Hiya, AChronum here! Although I'm relatively new to rping, I have plenty of writing experience and love trying new genres and styles. I absolutely love high magic fantasy RPs and am pretty much willing to do anything so long as I can create a charaxter, not play an existing one, and develop lots and lots of backstory! I'm perfectly comfortable with all mature themes as well, although smut for smut's sake is out of the question.
Interested in an RP? Send me a PM and have a magically marvelous day!
“Is that from personal experience, babes? That doesn’t sound very safe.” James chuckled at the comparison. Despite his boyfriend’s disdain for his father, James couldn’t very well get upset over Xavier sending them cures―super devil or not. He’d run headlong into dangerous missions all day if it meant everyone here was safe from a horrific decline into a sudden death. James beamed at the kiss, consent to snuggle with Casper for a minute while they had the chance. If only it could be longer than the five minutes. James might be riding a euphoria high now but he’d pieced back together a few injuries on top of Echo’s spinal cord and he was going to be sluggish without at least a nap, food or not.
Waverly volunteering herself to retrieve Sunshine wasn’t unexpected. He just hoped her working relationship with blunt force objects wouldn’t make itself known to Max while he was out of it. He wanted to go with her too; the whole situation probably had them both on edge and mixing those two while scared or angry was just asking for a bad time. He wanted to volunteer for that mission as well, if for no other reason than to make sure both of them were okay. He really wanted to but the fact of the matter was that it was the lower risk mission. Even if it was a trap, the Underground had made it out of a purifier attack involving tear gas with most of their members ill with M-Pox. Handling the Hellfire club though? As risky as it got. They had some serious heavyweights, if Magneto’s little display was anything to go by, so having someone who could help counter some of those lasting issues would benefit that team incredibly. Imagine if James hadn’t been around to help Echo at the time.
“I’ll head with Veil. They’ll probably need my help more considering how this morning went.” James decided, sending a glance at Echo. “We don’t need a repeat of what happened this morning.”
Clarissa most certainly did not squeak, flail, or in any other way panic when Jorah’s absurd personality instilled the insane idea to pick her up and twirl her. She maintained her composure perfectly, ignoring the irritable flush crawling up her ears when Jorah kissed her forehead like she was some kind of child, and reached out to slap his arm for good measure as he skipped off to bother his next unfortunate victim. Goddess give her patience because if She gives her strength, Clarissa couldn’t guarantee Jorah would see the sunset. She sighed, watched him head over to their Professor, and then turned her attention to where a few of their classmates gathered out front the classrooms. At least Jorah took his job halfway seriously. She expected him to snatch up Raimund and cause trouble.
But of course, of course, she spoke too soon. She’d written him off as out of trouble. The Professor was there after all. She could handle him. But her hand flew to her mouth, her other clutching at the simple silver necklace around her throat, when she heard that tone. She just spoke of impropriety and then he has the utter audacity to… to… Clarissa fumed as she watched her friend. If looks could kill, Jorah would have dropped dead immediately. She knew Jorah brazenly flirted with any woman that caught his eye but their Professor?! Did he have no shame?! Despite his distaste for their politics and his adamantly expressed desire to quit them, the students still represented the Leicester Alliance and he was flirting with their Professor. The gall of this boy!
Of course, she fully intended to march over there and snatch him away by the ear but a thought stopped her. It wouldn’t really be proper for her to deny them the full Jorah experience. After all, they did choose him to be House Leader and they would have to work with him closely for the foreseeable future. She couldn’t shield them all the time, right? That thought cooled Clarissa off quickly and as ugly as the motivation for that sentiment may be, it was true all the same. The sooner the Professor learned to shut Jorah down, the better for everyone involved. Clarissa put the situation out of her mind (wishing she could scrub her memory of it all) and returned her attention to their remaining classmates.
She paused for a moment, considering Gloucester's adopted Almyrian. His presence still sent a shock of worry through her, a walking reminder of the threat if Duke Goneril’s distractions got the better of him, but circumstance forced them together too often for her to hold any of her old animosity towards him. Of course, she preferred him as his younger self; the apologetic, quivering mess he was but he’d grown into a confident giant clearly influenced by his friendship with Jorah. And she’d never admit it but she appreciated that little fact. She doubted they’d both come out unscathed if Raimund was a Gloucester through and through. Nevertheless, he was her classmate for the time being and regardless of their outside affiliations, working together was imperative.
Clarissa hurried over and curtsied when she reached Raimund. “My sincerest apologies for our abrupt abandonment; I hope we did not offend anyone. Jorah’s a demanding responsibility and he rarely considers his surroundings when his whims overwhelm his reason.” Clarissa explained with an apologetic smile. This was only a peak into Jorah’s regular behavior; if they couldn’t handle this, it would be a long year. “I’m glad to see you are doing well, Raimund. Jorah’s determining his future responsibilities but I don’t doubt you’ll command his full attention once he concludes his business. Although it surprised me, the three of us here almost feels like summers in Derdriu again." She'd admit the three of them together again dragged out a bit of nostalgia. The three of them getting into all sorts of mischief (always Jorah's fault no matter what anyone said) and spending hours on horseback in the woods around the capital were pleasant memories for the bad days.
The food coma hit James hard after the events of this morning. Piecing Echo back together and then immediately healing all the assorted gashes and bruises the Underground acquired during the fun left him shaking (he was convinced there would never be a day that not a single person needed a top off) so he’d descended on the remaining breakfast and shoveled in as much as he could in as little time as possible. He’d practically fallen asleep where he sat, pillowing his head with his arms as he slumped on the table. Everyone was together, people were mostly safe, and the people who weren’t, he couldn’t do jack shit about. Was he still concerned? Yes. Did sleep matter more right now? Also yes.
That all changed with the arrival of Xavier’s personal message boy and while James was loathed to shake off the doze he’d found himself enjoying, he popped up at the mention of a cure. The little box of pills glittered in James eyes and he could have wept for joy. No more sick teammates, no more cleaning up vomit or blood from various places, and more importantly, no more worrying about anyone dying! He jumped to his feet, sweeping Casper up as soon as he finished and spinning around for a few seconds before pulling him into a kiss. “Satan himself could have hand delivered it and I would give a fuck. You're cured! Holy shit. Everyone’s safe! No one else is going to die! You’re not gonna die.” James’ voice broke at the end as he held back the tears that were threatening to spill over. The ever present threat of death seemed a little lighter with that little box around and he pulled Casper into another kiss. It’d been eating him alive since Magik’s death; what if he couldn’t help anyone else? What if he couldn’t bring them back from the edge? What if he couldn’t save Casper? That little box, those pills… It didn’t mean everything would be okay. God knows how much danger they put themselves in right now but now, no one would have a ticking time bomb on them he couldn’t stop.
Honestly, he didn’t care about the transaction. He didn’t have enough room to care. All he could feel was pure, unadulterated joy at the fact that everyone was safe from the hell sickness ravaging an already persecuted community.
“You ran a clinic? I would have never guessed; I thought you needed years of specialized training to run a medical facility and I thought everyone was pretty much the same age. You must be talented.” Maddie wouldn’t lie that she was shocked. She couldn’t imagine going in for a consultation and discovering her doctor was barely older than her. But he must be a prodigy or something if he managed that feat. “I would have just helped the family business. I have a pretty solid background in math and I was thinking about pursuing finances so when my mom decided to retire, I could take her place. Otherwise, I just waited tables and knit hats and gloves on the side. Nothing so important as a clinic.”
Maddie bit back a laugh at Lilie’s viciousness. Clearly it was unintentional and from what she’d see of Max so far, he’d probably like that response but still it was like a punch to the gut for most people. “Why ruin a good thing?” Absolute gold. Lilie seemed like the type to like everyone, make friends with anything that was even remotely sentient, but apparently Max’s gruffness was her limit. She was a soft soul and Max was clearly the very opposite. Still if his vampire was important enough to be invited by Count Sinnenodel, then she may as well get to know him a little more in case they were shoved into any other situations that required socialization. “And what about you, Max? What were your plans for the future if you hadn’t gotten sucked into all this magic stuff?”
Jorah’s introduction perfectly met her expectations of him which meant theater troupe, not dignified noble. While his populist personality worked wonders in less formal settings, instilling a little dignity alongside the enthusiasm would go a long way in reassuring their peers about his reliability. And that meant more than those in the Golden Deer house. The other house leaders would be evaluating and settling their judgement within the first few meetings and they couldn’t afford to alienate the Alliance from potential allies over a lack of professionalism. Goddess help them. This would―
Before Clarissa realized what was happening, Jorah grabbed her wrist and dragged her outside with all the grace of a drunk bull in a china shop. She’d learned long ago just to go along with it; Jorah could be as bullheaded as herself but only when he was determined to escape his father’s clutches. He hadn’t even let the others introduce herself and the girl with the shock of pink hair had caught her attention. It all but screamed Goneril but last she was aware, Duke Goneril went through wives like garments because none of them bore him an heir. And to think there was once something dignified about that man.
When Jorah finally stopped them, Clarissa sent him an unimpressed look and quickly snatched away her hands. “Have you even considered what you just did? You stole me away as quickly as you pleased from our peers and removed us from full public view in which I then had my hands pressed to your chest. To the unsuspecting eye, our behavior is incredibly improper and I’d prefer not to start this year beating down false assumptions.” Clarissa grumbled, a sigh bubbling out at the pitiful look on his face. He was too good at that these days. She’d hoped growing up would make it less endearing but apparently the Goddess had a wicked sense of humor. “Our feelings are irrelevant to the situation. The only lingering irritation I harbor is for myself and myself alone. I know how my Crest works; I can’t rightly take that out on anyone, much less you. I agree what is done is done. We’ll make the best of it. What was it you said to me…” It felt like ages ago, that time in their cave when she felt like her entire world was collapsing down around her and Jorah managed to make the weight so much lighter with little more than his antics. It was a wonderful memory now; Duke Riegan’s face of shock and betrayal afterwards still sending her into laughing fits behind closed doors.
“Pssh, like you could get rid of me.” Clarissa giggled as she parroted Jorah’s words back at him. She propped one hand on her hip while she continued. “Of course I’ll help. What kind of friend would I be if I let you stumble around like a newborn colt? Whenever you need advice, you know my doors are open. Which brings up an important point. Have you found someone to replace your sister? You’re no good to anyone strung out like a paranoid drunkard.” That wasn’t a concern sh’;d considered before now and the worry gnawed in her stomach. Her emotions were too “loud” (she still didn’t full grasp whatever that meant) for Jorah to relax around when he was overwhelmed and she knew Raimund, despite his veneer of suavity and sophistication, was as an excitable toddler as Jorah himself so the two friends he knew off the bat would only to serve to make it worse. His sister was calm and quiet and she knew sometimes he needed to recharge around her to make everything settle down but she wasn’t here so it was imperative he find another sanctuary as quickly as possible. She didn’t need him wilting away in a room on his own.
An unexpectedly bittersweet feeling invaded the trip out of Alliance territory and up into the mountains she now called home. It was difficult to say why; she’d handpicked the officials in charge of her current obligations and she’d promised to send regular letters home. Travel wasn’t especially hard on her either. Goddess knows she’s been on the road plenty in her lifetime. She’d spent a good portion of the trip mulling it over, and cursing that Jorah wasn’t there to just tell her, and when she finally found it, it seemed silly. It was the smell. Or specifically, the lack thereof. Home meant the sea and the salt sweet scent that permeated everything on the coast. It was a constant in her life, even in Diedru, and now she was turning her back on it. The mountain air was crisp and light but it wasn’t home.
Arrival at Garrag Mach banished any such qualms. Her excitement returned in full force as she traversed the halls of the monastery. She’d dreamed of seeing the headquarters of the Central Church since she was a child but she’d never considered that she’d actually come. An air of serenity pervaded every nook and cranny and she couldn’t help but bask in it. She basked under the watchful eyes of the Saints, in the presence of the Goddess that echoed in every footstep and laugh, and a sense of rightness settled on her shoulders. This is where she was meant to be, exactly as the Goddess wanted it. The smile wouldn’t leave her face knowing the Bishop was right and she beamed at the end of the Archbishop’s speech. The Goddess truly did bless everyone of them, didn’t She.
Of course, what goes up must come down. Clarissa appreciated Professor Kalonic’s direct and brisk handling of affairs. She didn’t linger on anything and didn’t repeat herself, one of Clarissa’s greatest pet peeves, but Clarissa’s good mood instantly collapsed when she announced the House Leader. They chose Jorah over her? The heir who didn’t want his position, who spent so much of his time running away from his responsibilities Duke Riegan locked him in the capital, who couldn’t face anything without turning into a joke if he didn’t blatantly shrug it off? She’d spent years working on the organizational and leadership skills while Jorah perfected his escape artist performance and they chose him? She cared for him as much as any friend could but even he’d admit he wasn’t suited―Jorah probably wouldn’t want it anyways!―handling the responsibilities. She had half a mind to go after the Professor and demand they reconsider.
She deflated quickly though. Those thoughts were entirely inappropriate and rude. Jorah would wake up and step into his role just fine; he was adaptable and he knew when he needed to take something seriously. It wasn’t as if this was entirely unexpected. She’d wanted the position terribly but as usual, she had that irritating little issue that always held her one step back. Of course the Church wouldn’t want someone with the Crest of Maurice leading their students. Willingly put a betrayer in leadership? She should probably count herself lucky they even accepted her then. Clarissa gave a tiny shake of her head, trying to clear out the resentment and resignation that settled over her like a blanket, and focused instead on the challenge. The Goddess gave her the opportunity to prove herself and like every time before that, she would. Clarissa made a mental note to spend some extra time in the Cathedral praying once everyone settled in and waited for Raimund to finish his little introduction. She rolled her eyes at his familiarity with Jorah. He should at least wait until their House Leader made his introductions before publicly falling into their friendship. She knew it had been two years since the Duke refused Raimund’s visits Jorah but they waited this long, surely they could wait a few more minutes. Of course, she didn’t know why she thought anything less; these two brought out the childish sides of each other and she had an eerie feeling someone was going to be cleaning up messes behind them.
“In that vein, I’m pleased to make everyone’s acquaintance as well. My name is Clarissa von Edmund, heiress to the Margravate of Edmund.” Clarissa curtsied, having worn a longer and heavier skirt than the original specifications. The mountains were supposed to be cold and she was averse to the idea of being half frozen for an entire year. “It truly is an honor to have the opportunity to work together with such a diverse group and I hope that, true to Alliance philosophy, we find a way to meld our differences together in a way to make all of us stronger.”
The side effects from piecing back together Echo were still making themselves known, protesting every step he took through this… Whatever this was. Honestly, all he wanted right now was a five year nap. Just bundle up in blankets and disappear into the void for a while but with their luck, a meteor would wake him up as it crashed through the ceiling. Echo was firing laser beams, Veil was failing to pin Jack down, Sapphire was failing to impale people with ice (though maybe this weird nice streak was keeping up and she was keeping in mind how her powers would affect Jack), and Jack had gone full emo. James had violent flashbacks to the late aughts when MCR was all the rage and it was considered cool to hate your parents and shit talk them. Jack was seriously playing up the tortured loner kid stuff with the “you don’t understand me” and the “I put on this face everyday just to hide my feelings”. It was like a bad high school drama and James couldn’t help but snort at the image. Jack all done up in goth make-up and the terrible trick pants with 80 billion zippers and the MCR t-shirt was a hilarious image.
He heard Veil yell at Waverly to get out of there and was quickly reminded that she’d been hurt. He wasn’t sure he could muster up the energy to patch up her cut but he could at least escort her out of there. He made his way over to the van, muscles and joints grumbling at him all the way, honestly unconcerned. If something blasted him, something blasted him. The goal was to get Waverly out of the way. He popped over to the van and held out his hand to her. “Come on, I’ll help you inside and we can take a look at that.” James offered. Hopefully, Jack would ignore them since they were ignoring him. James didn't want to get dragged into this fight. He was just going to rest a little while Veil and company wrapped this up and then he could get to helping the sick. Yeah. That sounded good.
Reactive Adaptation if attacked or caught in a wayward shot
The response oozed Eve. Just vague enough that anyone could interpret it however they saw fit. Of course there was no question which direction Count Dracul’s vote went; that’s why Ryner killed him. That decision was still giving him a head; the unexpected acceleration of the muder left him unprepared and his assets hadn’t managed to control the investigation fully. Someone beat him to the mark and it worried Varis what information they got their hands on. But he wasn’t here to fret over his fair weather ally.
He couldn’t fault the Count for keeping his cards to his chest. He wasn’t sure who was an ally and who was waiting for an opportunity to tear him apart. His bid for Lordship hadn’t yet found it’s footing and so everyone was an enemy. One wrong word from anyone and everyone in his House would turn on him, especially the factions who’ve dedicated decades to raising their choice to the seat. They wouldn’t look kindly on a usurper a fraction of their age. He found it interesting that he was still playing the room though; if it was Varis, Count Benjamin would be the only one he’d care to garner the respect of. Amaris and Victor were clearly incompitent and Eris, while growing his influence remarkably, didn’t have the clout to support his efforts.
“I don’t think anyone disagrees with you. Waiting on a singular piece of legislation that, as the boy explained at dinner with Ryner, is utterly unnecessary is just a waste of time. The vast majority of it maintains protections for situations that no sane vampire would be interested in breeding their mages anyways. But I don’t claim to understand the logic of vampires whose regimes have lasted longer than anyone even imagined the people in this room.” Varis agreed with a little sigh. At that point, the boy came out with the next round of blood. Varis would deny it but he was a bit nervous about this. Eris’ lack of discerning taste coupled with his mage’s disagreeable disposition suggested this was going to be an unpleasant experience. Hopefully, Eris thought this through and decided against serving something awful but he wouldn’t put in by the actor doing it just for fun.
“However, I’m more interested in what new ideas you’ll bring to the table. You’re at a disadvantage for the position and you’re going to climb over a number of your own to achieve it. What sort of motivation is great enough to overcome such daunting odds?” Varis asked.
Apricots and Grapes
Maddie felt awkward when her comment failed to drag attention away from Aaron. She just wanted him to let him do his work in peace but her information fell on deaf ears and all she wanted to do was become one with the couch so she wouldn’t have to try again. Thankfully, Aaron acknowledged it and that helped at the very least. She agreed with him of course; pissing off vampires would only make things worse for everyone involved. It was just some childish lashing out probably. She doubted it would last out in the real world and they were out from under the Princess’ protection. Hopefully that lesson wouldn’t hurt too much.
“I haven’t really had an opportunity to talk to you before but it;s nice to finally meet you face to face. Lilie's told me plenty of good things about you.” Maddie told the plant mage once Aaron had stepped back to the kitchen. "What did you plan to do before you knew you had magic?"
Crest of Maurice (Crest of the Beast) Unbeknownst to her, Clarissa's Crest passively compels honesty from both those she speaks with and herself.
Starting Class
Monk
Weapon of Choice
White Magic (Sword secondary)
Strengths
Faith and Authority
Weaknesses
Lance and Axe
Starting Spells
Heal Nosferatu
Personality
Bold and impulsive, Clarissa Edmund is an aggressively outspoken proponent of her beliefs. The first to disregard the pretense of deliberation, Clarissa refuses empty flattery and circular arguing in favor of constructive criticism advancing her agenda. Her stance on issues is rarely unknown and she operates without the veneer of secrecy her political peers are so well known for. It’s her opinion that transparency is the fundamental value of trust and that only those with ill intention gain anything from secrecy. As such, she throws herself entirely into whatever she considers worthwhile, sure in her steps and steadfast in her convictions, and rarely double guesses her decisions.
Unlike her mother who draws on the serenity of Seiros, Clarissa’s faith only fans the flames of her passion. She speaks glowingly of the establishment anytime the subject comes up, fully committed to the Church’s message of peace, forgiveness, and charity, and is quick to turn against those who speak ill of it. The Alliance’s neutrality with the Church has always bothered her—after all, Fodlan only stayed together thanks to the guidance of Archbishop Rhea—and she fully plans to support an expansion of the Church's influence in the Alliance.
History
The first born daughter of Beaufort and Odette Edmund, Clarissa Edmund seemed destined to be cut from the same cloth as her father: energetic, loud, and brash even as a baby. She spent her life proving everyone right. She spent her early years at her father’s knee, adopting his love for horseback riding, sailing, and swordplay during their outings and picking up the nuances of Edmund oration in the process. Each evening after lessons, the pair would slip away to Clarissa’s favorite spot in the family estate that overlooked the harbor and would talk about her studies and the world at large over a pot of mint tea.
Her mother however, maintained an incredibly strict lifestyle for Clarissa when she wasn’t with her father. Born with a minor Crest of the Beast, Odette wept when she learned Clarissa inherited a Major Crest. Marianne Edmund’s adoption tainted the family line with the cursed Crest and her influence still shaped how the family handled the Crest three hundred years later. Odette limited her interaction with anyone outside of the core staff and immediate family and immersed Clarissa in Church activity. She believed that only faith and piety could combat the Crest’s malignant effects. She kept the truth of the Crest away from Clarissa as long as she could and it worked for a while.
However, the birth of her younger brother afforded her an opportunity to escape her mother’s limitations. With Beaufort as her ally, Clarissa won independent outings to the Church for a weekly social gathering of children her age with the condition that a trusted family friend, Bishop Jehan, would act as her chaperone. The man had the patience of Saint Cethleann herself and handled her million questions with ease. Her social group consisted mostly of the children of wealthy merchants and she quickly established her reputation as a leader, taking responsibility for the group and their activities. She molded the group in the image of Odette’s charity work and focused primarily on assisting those without money by fixing garments and blankets for free. While she didn’t particularly care for the work, it was something she hadn’t been allowed to do before and she quite liked having friends.
She was content with her life and limited interactions until her 11th year, after the disastrous mock battle between House Gloucester and House Ordelia. Her father explained why the House had lost their seat: The House was on its last legs and survived solely on the support from others in the Alliance. As unfortunate as it was, a House needed to be powerful in its own right to sit at the table. The unease at the decision still festered inside her and unable to find the words to express why, she lashed out at her family, at her father for a horrible decision and at her mother for her absurd restrictions.
A screaming match with her mother revealed the true nature of her Crest. Clarissa fled after that, running to the only place she considered safe anymore and broke down in tears in front of Jehan. It took several long, awkward, and emotional conversations with the Bishop but eventually she found what had been unsettling her about the issue. The curse her family supposedly bore was a punishment for those who had no hand, no voice, in the decision their ancestor made, just like Duke Ordiela’s family had no choice in his decision to murder a fellow Lord. Her questions bordered on heretical, demanding why the Goddess would punish innocents for the acts of others. The bishop came up with an elegant solution: a Major Crest manifesting in her must mean the Goddess has given her the chance to redeem her bloodline. Clarissa clung desperately to that and shortly before her 13th birthday, she stepped out of her turmoil a new person.
Gone was the girl who would quietly accept her fate. Instead, Clarissa Edmund walked out as the heiress apparent of the Margravate of Edmund and she made sure it was known. It caused friction with her mother but Clarissa swept past that with her new found confidence. She reclaimed her social group that had been abandoned at the revelation of her curse, grew it, and began doubling down on her lessons. She accompanied her father to the Roundtable and took notes and developed questions for them to discuss later at their nightly meetings. She even attended a recent Roundtable on her own when he fell ill; she established her reputation quickly when one of them tried to exploit her age and she flew into an impassioned speech on the importance of change and progress and warned against letting hard fought wisdom turn to stagnation. After that she knew her next course of action clearly: Leading the Leicester Alliance. Her father supported her aspirations and enrolled her in Garrag Mach’s Officers Academy with the goal to strengthen the support she’d need to make the claim.
Trivia
Since it’s invitation to join the Roundtable of the Alliance after House Daphnel’s tragic inner conflict depriving them of their historic strength, House Edmund capitalized on and expanded its fair and equal trade policies that cemented the region’s economic success and bolstered the House’s influential voice. The growth of these policies demanded a rigorous focus on industrial growth and the development of skilled artisans and as such, House Edmund’s armed forces are significantly smaller than most of the other Houses of the alliances. Their contributions to the Alliance revolve heavily around the House’s financial resources, including funding the maintenance and improvement of Fodlan’s Locket, and levying the economic well being of the maritime routes connecting the Alliance to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Their economic strength and stability are the result of an aggressive continuation of the fair trade policies they adapted early on in the Alliance’s days.Their policies focus on growing the means of production; ranging from incentivizing apprenticeships to both increase the labor pool and reduce poverty to subsidizing the cost to gather raw product.
Stemming from their economic progressivism (not to mention their lack of military might), the Margrave Edmund is always known as a skilled orator and the current one is no exception. Beaufort Edmund is a passionate voice at the Roundtables, often the first to push for the expansion of their own trade policies into other parts of the Alliance, and emphasizes the importance that the other Houses follow in House Edmund’s footsteps to expand the Alliance’s economic influence in the Empire. His passion for the well being of the citizens of the Alliance is apparent every time he brings a new social issue to the table, from the stagnation of the lower class to the archaic view that nobles are somehow purer or better than those who support them, and he is quick to rise against House Gloucester’s self absorbed, entitled, and snobbish beliefs.
His wife, Odette Edmund, is almost the complete opposite of her husband. She holds herself well and often comes off as aloof and cool but in reality is just introverted and quiet. Odette is a devoted member of the Eastern Church of Seiros, regularly using Edmund resources to promote its teachings through charity and community enhancement. The Church was an important ally to the House Edmund ever since the adoption of Marianne Edmund but Odette has greatly improved their relationship and the House is a regular contributor to the Eastern Church. The Margrave dotes on her whenever they are together and it isn’t uncommon to see them laughing quietly together as they walk the grounds of their home.
House Riegan: With shared trade routes and a monopoly on the northern coast of the Alliance, House Riegan and House Edmund have been close allies for centuries. What benefits one usual benefits both so the Dukes of both Houses have strived to remain on good terms through the years. Beaufort counts Rodolph among his closest friends.
House Goneril: House Edmund has historically supported the Gonerills because of their involvement in defending the borders of the Alliance against Almyrian invasion. However, the recent Duke Gonerill has lost some of their faith as he takes and tosses wives aside like trinkets. They stopped accepting his wedding invitations four wives ago. House Edmund is currently evaluating which side House has a suitable successor and will plan to support their claim if the current Duke fails to produce a suitable heir.
House Daphnel: As the newest member of the Roundtable, House Edmund certainly has an interest in House Daphnel’s business. Their desire to change the status quo certainly makes them an attractive investment opportunity and Beaufort is reaching out to see how House Edmund can… help.
House Gloucester: House Edmund acknowledges that the current Archduke has managed to stabilize the Alliance and those efforts are commendable. However, they have serious doubts that he’s able to take the Alliance further than what it was and are afraid that if the Gloucesters are permitted to maintain power much longer, the Alliance will see a reverse in social and economic progress.
Favorite Food: Two-fish Sauté
Clarissa's Crest power doesn't force people to tell her things. It only keeps them, and her, from lying in a conversation. If a character doesn't want to talk about something, they don't have to or they can tell her that they don't want to talk about it if it does come up.
Hiya, AChronum here! Although I'm relatively new to rping, I have plenty of writing experience and love trying new genres and styles. I absolutely love high magic fantasy RPs and am pretty much willing to do anything so long as I can create a charaxter, not play an existing one, and develop lots and lots of backstory! I'm perfectly comfortable with all mature themes as well, although smut for smut's sake is out of the question.
Interested in an RP? Send me a PM and have a magically marvelous day!
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Hiya, AChronum here! Although I'm relatively new to rping, I have plenty of writing experience and love trying new genres and styles. I absolutely love high magic fantasy RPs and am pretty much willing to do anything so long as I can create a charaxter, not play an existing one, and develop lots and lots of backstory! I'm perfectly comfortable with all mature themes as well, although smut for smut's sake is out of the question.<br><br>Interested in an RP? Send me a PM and have a magically marvelous day! </div>
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