Cubix

Darkness and Light

I'm actually waiting for Lady Mother to post XD By the way, when do we finish breakfast and head for the meeting?

Luan: The Threat of Origin

Azmodin Sanenteur

Mokokin Port Town | Dark Revelry

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As arrows soared through skies, ultimately ending in colorful umbrellas of fire that drew out awed gasps and sighs from the observers, a lone swordsman stood among the people who were entranced in a drunken stupor of euphoria and bliss. His eyes observed the merriment of the people, sneering and scoffing at their blatant disregard for the Blessed Sleep. All of them always preferred to live for today, not wanting to think about tomorrow. This kind of thinking is the cause of all strife in the world, so the cultists would say. There was no point in dallying any further in this section of the town; every single man, woman, and child were as oblivious to the realities of the world as they danced and laughed without a care for what was coming. In his mind, the swordsman knew that he would never accomplish his mission here.

---

Flashback

"Brother Az," Vulnark, one of the elder cultists, began. The shroud of night and the veil of shadows hid the two figures from prying eyes and sharp ears as the only thing that stood between them was an altar whose carvings were that of a benevolent deity who has made it its mission to change the world. "The Heralds, after a decade, will now execute its plans. But, first, we need you to scour the lands of any prominent and potential individuals who may or may not be a hindrance to us. Find out what the people know about our brotherhood, and of our goal. For this mission, you will need to be strong and determined, brother. It is a must that you are to suppress your righteous urges to worship the Destroyer for we do not want enemies to take us down as early as now; we are too few already. Pretend that you are a heretic, but, slowly, as you gain their trust, convert the people into the true path. Grant them salvation, brother Az. That is the least we can do for them."

The hooded lad bowed as his eyes lifted up to the elder. "Where am I to be sent, elder Vulnark?"

"To the Freelance City; the youngest of all the countries: Mokokin. They are planning to have a revelry within the next month. I am sure that it will attract potential brothers and sisters." Vulnark replied. "Be safe, brother. May you be safe from evil. Remember, this is what we have been working for."

---

Azmodin snapped out from the memory, lifting his head just in time to witness a majestic firework waltzing through the night sky in a plethora of flashes that lit the heavens with much grandeur and grace. However, he merely pulled down his hood and went on his way-- hoping to find worthier individuals to serve the Destroyer. The lad weaved through the streets, trying his best to go unnoticed. The town, in itself, was easy to navigate through. There were signs and arrows everywhere, and thus, Azmodin tried his best to search for potentials, but all his efforts were in vain. As the moon's caress began to envelop the entirety of the town, Azmodin was already thinking about throwing in the towel, and just returning to Ordan. However, his ears caught wind of an interesting news. Apparently, the king and his daughter had joined in the festivities. With this information in mind, the swordsman rushed towards the location, and lo and behold, he saw the king and the princess. The two were very much alike in physique, but it would seem that the daughter shone more brightly, especially under the light of this particular crescent moon.

If I could convert the king to the true path, it is inevitable that the denizens will be influenced. Saving the entire country of Mokokin would have never been easier! Still, the question remained as to I could approach them without a spear gutted into my side. Azmodin thought to himself before he felt the Prophecy being slowly stolen from his back. At this sudden violation, the swordsman spun around as he gripped a rather scrawny man who was caught in the act of holding the Prophecy's Caress. The agitated thief, in a fit of confusion, slashed at the swordsman who merely maintained a bored expression; Azmodin strafed to the side before kneeing the man in the gut before throwing him to the ground as the crowd began to be aware of the commotion.

"Brother, you should know that stealing is a crime. And, you even tried to injure me." Azmodin tilted his head, bringing his boot to the man's neck, effectively restraining him. "Well, even if this sword..." he held up the Prophecy's Caress. "... were to have made contact with me, I cannot die from its slash." Azmodin smiled as he sheathed the Caress before drawing out the longsword. "You chose the wrong person to steal from tonight, brother. You have never been more mistaken in your entire life than you are now."

Darkness and Light

"It cannot be... it cannot be." Lethonel gasped as his brother handed him a small beige-colored pouch that flopped softly in his hand. The smell alone was sign enough for the confection-craving prince that his older brother had been paying attention to his recent fancy when it came to sweets. A delicious blend of bananas, sugars, dough, and more presented itself through a generous and alluring scent that Lethonel inhaled quite greedily. These confections were his instant favorite once he tasted them sometime before when he left the castle walls to survey the kingdom's wells and water supplies. Lethonel reminisces back to when his nose caught wind of something illegally-delicious smelling. By the gods, who would have thought that the masses were able to produce such a masterpiece?! Thus, the sickly prince pursued that scent until he saw a small confectionery where these small cakes were being sold for a few pieces of copper. Lethonel bought a few, but within a span of a few... hours... he had already finished everything, and since he was already inside the castle by that time, the prince knew that he couldn't leave without a line of knights escorting him. Hence, his sweet days ended, and he had been pining to taste the ambrosia that were those small cakes in the outer ring of the kingdom. For his brother to have taken note of his secret cravings was beyond endearing, and Lethonel uttered not a word. There were no words, and there would never be any words sufficient enough to describe his gratitude and euphoria at receiving quite a simple yet delicious present. As what Lethonel was taught, actions speak louder than words. This propelled the prince to timidly approach his brother, and awkwardly smash his forehead softly against the taller man's abdomen. A wide, goofy smile snaked its way around Lethonel's face as his lips quivered in joy.

Then, he looked up at Alistair as he took a step back. As was tradition among males, Lethonel placed his right hand on the left side of his chest-- just above his heart. Then, he extended it towards Alistair, directing his fingers to point towards his brother-- a common replacement for the words 'I love you' when translated in words. Of course, it was awkward for males to say it openly, thus, that kind of non-verbal communication was born. Personally, Lethonel believes that that gesture was more meaningful than words; after all, the heart is more involved than when one speaks. Other than that, actions do speak louder than words, and besides, words failed to convey his real gratitude. Then, as he heard his parents' approach, Lethonel quickly spun around and tucked the mini-cake into his pocket before standing at attention beside the crown-prince.

Lo, and behold, the bearers of the sun and moon strode into the room, only for the curtain of twilight to immediately fall as Rida's bucket and prank fell into place. The room fell silent as the only sounds came from the maids who vehemently tried to assess the injuries from the prank-- which there were none, fortunately. Olive-green eyes traced the queen's graceful steps as she uttered not a word of disdain against the princess. Instead, his mother, as expected, remained as dignified and elegant as a monarch should be without even trying. The young prince had never seen his mother lose control of her emotions; her demeanor was cold as ice, but her heart remained warm and caring for them. Even if the sun rose at twilight, and the moon rose at dusk, there would be no worthier mother than queen Lucinda. He could only sigh in disappointment at himself at being born as a liability to such a perfect dualism of parenthood. As he looked at his parents, a glum feeling gripped at his heart. It would seem that his father was the moon, bringing light and hope to the eternal night. His mother was the sun, spreading life and warmth wherever she went. Alistair was personified as the sky, laying the foundation for the light and hope to pass through; and Rida was personified as the falling stars, inconsistent, but pure delight to whoever witnesses her.

And, here he was. So bound to the earth, so limited, and so chained. While his family soared and waltzed upon the cosmos, he was on Earth-- looking and observing them, only wishing to be able to fly as high as them. However, these negative thoughts were erased almost instantly as his mother approached him with a loving gaze in her eyes. Yes, Lucinda's stares could incite so many emotions in any individual, and in this case, it was affection. The prince leaned unto his mother's kiss, closing his eyes as he relished the care in her voice, and the gentleness of her touch. Then, his mother gave him a flask with golden liquid cascading within it. The prince remembered such a concoction-- it was used to alleviate his condition when the disease proved too much to bear. At one point, he had to drink two flasks to fully suppress a rather extreme attack from his lungs, causing immense pain to Lethonel whenever he coughed for three days. In other words, he only drank this medicine when there was something major or important event that was going to happen. It would seem that Lethonel would be joining such a meeting after all.

The prince lifted the brew to his lips, drinking it slowly until the contained was emptied. The weird taste caused Lethonel to shake his head softly before he began feeling such a strange lightness in his breathing. He raised the palms of his hands near his face, noticing how the paleness of them began to vanish and a new shade of a healthier color took residence. Lethonel could feel a strange strength in his muscles and bones, which produced a myriad of cracking sounds as he tested his limits. Finally, Lethonel released a contented sigh as he looked at his mother with such love and gratefulness. "Thank you, mother. It is always rare for me to feel this good." Lethonel remarked as he bowed his head in respect before noticing how his mother looked at Alistair-- almost as if she's afraid that something terrible might happen to the crown-prince. Still, as the greetings were done, Lethonel moved towards the grand table, motioning for his brother to follow.

Then, as he sat upon the chair, strange clicking sounds were heard as his vision was painted in black. A bucket had fallen straight upon his head, jolting the prince into hyper awareness. After a few seconds of motionlessness, Lethonel peeked from under the bucket as he burst out into a series of laughs that he could only perform when he had taken the medicine. "I do pray that this is not the same bucket I used when I threw up a few weeks ago, sister!" the prince heartily chuckled before he wiped the tears from his eyes as he removed the bucket from his head. "I'm sorry for my laugh," the prince remarked, placing the bucket near his chair. "... it's just that... we have never become this informal as of late."

Darkness and Light

A chuckle escaped Lethonel's lips as his brother ruffled his already messy hair, something that the crown prince often did to cheer him up. "Thank you, Alistair." he sighed calmly before the old geezer pulled the both of them in for an awkward yet, oddly, warm hug that sent the youngest prince's cheek colliding with his brother's. Alistair was much too tall for them, as it would seem. Still, it was a good start to their morning-- a pretty good start in a long time. Then, his father took leave, opting to escort his mother to the dining hall. Oh, how Lethonel admired Queen Lucinda. Her poise, her elegance rivaled that of the proudest monarchs of all history, and more! She needn't raise a sword to intimidate her enemies as her tongue and words were already knives and daggers themselves. She need not use magic (though, she certainly was blessed with one) to freeze those who oppose her, for her eyes were petrifying enough. That was Queen Lucinda, an immovable object, and an unstoppable force at the same time. He had tried to imitate his mother as well, but to no avail. He couldn't lash out at anybody, he couldn't glare at anyone. People never take him seriously except when he's writing. Well, it was to be expected from someone who couldn't even train for five minutes without panting like a dying duck that had its wings shot.

However, Alistair, the Alistair, the proud crown-prince of Celakor, had praised him and told him otherwise! To think low of himself when his brother had bestowed such kind words would be an insult to Alistair himself. Thus, Lethonel shook his head of these thoughts as he merely grinned widely at the mention of Rida stealing the cheese. Now, that was an understatement at best. Forget the cheese! Rida would steal anything she wanted. It was something that made meal times... enjoyable. No king, no queen, no prince, no princess... just a father, a mother, and their children. "Indeed. Although, I would wager that she has already done that, brother." Lethonel replied before an intense bout of horrid coughs ravaged his throat, causing the prince to fall to the ground in a panting heap. It took minutes just for Lethonel to get a hold of himself, and by this time, he was flushed red due to the shame he had felt. "I... apologize..." he breathed slowly before wobbling slightly on his feet as he got up. The prince shook his head, pulling out a small cloth towel which he used to wipe the streaks of saliva that ran around his lips and chin. "S-sorry f-for that, Alistair. Come, let us be on our way." Lethonel smiled when one of the servants approached him, attempting to aid the prince's unstable gait.

"I am not going to die, Rhem. You need not trouble yourself." Lethonel waved his hand to the servant as he placed his hand on the rapier in an attempt to look strong. He turned to his brother with a nod, gesturing for them to go to the dining hall where Rida would most probably be waiting for them. Thus, Lethonel walked onwards, although there were some lapses in his rhythem, and took a few seconds to observe the majestic architecture of their castle. "The sun, the moon... just like father and mother." Lethonel remarked upon seeing a fine carving of the sun and the moon that were locked in an eternal dance of balance. Then, he shook his head, opting to continue the journey towards the dining hall.

Soon, Lethonel arrived at the dining hall, bowing to the servants that were present in the room. Lethonel hesitated to take his seat, opting to wait for his parents to arrive. Although, he wondered where Rida could be... Did she escape again? The prince shook his head in silent disappointment. This could be the first time in months that the entire family could be together.... would Rida really miss that?

But, a greater problem was at hand. The food... those were not the ones he fancied... His eyes secretly dropped as he wished for something sweet like honey-battered fish or something-- just anything sweet! Still, he had no right to complain. Others had no food to eat, and here he was acting like an infant. No, he had not done anything significant for the kingdom, and thus, he had no right to voice his concerns. Lethonel steeled himself as he looked at the royal cooks, bowing to them to show his appreciation of the supposedly sumptuous meal. However, his eyes darted to the main door, seemingly awaiting the arrival of the chosen of the Sun and Moon-- his mother and father. "You think that father and mother will be available for us to be able to dine together? Usually, one of them is busy... or one of us. This is the first time in months since we last saw each other in the same room, Alistair." Lethonel expressed his hope, combing his hair back in a similar fashion to his brother. "I would hate to miss this."

Darkness and Light

I like how the rangers give off a feel of apathy and seriousness in their profession. This could just be me, but the two rangers pulled off a magnificent personality and character befitting that of trained trackers, guardians, and killers (if they do kill, which I do think they do).

Darkness and Light

Darkness and Light

I might have taken the liberty of creating a group of scholars under the King-- sort of the king's personal researchers. Of course, this is a mere proposition, and can still be changed. Also, yeah, Lethonel doesn't have powers... yet... I hope.

Anyway, I made the post whilst I was reeling from my final papers, so pardon me for any errors.

Darkness and Light

A clutter of books, and several parchments fell to the floor in an undignified manner as a burst of blonde hair lifted up from the large mahogany desk at the corner of the room, letting the sunlight bathe its warmth upon the youngest prince of Celakor. His olive eyes began to adjust to the light as Lethonel realized that, once again, he was late. As Lethonel caught sight of the outer ring of the kingdom through the window, he couldn't help but let out a relaxed sigh. This was one of the reasons why he preferred dozing off on his study. It allowed him see, at least, a portion of the kingdom in its splendor, and for a monarch, it was a rare commodity since you were trailed by a series of bodyguards who never let you go anywhere outside of the walls. Lethonel turned his gaze back unto his desk, realizing that his latest book, 'Anatomical Features of Males and Females', was already stained with his saliva.

Lethonel's mind weaved back to why he even started reading this book. Oh, no, it was not because he wanted to research about his disease or anything honorable for that matter. In fact, he, ashamedly, got curious of the anatomical differences between him and her. Lethonel Proudsword, scholar of Celakor, felt like a criminal-- hiding what he was reading from his parents, siblings, and retainers. Oh, well, probably, they'd just think that he was researching on his disease. Thoughts of what he had read rushed back to his mind, causing a tint of red to immediately flush from his cheeks. "Who would have thought that they had that?" he glided his fingers over his dry lips before he felt it... oh, he felt it coming. Instantly, he covered his mouth as a series of guttural coughs overrode his system. He did his best to suppress the sounds, not wanting his family to have to hear their liability so early in the morning. He stumbled for a bit as he attempted to stand up, but, ultimately, he was able to reach his bathroom, and began to wash and clean himself for the start of the new day, which was probably prompted by his father's incessant voice that echoed outside his room. Throughout the ordeal, he tried his best to make his coughs as inaudible as possible whilst the thoughts of his research continued to permeate his thoughts.

Then, the door to his chamber swung open. Lethonel, dressed in his standard prince attire but with the lack of armor, bounded out as he immediately came across Sariel, his Father and King, and Alistair, his brother and the crown prince. He placed his right hand on his chest before bowing to the two figures, then, he brought up his hand to his mouth in an effort to suppress the cough once more. "Father, brother..." he finally spoke. "Pardon my tardiness. I have been sleeping irregularly as of late." Lethonel smiled as he extended a stack of neatly bound parchments to his father. "The proposals for the kingdom's watering system and rations have been developed by the Scholars of the Moon, father." The Scholars of the Moon were a conclave of talented individuals who work directly under the crown, focusing more on research rather than battle-- some peasants and other officials murmur and whisper of how these scholars were the intellectual counterpart of the Kingsguard. But, of course, they are just rumors. As the child of the king, Lethonel immediately joined the organization and was inducted as one of its own shortly after he turned fourteen.

Then, he turned to his brother with a nod. "I can never beat your zeal for service, brother. I could only dream to attaining the same glory as you." There were no lies in his words. Lethonel really did look up to his brother immensely. For him, Alistair was the epitome of what a prince, a soldier, and a man should be. He had tried to follow his brother's steps during their childhood, but when the former could only handle wooden swords, the latter was already firing a longbow. There was a definite ravine between their skills; a gap that Lethonel could never hope to bridge for a century to pass. Then, there was also his sister: Rida. He had also looked up to her for her energy and enthusiasm. Sure, she trespassed to his room and, potentially, piece together his recent escapades, but she had something that Lethonel could never find in books: fun. Rida knew how to have fun, how to enjoy life, and that was something that not even Alistair could do.Finally, Lethonel turned to his father. "I heard that you require my aid, father? What is it I can do for the crown?" his hand rested on the rapier at his side; a rapier that was not even used in combat once. It was merely there for show, as if to hide his already weak constitution.

Darkness and Light

Galuntrug's gonna be the first to fall... probably...

Darkness and Light

Sounds good to me!