First time making samosas from scratch; also making fried pakoras, fruit salad, and daal. I can't wait to try it all~
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likes
21 days ago
Okowa, the sister of sushi! I got my chicken, my fish, my mushrooms - I'm gonna drown it all in soy sauce-
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22 days ago
Maybe I'll play Cyberpunk 2077 some more. My brother maxed out my character a year and a half ago. Haven't seen him since. Miss him.
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1 mo ago
Mica, my pet snail, passed away today. :(
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Bio
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
”Mr. Dawson, why don't you have a seat?” He said, gesturing to the brown leather chair he had his hand resting on.
The men behind Adel stepped forward. They each placed a firm hand around his upper arms, half-guiding, half-dragging Adel to the seat. If Adel struggled in any way, their plan would have been quickly subduing him with a blow to the cheek - but besides tensing up, the man didn’t fight.
They shoved Adel into the seat, twisting it so it faced the mirror. Vincent still had that smirk on his face as he picked up a bowl of shaving cream and an applicator brush on the counter.
Slowly, methodically, Vincent applied shaving cream to Adel's face while speaking.
”Now, my men tell me that you and your spies have decided to make it your home in White Pine. Not that I care too much about that.”
He set down the bowl, picking out a barber's blade instead. He opened it, the fresh gleam of a clean, sharp blade within.
“What I really care about, though, is who set you up to do this.”
The blade pressed against Adel's neck as Vincent leaned over, staring at the man through the mirror.
"A million times I have done this charade. The moment people figure it out, I get the boot." she thought.
"But don't you want to see the fear in their eyes when they see who you really are...? Don't you want dominion of this place, just like how you were unchallenged in Vaal Kastrix?" said the Voice.
Ciara scoffed, immediately thinking of Gulliver and Valen. "I'd love to wipe the smirk off their faces."
"It starts by building a rumor. A rumor of power. This could be the place to start."
She took a deep breath, narrowing her eyes resolutely at the Undermage. "Head Advisor, with all due respect, you have no right to ask me about my intentions. If you want answers..."
She stood from her seat, rising to her full height.
The meeting with Anton and the Duke's emissary is on scene. :>
I have Amerigo and Aubri working on rescuing the princess, the guy their talking with may be able to 'help'.
I have decided to have the Wizard Queen and Lady Safina infiltrate the Duke's court! @ERode, you can choose which nobles they assume, and what event they're going to. @Psyker Landshark You are welcome to get information however you like. :>
And Raiden is ready for your questions, Otter!
I haven't included anyone else as I know Irradiant, Click This and Donut are a bit inactive atm. So the story will focus on our main heroes and villains, and will have more emphasis on the intricacies of subterfuge, discussion and conversation, the makings of court.
”Signore Aubri, Brother Amerigo, although I do wish I could greet you on a more auspicious occasion, in the presence of Her Majesty, no less, my hands a bit tied at the moment.”
She shifted her weight, hands direct behind her back. ”About thirty percent of Hathforth has been consumed by fire. Some of the gangs in the city have taken this as an opportunity to raid and pilfer. More refugees come to the castle, but there is only so much we can do in terms of housing.
On top of all that, I've received word that the perpetrators behind this… Attack, have kidnapped the Princess.”
She leveled a serene yet serious gaze at Aubri. ”You will find the province of Arrowfell to be a willing host, and a supplier of all manner of resources to ensure you find your ship. However, there is something we, something that I would ask of you first.”
Her gaze became more earnest. ”My forces are thin as it is. Please, help us recover the Princess. Then, we help you in anything you need.”
She leaned over to the table, plucking up a rolled piece of parchment, quickly marking it with a quill. Then, she passed it to Signore Aubri. If he were to look at it, he would find an annotated map of Arrowfell, with the city of Nordor marked.
”We have reason to believe she is being held in Nordor, a place that lacks and dislikes magic.”
She gave them a nod, ”The children will stay with us. I will provide horses for your journey. You will want to leave as soon as possible.
“And know that if you are successful, not only will you be considered a friend of the court, but a friend of the people.”
Some Days before the Battle Upon Althius
A Cottage Somewhere In the Island Splitting the Fey River
It was, in some ways, unreasonable to keep a child asleep for days upon end.
It was, perhaps, even something that could not be achieved without magic.
Asteria had woken upon two days ago, in a cozy cottage in the wilds. Her clothes had been changed, and two taciturn attendants saw to her basic needs. Her Seed, as well as any other ornaments she may have worn in Hathforth, were removed, placed in a locked box. The key hung visibly from the older woman’s belt. There it remained.
Perhaps it was a kidnapping. Perhaps it was safeguarding. Her keepers made no demands of her and treated her well enough. If she requested to go outside, she was allowed to within reason. If she wanted to eat something that wasn’t in the pantry though, tough luck. Neither of them would leave her unaccompanied, and it seemed as if there was no way to contact the outside world, to reach out to her brother or her Queen.
At night, the fire crackled in the pit, bright enough to illuminate the pages of the books if she cared to read. During the day, curious wildlife stepped in and out of view of the windows, as if the humans inside were exhibitions to be gawked at.
For two days, there was a mysterious kind of peace.
On the third day, there was a knock on the door.
It was a strange thing for Asteria, being kept like this. Waking up as confused as she was, with two attendants that offered nothing for answers. All she remembered was getting her hair brushed by Arwen, and then…
Darkness.
Something had happened. Something that she only had time to put together. She must have been drugged, yes. That must have been it. And the only likely suspect was Arwen. Or the Innkeeper. Maybe it was in the sweets. Or the tea.
Asteria's desperation to see her brother and report to her Queen culminated on the second night, where she attempted to sneak out. However, she had scarcely crossed the threshold of the dirt path from the door before she felt a hand on her shoulder. The attendant silently, and firmly, guided her back inside. That marked the end of Asteria's attempted escapes.
So it was curious when, on the third day, she heard a knock. Looking up from her book, Asteria glanced at her attendants. Neither made a move for the door. So… was it for her, then?
Asteria sweated a bit, setting her book to the side and drawing to her full, unassuming height of four and a half feet, before she turned the handle and opened the door.
“...Hello?”
“Good day, Asteria.”
Dressed in rugged, more muted attire than he usually did, Duke Rhinecliff stepped into the room, the sun against his back making him more shadow than man. He glanced towards the key-bearing attendant and nodded once, before the woman stepped off to the side to unlock the box containing the Viscountess’s jewelry. It was placed upon a table by the window, where the Duke sat down, motioning Asteria to join him.
He gave her a moment or two to pick at her unsealed belongings. The attendants began to boil a pot of tea, a bitter, floral aroma infusing itself into the atmosphere.
“I’m sure you have questions. Go ahead.”
Asteria had, of course, gracefully curtsied in his presence. But she couldn't help the unsettling atmosphere his presence marked. She followed him to the table, waiting a moment for him to settle before she too, sat.
Her ring bearing a Seed glimmered in her fingers. But, for whatever reason, she didn't feel inclined to wear it. Couldn't. It had been kept from her all this time. The Duke making a move to give it back to her, was he going for a move of good faith? Or a power play?
The demonstration proved one thing, however. Arwen was his. And he was the orchestrator behind this… very soft kidnapping.
So, shyly, Asteria's hand left the ring and her other jewelry on the table, hands folding in her lap. Her eyes gazed at the wood, almost unable to meet the Duke's strong gaze.
Before she looked up. Her voice surprisingly strong. Calm. Accepting.
“Is this punishment for betraying your trust this previous week, Your Grace?”
“No. More an unintended consequence.”
Ah. Asteria nodded to herself. That resolved some of her issues.
A pause, before Asteria's brows furrowed. ”Why… am I still alive? Why am I not dead yet?”
Asteria was certain, after being discovered as the Queen's pawn for a nefarious plot, she would be dead at the Duke's hand. He had pardoned them at the time, but… perhaps all was not as it seemed. He had called for her sedation, and had kidnapped her. But for whatever reason, he hadn't killed her, yet, though he had all the opportunity and motive to do so.
“From a personal standpoint, Asteria, I don’t particularly enjoy ordering the deaths of children. It’s short-sighted to put an end to the future in order to keep in place the present, and I had no enmity towards your parents.”
Asteria's gaze softened a bit, being reminded of her parents. She slowly nodded again. ”I see.”
So he had never intended to kill her…
An attendant approached, pouring a cup of tea for the ducal lord and then, at his glance, a cup for the young viscountess as well. He lifted the dainty cup up against the light that poured in through the window, watching it render the steam visible, before taking a small sip.
“Another broke into the estate after you, by the way. Would you happen to know who they were?”
At that, Asteria's heart skipped a beat. It was the scene at the Duke’s inner courtyard all over again. Immediately, her cheeks flushed, and she sank a bit in her seat, staring at the tea poured for her.
Telling the Duke meant betraying the Queen outright, with intent and malice against the Crown. To be found out would be treason of the highest order, and she would be killed in a spectacular way at the plaza.
Her gaze locked onto the Duke's, analyzing him. By all intents and purposes, she should be grateful to him. He had her drugged, yes, but he had taken care of her after that. And she remembered how he smiled at her when she had visited his estate with her brother.
So she made a choice. A pawn that was spent and discovered only had one move left to play, after all.
Her gaze dropped to her tea, before she gently cradled it in her hands. ”If I tell you, Your Grace…”
She shyly looked up at him. ”Will you protect us, my brother and I… from the Wizard Queen?”
There was no deception in the gaze he returned. “I was going to do it regardless. Though I suppose you couldn’t have known all that has happened, and all that will soon happen.”
A small, grateful smile graced Asteria's lips. She recounted all that she knew of the plan that the Wizard Queen had told her. She recounted what she was taught at the Orphan's Matron.
”Typically, orphans will do preliminary tasks asked by the Wizard Queen, with an organization called the Concord completing the tasks. It was the same case with uh, what happened at your estate. The Concord would have been sent in to, uhm, remove your treasury.
“I never learned of any names, but there were a few faces I came to know. She always wore a mask, but she had the most striking purple eyes, and these long, pointed ears… She was very prominent, and was involved in almost every request of the Queen’s. I'm sorry I don't know her name, but she would have been involved.”
Despite knowledge of her misdeeds and outsized punishments, Duke Rhinecliff still found it difficult to believe that the Wizard Queen would turn to execute those whom she had brought up and cared for. It took a particularly cold individual to see adopted children as but pawns on the board, a coldness that he had associated more with misers and bastards who ran mills and mines, but on the other hand, perhaps Evelyn was the far-seeing sort. She had, after all, named a mermaid a princess, and only recently made her plans known to plunge into Althius to seek a monstrosity.
How much of this was kindness? How much of this calculation?
“And the Concord…does it handle assassinations as well?” Duchess Bastille never got back to him about her investigations regarding that new ‘noble’ who had popped up so soon after the complete extermination and subsequent non-investigation of House Corrin. “Were they involved in the massacre at House Corrin? Or does the Queen have a third arm for that purpose?”
Asteria's head tilted, thinking very hard. ”Well… People would disappear when the Concord was involved. I think that means they would end up, well, dead. There were rumours of a few jobs like that. Infrequent, but they were there…”
Before she softly shook her head. ”But the Concord was not involved with what happened at House Corrin. Princess Keove, she frequents us quite a bit. I heard she said she was sent on a mission to ask the best and most malleable, for such a task. Apparently they were… miners?” Asteria said, a sheepish wince crossing her face. ”That might just be hearsay, though. My apologies, Your Grace.”
Leave it to a half-fish to be cold-blooded enough to become the Queen’s broker in death-deals within the span of two years. And leave it to the Queen to look into sellswords to do the dirty work once more. Duke Rhinecliff took a small sip of tea, then leaned back against the chair, folding his hands over his lap.
“It is no issue at all, Viscountess. Having the name of these clandestine organizations alone is more than I could have expected. Now, allow me to catch you up to what you have missed…”
He took a breath. One to collect his thoughts, and then another for dramatic impact.
And then, with no uncertainty at all, the Duke of Odonfield spoke of everything that has happened, and everything that is to come. The brewing rebellion in Nordor, after the news of Sev Willowsteel’s rescue and escape at the hands of the remnants of Duke Corrin’s personal guard and a gallant dragon-rider. The movements of the undead legions within Ravenfell, the intentions of the Necro-Lord in subsuming the entirety of Arrowfell in his quest to exact vengeance upon the Wizard-Queen. And the Wizard-Queen herself, seeking to raise a leviathan from the depths in order to further consolidate her iron-clad rule over the Arrowfell, gambling the majority of the province’s military power on this gamble.
As well, Mene’s own situation, bound upon the same ship that Her Majesty rode upon, bound to the maelstrom of conflicts and bloodshed within but a week’s time.
“Now, knowing all this, I would like to ask: do you think you can convince your brother to leave with you?”
Asteria's mind spun with the information the Duke gave her. So much had changed. So much was happening. Most of it… for the worse.
She allowed herself a long sip of her tea, collecting her thoughts, before she answered the Duke. Her brother, though he loved her, had always been closer to the Queen. He seemed to lack the uncle-like appreciation she held for Duke Rhinecliff. Knowing Mene, he was adamant he only needed to prove himself a little more to open the floodgates of the Queen's admiration.
Asteria set down her tea, pausing before she spoke. ”I have to try. He'll listen to me, he always has…”
“People change.” A pause. “Family changes too.”
Duke Rhinecliff knew well what the Wizard-Queen had done, after all. The carrot-and-stick was common because it was effective, used by tyrants and slavers alike. Extinguishing the entire Furino lineage, leaving only a traumatized child to raise as one saw fit. Awarding soul-scarring acts of betrayal with accolades and promotions, normalizing a mindset that prioritized loyalty to a single, all-encompassing force. There were worshippers of the All-Force who were less zealous than that, but it made sense.
A vaguely benevolent force could not compare to the weight of gold, and the threat of death.
“Try, but prepare for an escape if need be. I don’t want to put your brother in a position where he must hand over his sister.” Laurent stroked his chin. “Though if you’d like, I could arrange for his abduction instead, so long as you share with me what his Seed could be?”
Asteria quickly nodded, before hesitating briefly. A slight swallowing of the lump in her throat. She was really divulging all her secrets, wasn't she.
”It's a Luck Seed. Not like those wish-whashy charms. Potent. Whatever he desires, if it's possible, it'll likely happen.”
Aster stared at her cooling tea for a moment before she looked at the Duke again.
”You'll… be careful with him, right, Your Grace …?”
“Of course. I got you here without issue, after all.”
It was late evening, dusk's light slowly fading from the sky. Potentate Brinyar Heavy-handed sat staring into a bright campfire, his two escorts tending to the horses.
This was where they were meant to meet up, on the cliffside overlooking the Glasic Fields. Even now, it only took a turn of his head to spy the sea of luminescent pearls that spread out down below - the mark of Seeds growing, soon to be plucked. Lit up against the darkening sky was Fort Keove, a fortification of wood and stone that sat at one end of the Fields. Torches sparkled like fireflies around the edges of the Fields, marking knights making their rounds.
First impressions made the Fields appear heavily guarded. But how they would tackle this mission was up to his esteemed donor, and their special guest.
The log cracked, sending sparks up to dance in the air.
They'd be here soon. Then, they would march on the Fields.
A light thrumming of feet followed Duchess Bastille as she ascended the cliffside on which she would convene with the Potentate and Duke Rhinecliff. Trailing behind the golden-garbed duchess was a motley crew of Agrovian foot soldiers, all of whom she had personally handpicked. More of them were stationed at the cliff's base, primed to receive further orders.
The duchess' cape swayed slightly in the wind, but the great pieces of armor that were fitted around her were stiff as rocks. Heavy as they might have been, however, she seemed to be able to move about unencumbered: a result of her levitation magic at work. Her footsteps came to a halt once the campfire's light hit her eyes.
"Ah, Sir Brinyar Heavy-handed," she greeted, bearing a sense of familiarity in her tone. "So you are the first among us to arrive."
The area surrounding the campfire shimmered and rippled momentarily - the only indication that she had walked through a cloaking spell meant to hide their fire from the guards down below. Brinyar stood, giving a small bow to the duchess.
“Duchess Bastille, it's been some time…”
She gazed outwards, taking in the view of the Seeds below. "Beautiful, is it not?" The moon's glow, coupled with the Seeds' reflective nature, made for quite the spectacle, to say nothing of the vibrant colors bouncing off from them. It was, indeed, beautiful.
Brinyar once again resumed his seated position in front of the fire. She sat next to the Potentate, running her hands against the warmth of his campfire all the while. "Violetta Aliz heads the defenses of Fortress Keove, does she not?"
"A former knight of the previous king," the duchess posited, recounting her intel on the woman. "Perhaps she can be reasoned with."
She let out a chuckle. "Monsters? They can be vanquished with little thought." A contemplative pause. “But humans, or others of a similar ilk..."
Another light-hearted chuckle. "Well, let's just say that one's perspective on morality can… complicate matters."
Brinyar stared solemnly at the fire, watching the flames slowly chew through wood. ”Yes… The holy scriptures, however, give rights to man in the case of an infringement of basic rights. The Wizard Queen conducts her reign of terror with these Seeds. To free ourselves, and rebel against her unjust rule, it would be fair, encouraged, even, to cut the snake's head off, so to speak.
“I… tried to warn her. But she's beyond listening. These Fields are a danger to the Province, specifically the monsters. The Seeds and their corrupted use are a danger, specifically strong Seeds being used to control the people.”
Brinyar’s gaze turned to the duchess. “If we can push back, even a little, it will be the first victory for the people in a long time…”
A new voice spoke up.
“And such a victory will form the foundation for further gains.”
It was the smoldering ember of his cigar that gave away his presence as he stepped out from the shadows into the firelight. Little has changed of his own appearance, no armaments and armor breaking up his silhouette. A cloak embroidered with blueberry brambles, and a walking stick with a brass-gold tip. His spectacles gleamed in the warm light, and his mustache turned upwards in greeting.
Brinyar stood once more and gave a polite bow. “Your Grace…”
Duke Rhinecliff continued. “We will uncover the nature of the monsters within the Glasic Fields, have first-hand experience with just what the Seeds are in their natural state, and be able too, perhaps, to confirm whether they are a gift of the All-Force or the temptation of the Shade.”
Duke Rhinecliff himself had brought no troops for this expedition. Instead, only a flame-haired mage had accompanied him, mud-caked sandals on her feet and a crimson shawl over her shoulders. If it was through specialized tools that the Royal Gardeners did their work, then Henrietta would be able to do the work of a legion of them. If it was through magic however?
Well, she was still curious as to what had happened to the Fields since they were sealed. And a craftswoman’s curiosity was a hard thing to divert.
Brinyar's gaze fell on Duke Rhinecliff's accompanying mage, and gave a nod. “If you're with His Grace, I have no reason to doubt you.”
Before he pulled a folded parchment from the folds of his uniform, opened it, and presented it to both Duchess Bastille and Duke Rhinecliff. Upon the weathered parchment were inky machinations and diagrams of the Glasic Fields and its Fort Keove.
Brinyar pointed to a ring around the fields. ”This is the path that's constantly patrolled by the Queen's guards. Getting past them without being seen would be… difficult.”
He then pointed to a square shape on the side. ”This is the fort. There are fewer men standing guard at its watch towers, so we may have a chance at slipping through undetected by scaling the back wall and taking the fort by surprise.”
His focused gaze glanced at both nobles. ”What do you say, Your Graces?”
Altina debated the options in her head. To sneak through to the fort was certainly not a bad plan. Though, it would mean that they would have to cut down on their numbers in order to move with the utmost stealth. If there was one thing that the battlefield and all its scars had taught her, it was that one must always be prepared for the worst. And the worst — in this case — was getting caught, and the consequences that entailed. Perhaps there was yet another avenue of entry that the Potentate was overlooking.
The duchess silently mulled over the possibilities. "Brinyar," she began tentatively. "What if we forgo the sneaking and... present ourselves as helpers?" Another thought stewed in her mind. "Helpers of the queen, even."
"That is to say, we can infiltrate their ranks while under the guise of aiding them with their little… monster problem."
She knew the idea sounded silly without an explanation, so she provided one.
"This should also afford us a chance to gauge their loyalties towards the queen."
"As for what comes next..." Her expression turned serious. "That is a bridge we can cross later."
She cast a discerning glance at Duke Rhinecliff and his entourage, before turning again to face the Potentate. "Two birds, one stone," she concluded confidently. "Or am I being naive?"
Duke Rhinecliff placed his hand upon his chin, eyes contemplative.
“Two ducal lords and a potentate make for an odd combination to send as helpers of the Queen,” he said. “Do you have any finer details for this plan, Duchess?”
If they presented themselves as they were, the fortress would have been informed of the aristocracy’s arrival beforehand. If they presented themselves as mere ‘helpers’, their identities would still have to stand up to scrutiny before they could enter perhaps the most lucrative plot of land in Arrowfell.
But Altina had wanted to be in charge, so he would let her lead.
They could deal with the freefall afterwards.
Brinyar had to nod his head along with Duke Rhinecliff. His eyes centered on Duchess Bastille. ”Alas, folk of our caliber would be thought to be above simple monster-hunting work, even if the monsters are… unique.
“Though… it's possible I could play the angle of purifying the monsters, escourted by two nobles of the highest order. But without a letter from the Queen, they likely won't believe we would be working on Her behalf.
“...Perhaps there's something in your plan that may make this work. Something we're missing. I believe more details on your plan would be impertinent, Your Grace.”
"Hm..." Altina pondered Duke Rhinecliff's assessment. The Odonfield ruler was certainly not off the mark, and her plan did lack the proper foresight. Truly, if the Queen had sent helpers to the Fields, it would not be someone of their station. She crossed her arms, a finger tapping anxiously on her left. "Allow me a moment to think."
Her mind wandered to one of Agrovia's staunchest allies, Woodhurst.
The township of Woodhurst had been recently experiencing an uptick in monster attacks. In one of these incidents, a sighting of an unknown monster was reported. Though she never saw it in person, Altina surmised that it must have originated from the Fields one way or another.
Had some of the monsters slipped through the cracks, unbeknownst to the Queen's knights at Fortress Keove? If so, perhaps that could give her an excuse to come knocking at their gates…
Under the pretense of airing out grievances, she could cause a scene, and attract attention.
Then, Duke Rhinecliff and the Potentate could make their move.
"Have either of you caught wind of a... particular development in Woodhurst?" Finally, Altina spoke. "A monster of mysterious origin was spotted wreaking havoc in the town." Her lips pursed into a devilish smile. "It is a shame that the Queen's forces are incapable of protecting the masses from the damned beasts."
"Given their incompetence, shall I... waltz in there and demand that I do it myself?"
She met eyes with the duke, returning to some semblance of seriousness, and then the Potentate. "I believe that your plan, Brinyar, offers more chances of success than mine."
"Thus, let me act as your smokescreen." She let out a mischievous laugh. "I'm quite adept at putting on a show, you know," she boasted playfully. She flicked a teasing gaze at the duke. "Wise old Rhinecliff knows as well, seeing as he bore witness to my antics at the Hearthfire Gala."
"So what say the both of you, gentlemen?"
Brinyar nodded, folding up his map and tucking it away in a breast pocket. ”I believe it is a fair plan, Your Grace. I'm ready on Your Graces’ mark.”
“Ah,” Laurent replied, a touch of bemused wistfulness in his voice. “And what I’d do to bear witness to such antics once more. Go ahead then, Duchess Bastille.”
Altina clapped her hands together, a sure sign she was happy with the duke's and the Potentiate's approval. "Music to my ears!" A wide grin spread across her face. "Well then, we must not tarry any longer."
Altina soon trekked down the cliffside, with her armed guard in tow, and it wasn't long until the sight of Fortress Keove entered her vision. But first came the watch towers, from which she could spot some of the queen's soldiers quickly descending. They must have seen her already, as they moved with a sense of urgency. It was warranted urgency, of course, considering the strategic importance of the Fields to Hathforth, to say nothing of her unwelcome presence. Their torches flickered back and forth as they came to meet her. She could make out their narrowed eyes, practically staring daggers at her. Though, their gazes relaxed slightly once they finally recognized who she was.
Out of reflex, Altina threw daggers of her own, her eyes boring holes into the men, as if to intimidate them. Truthfully, she did not intend to stare at them so. However, her pride did not allow her to concede, and therefore, she returned their gaze back at them. A petty reaction it was, one born from Altina's oft-misguided impulses.
"I would like a word with your superior." A straightforward, if not terse, request. She spat it out the moment she stood face-to-face with them. "It seems Fortress Keove is not lacking for incompetence. I am here to fix that." The duchess did not mince words.
The guard leading the troop that met Duchess Bastille gave a curt bow. The others behind him followed suit, though never taking their eyes off her.
”Your Grace, Duchess Bastille, we were not expecting you. You understand one needs express permission from the Wizard Queen to be here, yes?” The lead guard said, words hanging in the air. Regardless, though, he did turn to whisper to one of his men, who quickly turned around and jogged back to the fort.
”I'll need to see some proof of Her Majesty's good graces, regardless of the business you may have here.” The lead guard said, turning back to her.
The duchess was none too happy with the reception, and it shone in her expression, which twisted into the most displeased frown. "In truth, sirs, it is not me who has business here, but the domain of Woodhurst."
A sharp inhale. "Lumberyards, destroyed. Home, lost in the wreckage. Lives, taken by an unknown assailant."
Altina plunged her greatsword into soil. "Where was the Queen's guard in their time of need?"
She looked the watchman in the eyes once more. "How was their fealty to the Crown repaid?"
She walked closer, her gait as cool as a breeze in winter. "With negligence. With utter dereliction of duty." Yet, fire erupted from her mouth.
"Do not mistake me for an uninformed woman. I know of the mysterious monsters that have been emerging from the fields."
A narrowed gaze, now made even narrower. "And I know that some of them have escaped your purview."
She retrieved her blade from the ground, now slinging it over her shoulders. "So, allow me to do it. To dispose of them."
A mischievous chuckle. "Do not worry. I will not try anything."
"You may even watch me - in all of my splendor - as I vanquish them, if you so wish."
The lead guard's face blanched at the news. Nevertheless, he held his position firmly.
”I'm afraid I cannot allow you to interfere with the-”
His voice faded as he heard the pad of two sets of footsteps behind him. One belonged to the runner, the other to General Aliz, her armor clicking softly and her dark hair smooth.
”Duchess Bastille. I have half a mind to arrest and imprison you on grounds of suspicious activity at these Fields.”
Her tone was cold, and her eyes like flints of ice.
“Explain yourself.”
"If it isn't General Aliz. Nice of you to join us." A somewhat friendly greeting fluttered from Altina's lips. Though, from them also dripped venom.
The duchess took note of the general's stance and let out a dismissive laugh. "Oh my. Such hostility..." She remarked, seemingly feigning fear. But her face was as blank as can be.
A carefree wave of the hand. "Worry not. I'm aware of my place in the pecking order. I do not seek to undermine the authority of the Queen over the Fields."
Reducing her voice to a whisper, she added, "Unlike the senile Duke Rhinecliff, or that dolt Duke Willowsteel, I am wholly appreciative of Agrovia's current prosperity in Arrowfell, no doubt in part thanks to the Queen's rulership."
Altina had technically told the truth. However, she had also framed things in such a way to distance herself from any rumors of rebellion, putting down her fellow dukes to lift herself up. Her objective? Why, to beget trust, of course. Between herself and the general.
"That said..." Her friendly facade had now disappeared, and a different mask would take its place. "What I am not appreciative of is incompetence and inaction. You've heard tell of the monsters that have utterly ravaged Woodhurst, yes?" There was little hint of anger in her eyes, but one could still surely observe the dying embers flickering within. "Your men are to blame for the incidents." With a pointed finger, she stepped closer to the general. "And as their superior, you bear most of that blame, Miss Aliz."
"So, I once again present to you my proposition. Allow me to deal with the monsters."
She backed off. "If you still believe me suspicious, you may place me under arrest."
"Though, you — nay, not only you, but the Queen herself — would risk losing allies."
The duchess chuckled devilishly. "In such precarious times as now, the more allies, the better, no?" The general was surely abreast of the matters that occurred at the execution grounds. Now more than ever, it was obvious that the Queen was losing her grip over Arrowfell. To imprison someone who purports to be a friend to the Queen would only speed up that process.
"The decision is in your hands, General Aliz."
“Well, look at her go.”
It was enough that she had drawn out the leader of the guards there. The weight of a duchess’s grievances alone should be enough to pull the commander of the fort over, and in that moment, the chain of command would be disrupted. And as for matters of the cliffside? Duke Rhinecliff extinguished his cigar, sliding it into a leather pocket. While Duchess Bastille drew the attention of those present to the front of the fort, it was the task of the second group to maneuver around and get to the back of the fort, whether in preparation for assault or for assistance. And in this case, that meant navigating the cliffside at night, with thick cloaks toss over steel armor and in constant awareness of the sightlines of the watchtower.
If they did manage to get to the cliffside safely though, they were practically safe. The blindspot of a fortress upon a cliff, after all, was that they were naturally preoccupied with only the side that an army could most easily march up towards.
“After you, Potentate.”
Brinyar gave the Duke a nod before heading along in the darkness, the warmth of the fire receding rapidly. He could see them from here still, the small figure of the Duchess holding her own against a bunch of upset guards, and the general.
Thank the All-force. He sighed with relief.
Soon, the two had made it to the cliffside overlooking the back of the fort. More guards had been drawn to the front, leaving gap in their sight along the back momentarily.
”How are we getting down, Your Grace?” Brinyar asked, hand itching at his sword.
“There’s a reason why I asked for only your finest, Potentate.”
Whispered incantations were drawn away by the wind, before glass-like barriers emerged, forming precarious platforms they could leap down from one at a time. Shield magic, when applied with a modicum of creativity, certainly offered more possibilities than a simple fireball would.
“I’d say to take your time,” Duke Rhinecliff said, “But I’m getting on with my years, so if you could hasten the pace, it would do well for my reserves.”
Brinyar gave the platforms a look, before nodding to the Duke, and leapt down to the first one. His feet were spread wide, anticipating the sink of the platform as it adjusted to his weight.
No worse than leaping onto a boat. He thought in passing, before leaping to the next platform, and the one after that.
With attention drawn to the front of the fort, the back was entirely exposed, and Brinyar landed on his two feet along the guard walk of the roof, pressing his back into the wall. A breath, before he dashed around the corner, drawing his pommel across the back of a guard's head. They crumpled like a sack of potatoes, and he took a moment to bind the guard's hands.
He didn't know if they were going to be lucky in being non-lethal with all the guards, but he'd at least take the opportunity when it presented itself.
Brinyar retreated back to the roof access door, giving an eye to the Duke, his sword glowing a brilliant gold. They'd enter the inner-side of the fort together.
Their invasion was swift and undisturbed, Duke Rhinecliff maintaining fine control of the Silence and Seal Room spells to enable the Potentate’s men to do their own work on the martial front. His companion, the flame-haired witch, ducked her head into a couple of rooms and came back with animated armors: worthless for actual battle, but great for deceptively bolstering their numbers for the purpose of cowing guards into submission.
It was smooth, outside of the few instances where they came across magical traps that needed to be worked around. Soon enough, the combined forces of Rhinecliff and the Church had taken over enough space within the fortress to be able to do away with subterfuge altogether, as they made it over to where the Royal Gardeners kept their own equipment.
“Duchess Altina appears to be playing the role of a very reasonable guest,” Laurent spoke. It had been some time since they’ve heard anything from the Lady of Agrovia. “Shall we examine the tools of the trade while we wait?”
Meanwhile, the General raised her head at the front of the gate. It was quiet. Her head turned to the fort. Studied it for a moment. There was no movement. Her guards weren't doing their patrols.
In a fine, smooth schling of metal, she drew her sword, leveling it at the Duchess.
”Duchess Bastille… Explain to me why you've been standing here wasting my time while someone has taken over my fort?”
An offended expression played on Altina's face. "Oh?" Seeing the general's blade drawn, she too drew her own blade, a trio of them in fact, spinning in a vicious circle around her.
Her expression was all an act, of course. However, since there was little evidence to associate the duchess with the "insurgents" that the general had spoken of, she had thought it wise to maintain her innocence.
The duchess clicked her teeth in annoyance. Another feigned act. "You mean to accuse me of conspiring against the Queen?" Her voice rose ever so slightly as she spoke. "I can assure you that I have no ill intent."
She took one of the floating blades into her hand and pointed it at the general. "But I do not take provocations lightly, Miss Aliz. If you wish to waste more time by crossing steel with me, you may do so at your own… peril."
The duchess' bloodlust shone briefly from the beast-like glint in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an anger befitting a noble throwing a fit. Steady yourself, Altina. She'd almost forgotten the reason why she was here. The allure of being able to test her mettle against the Queen's finest general almost proved too great a temptation.
Alas, before the General could take Duchess Bastille on her offer, Duke Rhinecliff and the Potentate appeared at the door. Three against one, the General didn't want to take her chances.
So, she, with the remaining guards, left the fort with what dignity they had. That left the three victors to take whatever spoils they desired from the fields. Indeed, the Seeds grew on trees like ripening fruit, glistening and glowing. However, dark creatures were always around the Seeds. Duke Rhinecliff took a few for research.
And Duchess Bastille?
She set the Glasic Fields on fire.
By the time the army returned, the fort and the Fields were untempered fires burning high in the night sky.
Blue is the army's collective magic. Green is the bolstered shield by the city guard.
As the fire ravaged and decimated Upper Bristol, the cries of the people could be heard. Outraged, in shock, crying as they watched what little they had burn to ash.
Before a war horn bellowed, and the Outer Bristol City Gate opened. A thousand soldiers, clad in armor, capes and hoisting the colours of Fort Chrysanthemum stood mounted at the precipice.
Captains were quick to issue commands, and the most proficient mages discounted, collected at the gate. A sample of the fire was collected, analyzed for its magical and chemical properties, before it was added to the center of their magical framework. Slowly, surely, a ball of void with slowly golden edges formed. It surged up high over the wall, and began functioning as a powerful black hole. As per its magical instructions, all the fire was tagged in its system as the only element it would absorb. And absorb it did, hungrily, backed by the energy of a hundred mages. The mages stayed below the orb, venturing forward in the smoking ruins of the city, fire absorbed away.
They would slowly make their way down to North Pearl, and if they were lucky, they would quench out this nonsensical fire for good. Their pace was slow at a walk, but it was steady.
Meanwhile, the rest of the soldiers entered the city, assisting in healing surviving residents, preparing temporary shelters, and assisting the city guard. Namely, several of the soldiers helped to extend and bolster the white shield protecting Belleborne.
Arwyn's focus was wholly focused on smothering the flames, but they rebelled strongly against her Feathered Rain. Strange.
It meant there was something, or someone actively feeding these flames. But before she could elaborate further on that thought, disaster struck.
It struck from behind, hard and fast. The piercing of an arrow. Arwyn acted on instinct, activating her Seed. Time froze around her, and the arrow stopped its incessant piercing. Thank the All-force; the arrow felt like it had stopped maybe half an inch from her heart.
Instantly, red-hot feathers covered her body as she reached for the frozen arrow. Tears pricking her eyes, she pulled. Gritted teeth stemmed the scream bursting from her chest as she yanked the arrow out, blood coating the stone around her. Quickly, Feathered Healing took effect, replenishing lost blood and closing the wound.
And then, time resumed to normal.
Immediately, Arwyn's head whipped around, and she spied a lonely figure on a parapet. Instinctively, her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled back in hot contempt. She raised a hand, and feathery flames collected in the air above her. A magnificent Feathered Nightmare formed, its shrieks piercing the air before it flapped its long wings, taking off and aimed straight for the long figure. Its ember-like talons outstretched, hoping to scoop the man right off the parapet.
The archer let out a low whistle. Mage against martial, and you could even things out with some strategy, some cunning. But Seeds, able to enact miracles without incantation or sigil?
That made things fall elsewhere. Would the poison even be enough, or did it get burned away in the resulting spell?
Mattered little; a great demonic bird was diving down towards him now, and he dove down to greet it. Ducking beneath the talons, the cloaked figure reached out with a gloved hand and grabbed the tail feathers that whipped by. The leather sizzled from the heat, the unnatural phenomenon felt in his palm, but he yanked at it regardless, tearing out a clump of feather on passing. Birds, normal birds at least, needed tail feathers for stability and braking in flight. Did Dremoran birds need the same?
Well, Arwyn didn’t have tail feathers, so she at least didn’t need to obey the laws of aerodynamics.
Arrows were snagged out from his quiver, held between his fingers as he nocked his longbow once more. He took sight, aimed, and fired a volley towards the winged knight, testing her ability to evade out in the open.
As he watched, the scene unfolded before as he wished. The Feathered Nightmare, with a lack of flight feathers, tumbled and crashed. And, Arwyn, crying out, failed to evade, and was struck by the arrows.
The silence was deafening. Until, there was a shimmering within the cloaked figure's sight. Then, a sudden shattering of his vision as the illusion was willfully broken. The reality he had missed precious seconds of was, well, quite the opposite of what the illusion had him assuming.
Behind him, the Feathered Nightmare hovered in the air, glowing gold from its healing magic. From its outstretched wings, bolts of feathered flames arced around the cloaked figure, attempting to make contact with curled trajectories. If successful, they would ignite into cursed fire, eating up flesh and mana, and be unable to be put out by conventional means.
Meanwhile, Arwyn was alight with her own pair of feathered wings, sailing inches from the cloaked figure’s face. Her sword was alight with fire, aiming to slash him in half.
This would be the end.
It didn’t need to be said. They were all too experienced to need verbal confirmation. The various shadowy assassins of the Concord changed tacks as soon as the first demon was visually confirmed. Poison coatings on their weapons were burned away and replaced with spellfire, lightning, and frost enchantments. Ambush positions shifted to not rely upon one strike felling any intruders.
”Jenkins,” Safina inclined her masked head in the direction of one of her subordinates. ”Head for the surface. Follow after Countess Vernon. Inform her we have a demonic infestation. Failing that, inform any royal guardsman you see.” The assassin in question bowed his head and disappeared in a burst of magic, rapidly making his way through a secret tunnel.
Meanwhile, Safina and the remainder of the Concord turned their attention back towards the entrance the first demon had emerged from, ready and waiting for more to appear. Despite their preparation, there was nonetheless an air of apprehension among these seasoned killers. Demons were always a volatile unknown, even among those that had faced them before.
They didn’t have to wait long.
It took a substantial amount of mana to summon and collar a denizen of Dremora’s Shade, but when it came to simply conjoining the planes and conjuring an out-of-control monster? It was something that even apprentices could do, so long as they didn’t mind dying in the process. You could sacrifice lifespan, you could construct a Seed, you could fuse your soul, but in the end, all those methods were solely focused on control.
It was ironic, perhaps, that the second demon to arrive was a Feathered Nightmare, a giant bird cloaked in cursed flames. Its deep, carmine feathers scattered as it slammed through corridors too small for its expansive frame, and it let out a sharp shriek as it haphazardly flew towards the assassins.
Arrows and crossbow bolts feathered the Nightmare as it entered the killbox, taking it in the head and both eyes as it crashed to the ground, bolts of magic following up immediately afterward to finish it off.
”This is getting us nowhere.” Safina murmured under her breath before pointing at two of the assassins with her. ”Both of you, with me. We’ll circle around using the tunnels and scout out further ahead. I want to confirm if there’s still a summoner alive. The rest of you, keep holding.”
The passageway leading to Hathforth’s vault was littered with secret tunnels inside the walls, holding convenient peepholes every now and then to keep an eye on potential intruders. It was through these that Safina and two of her men rushed through, keeping an eye on the demonic incursion within the halls.
When the attackers, the ‘Clandestine’, took what they needed, namely some of the few Seeds in the vault, and the kidnapping of the Princess, they withdrew. The fire stopped spreading, allowing the city guard and the army to deal with the aftermath. However, that wasn't the last blow dealt to them, as the treasury in Fort Chrysanthemum was stolen from.
Soon, though, the fires died down, arrests were made on the pilfers, the portals were sealed, and Shades vanquished, and a sense of normalicy somewhat returned to Hathforth.
The Wizard Queen had returned to Hathforth a few days earlier than the ships, leaving Vulluin, Captain Thorne, Duchess Agustria and Callum to watch the dragon, traitorous Sparrow, and trailing Ingens.
Now, she stood in her private study, accompanied only by Lady Safina, who had previously informed her of what had happened below within the castle's tunnels. The Wizard Queen's face was turned to the window, where rain pelted down on a stormy day.
Indeed, it was a dark day.
”I will be staying in Hathforth for some time, Lady Safina. I wish to oversee the reconstruction of the homes and markets lost in the blaze.”
She turned to gaze at the elf, her illuminated eyes hard. ”We can rule out this attack was the Clandestine. It's not possible for them to be in two places at the same time. The only other likely culprit would be Duke Rhinecliff's little ‘rebellion’, or those emissaries from the MSR. I find it unlikely the Most Serene Republic would incite war flippantly. So, suspicion lies with the good Duke. Though, without proof, we would be made the villain to go after him.”
She turned fully to the elf, hands clasped behind her back. ”That's why I'm giving you a special mission. I want you and I to travel to Odenfield and infiltrate Duke Rhinecliff's court. Any meetings, any events he holds, we will be there, playing as some lesser nobles of his. Preferably advisors.
I will be puppeting Countessa Vernon, she will be unconscious for the duration of this mission. That way, if she is captured, she can answer truthfully that she is unaware. You have the advantage of your Seed, so I am less worried about you.” She said, the slightest smile on her face.
”We will be using long-instant Glamour that should last as long as our mission. That way we can assume the missing nobles. And rest assured, the kidnaping of the nobles we will be replacing will be complete by the time we arrive.”
She made a slight grimace. ”I am trusting those emissaries to return my daughter to me safe and sound. Alas, I can only run myself so thin. They will focus on that, we will focus on this.”
Middas, 2nd Frostfall, 1402, Five Days After the Battle of Hathforth and Athius
The two ‘nobles’, Lady Safina and Countessa Vernon, were disguised and resting in a carriage, moving through the city of Odenfield. Just hours before, the nobles they were replacing had been removed, allowing them to now seamlessly take up their roles in society.
As it just so happened, there was an event going on in Odenfield. They would be attending, and attempting to garner all the information they could. And if they could influence a few nobles, maybe even the Duke himself, with some well-placed words, all the better.
It was another bright, sunny day in Odenfield. The coolness of Frostfall was only barely touching the wind, allowing for lighter clothes to still be worn while traveling.
Ryllae and Gervese were approaching the plantation in question, packed with nothing but provisions for a light lunch of the opportunity presented itself. Ryllae's dress was a little classier this day, with a silk white dress adorning her person.
Ryllae knew the emissary of the Duke had no reason to doubt Anton, but with the state of the nation at the moment, a little caution was always a good idea.
The fields of green tobacco plants stirred in the wind around them as Ryllae and Gervese came to a stop on the side of the dirt road.
Azalea didn't remember much after shutting the door to her quarters in the castle. Explosions, voices, double-vision. Then, before she knew it, she woke up in a strange place.
At first, it appeared like any normal townhouse. One bedroom and a study on the top floor. A kitchen with a pantry and a hearth, sitting area, and lavatory with a hole physically drilled in the ground. However, there were no windows. The shutters were sealed with magic. The front door too, was sealed shut, no matter how much she yanked and pulled on it. The place was absent of knives and sharp objects. The pantry held basic necessities, like water barrels, cheese, and hard loaves. But no meat, and no spies, nothing fancy. Essentially, it was prison food. The townhouse itself was plain and drab, without decoration. The bed held a hay mattress and a fur. The sitting area was little more than stools and a shelf of books.
No matter how hard she screamed, no one came. No matter how hard she banged on the door, enough to make her knuckles bleed, no one came. She was effectively and surely trapped.
Nordor, Golden Grape Fields on the Outskirts of the City
As the two seamen rode their horses in to Nordor, they would be hit with a plethora of senses. The air was scented with wine. And, as far as their eyes could see, grape vines on stakes curled upward for miles. The grapes of golden hue almost appeared like little nuggets of gold framed in vibrant green leaves.
As Aubri and Amerigo would draw closer, they would spy a man toiling in one of the nation near the road, digging at the ground with a hoe. Perhaps removing weeds. Regardless, he heard the sound of footsteps, turned, and leaned on his hoe, relaxed grin on his face.
”My, my. If I had to guess, you two are a long way from home. Foreign nobles? Not terribly use to horseback?
“...Most Serene, if I had to reckon, hm?” He said, giving them a wink. ”What brings you to Nordor?”
Hathforth, Elysia Quarters, Prison Below the Barracks
Raiden sat with his back against the stone of his cell, arms pinned to the wall on either side of him. He was stripped of his leather armour, reduced to his tunic and trousers. And he hung there, limply, eyes staring blanking at the shut iron door in front of him.
They hadn't started torturing him yet. He wondered what they were waiting for. He wondered a lot of things, honestly. Where his dragon was. If his wolf was okay. What day it was. When this was going to end. When he was going to die.
Yeah, the man had a lot on his mind.
To distract from his thoughts that wanted to spiral, he began to whistle again. The same song he'd always been whistling. Waiting. For what? Anything, really.
Ciara and her troupe of mannekin stood out like a sore thumb as she too, traveled to the front gate. All she had to her name was a small travel bag with a few spare change of clothes and essentials. The look of relief on her face, seeing Davil awake and alive, was marred with the guilt she felt, glancing over at Michael.
As Alto greeted Compact 3 with his own ring, she siddled in beside the janitor. She was silent for a long moment, unable to meet his eyes.
”...I'm… sorry for dragging you into this. You were the only person I could think of. I… hope you can forgive me.”
She swallowed painfully, glancing up at him briefly, before distracting her gaze to pass over the group gathered. The mage was a curiosity she would unpack later. Probably just more security, though.
Everyone was here… except for Iraleth and Hildegunde. Iraleth was on her way, she knew. Which meant, if even Davil was being brought in his condition… what the hell did she do to Hildegunde?
She couldn't bare meeting anyone's eyes. Not yet, not now. Perhaps, as they started moving, she would feel better.
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[i][color=bd4abd][b]”Mr. Dawson, why don't you have a seat?”[/b][/color] He said, gesturing to the brown leather chair he had his hand resting on.
The men behind Adel stepped forward. They each placed a firm hand around his upper arms, half-guiding, half-dragging Adel to the seat. If Adel struggled in any way, their plan would have been quickly subduing him with a blow to the cheek - but besides tensing up, the man didn’t fight.
They shoved Adel into the seat, twisting it so it faced the mirror. Vincent still had that smirk on his face as he picked up a bowl of shaving cream and an applicator brush on the counter.
Slowly, methodically, Vincent applied shaving cream to Adel's face while speaking.
[b][color=bd4abd]”Now, my men tell me that you and your spies have decided to make it your home in White Pine. Not that I care too much about that.”[/color][/b]
He set down the bowl, picking out a barber's blade instead. He opened it, the fresh gleam of a clean, sharp blade within.
[color=bd4abd][b]“What I really care about, though, is who set you up to do this.”[/b][/color]
The blade pressed against Adel's neck as Vincent leaned over, staring at the man through the mirror.
[color=bd4abd][b]”So, what'll it be, Canary? You gonna sing?”[/b][/color][/i]
~*~
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/194413-nocturnal-memoirs-an-urban-fantasy-mafia-epic/ic][b]Nocturnal Memoirs[/b][/url] (2024)
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[i]"A million times I have done this charade. The moment people figure it out, I get the boot." she thought.
"But don't you want to see the fear in their eyes when they see who you really are...? Don't you want dominion of this place, just like how you were unchallenged in Vaal Kastrix?" said the Voice.
Ciara scoffed, immediately thinking of Gulliver and Valen. "I'd love to wipe the smirk off their faces."
"It starts by building a rumor. A rumor of power. This could be the place to start."
She took a deep breath, narrowing her eyes resolutely at the Undermage. [b]"Head Advisor, with all due respect, you have no right to ask me about my intentions. If you want answers..."[/b]
She stood from her seat, rising to her full height.
[b]"You'll have to duel me for them."[/b][/i]
~*~
[Url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/191189-iris-ascendis/ic][b]Iris Ascendis Roleplay[/b][/url] (2023) | [url=https://www.tiktok.com/@the.valencia.king/video/7300030820545531141?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7246981308223161862][b]TikTok Tribute[/b][/url]
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We have a RPer Appreciation thread?
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/85654-rper-appreciation-thread/ooc?page=8#bottom][b]This is beautiful, I'll bookmark it.[/b][/url] (2016)
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5533862][b]Another kind comment.[/b][/url] (2024)
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5546326][b]This is what makes it worth it.[/b][/url] (2024)
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5565747][b]I'm grateful for the ride.[/b][/url] (2024)
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<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/4YdTjtv.png" /><hr class="bb-hr"><font color="gray">°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°</font><hr class="bb-hr"><br><br><iframe src="//youtube.com/embed/rezCIh2m1aE?theme=dark" frameborder="0" width="496" height="279" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><br><br><img src="https://i.imgur.com/Q0s7sCV.png" /><hr class="bb-hr"><br><br><span class="bb-i"><font color="#bd4abd"><span class="bb-b">”Mr. Dawson, why don't you have a seat?”</span></font> He said, gesturing to the brown leather chair he had his hand resting on.<br><br>The men behind Adel stepped forward. They each placed a firm hand around his upper arms, half-guiding, half-dragging Adel to the seat. If Adel struggled in any way, their plan would have been quickly subduing him with a blow to the cheek - but besides tensing up, the man didn’t fight.<br><br>They shoved Adel into the seat, twisting it so it faced the mirror. Vincent still had that smirk on his face as he picked up a bowl of shaving cream and an applicator brush on the counter. <br><br>Slowly, methodically, Vincent applied shaving cream to Adel's face while speaking.<br><br><span class="bb-b"><font color="#bd4abd">”Now, my men tell me that you and your spies have decided to make it your home in White Pine. Not that I care too much about that.”</font></span><br><br>He set down the bowl, picking out a barber's blade instead. He opened it, the fresh gleam of a clean, sharp blade within.<br><br><font color="#bd4abd"><span class="bb-b">“What I really care about, though, is who set you up to do this.”</span></font><br><br>The blade pressed against Adel's neck as Vincent leaned over, staring at the man through the mirror.<br><br><font color="#bd4abd"><span class="bb-b">”So, what'll it be, Canary? You gonna sing?”</span></font></span><br><br>~*~<br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/194413-nocturnal-memoirs-an-urban-fantasy-mafia-epic/ic"><span class="bb-b">Nocturnal Memoirs</span></a> (2024)<br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><br><span class="bb-i">"A million times I have done this charade. The moment people figure it out, I get the boot." she thought.<br><br>"But don't you want to see the fear in their eyes when they see who you really are...? Don't you want dominion of this place, just like how you were unchallenged in Vaal Kastrix?" said the Voice.<br><br>Ciara scoffed, immediately thinking of Gulliver and Valen. "I'd love to wipe the smirk off their faces."<br><br>"It starts by building a rumor. A rumor of power. This could be the place to start."<br><br>She took a deep breath, narrowing her eyes resolutely at the Undermage. <span class="bb-b">"Head Advisor, with all due respect, you have no right to ask me about my intentions. If you want answers..."</span><br><br>She stood from her seat, rising to her full height. <br><br><span class="bb-b">"You'll have to duel me for them."</span></span><br><br>~*~<br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/191189-iris-ascendis/ic"><span class="bb-b">Iris Ascendis Roleplay</span></a> (2023) | <a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" href="https://www.tiktok.com/@the.valencia.king/video/7300030820545531141?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7246981308223161862"><span class="bb-b">TikTok Tribute</span></a><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><br>We have a RPer Appreciation thread?<br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/85654-rper-appreciation-thread/ooc?page=8#bottom"><span class="bb-b">This is beautiful, I'll bookmark it.</span></a> (2016)<br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5533862"><span class="bb-b">Another kind comment.</span></a> (2024)<br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5546326"><span class="bb-b">This is what makes it worth it.</span></a> (2024)<br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5565747"><span class="bb-b">I'm grateful for the ride.</span></a> (2024)<br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/D21yHAF.png" /><br><br><div class="table-responsive"><table class="bb-table table"><thead class="bb-thead"><tr class="bb-tr"><th class="bb-th"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/uJwaWQN.jpeg" /></th><th class="bb-th"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/7NOolR8.jpeg" /></th><th class="bb-th"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/RaTjqkM.jpeg" /></th></tr></thead></table></div></div><br><br></div>
flux,
Kronshi,
The Otter,
Qia,
IAmTheIsland,
HereComesTheSnow,
Nanaya,
Andre Valias,
ChronicleMan,
X Fiendfyre X
