Helo

Avalia

Cyrus doing Cyrus things

Time: Dawn
Location: Gaurav Village
Interactions: Alone
Equipment: A mask, a shield/drum, and an acorn.

---

Before those few first rays of dawn had broken through the canopy of trees that surrounded Gaurav Village, Cyrus had already ventured deep within the forest. His boots squelched against mud and undergrowth as soft rain fell with no signs of letting up. Despite the coverage of thousands of the silent sentinels, trees both young and old, ever watchful over the forest and village they hid; he walked long enough for the rain to chill him. The sun’s warmth struggled to overtake the dark in the cloudy shower. His clothes were uncomfortably wet, his hair was slick and clung to his face, and every breath drew the scent of a wet forest into him. A heaviness clung to him, one that had nothing to do with rain, or the mud that caked his boots and occasionally threatened to pull them from his feet.

He continued until he was far from any canine ears that perked and twitched for the slightest sounds. He only halted once he saw those hazy pink rays of sunrise finally begin to break through, illuminating the blanket of darkness. Critters stirred, foliage ruffled, and all that surrounded him greeted the new dawn. Without the sense of urgency his walk had held, he shifted through the brush, gathering a few fallen branches. He removed the soggy adornments of foliage and twine that decorated his clothing and used it to tie the branches together. Then he carefully propped his mask on the makeshift stand he’d built for it, his eyes leveled with the empty holes of the mask.

Cyrus pulled his shield drum from his back and fixed it to his arm, his hand gripping it tight as if nothing in the world was more important to hold onto. His eyes locked on the vacant eye holes of the mask. Even as rain obscured his vision, his focus never wavered. Memories swirled, bringing with them every heavy emotion they carried. He removed the oaken mallet from his belt, slowly beating it against the drum. A soft noise that matched the rain.

He recalled the sparse details Viola had shared of her captivity, their conversation only days ago about the toil that had taken. A life left tormented and altered by darkness. Eventually, second-hand accounts gave way to vivid memories. Every detail permanently etched into his mind; was reflected in the mask’s eyes. The vibrant green of his eyes soon darkened as they reflected the hollowness of the mask's eyes. His wounds, both old and fresh, tore open as he revisited every dark moment witnessed and relaid to him. A steady rhythm grew, one that matched the beating of his heart.

Ophelia: found alive, but with memories lost, bonds broken and forgotten as if they meant nothing. Menzai’s request: not to rekindle those memories. His agreement: a continued lie for Phia’s safety. A bitter sting built within his gut. The unfairness of a brief glimpse of hope, that he might have regained a fraction of what he’d lost, only to have it snatched away. The tempo of the drum quickened, its intensity growing as he shared his pain with a suspended wooden vessel. He delved deeper into the past.

His brother’s final moments, pain shone through Florian’s eyes, and then they were vacant. His death, a public spectacle. His life, extinguished. All without a care for the brave and kind man his brother was. The tempo of his heart quickened until it matched the drum, a quick and frantic pace. Rage exploded forth and every wound was made as fresh as the day it was inflicted. Such public executions continued to happen, a testament to how little The Tyrant cared for life.

A deep guttural tone erupted from him, it echoed off surrounding trees, filling the forest around him, as loud as thunder. This was not a quiet meditation; for rage was not a soft prayer but a furious bellow. To utter it in its purest form caused pain. From his depths, Cyrus exhaled all of his pain. His words were shouted and growled in an ancient Fae tongue. A song of rage, grief, and hatred flowed from him and into the mask. The eyes of the mask were hollow things, unfillable and unflinching no matter what was poured into them.

Screams that sounded of desperation. More life fading from the eyes of those he loved. The smell of blood, sharp and metallic. How it felt, to be a child, and to be left alone and without hope. To have been blessed with such a large family, to have been cursed to see so many of them slaughtered. Hatred quickly flooded him as the drumming reached its crescendo and everything in him burned with it.

His violent song had persisted long after his throat had grown raw and raspy. It stopped when only one memory remained, one that left a warm ache in his heart. The final moments of Ceder and Elyna: a selfless act of bravery, as they died for their children. Cyrus held tight to this memory, he would carry their legacy forward, and save all his rage for those who cause his pain. The beating of the drum began to slow, as did his heart. The transference was completed, and the catharsis was obtained, for now. But it never stayed; every time he poured out this sea of grief, the maelstrom always returned.

Slowly the rain washed him clean of sweat and tears, and he lingered in it. He lowered the mallet, closed his eyes, and angled his head towards the sky and the gentle rain. Cyrus stood in silence, save for his shallow, ragged breaths. When he opened his eyes again, they matched the vibrant green of a forest, his heart beat a calm rhythm, and his breath came easily.

He buried the makeshift stand and planted an acorn from a mighty oak. A tree most fitting of Florian Millinia, brave protector of his people, in the hope that it would bring protection to this spot, rather than leave it haunted by hateful memories. He fed the seed his magic and watched it sprout and reach toward the heavens. He whispered a soft prayer to Xylia, She of the Spring, to offer this tree her grace. He knelt beneath it, one hand placed upon the oak’s trunk and his bowed in silent conversation with the otherside. Finally, Cyrus asked his brother to bestow upon him even just a fraction of his strength.

The mask once again hung from his belt as he held the shield above his head, keeping the rain away from the zemak joint that now dangled from his lips. The smell of its smoke, warm and calming, filled each breath. He walked back to the village accompanied by the soothing sound of rain beating against the drum. Rain still clung to him, mud still grappled with his boots, but his steps were lighter.

TL; DR option

Cyrus does a ritual deep in the forest at dawn, placing all of his anger and grief into his mask for later use.

---

Time: Morning
Location: Gaurav Village
Interactions: Phia@princess, Darius@FunnyGuy, Dante@Alivefalling, Menzai@samreaper
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

Cyrus returned to the village only a little late for breakfast. His hair and clothing were still soaked from the rain and his pants were splattered with mud that also caked thick around his boot. He smelled of rain and forest with the sharp scent of zemak clinging to him, strongest of all. His time in Gaurav village had been filled with tension, misplaced bottled anger at Menzai for a situation out of the wolf’s control. An ever-following unease at building tension of those around him, the looming danger. Now his calm demeanor was restored, and all that bottled wrath dangled from his belt. Its hollow eyes kept watch, lying in wait for a time when it could be set free.

He ate quietly, barely listening to the ambient conversation as a warm meal easied the chill of rain away. His attention was caught only by the sound of Phia banging a spoon against the table. As she announced her idea, Cyrus slowly shook his head, but to his surprise, Menzai voiced his agreement. Far too exhausted to argue, he only turned his head to Menzai and spoke in a tone empty of emotion. “If I or any of my family are recognized, things will become very dangerous for us.” Then he looked at Phia, whose joy was an infectious thing, and offered a faint smile. “We must be very cautious who we share those fliers with. But I would like to buy you all a Riverfruit Slush.”

InCheck - Descendants of Time (reboot)

and three years later...is there any interest?

@Emma

Are you reincarnating this rp?

Interested.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: Edge of Lover’s Lake-Roman Ceremony
Interactions: City Guards, Ana@princess, Ari@Tpartywithzombi
Mentions: Munir@Infinite Cosmos

---

"Yeah! And take off your boots!"

Callum was surprised to hear Ari’s voice behind him. There were very few people he did expect to have his back and it was a pleasant surprise to find that number grow. He finished his speech and turned around grinning at Ariella. Before he had a chance to say anything else, Munir spoke up as well.

"And I, Prince Munir Ibn Raif al Kadir,”

Callum’s head swiveled in Munir’s direction, he wasn’t expecting support from a Prince of Alidasht either, but he was thankful for it. Yes, not only have they offended the Varians, but a royal from Alidasht too. Gods, even Lorenzo had only managed to piss off one set of guests at a time.

“...Take your leave this instant and I will have words with your commanding officer after the dust has settled from you trampling this sacred ground." Cal gave a grateful nod to Munir.

"Go on and get, guards! We're too high for your shit!"

What was Ana doing? Where had she even come from? He had only a look of confusion for his sister. Unsure if this was an attempt to help or to make this all look like some drug-induced ramble. It wouldn’t be the first time today one of his siblings moved to sabotage his plans. “Ana,” He whispered through gritted teeth. “Someone has crossed a line, I won’t let this get swept under the rug. We need to expose who's responsible for this.” Right here, right now, Callum would see whether or not he could truly trust Ana.

“As the lady said, remove your boots, for the ground you now tread has been made sacred tonight.” He took a step back so that he and Ari stood side by side. “And leave them here as an offering for the offended spirits. The collective ancestral spirits of Varian, of Alidasht, of Caesonia, and the entirety of the Danrose line.” His performance continued, the support of those around him only emboldening him further. “Now, give me the name I’ve asked for.” He said it like an order.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Evening
Location: Masquerade Ball: Damien Estate
Interactions: Fritz/Riona @JJ Doe, Nahir @Rodiak
Daily Misfortune: An annoyingly high-pitched voice and random fits of laughter.
Predictable Costume: Leo the Lion

---

While Nahir, the gold standard of class, simply greeted him and said nothing about the oddly squeaky infection of his voice, her companion failed to even attempt to stifle a chuckle. “Adorable? Hardly, shrill and irritating is a more apt description.” Leo forced a smile as he spoke, a mask beneath a mask, but it served a purpose, drawing the annoyance from his words and peasantry in its place. “An odd side effect of a cold, no doubt it will pass in a day or so.” It was far from what he wanted to say, but without knowing who he was speaking with, or how close the orange woman was to Nahir, staying cordial was his best option.

Leo then felt Fritz’s hand on his shoulder as the man left to conduct his own investigation. He noted the strange fixation Nahir’s companion had as Fritz approached, the intensity of the woman’s gaze. Why is everyone so enamored with Hendrix? The man’s as charming as a persistent rash. Leo’s eyes rolled behind his mask.

His attention snapped back to Nahir as she mentioned a couple who had bumped into her companion. A common ruse for pickpockets, and it sounded like one of the suspects was a woman in dark blue wearing gloves. Finally a bit of useful information. Once the woman in the cat mask confirmed the bracelet was not hers Leo tossed it back onto the table, he head turned just enough to hide another eye roll at the suggestion of getting a servant to assist him.

“I believe these few days have already proven that the servant’s here are entirely useless. As was Damien’s bastard, whom I reported this to, but he seems more interested in finding someone to lure into his bed chambers. He was just eyeing up the same man you had your eye on.” He locked eyes with the woman in orange. “If you’d like an introduction to the charming Count Hendrix, I’d be happy to oblige once this matter is settled.” He offered before looking between the two of them, as he thought over how to address the shoe comment. Though he wondered why anyone would be removing their shoes at a ball, he did not ask.

“The shoes in that hallway are not mine. Graciously, I delegated a simple shopping trip to a palace servant, only to be met with intentional incompetence.” He shrugged, such things were par for the course in Sorian it seemed.

“Now you said a couple? So possibly two thieves, worth having a chat with this couple at least.” Leo steered the subject back on track, not wanting to delve into the sheer idiocy of a maid running messing with his shoes. “Do either of you recall anything about the woman’s partner? Did you notice their masks?” He asked, trying to remember if he’d seen the woman Nahir had described.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: Edge of Lover’s Lake-Roman Ceremony
Interactions: City Guards

---

The ceremony was abruptly interrupted by the city guards looking Violet Damien. An opportunity presented itself, the exact kind of situation that with a little fanning of the flames could spread. Not only was this deeply disrespectful but Callum had a strong suspicion that they were here not by royal decree, but on Count Damien's behalf.

“You’ll have to excuse me for a moment, looks like time for some princely-meddling.” Cal whispered to Ari, a mischievous grin widening across his face.

Roman’s men first tried to persuade the guards to leave, all while Roman himself entered fully into an enraged trance. A mixture of screams and roars erupted from Roman all at once, the sudden thunder of it was enough to make Cal jump. It was like he could feel the potential for disaster sparking through the air, the call of chaos Himself drove his feet forward. Callum stood, swaying under the inhibiting effects of the tea, moving closer to the city guards who stood with swords drawn.

“I, Prince Callum, command you to sheath your weapons immediately. On whose authority do you not only disrupt a sacred ceremony, a brazenly sacrilegious act, but when asked to leave, you draw weapons against a close friend and ally to the crown?” Callum continued forward but kept enough distance from the guards to ensure both he and they needed to shout to be heard. He wanted every word to be heard by those in attendance.

“This event is sanctioned and under the protection of the crown so by whose authority have you decided to defy the will of the crown?” Callum performed, his words flowed without second guessing, as clear and decisive an action as when he had carved words into the wall of his room. It flowed not like Edin’s rants, but as calculated and cold as Alibeth had been that morning after the forgotten after party, he wore as stern an expression as he could manage.

Avalia

Time: Evening
Location: Gaurav Village
Interactions: Viola@13org, Phia@princess, Darius@FunnyGuy, Dante@Alivefalling, Menzai@samreaper
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

As soon as Phia voiced her approval, Cyrus immediately began carefully removing fruits from baskets on the table and repacking the baskets to bring a late night picnic to Dante and Darius. He listened and Phia continued to speak on how intriguing Dante and Darius truly were.

“Humans?” Cyrus whispered dropping a plate of carved meats back down on the with a loud clatter. “How did they get here?” He asked, but before Phia had time to respond to that he added, “Whose involved?” His mouth moved quicker than his mind, asking questions that would’ve aroused suspicion if any of the wolf-kin were around. “Much of my family died trying to free The River Fairy Kingdom from dark elf rule, if this fight has returned, I am bound to it.” His intensity flared only to flicker out as he returned to the task of filling baskets.

“I wish to help you keep your friends safe. And I will try a new path with Menzai tomorrow.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: Edge of Lover’s Lake-Roman Ceremony
Interactions: Ari@Tpartywithzombi

---

Cal handed the bottle of whiskey back to Ari as she reached for it. Her hand, and its comforting warmth, held onto his shoulder. He wondered what made Ari dislike her shade of vibrant red. “I used to think he’d like me better if I looked more like him.” He half-heartedly gestured to his own dark hair, so unlike Edin’s or his brother’s hair.

Ari was quick to pull her hand away. “Oh, I hereby decree that Lady Ari has permission to touch the royal shoulder.” He stifled a chuckle so as not to disturb the ceremony. “But I hope you don’t think I’m that uptight that it needs said.” He added as Ari shared her thoughts on fire. Though her words slurred together, Callum followed them, his head nodding with their rhythm. He was fluent in inebriated speech and her drunken words held wisdom.

“Then may Sorian embody and be protected by the phoenix, loftiest of birds.” He whispered.

“People are like fires. Edin, a wildfire that destroys all in its path. But Roman, a fire that draws people in to settle and thrive around it. He makes incredible things in fires, sometimes deadly things, but always beautiful, always to serve a purpose.” Callum spoke softly and watched as Roman and Mina began their final song.

“And you, a fire that brings warmth on the coldest nights. I am lucky to have better fires near me.” Callum saw his own fire as one left out in the rain, caught in constant struggle not to be snuffed out, reliant on brighter flames to aid him when it dwindled to an ember unable to catch on waterlogged kindling.

As Roman’s song built, its words unknown to Callum, but somehow it helped shoulder his burden. He felt a profound gratitude for the friends he had who easily shared what warmth and light they had that he did not have on his own.

The real challenge remained; to build his fire up enough that it could help raze Sorian like a phoenix so that out of ashes it could rise towards something brighter.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Evening
Location: Masquerade Ball: Damien Estate
Interactions: Charlotte @Princess, Fritz/Riona @JJ Doe, Mr.V @samreaper, Cassius @PapaOso, Nahir @Rodiak
Daily Misfortune: An annoyingly high-pitched voice and random fits of laughter.
Predictable Costume: Leo the Lion

---

The bastard was a grating presence, entirely unfocused on the task at hand - his missing watch! Instead, Cassius was flirting with Charlotte, and it seemed Lottie couldn’t get away from the spawn of the dreadful count fast enough. Leo wasn’t the least bit surprised; Lottie had wits enough to see through the game house Damien was clearly playing at.

“Lord Damien, I feel left out. Will you not tell us how beautiful and strong we are too?”

And now Hendrix was teasing Cassius. As amusing as this mismatched love triangle might be on a different night, Leo currently found it infuriating.

“Surely you’ve noticed how this distinguished gentleman would be the heart of any pride?”

Leo’s eyes focused on Frtiz, a look of deep annoyance as the lid of his left eye twitched. For a brief moment, Leo was content that at least one other person here took the matter seriously as Lottie took her leave to focus on the case of the missing watch. Leo too, was more than ready to leave and continue the search so that Hendrix and Cassius could entertain each other without him.

Only to catch a glimpse of Charlotte speaking with a woman in an owl mask who wore not a hint of orange. Sure, Leo understood the desire to get as far away from Cassius as one could, but surely his having been recently robbed should matter a hair more than a social call. It seemed Sorian was no different than Stravy in that Leo’s problems would be his own to solve.

“What lovely shoes,”

Another grating voice joined in to further steer the conversation towards frivolity. Did he look like he wanted to chat about his, admittedly glorious, slippers right now!

“Lord Leo Smithwood! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Do I-” He stopped as soon as he saw the brilliant flash of orange. His tone relaxed. Not only due to the possibility that this orange woman may have his watch but she was also accompanied by Shehzadi Nahir. Now was not the time to be so overtly agitated. He returned her cursty with a full and proper bow to her and Nahir.

“Shehzadi, a pleasure as always." He greeted the royal first while forcing a smile beneath the mask, making his tone sound far friendlier than it had been.

“Good Evening, Lady, are you maybe missing this bracelet?” With a calm hand he picked the item back up off the table and gingerly held it out for the woman to inspect. “Someone stole my pocketwatch and left this in its place. I’m not accusing you, of course, but I would be deeply grateful if you wouldn’t mind checking to see if the same tom-foolery was not done to you.”

Avalia

Time: Evening
Location: Sailing aboard The Righteous Tern
Interactions: Rue@Potter
Equipment:Sword, hunting knife, a backpack with supplies, and a stoat named Raze who naps in the pocket of his vest.

---

“One of who?” Bowyn matched the hush tone Rue had used, wondering who Rue worried Bridget might be, or might be aligned with. A distant and haunted look quickly consumed her once peaceful expression. “Whatever Bridget is, and her alliances, barely matter. We are skilled hunters, Bardulf too, and she is just a deer. No one will take us again. On my life, Rue.” There was no need for the darkness of the past to drag Rue down as she soared.

Soon his attention was drawn to the ship’s deck and machine that Rue had spotted. Warforged, the artificial life. Not like fairies, elves, or anyother creature that roamed Avalia. They were not born, did not grow, simply machines built by others. Bowyn struggled to see any difference between such a thing and a cart or a ship or a tool.

“Doesn’t look like much of a warforged, can’t see anything that looks like a proper weapon. Unless it’s one of those real advanced ones. Probably cannon fodder. You think it’s Luum’s? He wondered. An advanced warforged with hidden weapons would be a real nice addition, something that didn’t look so dangerous but could blast it’s way through an small army. Did Luum even have that kind of amas? Doubtful. Probably a cannon fodder model, still useful. Always nice to have a machine to send towards destruction over a life.

Avalia

Time: Evening
Location: Gaurav Village
Interactions: Phia@princess
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

A bright smile broke across the face of the forest fae at the mention of an orchard and their very own riverfruit slush stand. He would make an excellent orchard-keeper and Phia sounded equally confident in her ability to run a business. “How fun! It would be a fam-” Cyrus stopped. A family business. A near slip. Lying was so much harder than he expected it to be. “A fantastic idea.” He corrected. He wouldn’t mind living here, tucked away from dark elves, the little family he had left kept safe, just tending to an orchard and serving refreshing treats to villagers. He too found himself lost in a daydream broken only by Phia’s next suggestion and her hand smacking against the table.

“Yes, Dante and Darius must be hungry too. We could bring the feast to them!” He suggested, matching Phia’s enthusiasm. “You said this village is wary of outsiders, yet Darius and Dante are not wolves and they seem very welcomed here.” He attempted to tuck a riverfruit into a pocket far too small as spoke. Eventually he decided it was best to eat the rest of the fruit as he continued to talk. “How have they managed to gain such trust? I believe Menzai and I have started off on the wrong foot and I would like to not make that a pattern here.”