. No piercings on her nose and ears, white teeth, her skin smooth and unmarked. Somethings could not be changed. When Neytiri started to show the signs that she could bare children, her top canine teeth were sharpened. She was happy she was not raised here, what kind of woman would she be with her teeth dull. Neytiri stood allowing the younger slave to dress her. The eldest girl approached Neytiri with a half face veil but was denied by Neytiri. “Not this time Noldo.” Neytiri has never made a real appearance in court before. Most of the time she would send a male representative, he would usually brief the time of upcoming shipments and new trade opportunities other nations of Pandora were offering. Sometimes she would go, but remained veiled and did not speak up and was excused once the conversation shifted matters not involving her. Neytiri was never left in the dark though, she had her ways to gather information.

“Are you sure this is a wise decision?” Noldo spoke up in protest, which caused the other slave to flinch. Neytiri did not take any offence to the mouthy slave, or rather she was not in the mood to scold.

“The King’s mood is not improving, he grows paranoid. My presence at the court has become more of a spectacle than a contributing member. It is time that I step out of the shadows.” Neytiri had already set her plan into action. She had opened up the trade to include food. It was nothing to big, a few exotuc fruits and treats for the court to enjoy. She also sent down a couple of crates to the Commoners. Sending one to the orphanages, and ordering the handing out of fruit to the beggars. All these actions were performed in the name of the king, Neytiri was trying to improve his imagine, hoping to strengthen loyalties amongst the royal house and the peasants. Neytiri stood prompting Noldo to retrieve Inyoko. “Maybe opening up will quiet there curiosity.”

“Maybe it will awaken there hostility.” Noldo handed over the silver mamba, disapproving Neytiri’s action. Everyone assumed that the Na’vi were waiting for the drama to blow over. They had chosen side’s but remained neutral in action. Neytiri was the first to give a helping hand. It was a small gesture, but a gesture at least. She grabbed for Inyoko, both her and the beast mood shifting when in contact. Neytiri could not help but smile, speaking softly at her scaly friend. Inyoko wrapped around, Neytiri and rested happily on her shoulders. Her walk to the throne room was as normal. Servants gawking and whispering whatever the latest gossip surrounding her was. The younger slave Nildi, wished that Neytiri would not make an appearance just stay hidden and don’t speak. Did Neytiri wish to pull the Na’vi into the war, or did she have her own motives? As the trio stood in front of the door Neytiri waved her slaves away. Inyoko’s head lifted as the doors open, Neytiri walked in the throne room giving a passing glance to the half orc, before bowing before the king. “Your highness.” Neytiri lifted her eyes slightly to get a look at the man before averting her eyes.


Name: Cyeron Aelsinore
interactions: The Fluffiest Floof

Cyeron was making his way to the throne room to stand post. He was to watch guard with Rosaslia, awaiting her arrival before walking in. The king did not trust many people, neither did Cyeron trust anyone around the king. Rosalia was a heathen, but he would gladly go into battle with her. As they made their way inside Cyeron bowed before the throne, saying nothing. He stood taking his post to right watching as the general made her way in. Cyeron tensed up with the arrival of Lady Kahliky. So she has decided to make an appearance, no more of this lurking about. The snake she had brought with her hissed at him as if it knew his negative thoughts. Cyeron looked forward again, waiting for the others to arrive.

Name: Koria
interactions: N/A

Koria walked around the campgrounds gathering the wooden and loading them onto a wheelbarrow. She would push the load to a steam where she would rinse the remains of food. Her chores would occupy most of her morning. Once she was done with this, she would head over to the stables. Since she was without a knight she was going to help the stable boy, tened to the horses of the court.

 

[Nessi]

Elliot
Elliot rode through the planes on the back of his horse, his long blue hair flowing in the wind as he rode. He was going back to the holy city after a few days with his wife, though he wished he could have stayed longer so that he could hug her tightly and never let her go...Elliot already missed her. It wouldn't be long before Elliot came to a resting point, And decided to set up a small camp to relax for a few hours by a fire. Elliot stroked the nose of his horse, and gave him a bit of water in a bowel since there were no near by water sources. "eat up boy, we got a pretty long way to go before were home" He said to his horse as he stroked the horses nose. While Elliot was resting, He spotted someone, they looked like a young man in his early twenties. He was looking at everything like he had never seen it in his life, which Elliot thought was odd. He decided to walk over to the man and see if he was ok, because to be quite honest, he didn't seem ok.As Elliot approached the man, he kept his hands in his pockets, and said "Hey! you over there! Are you alright?" Elliot asked. He was ready for almost anything, he was even ready to fight if he needed to. It wasn't uncommon for bandits to lure their prey in by pretending that they were in need of help, only to hold a knife to your throat. "are you ok?" Elliot repeated as he came closer to the young man.
NesyCelvestian​

 

[Scavenger]

Sunniel floated down one of the servants tunnels leading to the throne room, his elvish boots making no sound as they accomodated his long stride. These days this was his normal method of entry, gone were the days when he could walk shamelessly through Bryne's great castle. The king had deemed him and his magic weakness and so instructed him that he must keep himself out of normal sight so that victory in these wars seemingly came from Brynish strength of arms alone. Sunniel barely restrained a snort as a memory of the conversation drifted through his head, there was no chance that they would win this war by conventional means, Darius lacked the charisma that was neccessary to win over the hearts of the populace. Charisma that their opponent held in spades.

As the end of the corridor approached Sunniel swept out his hand causing a brief shimmer to erupt and form into a spectral hand that slowly opened the door upon his approach. Slowly oppening doors had become the norm for most of the keep, no one wanted to accidentally cause the King to start and then have to face his wrath. Still even with this Sunniel still strode out, the spectral hand closing the door behind him blending seemlessly into the wall. Sunniel was dressed in his normal bluey greys with staff in hand although horrizontal so it didn't tap against the ground, at his waist hung a large curved sickle shaped blade made of an unidentifiable black metal with a black stone handle, mirroring it was a book bearing carefully carved elven geometry on it's leather cover.

Entering the room Sunniel surveyed it with his two eyes, his third remaining fully closed as was his King's command. Immediatly he was already fighting to keep a look of disgust of his face at the sight of General Gortho kneeling before the king. The general was someone that Sunniel instinctively disliked, there was always a sinister feeling around them on top of the fact that she carried obviously dark magical artefacts on her as if it were nothing. Gaze continuing to sweep the room it came to rest upon Lady Kahilky, her presence was very unusual though still less unusual than the great mamba that sat around her shoulders.

Finally reaching the centre of the room he flowed to face the king before bending to 90 degrees at the waist "Your Majesty". Straightening he moved to take his new asigned position close to the edge of the room and well out of the way. As he was moving he made eye contact with The Fourth Strider standing beside the throne subtly inclining his head in respect to her.

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

Name: Lady Kahliky/loyalist
interactions: First Rose (mentioned)
Outfit : x
Extras: Inyoko, two slave girls

Neytiri sat in silence staring into a polished copper mirror she had brought from home. To girls moved around her room barefooted in hopes to not interrupt Neytiri’s inner thoughts. One of the girls, who could have been around her mistress' age, was laying out clothing and doing her best to keep Inyoko on the bed. The other girl was older than the two. She had tasked herself in upkeeping Neytiti’s room. Unlike her father, and her father's father, Neytiri was born and raised in Pandora with her people. To keep her mistress happy, there were plant life from her home lands placed around the room. The room was also kept hot. They did not have fireplaces back with the Na’vi, but they quickly figured out the use of a flume and would occasionally run it up. Neytiri had arrived to donum in early spring, she had heard stories of winter, and was not looking forward to it. The younger servent walked over to Neytiri, timidly speaking “Inko-sazana…”
Neytitri let out a sigh, not looking away from her crude reflection as the slave girl brushed her hair. She looked down from the copper mirror to her vanity seeing a root next to various jewelry boxes. She wanted more than anything to pick up that root and chew on it, blackinging her now white teeth. She could hardly recognize herself. No piercings on her nose and ears, white teeth, her skin smooth and unmarked. Somethings could not be changed. When Neytiri started to show the signs that she could bare children, her top canine teeth were sharpened. She was happy she was not raised here, what kind of woman would she be with her teeth dull. Neytiri stood allowing the younger slave to dress her. The eldest girl approached Neytiri with a half face veil but was denied by Neytiri. “Not this time Noldo.” Neytiri has never made a real appearance in court before. Most of the time she would send a male representative, he would usually brief the time of upcoming shipments and new trade opportunities other nations of Pandora were offering. Sometimes she would go, but remained veiled and did not speak up and was excused once the conversation shifted matters not involving her. Neytiri was never left in the dark though, she had her ways to gather information.

“Are you sure this is a wise decision?” Noldo spoke up in protest, which caused the other slave to flinch. Neytiri did not take any offence to the mouthy slave, or rather she was not in the mood to scold.

“The King’s mood is not improving, he grows paranoid. My presence at the court has become more of a spectacle than a contributing member. It is time that I step out of the shadows.” Neytiri had already set her plan into action. She had opened up the trade to include food. It was nothing to big, a few exotuc fruits and treats for the court to enjoy. She also sent down a couple of crates to the commiers. Sending one to the orphanages, ad ordering her the handing out of fruit to the beggars. All these actions were performed in the name of the king, Neytiri was trying to improve his imagine, hoping to strengthen loyalties amongst the royal house and the peasants. Neytiri stood prompting Noldo to retrieve Inyoko. “Maybe this will quiet there curiosity.”

“Maybe it will awaken there hostility.” Noldo handed over the silver mamba, disapproving Neytiri’s action. Everyone assumed that the Na’vi were waiting for the drama to blow over. They had chosen side’s but remained neutral action. Neytiri was the first to give a helping hand. It was a small gesture, but a gesture at least. She grabbed for Inyoko, both her and the beast mood shifting when in contact. Neytiri could not help but smile, speaking softly at her scaly friend. Inyoko wrapped around, Neytiri and rested happily on her shoulders. Her walk to the throne room was as normal. Servants gawking and whispering whatever the latest gossip surrounding her was. The younger slave Nildi, wished that Neytiri would not make an appearance just stay hidden and don’t speak. Did Neytiri wish to pull the Na’vi into the war, or did she have her own motives? As the trio stood in front of the door Neytiri waved her slaves away. Inyoko’s head lifted as the doors open, Neytiri walked in the throne room giving a pacing glance to the half orc, before bowing before the king. “Your highness.” Neytiri lifted her eyes slightly to get a look at the man before averting her eyes.


Name: Cyeron Aelsinore
interactions: The Fluffiest Floof

Cyeron was making his way to the throne room to stand post. He was to watch guard with Rosaslia, awaiting her arrival before walking in. The king did not trust many people, neither did Cyeron trust anyone around the king. Rosalia was a heathen, but he would gladly go into battle with her. As they made their way inside Cyeron bowed before the throne, saying nothing. He stood taking his post to right watching as the general made her way in. Cyeron tensed up with the arrival of Lady Kahliky. So she has decided to make an appearance, no more of this lurking about. The snake she had brought with her hissed at him as if it knew his negative thoughts. Cyeron looked forward again, waiting for the others to arrive.

Name: Koria
interactions: N/A

Koria walked around the campgrounds gathering the wooden and loading them onto a wheelbarrow. She would push the load to a steam where she would rinse the remains of food. Her chores would occupy most of her morning. Once she was done with this, she would head over to the stables. Since she was without a knight she was going to help the stable boy, tened to the horses of the court.

Cyreon would soon be able to make out the Abyssstrider, as she approached him. The silver armor with black fur was unique enough to be recognizable. And the golden hair with the white flower, a blossom as beautiful as Rosalia herself, made her easily recognizable. She came to a halt in front of him, smiling faintly. "Greetings Cyreon.", she spoke, her voice soft and comforting. Her hand clenched to a fist, which then found her heart. It was a simple, but respectful gesture to greet.

She looked at the doors of the throne room, before taking a deep breath. "I can´t help but be nervous every time we enter. The challenges of battle fade in comparison to the feeling I get when facing the realities of politics. But alas, it is what we are meant to do, right? And what we do, we do properly." She knew he wasn´t likely to respond. Cyreon kept himself very quiet around her, which was regrettable. She enjoyed his company, at least as much as one could enjoy the company of somebody so vastly different in believe.

Her hand quickly fiddled with the flower, before she took another breath. "I assume you´d tell me if i wasn´t looking presentable.", she stated and waved for him to enter. When he did, she followed right behind him. She bowed to the king respectfully, before taking the spot at his left. She watched people enter, a half orc, then a foreign woman. She knew who they were, but she cared little. They hadn´t given her reason to, anyways. Not yet at least. Therefore, the Abyssstrider stood silently, her blade sheathed on her hip, standing guard like a beautiful statue. Only her eyes and sometimes her head moved, following the events within the room. Only when the sorcerer entered, she nodded at him faintly, showing respect.

 

[Xillia]

1366 PA 1st of The Lupine Moon (WATERS WEST OF THE COASTAL TOWN, DEGUS)

"Claire, known at 'The Forsaken' in circles abroad, you are henceforth summoned to the capital of Byrne and the behest of his majesty and field marshall, to serve in the upcoming king's wars. Below will be a forwarded payment and ten-fold the amount per your enlistment to his army, with haste and good fortune of the winds, we should hope to see you soon." A sharp exhale, accompanied by a cough slipped from the mercenary's throat. The parchment crinkled as she crumpled it in her hands, the gentle rocking back and forth of the ship jiggling the sack that hung at her hip, flaunting the gold within to the envious sailors nearby. She'd caught the occasional stink-eye in that month she'd been on that ship, but far more formidable than the coin at her side, were the weapons, seemingly strapped all around her.

A large sword, one a woman of her slender stature should find impossible to lift, hung deftly at her back, with a mirroring side of a longsword, glued to her hip. The King's Blades, as she had referred to them, gifts from her time spent in Archaeon, a mountainous region across the western seas. Her ruggedly fair face, lifted, catching a glimpse of the sun on her pale skin as her scarf trailed behind her from the bow in which she'd stood perched now, nearly a fortnight. Aligning the right side of her face, was a silvery scar, stretching down from the corner of her brow to her cheek, neatly stopping a few inches back from her pillowed lips. A sharp nose, slightly uptilted, sniffed at the wind, and before the view had even managed to perk in the horizon, a lighthouse from the coastal town she was set to land in, came into perspective. Drawing her pale-blue eyes shut, she took one long breath in, the stench of salt, forcing her to wriggle her nasal cavity, though it did little to deteriorate from the sickening butterflies that had run through her stomach. Fear of war was not the issue, instead, she faced the opposite problem, the excitement to fight in a land where the combatants were set to be legendary was sending adrenaline coursing through every vein in her body. The restlessness resulted in a stiff, thick hand plopping down on her armored shoulder. Claire craned her neck over to the source of the contact and caught a half-toothed grin from a darkened man, perhaps in his mid-forties. His hair was greying streaks through the black and the lines of stress around his face indicated that he'd spent quite some time in doing just what she had paid the crew to do.

"Restatos..." She uttered, a bit of relief in her words, her husky voice breaking the rippling of the wind as the ship climbed against the glassy sapphire, further and further to its destination.

"Well, well... The White Dragon of Archaeon--Never thought I'd have the pleasure of taking you across these fine seas aboard my ship." Claire paused, not too inclined to say anything, or inquire how he knew about that title that she'd kept hidden. But it seemed the pleasantries of conversation were on her side, because her silence beckoned the aging man onward, "Take it easy now, I've sailed back and forth from Byrne a plethora of times, and if what the rumors I've heard back out west are true, then this should be nothing more than a stone in your path. Slayer of ten thousand Archaeon Derelicts," He threw his hands up in a gesture to the grandeur of the accomplishment, "Heralded by the kings of Archaeon and offered a knighthood in reward for her service, you're practically a legend over there."

The praise was starting to irk the impatient mercenary, as she quipped back, cold and calloused, as was the way she was accustomed to speaking, "Yes, what of it?"

"Well, I suppose I never really got to ask you in these months we've been together, hell, you've never been approachable, even more so now, but I'm running out of time, why'd you turn it down? The knighthood I mean. There was a spot for you as captain amongst their ranks, but instead, you took the two kings' swords in return, you didn't--"

"A blade is far more useful than a title. Besides, I never much cared for the vows of chivalry and honor or any of that shit to be exact."

"Well, even still, a legendary mercenary like yourself can't only be interested in gold and weapons, can you?"

"That's precisely it."

"Why do you fight then? Not that it's any of my business."

Claire huffed, tossing her lengthy, golden blonde hair over one side of her shoulder, "I simply fight because that is the world I know. Look, Restatos, you've been good to me, for that, I cannot thank you enough, your hospitality has been far more beneficial than that of the other crew members'. But this is a dangerous ocean of information you do NOT want to cross." Her eyes reflected his image as she turned, her hand now propping up on the armored hip plate that situated itself just beneath the cross belts, holding the five blades strewn across her midsection.

"I--" Restatos cupped his hand behind his head and friskily rubbed at the messy hair, "You're awful right. I've got a daughter you know, she's about your age, I simply look at you sometimes out here, standing and gazing off like you do and think of her."

"Your daughter?" Claire hadn't heard mention of the girl in all the months she'd been seabound, and this was the first real inkling to information that Restatos was giving her. The woman paused, however, and shot back a white-toothed, wholesome grin, "I see now, but there's no need to worry, the battlefield is my place, and I am most certainly not your child, so there's no need to get upset." Her free hand waved to brush off the thought, "No need to anything, I'm capable of handling myself."

"Of course, White Dragon of--" A feigned punch forced him to quiet, though the two shared a hearty laugh in the moments there-after.

Claire turned her back once more to the man, glancing out as the people bustling about the portside, fishermen and weavers worked diligently, both on and offshore. "If you really want to know why I fight, it's to find someone strong, to have someone who can kill me someday..."

Restatos flinched as though the woman had really struck him, mouth now agape as he raised a finger and hinderance of a tone to reply, though his attempts were cut short by the witty mercenary.

"...I want to feel alive. And for nearly two decades now, I've been burdened with the lifelessness of a corpse. Combat, the surge, the rush--It's the only thing that makes me feel alive. And what's a life worth if were aren't to find our purposes in it?"

A long silence followed between the two, only held by the lapping against the ship as it began its steady anchoring and pull to portside. "I never took you for the sentimental type." The sailor approached alongside her, the port of Degus now within an arm's reach, a looming hill behind it to the east, covering the horizon for the lands that waited beyond. The suspension ripping away at her breast, Claire perched her hands on the lining of the rail, and before the anchor had fully managed to drop, the woman clattered onto the rickety pier with a satisfying 'thud'. Slowly ascending from her position, she cast a gaze back towards the ship's captain and with dismissal, she began walking, the heavy clatter of her armor and weapons making her distinct.

Hefty words bellowed behind her, "Oi! Mercenary, you forgetting something!?"

Claire craned her head, and glanced up towards the shimmering object, flipping through the air like a metal bucket. It cozily landed in her arms as she extended to catch it--her helmet, it looks like she'd over that bastard of a captain after all! She took a glance over the face-cover and slipped it on, then gave a curt nod to the captain as she returned to business. Walking forward, she'd already made quite the entrance, women and children ducked out of the way, and men stared in awe, that a woman of all things, armed to the teeth, was so nonchalantly marching onto the dirt road and up the hill towards the tavern. A few folks made gestures to shoo, while some continued gazing, mouths agape at a foreigner who could carry such an air of nobility about her.

As she paved her way along the path and clambered up the creaky steps, she took a moment before entering the tavern. Nobody here knew who she was, and it was best to keep it that way for now. A hand firmly shoved the door open and the must practically washed over her, the near-empty sounds of bar talk and folks sipping on their afternoon wines all froze, eyes falling upon the stranger in armor who bore no image of belonging. She took a quick survey, swiveling her head, to nothing of note, some men, fisherman most likely, perched up at the front, by the serving table, who were staring at her like a bad omen. The cape around her neck flowed behind her, along the waist-garments that drew to her ankles as she approached the bartender, who was doing his best to avoid eye contact with her and found more preoccupation in gussying up one of the shoddy wooden mugs.

Yet, as she approached, something else caught her eye, seven men, clad in dark robes, in the corner of the room. The glimmer of steel had flashed as the torchlight adjacent to their forms made itself known right away. Thugs by the looks of it, most coastal towns had them, and likely, wanted nothing to do with them. Their visions dropped as soon as she'd turned her head to catch them in a staredown. After a few seconds of looking at the morose men, her eyes returned, from beneath her helm, to the bartender. "Some wine, if you can spare any and food, packaged. I've got a long road ahead of me."

The bartender cleared his throat and she heard the creaking of steel from the back of the tavern, the thugs no doubt. "You're a woman, eh? What's the profession? A fitter for nobility's armor?" He chuckled nervously, but the mercenary didn't seem to share the same enthusiasm.

"Nothing like that, now..." Her hand scooped to her side where she untethered the coin purse from her hip and laid it out on the counter, letting the meaning of her arrival simmer. "A drink. And food, for fuck's sake before I run you through and take what I need."

The tanned bartender went white as sheet and dove behind him, finding a bottle of cheap wine and hastily wrapped up some loaves of bread and nuts into a ruck.

"Lady knight..." A sultry voice cooed behind, the thugs once more, though she didn't do them the honor of turning. And yet, the persistence continued, "New in town, eh?" The creaking of chairs and scuttling across the floor had definitely meant that the thugs were standing, maybe four in total, which meant the other three were simply watching to see what happened.

No response lead to a shuffle of feet, armor-clad, like her own, though their steps weren't as dense, meaning they weren't trained thugs, most likely just local bandits that'd never really had a run-in with guardsmen or serious warriors. The bartender began to slow on his packaging, and eyes as wide as saucers reflected an image she could detect rather faintly into the dim lighting. Four indeed, her listening had gotten better.

Steel slid from its leather scabbard as she felt the tip of a blade poke against her bare back, the exposed portion of her armor that left her with the mobility she needed. She lurched forward a tad at the press and the tip of the blade found itself wandering further and further down until it crossed her hipline. Teeth gritted tight from beneath her steel visage, Claire felt a surge of anger running its course. "You know here, there's one thing that's guaranteed, you pay up, with your coin or your body if you want to use our facilities. A ripple of chuckles erupted from behind her, and the mercenary felt sound return to her throat. And aggravated sigh pressed out, and she leaned her head over her shoulder. "Then if it's my body you want, you might as well kill me."

"Not saying that's the only way we have to play this~" The man chimed, the tip of the sword now descending too low, like lightning, Claire's hand shot behind her, her armored fingers crushing at the steel and her freehand now flying on a pivot. To say that she had merely dented the man would've been an understatement, as her leg swung out to pivot the strike, using the sword-gripped hand to pull him forth, his flimsy chest plate practically folded around her hand, leaving the man with no words, stumbling back absently as trickles of blood began running from his mouth and nostrils. His eyes began to flail wildly as his hands loosed their grip on the leather handle and let the blade fall to the ground. A sharp few gasps escaped, air not finding its way to the decimated lungs of the host, and without another sound, he dropped to his knees, falling sideways, dead as could be.

The remaining three already had their weapons in hand and lunged at her, hurling their slurs and insults, but the mercenary was quicker. Like a flash, her hands dipped to her sides, drawing two broadswords from her collection. Bending at both knees, she avoided the lunge and swung upwards, tearing two of the thugs clear asunder, though the movement didn't stop there, arms rotated to her side, and with both blades, the fourth and final thug fell in a strike no one had had time to even prepare for. Hell, the man could hardly believe it himself as his weapons clattered onto the blood-stained wood, his fingers tenderly moving to touch at the two, deep gashes running halfway through his sternum, and in disbelief, he too, fell.

The remaining three at the table had broken clean out of their chairs and made for the door, scurrying past her as they tore out into the street in a frantic sprint back down towards the docks. One of them yelled behind at her, "Just wait till the boss gets wind of this, you're a dead bitch!"

Flicking her swords against the ground, Claire cleaned them of their blood tinting and returned them to their respective scabbards. She turned on her heel to the bartender who'd fallen into a slump against the wall behind him and was staring up at her with terror in his eyes. "Y-You don't realize what you've done, they're going to kill us..."

Claire fished two gold pieces from her purse and laid them on the counter, "Not my problem." Gathering up the rucksack and slipping the bottle of wine onto her belt, she tied up her purse and made her way out the door into the broad, midday sunlight. Her feet began treading against the beaten dirt once more as she climbed her way up the hill, and it was then that the horrible idea hit her.

Turning her head back over her shoulder, she saw the desperate and terrified strangers of someone who had come into their lives and made an utter mess of things. It wasn't like it was her business, but--Down near the housing area, off to the left, a weeping mother scooped her child up into her arms and she screamed something offsetting to her husband, "Lock the doors Lucas, we have to ensure that they can't get in, the Rhino is going to be in a fit for weeks!" Yet, what tugged at the mercenary most, was the young girl in the mother's arms, dazed and confused, her eyes lost and void.

A hand raised to her helm and Claire groaned, it wasn't her intent to have the entire townsite know of her presence, but things never quite worked out the way she planned. She walked over to a barrel scattered alongside one of the abandoned homes at the edge of the port and dumped her wine and food within, then made her way back down to the tavern where she popped in for only a moment to find the barkeep hunched over in horror at the bodies. "Hey, where can I find the rest of these thugs?"

The barkeep shakily raised a finger and pointed in the direction that the thugs had bolted off in, "On the northern part of the docks, there's an abandoned barn there, they use it as their hideout. And the man had not lied, it'd taken only a few minutes for the armored mercenary to find herself outside of the noisy kerfuffle within. Hemming and hawing along with what sounded like barnyard animals. Hesitantly, the woman progressed forward and pressed on the double doors, not to her surprise, they did not open. The jiggle must have alerted a sentry, because at her attempt, a skinny man, veered over the edge of the barn from the over loft. "Oi! You that bitch that roughed up our boys!?"

"Might be." Claire shot back, taking a few steps back, her method of approach now having to resort to less tasteful measures.

"You ain't getting in, fucker! We're completed safe in here and there isn't anything you can do abo--"

"Yeah, yeah. Do me a favor and step back, it'd be a whole lot less gratifying if the fall kills you, either way, I'm coming in."

"Good luck! The door has been reinforced with steel, it weighs over a ships hull, you're not going to--"

The words weren't interrupted by Claire's sharp tongue, instead, it was her hand, gripping at the massive blade on her back, one overarching swing that shook the very foundations of the port. A deft slash, and splintering of wood, followed by the cracking of beams and supports, felled the entry-way for the barn. In fact, the entirety of the front half had been ripped off, blown back in different directions towards the back, leaving a clear view for what looked like a makeshift throne. A man sat upon it, burly and huge, a hammer resting against his arms, and numerous thugs surrounding him, though now shaking in their boots as the silver-gleamed woman approached. Her hand retracted and sheathed the massive sword, now moving to her belt, pulling on one of the left-hipped broadswords.

She swung it out and down to the side on her approach, though met with a jeering clap from one broad-shouldered individual upon the rotting chair. She halted, taking a moment to glance at the upper body of the sentry-man, sticking out absently from the rubble, not a breath of life to him. "Rather impressive! Lady Knight. As my boys here were just telling me, you killed four of our own men without so much as batting an eyelash, mighty impressive of you."

Yet, with the light pouring in behind her, Claire could very clearly see the nervous sweats dripping down the behemoth's forehead. "Whatsay you join our little band here, I'm the boss, Rhino, and I can promise you riches beyond your wildest imagination!" His arms extended and a nervous laugh cleft at his chest.

The mercenary paused, was he seriously trying to flaunt himself out of this situation with a bribe? A coy grin, unbeknownst to everyone else spread across her cheeks. "I'm listening."

"Well, we could promise you wealth, wom--er, men, the finest in all of Byrne, you'd be feared, respected, worshipped day and night, and above all else--"

"Sure."

"Wh-What? Wait, really?"

"No, but that was funny." Claire's figure darted forth, fast as the wind, clearly unhindered by the plate around her, and lept high into the air, diving down at the throne, and with a sickening thrust, pierced the man into his seat. Her feet landed on each of the armrests, pressing against his arms as she squatted over his form. His blood now ran deep into the splintered wood, as he gargled at her, "Wh-Why?" His sputtered speech now splattered against her helmet in a fine crimson.

"Not a huge fan of people who terrify children, fortunately for me, there aren't any on the battlefield, so I don't have to hold anything back, and there aren't any here, so..." She twisted the blade and angled it up, tearing deeper into his skin, "I see no reason not to move freely."

Her head whipped around to either side and the loyalty of those thugs fell apart faster than wet parchment split by a sharpened quill. Each of them running out the opened barn way, vowing never to return again.

"G-Gah..." Muttered Rhino as he glanced up, "L-Look, if you let me live, you can have the key to our storage, whatever you need, just take it." A hand jolted back from its captivity and pointed down to his boot.

"Now there's a good boy, taking to a mercenary's good side."

Claire stepped off, the sword still piercing the large man, as she climbed down in front of him and shoved a hand into his boot, retracting the grotesque key. She shook her head then glanced back at the thug leader. "Where is it?"

"R-Right over there." His head nodded to his right where a separate detachment of the barn lay, almost completely unnoticed, but was large enough to be another barn in that of itself. His motion, however, did not go unnoticed and he groaned raggedly at the steel still pressing him there. "N-Now can you remove the sword, please?"

"Please? Well, rather polite are we now?" She made her way over to the hilt of the weapon and grasped it, tugging on it sharply and coiled her shoulder back to absorb the force, a gasp of relief soon following from Rhino.

"Th-There you go, we're all square here now, you'll let me go?"

A long burst of casual laughing erupted from Claire, and Rhino found it best to try and laugh with her, to his last mistake. Without another word, Claire thrust the sword forth again and this time, drove it straight through the thick of his skull, ending everything in less than a second. A boot pressed to his chest and she claimed her sword, following a similar slashing motion to the tavern, casting the tainted blood from her sight. The woman elegantly flipped the grip of her sword and pushed it back slowly into its leather home, then made way for the double doors. A heavy padlock rested on the outside and she hoisted the key into it, turning it. The lock jiggled and fought, but eventually, it clicked and she cast off the iron chains holding it back. Her hands threw open the wooden blockade, though what waited behind it was certainly not the kind of thing she expected locked up in a lowlife thug's treasury.


First Rose

 

[First Rose]

Such a welcome she had when she stepped foot into the calm forest of the plains. It was pretty, lush, and filled with animals she hadn’t seen in such a long time. She had run for miles, just to do it, having to worry not about different monsters or entities that threatened her. Then, as if they had, all they did was interrupt a good morning run. The least they could do was be a challenge, for her. When she had announced she was leaving for a vacation of this “boring plain of insolence,” many had accused her of being out of her mind. They claimed evils had entered the earthly plains that were much more deadly than the dangers they already faced. But that only gave her more of a reason to go, to explore, to fight...something. Anything other than another stupid mimick, or dreadnought, those things got annoying quite easily. As both graceful and strong being, she was nearly the Queen of the Feywild, she sometimes searched for monsters that lurched in the wilderness just to test their might. Nothing ever satisfied her longing for a good thrill.

Now, in the lands of the familiar yet unknown, the Unicorn had quickly found herself in a tight situation. Those sniveling humans had somehow known about her presence, as for what seemed to be a pleasant moment in seclusion and peace, it had turned hectic pretty quickly. She had only bent down to drink from a river for a moment, when out of nowhere, someone had pounced on her back and kicked her side in some kind of command to have her move. It was funny at first, a small jump from her made the man fall forward. Then she jumped again, and it knocked him backward, leaving her just enough time to send her rear hooves into his back and sen him flying at least a few good yards. She had given an amused bray when the man could barely get up, wailing in pain as his back was no longer aligned straight. Humans were so fragile.

Though it was only the beginning, because another man had jumped on top of her, and a large sack had been pulled on her face. She could only remember a completely rank smell coming from the bag before she had somehow blanked out. She didn’t remember much after that, only that she had been chained from neck to toe and shoved into a cave of some sort.

--

As soon as Claire opened the doors, a mighty plume of wind came smashing into the mercenary in the full blown force of a bull. Following it was an untamed uproar of a pissed off steed from within the dark treasury.

“Your lucky you’ve made the foolish choice of putting me in chains.” It seemed to talk, this wasn’t any regular stallion.

It was a bit dark inside the treasury, nothing but a few lit torches lined the walls that bounced off the abundance of gold and jewels, and apparently, a large dark blue Unicorn, a being that hasn’t been seen for generations. Around the mighty stallion was the chaotic arrangement of treasure and wealth that were thrown in all directions. The beams holding the very treasury together were cracked and damaged, looking as if they could fall at any given moment. In fact, they jolted and moved a bit more after the mighty punch of wind had hurled through. It was the only reason the Unicorn had actually stopped her little tantrum in the first place. The massive horse was chained at the ankles and neck, but it seemed the powerful Colt had snapped off the metal like they were feeble bracelets. An enraged huff came from the Unicorn as she gazed toward the mercenary, her expression turning from anger to curiosity. The heavily armored woman was not what the mare was expecting as she angled her neck to the side.

“Mhm…” The stallion made a few nervous of her hooves as her head angled forward to get a better look. She gave a small quizzical bray.

“Who are you?” More of a demand than a question, her eyes still narrowed in a hostile fashion as she gave a small tug on the large metal harness around her neck and chest. The beams gave another jolt, seeming to not be able to hold for much longer.

 

[OldTurtle]

Brafford, Central Byrne
The capital was incredible, impressive, and imposing. The center of the kingdom, Byrne was by far the largest city Aloysius had ever seen. Having mostly avoided the larger settlements before being taken in by the Earl of Blackwood, he found himself with little to compare it to. It was magnitudes greater than any town Earl Blackwood's earldom, which, though relatively wealthy, was not very densely populated. Not enough to warrant the creation of a city on this scale, at least. But, Aloysius supposed, this was the capital, after all. He allowed his eyes to wander across his surroundings as he made his way through the streets on horseback.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?"

Shaken out of his reverie by a gruff voice and a harsh jab to his side, just below his polished breastplate, Aloysius turned indignantly to face the unwanted disturbance. Coming face-to-face with the grizzled visage Knight Commander Paravine, he froze in a panic. The older man leveled an impatient glare at the young knight.

"Well?" he prompted. "Are you going to answer me or sit there like an addle-brain?"

"Nothing, Sir," Aloysius replied, hating how the commander always made him feel like a probationer again. "I was just-"

"Just what?" Paravine cut in, his glare growing steadily more pronounced. "Have you already forgotten what you're supposed to be doing here?"

Aloysius had not forgotten. In fact, the reason for him being in Brafford was the most worrisome thing on his mind. The king had summoned the Earl. Well, not just the Earl. Every noble, from dukes to barons and everything in between. He'd even heard tell of mercenaries being called. Whatever was happening spelled trouble, especially with the state the kingdom had been in recently. The Earl knew it too. Whereas a trip to Brafford would usually only require five or six knights and some servants, he'd seen fit to bring a full dozen knights: a complete squadron. As one of his lord's more capable vassals, Aloysius was chosen to join them on this journey, under the command of Sir Paravine, the Knight Commander of the Blackwood family.

Paravine hailed from an offshoot of the Blackwoods. His family had served each Earl of Blackwood as their Knight Commander until death, and Paravine had done the same for the past twenty or so years. Aloysius despised the man. Paravine was clung to his traditions with a death-grip. He was absorbed in propriety and hierarchy, and when Aloysius had appeared, little more than a boy and the bastard of some inconsequential noble, Paravine took it as a personal affront. He'd seen to it that Aloysius' early days at Blackwood Manor were absolute hell, loading as many difficult, menial tasks as possible onto him. Over time, he'd seemed to have given up when it seemed that Aloysius wasn't going to be leaving any time soon and had instead began to prove himself. But that didn't mean that he'd gotten over his presence. Even to this day, Paravine held a grudge and, due to his higher rank, Aloysius had no choice but to endure.

"No, Sir," Aloysius muttered crossly, his grip on his steed's reigns tightening. "I remember."

Paravine harrumphed through his aquiline nose and slowed his own horse down to fall back to the Earl's carriage behind Aloysius. The knight sighed and focused back on the path in front of him. The knight to his right, Gunther, gave Aloysius a silent, tight-lipped smile of encouragement.

By this time, the procession had reached the gates of the keep, where they were promptly stopped by a pair of armored guards. Paravine moved forward and produced a sheaf of papers, seemingly used to this process. The guards examined the documents closely, then passed them back to the commander and moved aside to allow them through the now-open gate into the courtyard. There was a smothering silence beyond those gates, and none of the knights dared to break it. Their steeds, sensing the unease, shifted and swayed nervously.

Aloysius and the others dismounted, handing the reigns of their horses to a group of stable boys. The young men led the horses away, presumably to the stables. Next was the Earl. A well-dressed footman opened the door to the ornate carriage to reveal a man dressed in equally ornate clothing. Once the Earl had stepped out and the door was closed behind him, the coachman snapped the reigns and led the carriage off in the same direction that the stable boys had left. The same footman as before bowed deeply before the Earl.

"Greetings, my lord," he spoke gravely. "His Majesty has instructed my to lead you and some of your men to him in the throne room."

The Earl nodded dismissively and then they were off, leaving eight of the knights behind. The footman navigated the halls with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before. Aloysius lost track of which turns they had taken less than three minutes in. The group turned one last corner to find themselves facing the massive doors of the throne room. The Earl paused to collect himself, then stepped forward. The doors opened up as the he approached, granting them access to the room beyond. Aloysius fidgeted nervously, feeling that same suffocating pressure more than ever.

As they passed through the entrance, Aloysius' eyes slipped over its inhabitants, noting their unusual makeup. There was a half orc, a finely-dressed woman with dark skin, and pair of who Aloysius supposed were guards flanking the centerpiece of the room, the intimidating throne and the even more intimidating man upon it. The Earl continued forward silently, his knights two paces behind him. Aloysius started when he caught sight of a tall elf, hidden in the corner so well that he'd almost missed him. Caught up in his thoughts, the young knight almost missed the Earl's bow. Hurriedly, he dropped into a kneel with Paravine and the two other knights, refocusing his gaze on the foot of the throne.

"Your Majesty," the Earl greeted in a soft, deferential tone, bent into a deep bow. He straightened out soon after and the knights rose to their feet. The Earl strode over to a group of similarly richly-dressed men and women, likely other nobles, bringing only Paravine as his silent sentinel. This left the other knights to just stand around awkwardly on the other side of the room.

 

[NesyCelvestian]

Nessi

Nesy

Nesy unexpecetly jumped and he would seemingly turn his head towards the other dude who had approached him. "...Oh hey buddy! Yeah I am okay... I wonder how you'd find me in such forsaken place?" Asked Nesy, because he wanted to create his very first conversation in this place. Though he was feeling very calm and content anyway. His eyes just fixated towards his outfit and then made eye-contact. "...So, how are you doing? I wonder what brings you to this...Mystical place." Nesy asked, because he seemingly was curious about what he was doing here. Nothing like he could jump into his buisness but curiosity took the better of Nesy anyway. He was thinking about who this man was and where did he come from but the answers were unclear. "...I wonder where you've came from." He seemingly mumbled to himself and the words just flew out of his moulth.

It wasn't really clear if Nesy was a mutant or not, but maybe someone one day will discover his true secrets. The mystery still lies within him and was just waiting to be discovered. He did not show any sign of aggression and seemed to be friendly all the time. Though who was he? Nobody knew for sure but there was a journey calling in the horizons upon them it seemed. A new adventure was just a beginning for new apportunities. He had his hands on his pockets too and seemed to fidle with them. On the right side of his waist, hanged a katana in it's casing which was a shethe apperently. The handle of the katana was blue interestingly enough along with a weird smooth texture onto it without any further detail.

 

[Nessi]

Elliot
"Well, I've set up a camp a little ways from here, and then I saw you, you seem losted, so I came to help you out" Elliot told the young man. he took his hands out of his pockets, the young man seemed to pose no threat to Elliot at all. He would brush some of his long blue hair out of his face before responding to the second question. "I am a Hunter of the church, I was simply delivering some supplies to a town church" Elliot lied. He came here to visit his wife that he could tell no one about, because if the church found out that he was in a relationship with someone, even though he vowed to never enter a relationship, well bad things would happen to both of them. Elliot then heard what the young man mumbled, and smiled a bit. "Well, I come from the church, I was left at their doorstep by my mother a long time ago, the only thing with me was a piece of paper with a name Elliot" He explained to him. "now I have a question for you...Where did YOU come from? doesn't seem like you're from around here if your calling a simple plain a mystical place" Elliot asked.
NesyCelvestian ​

 

[NesyCelvestian]

"Well, I'm just your typical adventurer. Heh..." A nervous expression was seen on his face. He would seemingly introduce himself. "...I mean euhhh.. My name is Nesy. I'm just an adventure woozing around everywhere I go." He watched the man in curiosity but was a little suspicous. He didn't make a huge deal out of it anyway and simply let it pass as he didn't want to create more confusion.

As the man was not a threat to Nesy so he continued to smile. "...Cool, so you're a hunter it seems." He would be very curious about whoever this strange one was. "...I have never meet any hunters and such. Just random people, you know." Said Nesy, still having eyecontact at Elliot. Though what was most interesting was his hexa-coloured eyes. This gave away that Nesy...Wasn't really human. It seemed as if he was something else. Than Nesy's expression dropped a ittle when he asked him a question and he became very thoughtful now.

"...I mean, I do come from somewhere but eh....Eeeeh..." A long awkward silence followed after his sentence. "...I don't remember much from where I come from. I wish I could tell you but eh... It was a long time ago since I left my uh..." He couldn't remember who he really was anyway. Norr the mutation. "..My village, it seems." He went quiet again and nothing came out of his moulth after. "Agh, sorry I don't remember as much, pardon." He shook his head, what kind of man didn't remember his village? That is certainly interesting wouldn't it!

Nessi

 

[Nessi]

Gavin Androsius
Gavin hated his fake name. He wanted to be truly known as Gavin, the name his mother gave him. He wanted to be called over by someone with his true name, but he knew that wasn't possible. In every history book that had the Androsius family in it, It would say that the entire family was killed at the family estate, no survivors at all, only bodies. But this wasn't true, because Gavin was alive, and a member of the Androsius Family, the last survivor in fact. But he had no idea if his killers were still out their. His only protection was the fact that they thought he was dead, and who would try to track down a dead man?

Gavin would snap out of his day dream when his commanding officer told him to make sure red didn't open his mouth while they had an audience with the king, so before they entered the throne room, Gavin whispered to Red, "if you want to keep your head on your shoulders, keep your mouth shut" He told him.Gavin actually didn't know all that much about his commander, only that she was half orc and was "fighting for justice". He wanted to get to know her better, but that was pretty had due to the fact that she didn't really get too close to her underlings. Everyone knew that the king was slowly losing his sanity slowly due to this war, and honestly, Gavin was afraid to even be in a room with the king, but orders were orders, and Gavin always followed orders to the best of his ability. And right now, he was to stay silent as his commander talked to the king. When they entered the throne room, Gavin kneeled to his king, not wanting to show any disrespect to him.
​

 

[Xillia]

Outlandish things, mythical, bizarre and baffling had all but filled Claire's time in her previous stint in Archaeon. but among even the great kilometer-long sea wyvern, Leviathan, this had to take the blue ribbon for its complexities. Magic existed in this world, of this there was no doubt, and though not responsive to the mana that flowed throughout most things, she was aware of its presence. The mercenary paused, taken aback, even the glimmering of gold in the musty, rancid air could not stave her eyes from the sight of the creature before her. It stood proud on its four legs, and through steamy nostrils, spoke to her. Her eyes vastly tore open beneath the cover of her helm, utter disbelief in what she'd just heard. Something other than a humanoid could speak the common language, and Claire had understood it.

“You're lucky you’ve made the foolish choice of putting me in chains.” The unicorn whinnied, though the mercenary stood her ground. Have to fight yet another being from another plane would be a little too much to ask of her in one year. After all, there was a reason she had earned the nickname, White Dragon of Archaeon. The moment of awe soon passed as Claire found herself dumbfoundedly further in the conversation as the unicorn continued.

“Who are you?”

She shook her head, throwing away the confusion and choosing to approach this in the sanest, rational way she knew. "It doesn't matter who I am, but usually, it's polite to introduce yourself before asking another..." Her words drew to a close as the sounds of creaking and bending came to her ears. The building was about to collapse, and what was standing before her, well, it wasn't as though she could let something so ancient simply die. That is of course unless that mare attempted to kill her.

"Claire closed in on it without so much as a second thought and grasped at the harness around its neck. "Look, you may call me Claire, but this structure is coming down, and I seriously doubt it cares whether you or I are in it. So do you want to leave or not?"

Wasn't this a bizarre turn of events? Having a conversation with a unicorn.

First Rose

 

[First Rose]

The mythical beast inclined her head forward in skepticism. How did this twig human keep her stance after such a blow? She knew being out of her element made her weaker, but she didn’t think it made her this weak. The nerve this human had, she thought she could just dismiss her question. Did this girl already think of herself above her? It was likely, humans had two main traits, greed and ego, all the while she casually glossed over the fact that she wasn't much different. The horse stuck up her snout in an elegantly and quite stubborn fashion. As if to clearly emphasis, “I believe I asked you the question first.”

Though once the woman started moving closer, she found herself making a nervous balk in the opposite direction. She could hear the clank of metal and the hard thud of her feet as the dame came closer. Last time she had seen the human race, they had worn a lot of leather and thin bronze plating. The amount of silver metal this woman wore made her look like a golem made of pure steel, a bit unsettling. The humans probably just found more ridiculous material to cover themselves with. Typical. Finally planting her feet, and giving a small pawing at the hard stone ground, the dismayed mare gave another aggressive bray. Something a steed usually did when they were ready to kick someone’s teeth in. A great and powerful stallion like herself wouldn't be frightened by a feeble human, or whatever this girl thought she was.

Nevertheless, despite the display she gave of a militant colt, the lady knight continued forward. This woman was either profoundly stupid, or remarkably brave. However, the woman carried a sort of aspect that the others didn't, she seemed hospitable. She could tell the woman was trying to help her, though that didn't give the female the benefit to a friendly expression.

As the metal harness hit the ground with a hard clank, her nostrils flared at the sudden sound, and she quickly turned her body to face the woman. Obviously on edge, she may be a powerful and untamable beast of magic, but she was still 70% horse. A short moment of silence went between them before the Unicorn shook her head to the side, tossing her black and blue outlined mane to the left of her neatly coated neck.

"Thank you...Claire." Her left ear swerved to the side as the sound of cracking wood echoed through the treasury. "Leaving, yes. That sounds very appealing." The Unicorn retorted, not much kindness, or gratitude was heard in her voice, but that was usually all anyone ever got from her.

Immediately following her words, she pressed on toward the doorway, the beams cracking with every step of the way. She gave a frusterated snort as her hearing allowed her the liberty to sense the final break of one of the main beams. Now going at top speed, she bolted toward the entrance, but only to halt her feet as large planks of wood fell from the ceiling. A surprised niegh came out of her as she stopped before them. Pacing infront of them in an effort to think of other options before the roof collapsed. She had no intention of dying at this age, especially not by a barn.

Xillia​

 

[Xillia]

Was that the sound of gratitude she'd gathered? Claire was even still having a hard time recollecting as to whether or not the mare's mouth was moving with her words, or if the voice she was hearing was some sort of ethereal calling through the being's thoughts. Though the latter seemed impossible, Claire possessed no magical control over her own body and as such, had no reception to mythical beasts' insight or cohesion, they were simply monsters to her. Gritting her teeth, she raised a hand to stroke Navy's barren neck, free of the mane that she had carelessly tossed to one side in her whinny. At this touch, however, Navy outright bolted towards the entrance, keen to make a speedy getaway, with Claire now clumsily on foot in pursuit. Yet, escape would not be so easy for the two--in her moment of sensibility, wood crashed before her, sealing the entrance that she'd entered in through, encasing them in near-pitch black darkness, the very same kind the steed would've been accustomed to after imprisonment for quite some time. The only outside world that granted them appeal, was through the ragged cracks in the barn, scarcely peeking through.

Claire's hand instinctively shot behind her to her shoulder, it would seem this exit would call for the same measures she'd enter in, though the only worry on her mind remained at the integrity of the building. She was mortal, after all, and despite her ridiculous offensive capabilities, there had been many situations where close calls had been an understatement, from the dragon that she'd fought, tossed nearly a mile in the sky, if she hadn't pierced it and rode down with it, the fall would've most certainly killed her. In fact, Claire had been lucky that she'd survived with the injuries she had. A trashy barn enveloped in portside town with barely a hundred folk to its name certainly wasn't the place to lie down and accept fate either.

"Listen to me, I'm going to hop on your back and you're going to start charging at those cracks of light as soon as I tell you to. We're getting out of this mess, and then you'll be free to go." It wasn't as though she admired the thought of releasing such a valuable being from her possession, but when it came to sentient beings, alien to her own world, it wasn't like she had much control--unless she aimed to strike it down.

Light as a feather as the woman had projected within the main hall of the barn, she hoisted herself up and onto Navy's back without so much as a single error, gracefully and in a single move, she landed her feet on either end of the mare's sides. Tapping her heels gently, so as to not provoke her briefly newfound acquaintance in captivity, she called out with a voice that seemed far more determined and commanding than the animosity-driven form minutes before. The greatsword on her back came unhinged from its scabbard and swung to her side, the thunderous roar in her chest spurring at Navy to move forward.

"Let's go!"

Craning back with both arms, she built up her energy, damning the simple strike she'd used before and went with her reckless, all-out approach. "Tyahhhh!" She bellowed, hefting the weapon before her, with a shockwave fit to shake the foundations of the port and rock the ships that were docked.

. . .

Somewhere across the waters, a fisherman hoisted up his final catch of the day and deposited it in his net, satisfied with the hard work he'd put in. Though a wave of wind caught the sails of his small fishing boat, preceding a massive explosion from the warehouses and he was cast from his vessel, landing in the water with nothing short of a hundred-foot launch. As he resurfaced, his eyes glanced back towards the shore where the mere sight of the catastrophe left him breathless, uttering the only words that came to mind.

"What in the hells?"

First Rose

 

[First Rose]

The wood split with her repetitive acts of kicking the blocked entrance with her back hooves, though it didn't do much but make things worse. Ridiculous, outrageous, even if she managed to survive such a disaster, she'd be vulnerable, with or without the expanse of the godly skies above her, because that's what she needed. As soon as the cold steel had been put on her skin, and the doors inclosed her in a metal confined prison, a block was put in front of her and her magic. By the Gods, how was she going to--then she spoke, and the frustrated mare gave a disgusted expression.

"Of course Not!!" As much as she wanted to get out of this ransied barn, surely this knight could do what she needed on her own two feet.

But before she could say anything more, the woman was already jumping on her back. With an offended snort of her nose, her bottom lip coiled over her top, and her ears pinned back to her neck. She wasn't going to allow this for anymore time than it needed to be.

The horse backed a few good steps before letting out a thunderous bray as she kicked her front hooves in the air in sync with Claire's cry. For a brief moment, she had a sense of deja vu, this woman gave her something that she hadn't felt in such a long time. A small sense of a rush hit her, and it was all she needed as a small glow came from coned horn on her head. A sudden push came onto them, it was as if mother nature had found a way through the bars of steel and stone to give them a shove filled with angry storms. Abruptly, with the strength and speed of 3 grown horses, she charged straight for the blockade. Her head lowered with her horn aligned front center. With the power of them both, the planks of mere wood didn't stand a single chance, they shot out in all directions as the two came through it like clean open wound.

Behind them, the sound of crashing metal and wooden planks only seconds after their escape signaled a collapsed treasury. The Unicorn couldn't help but give a small prideful whinny, before lifting her head in annoyance as if she were a Queen consenting disapproval.

"Alright, you had your fun. Off."

Xillia​

 

[Xillia]

As the wood shot out into the nearby bay, and the two darted once more into the light of the sun, Claire found the brazened voice echoing in her head once again.

"Alright, you had your fun. Off."

The whims of a sentient being, as she had predicted, there was simply no controlling such a force. Dispelling a sigh, Claire waited until Navy came to a halt then rested her hand against the mare's nape, pressing on it as she hopped off. Her boots thudded on the ground and she blinked a few times in disbelief, glancing behind them as the walls of the barn enclosure came down around it. A second more of hesitation and that would've been them in there. Though with the mask of her helm, the woman couldn't help but smile, a brush of death in a new continent certainly gave her the pep she'd been looking for. In truth, she had had her fun, and now that fun would come to a still for a time.

Huffing absently at the dismissal, Claire retracted her sword to her back and smacked her hands together, a filter of wood shaving and dust erupting off of her body. She took one more glance out at the bay, then the midnight azure stallion that had helped her in her freedom. "Very well, be seeing you."

Turning on her heel, she made her way back to the eastern portion of the town, towards the barrel housing her supplies and the dirt path that would take her on her week-long hike to the capital. She'd already set back her time, the sun now hanging above a sunset, and that meant her night would be spent marching in the dark in solace, nothing the mercenary wasn't familiar with.

First Rose

 

[First Rose]

"Yes, yes of course." As if to shoo away the scandalous knight on her way. Giving just a single moment to watch her make her leave, the steed was then trotting in the other direction, just to do so in fact. That's when it hit her, when the smell of the plentiful salty ocean caught her nose, the sound people and various machines filling her ears. She had no idea where she was, or rather how long she had been kept in that treasury. Her head went quickly from side to side, last time she checked, she was running through a nice forest alongside the Cavyrn river. The ocean was miles away from that canal. She may have been in a different world for nearly an won, but she still recalled her geography.

But what hit her the most, was the reason she had come back to this distasteful plain in the first place. Her hunt for excitement and action. She was just speaking with a mercenary wasn't she? Her gaze turned to the knight who was making their way to exactly what the stallion was looking for. Not to mention the fact that she had no idea where to go from here in the first place.

"Claire..." The mare called toward the knight as she caught up to her. "Your a knight yes?" Once again more of a demand than a question. "Where are you off to? It just so happens that I'm looking for a bit of adventure and...vacation you could say from the Feywild. Then of course, there's a chance I may have lost my way undergoing that whole thing." Trying her best to not bluntly say she's looking for directions, and perhaps someone to accompany on a wild journey. Her esteem was too high to admit to such a thing.

"You can call me Navy by the way. You asked before." A name she didn't think she would use again, but she had nothing else she rather be called. And the knight had to be able to address her by something.

Xillia​

 

[Xillia]

The mercenary had just finished fishing her materials out from the barrel when a voice caught her off guard again, startled, she snapped her neck towards the location of the sound and outright froze. Practically overshadowing her in a silhouette of the western-crested sun, bore the stallion's presence.

"Claire..."

Her own name sounded so distasteful in that tongue, tone and generalized approach. Then followed suit with the questions, which she curtly answered. "A knight? Not hardly, I work for money, not for glory or pride. I have nothing to bind me to this world other than what my next meal may be. And as to where I'm off to, I don't really see that it's any of your business. Though, the capital would be the most logical answer, wouldn't it?" She sighed, pressing her plated fingers against the steel on her head.

"...Then, of course, there's a chance I may have lost my way undergoing that whole thing."

So basically, she's lost.

Claire pressed a hand to her cocked out hip and she stood defiant in the shadow of the unicorn, her eyes trailing the majestic form. Though it seemed that their conversation ran to less of a request and more of a demand, as the mare now introduced itself as Navy, the name that she had inquired on not moments before.

The woman clicked her tongue and raised both hands to her head, slipping off the steel bucket and clutched it against her side, her fine, angelically wavy hair falling in strands down her back. "Fine. But I need your help then, I've got a day to make a week's travel across the country. Can you get me to the capital?"

First Rose

 

[First Rose]

Her business, well obviously it wasn't, but it never hurt to ask a simple question. Though it seemed the steed didn't know the first thing about making a request, or even the fact that she wasn't the only being in this world who could count to ten. Her emerald green eyes watched the--not-so-knightly Claire take off her steel helm. Navy then suddenly found herself fighting back a staggerish nicker, it was as if she were looking into his eyes again. It was either she was hallucinating him, or the Gods were punishing her. Claire looked so much like him, she didn't recall him to have ever had a family, but she wouldn't be surprised if he did.

Realizing she was staring, Navy gave a small snort before averting her gaze elsewhere. Pondering over if the capitol was even where she wanted to go in the first place. It seemed so, from the talk she over heardg in her unpleasant stay in the treasury, it seemed there was a civil war going on between families. She wasn't at all surprised when she heard the news, only curious of how much hell she could get herself into. The more the merrier, of course, getting locked in a safe house would be one thing to avoid.

The thugs had only given her a few minutes to wake before they started ordering her to grant them countless and undeniably stupid wishes. It was hours, hours of constantly launching them into walls and blowing them out the treasure cave before they finally got the memo that she wasn't a leprechaun. She may have been caught, but they were stuck in the treasury with her, she wasn't stuck in the treasury with them. Eventually they had left her, only to promise it would become her new home if she didn't cooperate. They were wrong, her home wasn't a place, it was the will of her heart to run, to run through anything that came across her.
The hairs of her tail swayed vigorously from side to side after Claire implied her side of the deal. A week's trip to the capitol, of course she could do it in a day, perhaps even a few hours if she really wanted to. But with her on her back, questionable, very questionable. But it was only a day, and the female wasn't very heavy to begin with, it wouldn't be that bad. The voice of the mae was once again heard within Claire's mind, a natural little trick for a Unicorn, as their mouths weren't really made for speaking.

"If you can refrain from messing up my mane then yes. I certainly can."

Xillia​