Asura

Midnight Sun: Last Song Over the Horizon

Sirius Leverant

If there was any satisfaction to be had on this day, it was the small sliver Sirius managed to gain as he watched the cogs in Miss Realis-Donati's head turn. She had done well enough to hide her offense, something that gave him an inkling as to her social strata, but the sharpness of his words seemed to catch her just off guard enough that it shone through. It was unfortunate that she had so much composure, as verbally sparring with someone would have been a worthwhile distraction from pitiful sports scores. Instead, it seemed his unwanted guest insisted on remaining, brushing off his comment like so much water off a duck's back.

"I wouldn't know," Sirius fired back in retort, flicking the retort pouch that held the remainder of his lunch. He wasn't about to let her totally sidestep his attempts to inflame her, after all. But he didn't entirely intend on hinging the whole of their conversation on her bovine like endowments—she had come to him for some reason or another, and it was at least worth inquiring as to why.

"Most people can't help themselves when it comes to irritating me. But, you've come all this way, so you might as well tell me—just why do you think you'd like to get to know me?"

Heiseina: Memories Long Forgotten (CLOSED)

SEIMEI KEIKO

_{tags - @Hero}

---

"Of course there's always work to be done—the only other smith in the village is a lush." Keiko responded in her usual matter-of-factly manner, regardless of how uncouth it was to insult a man while dallying on his property. It wasn't like the old man was around to defend himself, if he could even manage it at such an early, hangover laden hour. As she greedily deposited the last few wedges of her orange into her mouth, the girl dismounted from the workbench she had claimed as a seat, making her way over to the table Tsubasa had apparently just finished before her unexpected arrival. She poked at it with a toe, as if to test the strength of the structure with such a minimal use of force.

"Wonder what the old man is doing that requires such a sturdy table. Or who, I guess. Never know with old lechers," She mused conspiratorially as she chewed, although she couldn't quite follow that train of thought too far, as her musings were interrupted by Tsubasa inflicting a wound of his own upon her pride. An unknowing redress for her teasing, perhaps. She swallowed down the remnants of her carefully cultivated treat before peering up at the taller male.

"Nope. I never do. I never have anyone to go with, so I usually spend most of the festival back at the tower, waiting for it to end so everything goes back to normal," Despite the sorrowful tale she told, she remained indifferent as ever in tone and expression, "I'm not even sure what people get up to for most of it, if I'm honest. I guess it must be pretty enjoyable—but I wouldn't know."

She made just a few steps forward, pushing herself up onto her very tiptoes in order to get more on level with Tsubasa. Only then did the slightest glimpse of mischief start to shine through her big brown eyes.

"Unless that was your way of asking whether or not I'd be interested in going to the festival with you. Is that why you ask? Did you want to take me? Huh? Did you? Did you really?"

Shin Megami Tensei: Persona

HOSHINO NORIAKI

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx D A T E April 10th 2018 L O C A T I O N The Hall of Mirrors T A G S @Hero@Scribe of Thoth@Lord Orgasmo@RiverMaiden

There was something absurdly satisfying about the feeling of a blade biting into the flesh of the bizarre monstrosities assailing them. The satisfaction it provided might have been something to worry about, if not for the adrenaline that pumped its way through Noriaki's veins. But his body wouldn't not allow him to doddle on idle thoughts, the shadowy creatures swarming upon him in greater number, ignoring the redheaded classmate in his peripheral vision in favor of the one attacking them. That much he was glad for—as much as he snarled and griped, he didn't want Daigo getting hurt. The entire reason Noriaki had been dragged to this horrible place was to keep him out of harm's way, and it would be all for naught if he and the others ended up devouring by these things. Confident his initial charge had drawn enough of their ire, the teen narrowed his attention on those which came snapping at him with slavering jaws, returning the favor with a series of powerful swings and daring thrusts. Consumed in the newfound battle as he was, his mind drifted away from thoughts of Daigo. Perhaps that had been folly. As he chopped and hacked, his classmate was forced to confront something more dire than a few errant shadows. A confrontation he too had suffered through in the days prior, and one which resolved in a manner that seemed to pull the spotlight away from him and right back onto the ginger. Noriaki cast a glance over his shoulder as the brightness reached a radiant peak, witnessing the golden figure that had come to the aid of their cowardly food snob. Whatever reverence he could have had for the birth of a new Persona and its show of force against a stray shadow was quickly quashed by Mira's squealing, and he rolled his eyes at their irritant of a guide. "If you've got time to shriek and bark orders, you've got time to fight. Focus on... whatever the fuck these things are," He grumbled sourly, before returning to what he had been doing before; slaying the creatures that wanted them all dead. Thankfully, his efforts and those of his fellow 'awakened' had been enough to get the group through the door at the end of the hall. It was almost like they had escaped, but as usual when the cat-girl he had grown to disdain got involved, things were not so simple. A look to the sky and its endless void robbed Noriaki of any sense of relief, and Mira's orders only earned a groan from him. Of course 'he' wasn't going to just come out and fight them. There just had to be more bullshit to go through. The devil-boy affixed the well before them with sharp eyes. "I didn't even like InuYasha," He grumbled to no one in particular, proceeding to march forward, his blade dragging through the grass behind him. "You grab me and drag me into this fucking well and I'll ram this sword so far up your ass you'll be tasting iron for a week, you hear me?!"

𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝖆 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖗𝖕

I might wait until the discord is up properly before I commit to anything. Pretty out of my depth in the finer points of the lore, and being able to ask questions and get answers that don't take me 30 minutes of wiki diving to answer would be helpful.

𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝖆 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖗𝖕

Might take me a while to come up with a good goal, wardenhood being what it is, but I'm still here.

ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙy ᴍᴀɴ

6'8" | 268 lb.

Name

Ser Bors Hightower

Age

18

House

Hightower

Personality

Boisterous
Brave
Bullheaded

Weapon of Choice

Longsword

Talents

Swordplay
Horsemanship
Lovemaking (self-professed)

History

Nearly born to the name of Flowers over Hightower, Bors' tale begins with his father and his less than savory ways. A lad of sixteen, Garth Hightower was the son of the Lord Hightower and thus had never wanted for anything in life. As hedonistic as his namesake, Garth took to drinking and merriment in his youth, charming his way into the chambers of many a lady, both highborn and low. One Melissa Bulwer was no exception. After a quick romp during a routine visit to Oldtown, the young lady found herself not only with a pocketful of memories, but with child. Realizing her folly, Melissa made to inform Garth of the situation and pray he be kind. Upon being laughed off by the irresponsible sire of her child, she tearfully turned to his lord father instead.

Lord Otho Hightower was a stern man. A just man. Upon hearing of his son's dalliance, he was swift in his condemnation. Long had Otho grown sick of Garth's pleasure-seeking and decided that no longer would he shame their house. He gave his brother a choice; marry Melissa Bulwer so his child was trueborn, or find a different family to bring shame to. Garth picked the wiser option.

A rushed ceremony ensued, the unborn child hidden away from public knowledge. Garth carried on with his indulgent lifestyle and his young bride spent the remaining months of her pregnancy at the Hightower. Coming into the world with strong lungs and, more importantly, the banner of the Hightower on his swaddling clothes, Bors was born months later. He proved to be a robust child, rambunctious and energetic from the time he could toddle around the tower's halls, giving his poor mother and the family's servants no end of worry. The young Bors was wild and defiant, and to curb the worst of his behaviors, his grandfather took him on as his personal page, intent on making sure he would not end up with another heir who put his own pleasure above the responsibilities of their station.

Until the watchful eye of Lord Hightower, the boy was educated. He learned of accounts and ledgers, of manners and courtship and perhaps his favorite all, of sword and lance. Nothing could catch his attention as stories of battle during his history lessons, or so perfectly hold him still as when he watched the men-at-arms practice in the yard. It was obvious early on that Bors was not a man suited for stewardship or intrigue, but for battle and glory. His grandfather tailored his lessons to fit that. He was given extra time with training blade and pony alike once his lesser studies were finished, so as to serve as an outlet for his boundless energy. He became a squire to his grandfather at the age of ten.

It was around this time that Bors' life saw a change in scenery. The Hightowers had been strong supporters of the Targaryens, having taken up arms against their liege lord in support of Aegon VI and his reconquest of the Kingdoms. When the previous Hand of the King passed away in 392, many great lords vied for the position, but it was his loyal grandfather who was chosen from among them. When Lord Otho took to the capital, it was inevitable that he would bring Bors with him. The King had a son of similar age, and nothing so helped a house maintain its prominence as a boyhood friendship with the future ruler of Westeros.

So he traded the Hightower for the Red Keep, and Oldtown for King's Landing. The gregarious lad managed to make fast friends with the other highborn at the capital, first among those Vaeron Targaryen, to his grandfather's delight. The boisterous Bors helped the young princeling out of his shell, and in turn the prince helped temper the worst of his impulses. Years passed by, and Bors grew from boy to man with startling speed, an equal in size to some of the castle's men-at-arms at ten-and-two, and nearly their equal in swordplay. By the time he came of age he was a tower of a man, and his prodigious size helped him earn his knighthood later that year. At the tourney in honor of Princess Visenya's tenth nameday, Bors handily won the squire's melee, and was knighted by Ser Willem Lannister of the Kingsguard for his victory.

It has been two years since, and Bors has remained at his grandfather's side, serving as a member of the Hand's personal guard, and only occasionally returning to Oldtown on the business of his house. When the subject of the prince's coming of age tour came to court, he was among the first to volunteer to join the escort, something he was quickly given leave to do.

Relations

Prince Vaeron: Bors has known Vaeron since he was a boy of ten, and sees him as a surrogate brother, though his royal blood keeps him from being referred to with such familiarity.

Trivia

Bors has a deep, lovely singing voice, but very rarely chooses to display this for the embarrassment it causes him—only when he is thoroughly drunk does he choose to belt out a tune.

ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙy ᴍᴀɴ

Ser Bors Hightower

6'8" | 268 lb.

Name

Ser Bors Hightower

Age

18

House

Hightower

Personality

Boisterous
Brave
Bullheaded

Weapon of Choice

Longsword

Talents

Swordplay
Horsemanship
Lovemaking (self-professed)

History

Nearly born to the name of Flowers over Hightower, Bors' tale begins with his father and his less than savory ways. A lad of sixteen, Garth Hightower was the son of the Lord Hightower and thus had never wanted for anything in life. As hedonistic as his namesake, Garth took to drinking and merriment in his youth, charming his way into the chambers of many a lady, both highborn and low. One Melissa Bulwer was no exception. After a quick romp during a routine visit to Oldtown, the young lady found herself not only with a pocketful of memories, but with child. Realizing her folly, Melissa made to inform Garth of the situation and pray he be kind. Upon being laughed off by the irresponsible sire of her child, she tearfully turned to his lord father instead.

Lord Otho Hightower was a stern man. A just man. Upon hearing of his son's dalliance, he was swift in his condemnation. Long had Otho grown sick of Garth's pleasure-seeking and decided that no longer would he shame their house. He gave his brother a choice; marry Melissa Bulwer so his child was trueborn, or find a different family to bring shame to. Garth picked the wiser option.

A rushed ceremony ensued, the unborn child hidden away from public knowledge. Garth carried on with his indulgent lifestyle and his young bride spent the remaining months of her pregnancy at the Hightower. Coming into the world with strong lungs and, more importantly, the banner of the Hightower on his swaddling clothes, Bors was born months later. He proved to be a robust child, rambunctious and energetic from the time he could toddle around the tower's halls, giving his poor mother and the family's servants no end of worry. The young Bors was wild and defiant, and to curb the worst of his behaviors, his grandfather took him on as his personal page, intent on making sure he would not end up with another heir who put his own pleasure above the responsibilities of their station.

Until the watchful eye of Lord Hightower, the boy was educated. He learned of accounts and ledgers, of manners and courtship and perhaps his favorite all, of sword and lance. Nothing could catch his attention as stories of battle during his history lessons, or so perfectly hold him still as when he watched the men-at-arms practice in the yard. It was obvious early on that Bors was not a man suited for stewardship or intrigue, but for battle and glory. His grandfather tailored his lessons to fit that. He was given extra time with training blade and pony alike once his lesser studies were finished, so as to serve as an outlet for his boundless energy. He became a squire to his grandfather at the age of ten.

It was around this time that Bors' life saw a change in scenery. The Hightowers had been strong supporters of the Targaryens, having taken up arms against their liege lord in support of Aegon VI and his reconquest of the Kingdoms. When the previous Hand of the King passed away in 392, many great lords vied for the position, but it was his loyal grandfather who was chosen from among them. When Lord Otho took to the capital, it was inevitable that he would bring Bors with him. The King had a son of similar age, and nothing so helped a house maintain its prominence as a boyhood friendship with the future ruler of the 7 Kingdoms.

So he traded the Hightower for the Red Keep, and Oldtown for King's Landing. The gregarious lad managed to make fast friends with the other highborn at the capital, first among those Vaeron Targaryen, to his grandfather's delight. The boisterous Bors helped the young princeling out of his shell, and in turn the prince helped temper the worst of his impulses. Years passed by, and Bors grew from boy to man with startling speed, an equal in size to some of the castle's men-at-arms at twelve, and nearly their equal in swordplay. By the time he came of age he was a tower of a man, and his prodigious size helped him earn his knighthood later that year. At the tourney in honor of Princess Visenya's tenth nameday, Bors handily won the squire's melee, and was knighted by Ser [name] of the Kingsguard for his victory.

It has been two years since, and Bors has remained at his grandfather's side, serving as a member of the Hand's personal guard, and only occasionally returning to Oldtown on the business of his house. When the subject of the prince's coming of age tour came to court, he was among the first to volunteer to join the escort, something he was quickly given leave to do.

Relations

Prince Vaeron: Bors has known Vaeron since he was a boy of ten, and sees him as a surrogate brother figure, though his royal blood keeps him from being referred to with such familiarity.

Trivia

Bors has a deep, lovely singing voice, but very rarely chooses to display this for the embarrassment it causes him—only when he is thoroughly drunk does he choose to belt out a tune.

ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙy ᴍᴀɴ

𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝖆 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖗𝖕

I've only played Origins and like 1/5th of Inquisition so I've got very little lore plonking around in my head, but I'm interested.

Heiseina: Memories Long Forgotten (CLOSED)

SEIMEI KEIKO

_{tags - @Hero}

---

"You're welcome."

Keiko couldn't help but grin just a little devilishly as she watched Tsubasa try and shift the subject from her would-be seduction to the fruit before the two of them. It was almost kind of cute, how flustered a little bit of teasing had gotten him. She had expected him to be more resistant to such things—half the village's girls gave him doe eyes—but it seemed as though she had been wrong in her assessment. She hefted up the other orange as he peeled away at his own, digging her fingers into the smooth flesh to peel away the rind until the soft flesh within was revealed.

"Bold of you to assume people would want to buy from me. I'm pretty sure half the village still thinks I'm some kind of yokai. Certainly wish I was, maybe I'd start getting offerings instead of rude gossip," She retorted, pulling a wedge from the fruit and popping it into her mouth, "Still, maybe I'll give it a try. It would piss old man Moriyama off something severe if people started buying their fruit from me instead of him."

She kicked her legs back and forth with just a little more force, chewing the juicy piece of citrus thoughtfully as her eyes danced from here to there, taking in the sights of the forge. It seemed Tsubasa had been rather busy despite the earliness of the morning. She was almost jealous of that, as absolutely bizarre as it sounded. He had plenty of matters to attend to, so he didn't have to deal with such consuming boredom all day like she did. Of course, he probably had an actual life to lead outside the forge, so maybe it was unfair to compare their situations, but acknowledging that didn't make her doldrums any easier to deal with.

"You get an awful lot of work during festival, season, huh?" She asked, to make idle conversation, "I would think people have better things to worry about than... fencing? During a time of celebration."