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Duke Laurent Rhinecliff

54 y/o | Human | Male | 5'9 | 212 lbs

Goal: Lead the rebellion to control the Glasic Fields and wrest power away from the bloodstained hands of the Wizard Queen.

History: The third son of the previous Duke of Rhinecliff, who rose to prominence after his brothers refused the weight of the title. By all accounts, he is a gentle, kind-hearted duke, one who has gained the adoration of his populace through policies that shielded the commonfolk from much of the consequences of the Wizard Queen's bloody ascension. It is as his father and his father's father, and his father's father's father says:

Rhinecliff endures, no matter the change of the tides.

Thus is the weight of the title, standing above the detritus of the tides, piercing past the barrier to the sky, in order to bask in the All-Force's light. When the young King had raised his banner and united all of Arrowfell, Duke Rhinecliff had fallen in line, understanding the value of peace. When the sorcerous Queen had burned down those halcyon days, Duke Rhinecliff had fallen in line, understanding the value of compliance.

And now, there laid seeds of miracle, plentiful and clustered. There laid Hathforth, seething in the loss of their rightful king, a stallion trembling beneath the abuse of its new owner. There laid the Church, their divine miracles paling in the glory of true power. There laid the den of dukes and duchesses, of guildsmen and shadow-rulers, the province sliding back further into those chaotic, bloody, inglorious days.

He had been the first to step upon the starting line, having seen what laid before the horizon.

Now, the Duke of Rhinecliff will act.

Seed: The ring worn on the middle finger of Duke Rhinecliff's right hand is known as the Memorimime Signet, a Seed that allows for the memories of the wearer to be imprinted upon flat surfaces, whether in the form of static images or in the form of text. This manifests as a projected light from the Seed embedded within the signet ring, which near-instantly places the memory upon the surface it shines upon.

Imprints made by the Memorimime Signet are permanent and cannot be removed. However, the Signet itself can be used to overwrite previous memories at the will of the user. This overwriting does not require the same projecting light to be shone upon the original surface.

Magic:
Ignite - Sets a small flame atop a specified object. Often used to light cigars.
Messenger Bird - Animates a piece of paper or parchment, folding it into the shape of a bird which will then fly off to a specified destination.
Distant Grasp - Projects a telekinetic force within a certain distance, grasping at an object before pulling it within reach of the caster.
Seal Room - Wards a room, preventing those outside the room from entering or eavesdropping through physical or magical means.
Magic Arrow - Fires a magical projectile at an imagined trajectory. If a small object is held in the hand while this spell is cast, the object can be fired instead.
Shroud - Fills the surrounding space with a disorientating fog, where visibility is reduced to zero and sounds are distorted and echoed.
Silence - Shuts someone the fuck up in particular.
Shield - A common spell for self-defense. Can be concentrated into a small point or cast in a bubble around one's self.

Geas - An ancient spell craft during Arrowfell's bloodied past, when the fey courts took too great an interest in human conflict and mankind needed sorceries that could equally bind the traitorous and the capricious. Enables the creation of contracts that prohibit the breaking of the terms and intentions set by the contract. Doing so anyways would inevitably lead to the offender's death.
Frenzy - A strange scent fills the air, an arcane simulacra of the potions taken by the barbarian vanguards of days since past to work up the courage to charge forwards back when the secrets of riding and plated armor had not yet been uncovered. Drives those who smell it into an emotional frenzy as their thoughts slide away and baser instincts take root. Can be fine-tuned to affect only those that the caster wishes to.

Skills: Horse Riding, Religious Knowledge, Poetry, Swordsmanship, Military Strategy, Leadership

Faction: Outside of being the Duke of House Rhinecliff, Laurent is a well-known supporter of the Church of the All-Force, and has influence suitable for one of the establishment's more significant donors.

City: Two days travels east of Hathforth lies the city of Odonfield, ruled by the Duke of Rhinecliff. Rolling hills have been cut into terraces for agriculture, while rivers have been split into streams in order to provide for the needs of farmers across the land. Ancient cairns mark the boundary line between the lands of man and the lands of the fey, and by the Duke's decree, hunters still must observe ancient tradition when encroaching upon the forest to hunt. The Church of the All-Force has a strong presence within Odonfield, grand structures raised up in honor of its saints, and subsequently, Odonfield itself has become a place for the faithful to journey towards. Others come to study and further their scholastic or artistic fields, seeking the patronage of the Duke and the shelter that the great libraries within the Rhinecliff Estate provides.

Assets: Odonfield is a cultural and academic landmark for those of the Arrowfell province, and plenty of hopefuls travel to the city in hopes of catching the eye of the generous, open-minded Duke of Rhinecliff. Few are truly diamonds in the rough, but that doesn't stop them from spending money for the privilege of remaining in the city. Perhaps it is fitting then that Odonfield's greatest exports, then, are that of tobacco and opioids, substances ostensibly needed to stimulate or soothe one's mind. Which duchy in Arrowfell hasn't been gifted a box of Odonfield's finest cigars? Which smoking den hasn't been filled with the haze of Odonfield's fields?
Band of the Falcon inbound.
Got it. Also, what races are there? We sticking with just humans?
So, how much of this RP takes place inside Hathforth Castle (e.g balls and feasts and politics and yapping) and how much of it takes place in the broader Arrowfell province? You mentioned an interfering duke that's preventing the Queen from getting total control of the Glasic Fields, but then there's also a straight up rebellion in place that I'm assuming isn't exactly peaceful.

Regardless,


Those idiots! Did they forget that their fellow mage-biker was right behind them?!

It was like staring into an open oven, the way her eyes teared up reflexively from the intensifying dry heat. Just by existing, the fireball was charring its surroundings, the cheap wallpaper curling away while plastic melted. The sprinkler system was worthless; perhaps the building was too old or the city too corrupt to care for such safety systems. Behind her, the bikers were scrambling away, as was the remaining highschooler. But what could she do? Where could she direct it?

Divert it to the left side and the single high schooler would be caught. Dodge to the side and deflect it back and it would hit the alcohol or the kitchen, and likely trigger an even larger explosion. Send it towards Dante like Finn shouted at her to do and far too many unconscious or prone bikers would just be turned to barbeque by it, and they were all humans. Bounce it upwards? With the building as it was, the ceiling might just collapse upon them all.

Past the solar flame, the threefold barrier made by the trio of mages shone.

“For everyone’s sake, that barrier better be strong, fellas.”

Holy light imbued itself upon her sheathed blade, before Estelle released it as a slash, striking dead-center upon the flaming sphere. The Witch Hunter’s Prohibition traced over the fireball, constricting its arcane capabilities and slowing its flight just enough for her to rush forth and thrust her Instrument dead-center. A chime resounded, the invisible barrier that coated her Dai-katana reacting to the weight of the de-leveled fireball.

With all these factors, Estelle could only hope that she would repel the projectile back into the mages’ barrier.

If she couldn’t though?

Well, her Arcane Defense was her highest Defense.

@Zeroth@TheMushroomLord@PKMNB0Y

Cassius fixed C with a flat look at that parting question.

"No."

And like that, the two were gone, leaving him to the relative quiet of the clinic.

His head ached, he felt sick to the stomach, and he was getting the sense that he had ended up in a situation that'd make it difficult to have a semblance of a normal life, but at the same time, Cassius had accepted that normality wouldn't be something that he could expect at all right now. He could see screens and numbers, and he could send messages to others with what was functionally a thought. He was likely able to understand foreign languages with no issue, and he was clearly not human anymore.

And he had killed someone.

He had killed someone. Someone who was basically a kid. Someone who tried to kill him. Someone who had a family and friends and a life and a job. Someone who was a maniac working for some sort of gang or terrorist organization or something. Someone whose innards were so warm and moist, whose flesh became to resemble the colors of candy and the stench of a butchers shop. Someone who he maybe didn't need to kill, if he had simply aimed for the arm with the sword instead. Someone who could have lived, if he just held them off or held them down for the handful of seconds? minutes? eternities? that it took for Meira to return.

He had killed someone, and there was no going back from that.

Cassius clenched his jaw, furrowed his brows, trying to explode his spiraling thoughts by intensifying the headache he felt. It helped, somewhat, but certainly not enough, certainly not to the point where his imagination didn't recycle that moment over and over again, a playlist of all the bad choices he made within an hour of dying and being reborn only to almost die again. He had to do something. If he slept now, it'd only get worse. His still-functional hand reached for his pockets, but there was nothing there. No smartphone, of course. His smartphone, or at least a cellular phone, dwelt within his mind now. It was as good as any other time to catch up.

C should be speaking with Meira right now. If you have questions, send them over to him so he can ask. I am bed-bound right now, so I won't be able to pick you up. Are you still in the shack? It's night now; I'd recommend hiding somewhere because there's a possibility of someone else occupying it for shelter. Slimes aren't considered dangerous, but maybe they're considered food.

Also, what's your name?
To Slime
Auguz wasn’t stopping this.

That didn’t make sense. What the hell was that orc thinking? If they were using real weapons, which this whole training session was supposed to simulate, a thrust like that would have killed her opponent. Even if it didn’t kill her opponent, it would have destroyed their ability to breathe, and they’d have spent their time wheezing and bleeding until she finished them off a few moments later.

But instead?

The little shit was clutching his chest with one hand and half-charging, half-stumbling towards her with what remained of his strength, swinging wildly. Momentum built up by the third, and soon, the hefty ‘imbalance’ of the wooden mace worked in the weapon’s favor, building up greater and greater speed. With such a difference in mass, there was basically no hope that a direct thrust with her ‘spear’ wouldn’t be swatted away again. Clearly though, if her ‘spear’ wasn’t a spear, she didn’t have any need to treat it as one either.

And between two sticks, the longer one was always better.

Esfir continued to retreat, sliding her hands to the very base of the spear’s shaft. She watched the patterns of the runt’s swings, got the measure of it, and then, in a position more like a baseball player than anything else, retaliated with a swing of her own. The wind whistled as the spear swung diagonally, grazing the dirt as she aimed for her opponent’s shins.



@Zeroth
Bro on the yapping cycle once more.

"Adapa, return."

Amidst the speeches and declarations, the ceremony where one sorted themselves into two competing affiliations, Otis retrieved his Adapa from where he had left it in the forest and re-examined the recording. The creature had surrendered relatively quickly and had invoked rights that it did not actually possess...but that the three who stayed were willing to humor. Ciara had found some form of kinship with it, no doubt, and now, she had approached the golden pillar and announced herself as a Sword. So too did Chunji, a sanguine trickle upon his nose the price of staring into the Sun.

And now, the Strigidae ascended. Valen's gaze was set upon another, but that was no matter.

Instead...

Otis turned towards Principal Raja.

"When I left, there were at least three students who were bound in the clinic. Chloe, Davil, and, as you would know, Gulliver. Rio, from Compact 3, also seems to be missing from the crowd. Now," he gestured the golden pillar, "this would not change my personal intention of joining the Sword of Wund, but for those who have missed the ceremony due to injury or deficiencies, would this event be hosted again? Is there a less ceremonial method of attunement? Or are they simply automatically sorted, as a form of punishment for having failed to attend?" He folded his arms, head tilting to the side. "On a separate note, since you seem to be relatively free at the moment, considering that there's neither a limit on the length of student speeches nor is there any paperwork you need to attend to during this process...Principal Raja, could you provide me with a few examples of the feats one would need to accomplish in order to gain access to the Iris Records?"


Estelle probably would have said something by way of apology, really. In the heat of the moment, she had simply assumed that the shadow-faced hooded biker-mages were up to no good as well, and that it’d be for the better to take the initiative after giving so much initiative to everyone else. But lo and behold, that particular fellow really was just some guy trying to keep his head down.

Doctor Moller had basically given them all a kill order, of course, but mages definitively weren’t monsters, and if they were chill as well?

The Witch Hunter felt a bit bad. She still felt worse though, when the dryad’s vine wrapped around her neck and yanked her back into the fray. Crashing against the table that she had just toppled over herself, Estelle instinctively grabbed at the vine choking her and released another mana-burning prohibition. Holy sigils raced down the length of the vine until it connected to the offending-dryad’s main body, before purifying the evil power that dwelt within. It weakened the creature’s grip enough for Estelle to break free, allowing her to roll away right as a biker’s boot stomped upon where her head was moments ago.

And now it was a proper scramble, a mad melee.

The Dai-Katana, perpetually sheathed, swung from side-to-side, clearing out space and deflecting incoming blows. Two of the dryads were still far too close to the girls for Estelle’s liking, and she forced herself into the space, tripping up one of the bikers as she glided through. Surrounded now by monsters at all angles, her Divine Domain, that eerie sense for chaotic presences, activated at full power, allowing her natural senses instead to turn towards the fireball that was being enhanced by three of the biker-mages.

Oh, that was going to be a problem.

She should probably…

“Hey, hold up!” Estelle said, even as she ducked under the vine-whip of another dryad. “That was entirely my bad, fellows! Thought all of you were getting in on the fighting business too. Listen, we’ve got no problems with mages, and I’m personally just here to help some kiddos get out, so could you just pack up that fireball?”

She glanced to all directions and noted that there was literally no place at all where she could safely deflect that spell without somehow worsening the overall situation.

“I’ll put a good word in for y’all with GEMINI. Even more so if you escort those highschoo- WAIT, WHY ARE YOU STILL THERE?! LEAVE WITH YOUR FRIENDS, GIRL!”
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