Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s): Blue @CitrusArms
ârighâ. Noâ much to go missinâ in the first place, ah? I can relate. Most I've goâ is me fife.â
Truth be told, the nobles didnât either. One thing Peter learned from these fancy parties was that the most valuable things on the guests were always out on full display. Thatâs the whole point, ainât it? To show off? Most ladiesâs dresses didnât even have a pocket to pick. For the gents, if they carried anything, their pockets were usually reserved for watches, hankies, snuffboxes, and/or dance cards. (Thatâs what made Blue stick out with her fife.) It was the attendants who carried all their f**king crap like a damn pack mule.
Peter only showed Blue his empty pockets to prove he didnât have any of the âstolenâ stuff.
... Well, alright. He did lift his whole getup to blend in. But he didnât steal anything from the guests here.
When Blue told him about the streak of mischief that was terrorizing a handful of the oh-so-poor-helpless-partygoers, it took a lot of willpower to smother a smirk. âMischief?â Peter asked as he kept his face as innocent as a choirboy.
âPerhaps something in the air? Or the alcuhol.â Blue nodded in a direction. âThere, see? Just what I'm talking about.â
He followed her gaze to see some drunkard stumbling around and flattening out his would-be helper against the wall. The party officially hit that hour when you could tell who could handle their liquor and who couldnât just by the way they moved.
ââow much do ye think he's drank? Big guy like thaâ should be able to âold his drink.â
âNow thatâs pigeonholing. Could be heâs got health issues. Or maybe heâs got demons haunting him, and he drinks to shut them up. Only it donât work that way. Every sip just brings all the stuff heâs avoiding into sharper focus and that reminds him why he started drinking in the first place. Heâs stuck in a loop. Wants the buzz but it makes him more miserable. He can only handle so much booze before it becomes too much and he has to stop...only to start it all over later.â After delivering that spiel, Peter paused for dramatic effect before grinning. âOr heâs just a two-sip chump.â
âYe reck'n they're all ligh'weights? Naw, couldn't be.â
âOnly one way to find out.â With a tilt of his head, Peter motioned toward the merry group the drunkard left. âWhy donât you try drinking them all under the table?â
Peter suggested that Stratya go drink the guests under the table to find the answer to her question.
Time: EVENING Location: INT. THE TIPSY TAVERN - RIVER PORT Interactions/Mentions: Zion @Helo
Malachi made his return to River Port soon enough, driven by both leads and his own deduction as he approached the bustling tavern. The absence of any nearby settlements indicated that Jun couldn't have ventured too far overnight so it stood to reason that, after traversing the woods, he sought refuge in the familiar safety of the town. Gathering information from the locals revealed accounts of a perplexed individual with distinctive ears who had eventually wandered into the Tipsy Tavern, simplifying the task of pinpointing Jun's whereabouts much more than expected.
As he pushed open the creaky door, the lively chaos of the tavern assaulted Malachi's senses. The air was thick with the smells he despised and te stickiness beneath his shoes arose a feeling of queasiness as he stepped inside. Inwardly, Malachi couldn't contain his disdain for the filth. The disarrayed tables and the questionable hygiene of the surroundings fueled a list of silent complaints within him. A subtle scoff escaped his lips as he navigated through the sea of people, pushing past them without concern for politeness as he scanned the room for his target.
At the tavern's rowdy center, a drinking contest was at full swing, its fervor capturing the attention of all present. Bets flew across the room as onlookers speculated who would triumph or falter in the next round. The vanquished lay around the table, some bodies draped across it, others slumped to the floor, their endurance bested by those who still drank.
In this commotion, Malachi's gaze locked onto a familiar cloak amidst the contestants. As the figure turned, a glimpse of Jun's face emerged from underneath the hood. Seeing how Jun's eyes widened, and his face lost its color, it was clear he recognized Malachi as well.
Jun snapped his head away and pulled his hood further down. Praying for a divine intervention that Malachi didn't (and wouldn't) notice him. No no no no no!
Malachi scowled in reaction. Seriously? He made a beeline for him immediately, pushing through the crowd. As he approached Jun, his typically cold expression seemed to intensify, revealing his frustration with the situation. He halted just a step away from Jun, his gaze piercing through the hood. He looked ready to snap on the human, but he paused, gritting his teeth.
Finally, Malachi's voice, usually sharp and biting, softened just a fraction as he spoke, "What are you doing here, Jun?" Leaning in, he pressed further, his tone low and weary, âThis isnât Earth and I think you realize that now. â He gestured to the passed out patrons on the floor. â Sure, you might be able to fool drunkards, but out there, when others catch on that you're a human, it's not going to end well. The dark elves who dictate this land won't be too kind to you. â His eyes searched the young manâs for any possibility of sense, âWhat is your plan here, Jun?âThe question hung in the air as the two locked gazes.
Jun angled himself away from Malachi, as if ignoring him long enough would magically make the other man disappear.
"Is this fellow causing you any bother?" Jun glanced up to find one of the patrons had materialized at Malachi's side, a hand firmly planted on his shoulder. A few of his buddies flanked them, watchful.
He blinked. Huh. He didn't expect this. Were these people going to help him or was this part of their roleplay?
Malachi sighed and shot a glance at the intervening patron, his irritation evident in the deep furrow of his brow. âSave the heroics. Weâre talking and itâs not your business.â He leaned in once more and whispered, âJun, what is it going to take to get you to return with me? âŚWhat do you want? ⌠You wonât come to at least see that Zionâs okay at the least?â
Jun's heart hardened when he brought up Zion. Using Zion's condition as bait was a new low for Malachi. He avoided looking at the other man, fixing his gaze on the disgusting table instead.
And that was enough of an answer for the patron. "Think that's your answer, Mister." His grip on Malachi's shoulder tightened ever so slightly. "It's best time you leave." He tried to pull Malachi away from Jun, but the elf didn't budge.
"Come on, take a hint. He don't wanna get back together." One of the patron's buddies chimed in. "Move on. There's plenty of fish in the sea."
Malachi ignored them, âPlease come talk to me outside. If we cannot come to any agreement, I will find a way to get you home or Iâll let you run amuck as you please. Iâll stop bothering you and youâll never see me again.â
Jun remained rooted to his seat. Malachi had his chance to 'talk' this morning and nothing came out of it. All that stuff about 'trying to understand each other' and Malachi didn't even tell him a single thing about himself. He gaslighted Jun and that was that, end of discussion. If you were to summarize that 'heart-to-heart' in four words, it'd be: suck it up Jun.
âThereâs been reasons to believe itâs real Jun. Itâs just easier not to⌠Itâs easier to believe this is all a game and everything here is an illusion than to accept that your reality has changedâŚâ No, it wasn't. None of the possibilities, 'real' or 'fantasy', made Jun's current situation any easier to accept. Both made him scared and feel so⌠alone.
âŚ
Oh⌠oh yeah.
⌠He's ⌠alone.
It didn't matter if this was a LARP cult or a bonafide isekai-tensei. The only people who ever really cared about Jun Ibuki were back home. Too many worlds away to get in touchânot by phone, not by letter, not even smoke signalsâ, leaving him marooned in a kind of loneliness he never experienced before.
Clutching himself tight, Jun fought off the tremors. He shook away the thoughts and refocused.
It was obvious Malachi was saying all this to get Jun alone so it'd be easier to drag him away. And this time? He wouldn't put it past Malachi to lock him in an actual cage.
Even if what he said had an ounce of truth⌠âYou canât go home, JunâŚâ â... I will find a way to get you homeâŚâ ⌠then that meant Malachi really was the type who'd say just about anything.
Jun had been more than clear about wanting to go home: everyone knew that. How many times did they have to have the same pointless chat before Malachi heard him? Jun wasn't gonna back down this time. He had to put his foot down. Maybe then he'd get taken seriously.
"... No. I already told you⌠I just want to go home."
If Malachi meant what he said⌠then he'd find a way to get Jun home or, at the very least, let him go, no matter his answer.
Malachi silently stood there as he thought through his options, then finally slunk through the crowd and went outside the tavern.
Malachi found Jun in the tavern. He tried to take Jun outside to talk, but Jun stood his ground. Malachi left the tavern without Jun.
Rionaâs aching feet had just about reached their limit of discomfort when Viaâs voice chimed in the back of her head. â... enjoy the festivitiesâŚâ Since sheâs here, she should, shouldnât she?
As if she read her mind, Shehzadi Nahir suddenly asked after letting out an uncharacteristically hearty laugh, âShall we dance do this without the heels, then? Proper dancing, this time, no tripping or stepping.â A second later, the Alidashtâs royal heels were set aside and her feet were bare, ready for what would come next. Riona gaped at the Shehzadi, surprised by the unexpected bold move before a slow grin fought its way onto her face.
Kicking off the pinching shoes brought instant relief. She glanced over at Shehzadi Nahir, who was watching her with renewed enthusiasm. Without a word, Riona grasped her hand, and together they launched into a dance that resembled nothing like the one that came before it. Gone were the awkward shuffling and steps dictated by shoes. With her bare feet on the cool marble floor, Riona felt more connected to the music, more in tune with Nahirâs movements. They twirled and glided across the polished floor, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Their newfound comfort allowed them to switch leads effortlessly, each guiding the other with confidence and grace. They lost themselves in the music and the joy of the dance. And they danced until their heartâs content.
By the time the final chords faded, Riona beamed with satisfaction. An air of triumph followed her while she cruised off the dance floor with Nahir in one hand and her discarded shoes in the other. They made their way to the edge of the ballroom, finding a quiet corner where they could slip their shoes back on. Little did they know they had chosen the wrong time to be there.
From the crowd of partiers, a wasted guest staggered in their direction, flanked by less intoxicated friends struggling to guide his unsteady footsteps. The man was enormous, and it took more than a few people to keep him upright and escort him out of the ballroom.
But then gravity decided to yank him down, sending him crashing to the ground before the women. Moved by a mix of concern and reflex, Riona reached out to help him up, but he was much heavier than she imagined. And, coupled with his drunken momentum, when he leaned in on her, his massive bulk ended up pinning her against the wall. The force of the impact knocked the breath right out of her lungs, and she swore something cracked.
His companions rushed to her aid, pulling him off of her before he did any real damage. Once freed, Riona fixed herself, adjusting her skirt and not once noticing the warped pocket watch or how it vanished underneath the orange layers of her dress.
Shaking off the incident, Nahir and Riona continued to chat as they walked through the crowd toward a table. On their way there, a familiar pair of lion slippers caught her attention. Her steps halted before their owner, Sh*tlord.
A smirk hinted at mischief on her lips. âWhat lovely shoes,â she remarked in a subtly disguised voice. She then looked him over, pretending to have difficulty remembering which of the thousands of pompous nobles he was, before she announced, loud enough for bystanders and the Alidashtâs Royal Highness to catch, âLord Leo Smithwood!â She curtsied. âIâve heard so much about you.â
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
Time: Evening Location: Damien Estateâs Ballroom Interaction(s): Lord Cassius Damien (Cassius Vael) @PapaOso; Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Lord Leo Smithwood @Helo; Mr. V (Kazumin Nagasa) @samreaper
While the conversation continued, Ryn found his eyes drawn inexorably downwards, fixating on the hand that Lord Damien had shaken.
âCoated scarlet red.
When Lord Damien gripped his hand, Ryn sensed the warmth and stickiness of fresh blood. It seeped through the gloves and into his skin, the thick rivulets sluggishly winding down his wrist. He recognized the hand as belonging to someone who had claimed so many lives that it left a stain that not even time could wash away. There was a kinship in that.
Letting his hand fall, Ryn lifted his gaze in time to witness the son of Count Damien showering Lady Vikena with honeyed words. The way the manâs eyes caressed her and his dulcet tones made Ryn wonder if he was besotted with her and whether now was the appropriate time to express it.
Curious about her reception of such attention, Ryn stole a quick glance at Lady Vikena. When he shifted his focus back, Lord Damienâs eyes were on the three men, watching them closely. As if he wanted to ask what they made of his attempts to woo Lady Vikena. Was he assessing if they were competition, or was there another motive behind his gaze?
If Lord Damien wanted to gain insights subtly, it would be impolite of Ryn not to reciprocate. And if his intuition proved correct, the new lord was the type that appreciated a little banter. Though for Lord Smithwoodâs sake, it would be brief, as they still must find his fatherâs watch.
He waited a few beats before gasping. âLord Damien, I feel left out. Will you not tell us how beautiful and strong we are too?â He motioned toward Lord Smithwood. âSurely youâve noticed how this distinguished gentleman would be the heart of any pride?â A breath more and he would have mentioned Mr. V as well, but prudence held him back. Try not to draw too much attention to him, Ryn reminded himself.
Observing Lord Damienâs reaction, Ryn smiled. Then returned to the case at hand. âAbout the watch, perhaps we should splitââ
His words stilled as two women approached the group. One of them was Shehzadi Nahir, and the other wore a cat mask. âWhat lovely shoes,â the cat said to the lion.
However, Rynâs gaze strayed past them to a worrisome sight. Behind the two, in the distance, stood Count Damien and Ms. Persephone, unaccompanied by Peter. âV. Charlotte.â Rynâs voice dropped to a hush as he directed their attention to the potential storm brewing on the horizon. Tension clung to Ryn until Ms. Persephone extricated herself from the countâs vicinity, but the sense of unease lingered on.
Fed up with the high heels, Riona removed them to properly dance with Nahir. After they left the dance floor, Riona got squished by a drunk while trying to help him up. She noticed familiar lion slippers.
Ryn studied Cassius and bantered a bit. Right as he was about to suggest that they split up to find Leoâs watch, Riona and Nahir approached the group. At the same time Ryn noticed Calbert accosting Olivia.
âWhy, thereâs the handsome man Iâve been looking all over for,â Lady Morrigan announced when they entered the Princessâs room. There stood King Edin, planted firmly amidst the pink and looking absurdly out of place.
The Knight remained silent and still at the doorway as Lady Morrigan sauntered up to His Majesty. With a familiarity that made the Knightâs skin crawl, she pressed a tender kiss to one bearded cheek while her hand caressed the other.
When Her Ladyship drew back, she studied his face. Whatever she saw there gave her pause. She rubbed His Majestyâs arm in a gesture of comfort and concern. âHowever is my hero faring?â she asked.
King Edin had seemed as if he had been a lightyears away as he had stood about his daughterâs room. Sensing a new presence, he shifted his eyes down to find his cousin. He caught her hand and gently kissed the back of it. He presented her with a smile and greeted, âAh, Morrigan. Everything is going according to plan of course, as per usual... When it comes to me, everything is always perfect. Just yesterday, I single-handedly solved the kingdom's pigeon infestation... Oh yes, and how are you faring? Do you enjoy your exciting position?â
âNever a dull moment.â Lady Morrigan suddenly pouted, an expression the Knight wouldâve thought endearing if he hadnât known she was decades too old for that. âAs you should know from my daily reports⌠orâŚâ She toyed with a lock of her hair, twisting it around her finger. âMaybe you were a little distracted?â She tilted her head with a coy smile and voice to match. The Knight suppressed another shudder. Truly, he deserved a medal for maintaining composure.
âAnd⌠You didnât answer my real question.â Her Ladyship reached up, her fingers threading through his hair. âKing Edin has my undying loyalty and love, but I want to know how Eddieâs doing.â She combed his hair through the silence before adding, âHeâs usually not here on good daysâŚâ
The Knightâs gaze swept the chambers absent of the one inhabitant who should be here. What would bring His Majesty to his daughterâs room on any day, if not to see her? Did he secretly admire the decor? Or was there something more...?
King Edin's hand, adorned with rather ostentatious rings, performed the obligatory two pats on Morrigan's head. "I'm fine, dear," he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of detached assurance. A subtle furrow appeared on his forehead as he came to the realization that evasion was futile.
âWell, if you must know. This was âŚJaneâs⌠room. â he confessed, his words trailing with a ghost of nostalgia. A fleeting vulnerability appeared in his eyes... His gaze shifted towards the window, lost momentarily.
The Knightâs brows furrowed at the same time the Kingâs did. It was strange that His Majesty felt the need to explain something to Lady Morrigan that the Knight was certain she already knew. If memory served, the cousins had lived in the castle together during their early childhoodâPrince Callumâs room had once been Lady Morriganâs, in fact. So why did the King bring up his sister? It was as if he were answering the Knightâs unvoiced questions, through Her Ladyship⌠or perhaps he truly believed her memory was that of a goldfish.
More curious still was the patronizing head pat and tone the King adopted. Granted, the Knight had formed some preconceptions about the cousinsâ relationship, but something was off about it. If Lady Morrigan took offense to any of her cousinâs behavior, she gave no outward sign. Her smile remained an artfully crafted portrait of courtly refinement. Then again, she never did. Not in the open.
King Edin's features tightened , and he forcefully snapped himself back to the present with a vigorous shake of the head. "More importantly," he continued with a touch of theatrical disdain, "I've caught wind of rumors about Anastasia entertaining unwelcome men in this chamber⌠â With a exaggerated grimace, he told Morrigan, âApparently, she's letting in more peasants than a village fair. The audacity of these men, bringing their afflictions into the heart of the castle where Wulfric and I could be exposed to their filth. I won't have my sons and I falling victim to a commoner's cold. It's beneath our royal sinuses, you see." He punctuated his statement with a mockingly dramatic sniff.
But who cares if your daughter, wife, or cousin does? The Knight wondered as a faint gasp slipped from Lady Morriganâs mouth. âOh dear, how dreadful! Do you feel sick?â she fussed, placing a hand over his forehead to measure his temperature. âWe most certainly cannot take any chances. Iâll have this room disinfected from top to bottom and post a guard at the door to dispose of any âunwanted filthâ that try to follow Anya into her room. How does that sound?â
King Edin had replied after a pause, with a haughty tilt of his head, âI am the epitome of health and vigor, as alwaysâŚBut the answer to a bath is always yes.â
There it was again. The feeling that something was off. The Knightâs mind skimmed through the words he knew and found one that could explain it all: A performance. They were performing for an audience of oneâhimself, the intruder who dared linger in this âsanctuaryâ of theirs.
His armor plates scraped against each other as he shuffled in place, the unseen eyes boring into the side of his face, spreading a cold unease within him. He kept his gaze forward, never turning towards the source of that violet stare.
âPet,â she said, âprepare His Majesty a warm salt bath. And send someone to bring ginger tea with lemon and honey.â She flicked her fingers in dismissal.
âAt once, my lady.â The Knight executed a brisk bow before turning on his heel. Eyes trailed after him, needling between his shoulders even as he retreated from the room.
Through the crack of the closing door, he saw Lady Morrigan reach up and remove the Kingâs crown just as the door clicked shut.
Prince Edin & Princess Morrigan & Princess Jane
1699
Princess Morrigan peered through the narrow gap of the door, her eyes scanning the castle library. Inside, Prince Edin sat alone, books and scrolls piled high around him. The room was silent save for the soft rustle of pages and the occasional sigh of frustration as Edin wrestled with the dense texts forced upon him. While studies bored her cousin to no end, Morrigan found fascination in every subject that dulled his eyesâmath, history, all of it. But as a princess, Morrigan was groomed for a different path: to charm and be charming, to become the flawless jewel adorning the arm of whichever powerful man her father deemed a suitable match.
Time and time again, her parentsâPrince Geoffrey and Princess Consort Igraineâreminded her that men sought wives who were young, lovely, and obedient, not ones possessing knowledge beyond manners. Why waste the fleeting commodity of her youth on studying topics women inherently lacked the mind for? If Morrigan must indulge in her intellectual pursuits, it would have to be after she had fulfilled her duty to marry and bear her husband an heir and a spare.
Once, the cousins were inseparable, their days filled with laughter and play, free from royal obligations. They had explored the castle grounds, invented wild adventures, and played all sorts of games. But lately, the pressures on Edin to fill his role as the future king had grown tremendously. He was expected to study more, to train more, with no time for frivolity. Morriganâs presence was a âdistractionâ hindering his progress, or so the adults claimed.
Not that that kept her away from him. If anything, seeing Edin so miserable strengthened her resolve to be the finest distraction he could ask for.
Tiptoeing into the room, Morrigan crept up behind her cousin unnoticed. In a swift, fluid motion, she snatched his crown right off his head and bolted across the library with a triumphant giggle. âCatch me, Eddie!â
âHey! Give it back!âEdin's voice rang out, filled with playful exasperation as he rose from his seat, his chair skidding back with a slight scrape against the floor. He then chased after her, a scowl quickly turning into a grin. He jumped up on a table then launched himself at her, nearly grabbing her, but missing.â I am going to kick your ass !â he exclaimed, his tone playful and filled with mock threat
With an exaggerated eye roll and a dramatic scoff, Morrigan taunted, âNot if youâre that sllllllllllllllllllloooooooooooooooooooooooooow!â The cousins ran round and round the libraryâdashing between bookshelves, threading through the obstacle course of tables and chairsâegging each other and laughing the entire time. Their game continued until the creak of the library door brought them to a sudden halt.
In the space between heartbeats, Morrigan passed Edinâs crown back to him. She smoothed out her dress just as the newcomer stepped into view.
As the door creaked open, a vision of beauty stepped into the library, casting a radiant glow upon the room with her presence alone. Princess Jane's blonde locks cascaded down her slender frame, framing her porcelain face adorned with captivating blue eyes that sparkled with affection as she smiled at the sight of the two young royals.
Despite being around twenty-three years young at the time, she was petite in stature, barely taller than the duo in front of her. Her delicate footsteps carried her gracefully across the room as she approached the cousins,âEdin, Morrigan... The sound of your laughter brings me so much joyâŚâ
With a gentle but firm tone, Princess Jane continued, "HoweverâŚA crown is not just an accessoryâit symbolizes power, responsibility, and the trust of our people. Furthermore, it's worth a pretty penny. We must be mindful of the privileges bestowed upon us." With a tender touch, Princess Jane then caressed both of their cheeks. â...Let us find a different game to play.â
Edin stuck his tongue as he snatched the crown from Morrigan, swiftly restoring it to its rightful place atop his head. âYeah Morrigan! Gosh! You should be more like me, Morrigan.â
When Jane walked in, the room seemed to brighten for her. The tightness in Morriganâs muscles eased, and warmth returned to her complexion. She had braced for the entrance of King George or her father, but seeing Jane, those worries felt distant.
The crown meant little compared to Janeâs gentle touch on her cheek. It was an affection she seldom received from her own parents, a taste of the familial bond she craved, and she cherished every second, even if she was being scolded.
Her spirited self quickly resurfaced with Edinâs chiding. She stuck her tongue out back at him. âIf itâs so important, then maybe you shouldnât make it so easy to take, Eddie.â She swatted the crown off his head and crossed her arms as she turned her back on him, pouting.
Edin, momentarily taken aback by Morrigan's audacity, couldn't help but grin at her antics. Despite the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders, her presence always managed to inject a spark of levity into his existence. He caught the crown in his fingers before it could fall and readjusted it on his head. âHa. See! Didnât get me that time! I could do this blindfolded and still outmaneuver you.â Then, he patted her on the head seeing her pout. âWhat are you grumpy for? You have all the free time in the world compared to me, you should be happy⌠I am too busy and much too popular to be idle.â
The pout dissolved beneath Edinâs touch, but her heart still ached within. His hand on her head seemed to amplify each beat of pain. âBeing bored doesnât make me happy.â Morrigan looked at him. âSpending less time with you doesnât make me happy.â Then turning to Jane, âAnd you wonât be here forever.â One day duty would demand Jane wed and depart. As Edin took on more responsibilities, he would eventually have no time to spare for Morrigan. Without her sisters Elaine and Annaâtaken too soonâshe would have only solitude for company. Tears welled in her eyes at the sudden reminder of it all.
Edin frowned at her, the pain of their situation sending a pang of emotion coursing through him.
Spending less time with his beloved cousin didnât make him happy either.
He didnât even get to spend time with Jane nor any of his friends anymore.
But what his father did to him would do to him if he refused to listen, would bring him much more misery. He was about to express his feelings to Morrigan when her comment about Jane threw him off. Edin's frown deepened as Morrigan's words about Jane echoed in his mind. His sister, Jane, was his rock, his confidante, the one person who understood him better than anyone else. The mere thought of her departing sent a pang of anxiety coursing through him.
"Morrigan," Edin's tone was sharp, his blue eyes flashing with hurt. "What do you mean? Jane isn't going anywhere. She's always been here for us, for me.â His voice quivered with emotion, his usual calm demeanor momentarily shattered by the thought of losing his sister.
Morrigan stared back at Edin, confused. What did he mean? Didnât he know what society expected of noble daughters? âSheâs a princess. Princesses are supposed to get married to someone the Kingdom wants an alliance with and have babies.â This truth had been etched into her very being since the day she drew her first breath, reducing her and her sisters to mere pawns in their fatherâs game of thrones. It was this very logic that led Prince Geoffrey to openly question his brotherâs decisionâor rather, his apparent neglectâin not marrying off Jane sooner. âA waste of resources,â she once heard him say.
However, that raised the question: why was Jane not married yet? Morrigan turned her gaze towards her older cousin, heart divided between an expectation for confirmation of their predetermined role and a flicker of hope for an alternative fate. If Jane, unmarried at twenty-three, was allowed to stay in the castle, could Morrigan too? Could she stay with them forever?
Jane smiled sadly at her and ran her fingers affectionately through her younger cousinâs hair. âStarting a family with someone you love can be a beautiful thing Morrigan. The idea may appeal to you when youâre grown.â
Edin suddenly interjected, âWell thatâll be the first thing to do when Iâm King! You and Jane will not have to do anything you donât want to⌠Then you girls will be free to bask in my glorious presence without a care in the world! Getting married is STUPID anyway. Like anyone would be good enough for me!â
Not according to her father. Love as grounds for marriage was unimaginable, âstupidâ even. As for marriage itself, it was one of the few contributions she could make to the kingdom. What use was she to Edin if she couldnât give him allies?
Even so, Edinâs words meant a lot to her. âI hope you become king soon, Eddie.â Considering what needed to happen for that to become a reality, it was wrong to say or think it, but she couldnât help but wish it to be true.
Morriganâs violets watched Jane for a while before catching hold of her sleeve. âWhen you finally find someone you love⌠what will you do?â She hesitated. âWill you leave?â
âOh, Morrigan,â Jane sighed softly, her smile masking her feelings within. She couldnât bring herself to tell her beloved cousin the truth when it would only bring her pain. âI suppose... Iâll do whatâs best for them. And for the kingdom, of courseâŚâ Her gaze flickered away from Morrigan, who looked down at the floor in resignation, to Edin, a glint of apprehension flashing in her eyes. âAnd of course, the choice of our future Kingâs marriage will hold immense importance and carry a great responsibility.â
Edin grumpily rolled his eyes, but Jane's touch on his shoulder softened his demeanor. "When the time comes, Edin," she said softly, her voice tinged with an almost ominous certainty, "you'll have to be more than just a King. You'll have to be our protector, a guardian against the shadows that haunt our family. It will demand everything from youâperfection, sacrifice, and unwavering resolve."
âWhatever Jane. Youâre so dramatic!â A smaller hand pushed off his crown in response.
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s): Blue @CitrusArms
âDonât flatter myself?â Peter slapped a hand against his chest, eyebrows shooting up in mock shock. âIf I donât, whoâs gonna? Worldâs already done a bang-up job convincing us weâll never be enough. But I know my worth and Iâm gonna give credit where itâs due. So yeah, I am quite the looker alright.â His grin stretched into a full-on sh*t-eating display. âEnough to catch your eye and not let go even after the dance was done.â If Blueâs gaze could shoot daggers, he turned into a knife block in the time it took to browse the buffet spread. âNo shame in owning up to it, you know?â
Satisfied with his assessment of Blue, he committed the location of her weapon to memory before signaling the passing server.
âWhere'd y'learn a jig like tha', anyway?â she asked.
âHere and there.â He shrugged, trading his empty glass for a full one off the serverâs tray without missing a beat. âBut that ainât what youâre really asking, is it?â As Peter took a sip, he eyed her over the rim of his glass.
He was ready for the usual crack about how âhis kindâ shouldnât be rubbing elbows with the high and mighty. Except, her accent tipped him off that she didnât exactly belong either. His guess? Blue got to hang here because she was cozy with someone who did.
Peter pretended not to notice the accusation behind Blueâs probing question about missing belongings. He just checked his pockets, turning it inside out for show, and patted himself down. âYeah. Why?â
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s): Shehzadi Nahir @Rodiak
âWhat is a life worth living if not for the risks and surprises? Worry not, my dear, I'll be sure to keep you close and steady.â Possibly, more than Shehzadi Nahir bargained for.
To call whatever Riona was doing a âdanceâ would be, at best, charitable. She shuffled. Stumbled. Fought for purchase in stilts too slender to provide it. Each step was a balancing act, a gamble, as she did her best to not punch a hole in Shehzadi Nahirâs feet. Despite her efforts, the results were mixed. Every time her foot landed squarely on the Shehzadiâs toes, Riona winced. Thankfully, her full weight wasnât behind the blunders to cause injury, but it didnât make her any less mortified.
True to her word, Shehzadi Nahir kept her close and steady. With gentle hands, she corrected each fumble and kept Riona upright. She was, without a doubt, the only saving grace.
Around them, Riona sensed the eyes and barely concealed snickers of other guests as the pair tottered past. Heat rose to Rionaâs cheeks under their amusement. She glared down at her feet, gleaming gold in the light, determined not to provide the vultures with further entertainment. That proved to be her undoing, as she shouldâve known.
Too focused on her own feet, what little pattern the two built up to this point fell apart. A misplaced step threw Shehzadi Nahir off. Riona reacted, wrapping one hand around the woman while the other seized her arm to pull her up before she could fall.
For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked, faces near enough that Riona could breathe in her perfume and admire Shehzadi Nahirâs long lashes framing her golden brown eyes.
Once the Shehzadi regained her footing, Riona released her and a heavy sigh. âPlease accept my apologies, my lady. Iâm usually better at dancing than this.â Dancing had been one of her favorite pastimes since childhood. Something that felt as natural as breathing. It just never involved being strapped into torture devices.
âHow does anyone manage in these heels?â she asked as they resumed their not-a-dance. The heels were beautiful, a testament to Viaâs remarkable sense of style, but practicality was sacrificed at the altar of fashion. Riona glanced around at the other women who wore similar shoes, marveling at their poise. Why werenât they limping or swan-diving onto the first chair in sight? Years of practice mustâve hardened their skin. Either that or she should never play cards with them because they were masters of stoicism. Both seemed equally likely to Riona.
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
Time: Evening Location: Damien Estateâs Ballroom Interaction(s): Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Mr. V (Kazumin Nagasa) @samreaper; Lord Leo Smithwood @Helo; Lord Cassius Damien (Cassius Vael) @PapaOso
Ryn stared at Lady Vikena's hand resting lightly on his own for some time before slowly turning his hand over to clasp hers, giving it a gentle, acknowledging squeeze.
âPlease continue to tell me why you're disheartened,â she said.
A rueful smile tugged at his lips as he met her eyes. âBy you, Charlotte.â With his free hand, Ryn reached to lay his palm over the back of Lady Vikenaâs, sandwiching her hand between both of his own.
âI thought, now that weâre a teamâŚâ Rynâs gaze flitted toward Mr. V, recalling the day when he and Ms. Persephone had stumbled unexpectedly into the Vikena estate, and how they had all agreed to harbor the wanted fugitives. What brings people closer than partaking in a bit of misdeeds together? âPartners in crime, as it were,â he winked at Mr. V and then focused on Lady Vikena again. âI thought youâd give us a more truthful answer than platitudes youâd offer strangers.â
Just as Rynâs lips parted to speak further, a lion caught his eye, bearing down upon their little group. âGooââ He got no further before Lord Smithwood thrust a bracelet upon the table before them.
âThere is a thief wandering the ballroom,â he announced brusquely, âthey have stolen my watch and left that in my pocket. We must solve this crime immediately.â
Ryn looked from the jewelry to Lord Smithwood and back, then turned to Lady Vikena once more, giving her hand one final, gentle pat. âIâd like to continue our conversation later, Charlotte. Is that okay with you?â
Redirecting his attention to Lord Smithwood, Ryn was about to ask a question when another nobleman approached the slowly growing congregation. âExcuse my interruptionâŚâ Lord Damien.
So this must be who Peter spoke of. Ryn studied the handsome man and noticed how intently the wolfâs gaze lingered on the butterfly. He smiled to himself, sensing the lordâs true motives for inserting himself here.
âAnd youâll have to excuse me for drawing you away from the one who so captivates your interest.â Ryn rose from his seat. âLord Cassius Damien, I presume? Itâs a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Fritz.â He bowed in greeting, paused, and extended a hand, seeing if Count Damienâs son was the kind of person to shake hands with âjust Fritz.â
âIf the others donât mind, I think it would be heartening to have your assistance, Lord Damien. More the merrier, I say.â He flashed Lord Damien an amicable smile.
âNow then,â Ryn faced Lord Smithwood, âDetective, please describe what your watch looks like for me. When did you last see it?â
Peter
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s):Persephone Olivia @Potter; Blue @CitrusArms
âWhatâs going on?â Olivia asked.
Contrary to Oliviaâs obvious worry, Peterâs face lit up with a wide, reckless grin. Impish excitement glimmered in his eyes. âA real shindig.â Then his voice dropped lower, a hint of sharpness beneath his playful tone. âIâd take this chance to do what you came here to do, while the shifty weasel has people distracted.â
Said weasel guided Olivia smoothly into a spin so that when she stopped, she faced a particular direction. Lo and behold, across the ballroom, stood the lady in blue, her eyes sharp and focused on them. Once Olivia spun back to him, Peter continued. âSaw Blue Lady? Sheâs been checking us out for a while now. Think she has the hots for me⌠â He smirked, âThat and I wager sheâs a guard.â
He heaved a deep, melodramatic sigh. âIâm too damn sexy for my own good. Itâs just impossible to ignore me forever.â
Chuckling, he mused, âToo bad too. Was hoping weâd get to spend more time together.â Peterâs laughter tapered off as he found himself staring at Olivia, longer than he had intended.
âSo, what do you wanna do?â Peter glanced at Cowlick and Lady Lottieâs direction. âYou found your pals. No reason not to go to them.â He looked back at Olivia. âEspecially when Iâm about to go on a heist.â
Peter strolled down the buffet table, his eyes scanning the spread with mixed interest. He plopped any appetizers he could eat with his hands into his mouth and washed them down with a gulp from his sparkling drink. He grabbed a mini quiche before leaving the table behind.
Leaning back against the cool wall, he bit into the quiche. The buttery crust gave way to a creamy, smoky filling that hit all the right notes. As the sharp cheddar and rich bacon blended in his mouth, he let his eyes close and moaned.
The weasel glanced over at his blue neighbor. âGotta say, the musicâs a bore fest, but the food might just make up for it.â His gaze traveled up and down Blueâs body. On the surface, it came across as ogling. But really, he was sizing her upâmuscle distribution, stance, the subtle tell of a favored limb, potential hidden weapon. When their eyes met, he smirked.
âYou know,â Peter said, âI couldnât help but notice you giving me the eye for a while. Like what you see?â
Riona awkwardly danced with Nahir and accidentally tripped her.
Meanwhile, Ryn told Charlotte that she was the reason why he was disheartened, but before he could elaborate, Leo came in with a case: The Mystery of the Swapped Heirlooms. Ryn asked Charlotte if they could talk later. He also introduced himself to Cassius.
Peter suggested that Persephone go do what she came to do while everyone was preoccupied by the âtheft.â Later, he approached Stratya and struck up a conversation with her.
Various scars here and there; partially missing ear
â â â â â
Psychology
Likes:
â Thrill of risk-taking â Teasing others â Music (especially jazz, charleston, swing, and ragtime)
Dislikes:
â Being bored or still for too long â Asking for help â Strict rules
Fears:
â Emotional attachment â Complete silence â Losing his edge
Habits/Quirks
â Speaks with hands a lot â Teases or flirts with almost anyone â Whistles or hums to himself
Sexuality:
Closeted Bisexual
Personality:
Vasco is always looking out for number one. He ainât afraid to get his hands dirty if it means coming out on top. The streets made him hard and cynical - keeps most everyone at armâs length. But man, he sure loves to live it up - Vascoâs always looking for the next thrill or the next good time. Morals? Pshh, please, Vasco plays by his own rules. He flies off the handle quick as a jackrabbit and forgets just as fast. Plenty confident, maybe too much for his own good, but thatâs Vasco DeLuca for you.
â â â â â
Background
Occupation
Mobster Underling
Living Immediate Family Members:
Unknown (Orphan)
Dead Immediate Family Members:
Unknown (Orphan)
Current Companions:
Aurora; Rowan; Barrock
Current and Past Lover(s):
Doesnât remember all their names
Current Equipment(Any weapons etc):
Unless you count the weights tied to him, literally brought nothing to Avalia but himself in his birthday suit.
History:
Letâs talk about Vasco DeLuca, yeah? He never knew his parents â dumped at some church doorstep. Typical sob story, but Vasco didnât stick around crying about it. Nah, he bolted from that orphanage faster than a cat on a hot tin roof and took to the streets like a fish to water. This was during Prohibition, mind you, when the whole city was a speakeasy in disguise and the streets were as mean as they come. But Vasco, see, he was street-smart. Started with small-time swindles and thievery, to get by. Eventually, he joined up with the local toughs and, boy, did he find his calling. Before he knew it, he was making a name for himself with a pistol in hand and not a lick of fear in his heart.
Then came the big leagues: the mafia. They saw something in him, something useful. Promised him the world, and for a while, he got it. The life was sweet â money, dames, excitement, you name it. Vasco lived it up, thinking he was untouchable. Thatâs where things got dicey.
Vasco got too big for his britches. Pinched cash and goods right under the bossâs nose, started some side hustles. And like that wasnât stupid enough, he bedded his bossâs daughter. Both of them. And his lady. Talk about playing with fire!
Of course, it all caught up with him. The family couldnât let all that slide; made an example out of him. Stripped, weighed down, and given a one-way ticket to Davy Jonesâ locker. Vasco DeLuca, the cautionary tale of what happens when you fly too high, too fast.
Now, thereâs no denying that all that was true. Vasco got a big head, was dallying with the bossâs daughters and the missus, and yeah, he skimmed a pretty penny off the top. But the story left out bits. Like his romp with the bossâs nephew. Or how he found out he was going to be a daddy. Or that Vasco had MĂŠnièreâs disease; one ear was already kaput, and the other wasnât far behind. The dizziness and headaches were getting worse and more frequent.
The writing was on the wall; his days of being the catâs pajamas were numbered. Vasco had been angling for an exit, pocketing whatever he could on his way out. Just never imagined his exit would be as fish food.
â â â â â
Combat and Magic Stat Creation
Fitness Level:
â Athletic (trained often if not daily)
Physical Strengths:
â Eagle eye â Quick reflexes â High pain tolerance
Physical Weaknesses:
â Alcohol & Drug Addict â MĂŠnière's Disease:
â Completely deaf in one ear â Unpredictable episodes of vertigo and hearing problems â Increasingly frequent headaches and tinnitus
Time: EVENING Location: EXT./INT. THE TIPSY TAVERN - RIVER PORT Interactions/Mentions: The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess; The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; Tavern patrons Equipment:
â Attire from Earth â Backpack â Smartphone â Wallet and key â Computer â Headphones â Spare eyeglasses â Plastic bag â Letter â Zion's hunting knife â Damp shirt â Clothes and cloak "borrowed" from Malachi's â Canteen "borrowed" from Malachi's â Map "borrowed" from Malachi's â Kenia's housewarming gifts (bread)
Jun stood at the entrance of The Tipsy Tavern, his heart doing a weird jitterbug. He wasn't exactly a fan of places like these (too loud, too much going on). But as much as he wanted to leave River Port and put as much distance between Malachi and the others, he knew wandering around in the dark wasn't the brightest idea. Plus, he had zero clue which way to go. And, as any seasoned RPG player knows, a tavern's the best place to gather info. Biting the bullet, Jun pushed open the creaky door.
Immediately, he was hit by a wall of laughter, chatter, and all-out party noise. The air, thick with the scents of spilled booze and tobacco smoke, carried an undercurrent of musky, not-so-charming hint of BO that really, really needed to be aired out. He grimaced as his shoes stuck to the floor with every step â when did they last mop up this mess? The combined heat from all the bodies and fireplace only made things even more unpleasant.
The place was rammed with clientele from every corner of life. Around scattered tables, weary travelers and townsfolk were kicking back, offloading their day's burdens. Some were all about that drink in hand, others about the company they kept. Over in one corner, a bunch of regulars, still in their work clothes, were going hard at a darts game. The thud of darts hitting the board mixed with cheers and groans, as bets were won and lost. In another corner, an orc and what looked like a minotaur were locked in an intense arm-wrestling match, surrounded by a shouting crowd. High above, a bard was trying their best to strum out a tune on their lute, which got pretty much lost in the racket.
Right in the heart of it all, there was a wild party going on. It gave off major frat party vibes â the kind Jun always steered clear of back in uni.
As Jun tried to navigate through the crowd towards the bartender, he got a sudden shove. The burly, scar-faced dude in mismatched armor who bumped into Jun shot him a stink eye, clearly miffed by Jun's failure to dodge.
"Hey, watch it!" he slurred as he swayed on his feet.
"I-I'm sorry, I did-di-di-didn't mean toâ" Jun stammered, backing away.
The guy squinted and studied Jun's appearance. "You're not from around here, are you?" He leaned in close enough for Jun to get a whiff of his last few drinks. "Hold up⌠You... a Human?"
"N-no!" Jun blurted. If he remembered Avalia's setting correctly, 'humans' don't naturally exist. The only ones that do were the summoned 'chosen.' Meaning, it'd be easy for The New Dawn to track Jun down if he said he was human. Safer to pretend he was roleplaying as some other race. "I'm⌠um⌠uhhhâŚ" His eyes zipped around and landed on a group of dwarves. "A dwarf!"
For an awkward beat, the guy said nothing, blinked, then frowned. "A dwarf?"
"Y-yes. A very tall dwarf." Jun quickly added. "With giantism."
The guy just stared (and Jun could only return the look) until he cracked up. "A giant dwarf, you say! Haven't seen those before." He slapped Jun on the back. "Sit your giant dwarven arse down, boy, and drink!" Before Jun could protest, he was dragged into the thick of the party and pushed onto a seat. A massive jug of beer thudded in front of him, its frothy contents sloshing over.
"Uh⌠thank you, but I just wanted to ask if anyone knows the best way out of River Port," Jun tried to explain but wasn't sure if anyone could hear him over the noise. "Or if there's anything dangerous out there I should watch out for..."
"You want answers, giant dwarf? You drink with us!" declared the guy and the table roared in agreement. "Bottoms up!"
Feeling the weight of dozens of eyes on him, Jun hesitantly lifted the jug to his lips, the heavy scent of beer filling his nostrils. With a deep breath, he took a careful sip.
Jun went to The Tipsy Tavern to see if he could find out anything useful, but gets dragged into drinking with the patrons.
Time: Evening Location: Damien Estateâs Ballroom Interaction(s): Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Mr. V (Kazumin Nagasa) @samreaper
âI'm alright, and you?â
Again. She did that again. Hurt surfaced in Rynâs smile. âDisheartened,â he admitted.
He turned his head toward the other party attendees, keeping one ear attuned to the murmured exchange between Mr. V and Lady Vikena, as his eyes roved over the sea of masks in search of the weasel. It did not take long to spot Peter engaged in a spirited dance with Ms. Persephone. Their movements were delightfully out of sync with the music. There was an anarchic charm in their carefree twirls and steps. A twinge of guilt pricked at Ryn at the thought of interrupting their merriment.
Raising a hand, Ryn attempted to signal Peter. A misinterpretation from a couple of guests across the room led to a few returned waves, but the intended recipient seemed to remain oblivious. Just as Ryn prepared to try again, Peterâs dance shifted. The redhead took a step away from Ms. Persephone and did a jig; his feet executed a rapid shuffle while his lifted arms remained relatively still, save for the familiar cant.
Peter
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s):Persephone Olivia @Potter
âSo, Rogue, do you know how to dance as well?â
Peter barked a laugh. âWhat? You mean that?â He gave a dismissive jerk of his chin towards the other couples, shuffling in a monotonous funeral procession. âThat ainât dancing. Thatâs paint drying.â His grin turned conspiratorial, âThis is a dance.â Without warning, Peter swept Olivia into an energetic dance of his own making. Every twist and turn were spontaneous, guided by nothing but their laughter and whims, a stark contrast to the stiff-backed formality suffocating the room.
As they spun, Peterâs sharp eyes caught sight of Fritz, probably itching to deliver a lecture about Olivia. He weighed the option of pretending not to notice the other man but knew better than to try.
Reluctantly, he took a step back from Olivia and broke into a jig, a ruse for their secret conversation.
Fritz lowered his hand and discreetly signed back. Friend. He angled his finger in Cowlickâs general direction. Wants black powder. Can you get some?
Black powder? Was Cowlick gonna raze C-Bertâs mansion to the ground? The thought sent a wicked grin across his face. That sounded like his kind of thing⌠But first.
Peter switched up his steps. Depends. He then gave Olivia a quick, meaningful glance. Can we keep her? It was a long shot, but he had to ask.
Fritz just folded his arms in response. Peter shrugged internally. Well, worth the shot. Heâd try his luck again later.
On it, Boss. With a playful hop, Peter returned to Olivia, slowing their dance to a pace that allowed him to draw her close.
âYou know, for a noblewoman, Lady Olivia, youâre not half as bad on the dance floor. You go out a lot?â He twirled her under his arm, âI picked up most of my moves from festivals and taverns.â
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
âChar...did Lady Violet say anything or show desire towards coming to this party or that other one going on..that..ritual party or something by that huge bear of a man or something?â Rynâs ears perked up at the mention of Lady Damienâs name. âBasically, I'm asking if you spoke to her prior and if so, if she expressed interest in the events?â
Ryn surveyed the ballroom for Lady Damien amongst the vibrant gowns and crisp suits. When he failed to locate her, he sought her magical signatureâthe magicae he had seen at the tea partyâthrough the enchanted lenses, but to no avail. âIâve been here since the party started, but I havenât seen her at all,â he said as he continued his search.
Then, from the corner of his enchanted sight, a black amorphous shape crept in. The energy coalesced into tormented visages that dissipated just as quickly. Brief flashes of dark magenta flickered within like lightning in a storm cloud. However, before he could discern the magicae or its bearer, a group of guests walked onto the dance floor, blocking his line of sight at the same moment the enchantment lost its effect. Well, thatâs not ominous and unsettling at all.
Spotting Peter dancing with Persephone, Ryn asked Peter to get the gunpowder Kazumin asked for. Peter decided to enjoy his time dancing with Persephone a little bit longer before going to do Rynâs bidding. Meanwhile, when the subject of Violet comes up, Ryn tries to look for her in the ballroom. Though he didnât find her, he saw a disturbing magicae. @princess@samreaper@Potter
Various scars here and there; partially missing ear
â â â â â
Psychology
Likes:
â Thrill of risk-taking â Teasing others â Music (especially jazz, charleston, swing, and ragtime)
Dislikes:
â Being bored or still for too long â Asking for help â Strict rules
Fears:
â Emotional attachment â Complete silence â Losing his edge
Habits/Quirks
â Speaks with hands a lot â Teases or flirts with almost anyone â Whistles or hums to himself
Sexuality:
Closeted Bisexual
Personality:
Vasco is always looking out for number one. He ainât afraid to get his hands dirty if it means coming out on top. The streets made him hard and cynical - keeps most everyone at armâs length. But man, he sure loves to live it up - Vascoâs always looking for the next thrill or the next good time. Morals? Pshh, please, Vasco plays by his own rules. He flies off the handle quick as a jackrabbit and forgets just as fast. Plenty confident, maybe too much for his own good, but thatâs Vasco DeLuca for you.
â â â â â
Background
Occupation
Mobster Underling
Living Immediate Family Members:
Unknown (Orphan)
Dead Immediate Family Members:
Unknown (Orphan)
Current Companions:
Aurora; Rowan; Barrock
Current and Past Lover(s):
Doesnât remember all their names
Current Equipment(Any weapons etc):
Unless you count the weights tied to him, literally brought nothing to Avalia but himself in his birthday suit.
History:
Letâs talk about Vasco DeLuca, yeah? He never knew his parents â dumped at some church doorstep. Typical sob story, but Vasco didnât stick around crying about it. Nah, he bolted from that orphanage faster than a cat on a hot tin roof and took to the streets like a fish to water. This was during Prohibition, mind you, when the whole city was a speakeasy in disguise and the streets were as mean as they come. But Vasco, see, he was street-smart. Started with small-time swindles and thievery, to get by. Eventually, he joined up with the local toughs and, boy, did he find his calling. Before he knew it, he was making a name for himself with a pistol in hand and not a lick of fear in his heart.
Then came the big leagues: the mafia. They saw something in him, something useful. Promised him the world, and for a while, he got it. The life was sweet â money, dames, excitement, you name it. Vasco lived it up, thinking he was untouchable. Thatâs where things got dicey.
Vasco got too big for his britches. Pinched cash and goods right under the bossâs nose, started some side hustles. And like that wasnât stupid enough, he bedded his bossâs daughter. Both of them. And his lady. Talk about playing with fire!
Of course, it all caught up with him. The family couldnât let all that slide; made an example out of him. Stripped, weighed down, and given a one-way ticket to Davy Jonesâ locker. Vasco DeLuca, the cautionary tale of what happens when you fly too high, too fast.
Now, thereâs no denying that all that was true. Vasco got a big head, was dallying with the bossâs daughters and the missus, and yeah, he skimmed a pretty penny off the top. But the story left out bits. Like his romp with the bossâs nephew. Or how he found out he was going to be a daddy. Or that Vasco had MĂŠnièreâs disease; one ear was already kaput, and the other wasnât far behind. The dizziness and headaches were getting worse and more frequent.
The writing was on the wall; his days of being the catâs pajamas were numbered. Vasco had been angling for an exit, pocketing whatever he could on his way out. Just never imagined his exit would be as fish food.
â â â â â
Combat and Magic Stat Creation
Fitness Level:
â Athletic (trained often if not daily)
Physical Strengths:
â Eagle eye â Quick reflexes â High pain tolerance
Physical Weaknesses:
â Alcohol & Drug Addict â MĂŠnière's Disease:
â Completely deaf in one ear â Unpredictable episodes of vertigo and hearing problems â Increasingly frequent headaches and tinnitus
princess
Lemons
mickilennial
vietmyke
Pen Name
Kaithe Dame
High Moon
Snowdrops
Charley
SilverPaw
