Kassarock

The Arrangement [Suki & Kassarock]

Ah, is that some backstory I see there? Nice Post.

When the Evening Cicadas Cry, A Collaborative Mystery RP Idea

Yeah thanks for the mention, but I'm already in another new RP. Good luck guys!

Of Blood and Burden

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Karlus Marsh

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They had taken him to the infirmary. It was a place both familiar and strange to him. There are commonalities between all hospitals, hospices and infirmaries, Karlus had been trained and had often worked in the one that had been attached for the college, so that was why this place felt familiar. But it was also strange, not just because this was the first time he had visited this particular one, but because of the illnesses he had seen as they had been taken to this examination room. The sick here... screamed... a lot more than the ones back in Cambridge.

They had inspected them for something, the 'taint', by examining the whites of their eyes. The sister was there, but it was this strange, foreigner, who was the healer who ran this place. She was an elf, but her skin was dark and dusky. A dark elf, Karlus had never seen one up close before. She was old and withered, hunched and hobbled, but her hands were quick and nimble enough to work her instruments and pull strange tinctures and concoctions from the long many-pocketed coat she wore.

The first examination was inconsequential enough. But then the sister spoke a sentence that sent a shiver of cold fear up Karlus's spine.

"Father Marrow wants to ensure there are no signs of blood magic."

Panic filled his mind. He thought those in charge here at the Order already knew what had happened, but perhaps the masters of the college had neglected to tell them the whole story. If that was the case, what would they do? What will they do to me? Karlus's eyes began to frantically shift around the room, looking for an exit, for an easy escape of some kind.

But then the old healer, Aemma, sent the sister out, what did that mean? He tensed up, mind reeling, ready to run or to fight somehow. He supposed it was to his advantage, she was only an old woman, he could probably overpower her if he put his mind to it. And yet, she wanted him to trust her? Why should I trust her? Because she's a fellow mage? I know what mages to do other mages. I know what we do to ourselves.

He could feel himself shaking with the tension as she stroked Lambert's ear, his hands curled ready into a fist as she examined his arm. He would do it, if he had to, they couldn't know, they would hang him if they knew. Or worse.

Then she showed her arm, and Karlus's jaw dropped open.

She was a blood mage. The Order tolerated that? It was unthinkable compared to what Karlus had been taught at the college. Lambert asked the question that had also been on his mind as he was was passed a vial of Casters Milk by the old dark elf. His eyes followed her around the room, the shock and awe barely contained in them. Perhaps... perhaps I can trust her? Perhaps its better than trying to hide it... It didn't work, after all.

He drank the concoction, barely listening to the conversation about Arlo and the trial that he was most likely facing. Karlus was too absorbed in his own thoughts. He had a choice to make, to deceive or to trust. Most of his life he had tried to hide so much of himself from the world around him. Deception was natural for him. It was comfortable. But... it has also led me here.

He was so wrapped up in his own mind that he started when the doctor turned her attention towards him.

"Sorry... what did you say, just now?" He asked meekly, warily.

"The examination? Your arm, please?" She replied in her strange foreign accent, reaching out to take hold of his hand. Karlus flinched away from her touch.

"Please... I'll... I'll... show you... Just don't touch me." He set the empty vial and pulled up his left sleeve.

The skin was lily white, except for around the wrists, which were still red, bruised and raw from his time bound and shackled. The sleeve went up past his wrist to expose his thin weak forearm, and up further still, to the elbow. It was there, right at the top, almost in the pit of Karlus's elbow that the mark lay. It was almost gone now, a small collection of freshly healed scars, only the deepest of them still bearing any redness. They were arranged in a cluster, like a figure of eight composed from straight lines, scored through down its length.

The old elf's eyes widened as she saw the mark. She looked at it for a few moments saying nothing, but she did not reach out to take his arm to examine it more closely. Karlus was thankful for that. Lambert was staring at him too. Karlus did not like it, but he let them look. He had made his choice now, and he would live with it. Or die for it. Finally the doctor spoke.

"What have you done, boy?" Her voice was low and husky, thick with that strange accent Karlus could not identify.

"I only tried it once. It didn't work." He whispered back, not meeting their gaze. She sighed and rubbed at her corners of her wrinkled eyes.

"Then you are lucky. It is a dangerous art, Blood Magic, especially so for those who are young and inexperienced. You should not covet this power, it has a cost, it always has a cost."

"But you use it." His voice almost had an an edge of defiance to it. But underneath that there was something else, a yearning for something. Understanding. Vindication.

"Indeed I do. It is a tool like any other, and it can used to do good in the right hands. But it can also be abused. Either way there is a cost. I am willing to pay it."

"I've already paid for it too. I'm here aren't I?" Her face crinkled, there was a look of sympathy... or pity, in her eyes.

"That is not the sort of cost I am talking about."

He felt the need to explain himself. Why he had done what he had done, why he had need powers beyond his own. She must be able to understand him, after all, she had done it too. He wanted to explain himself, but the words wouldn't come, not like how he wanted them to. He had to force them out, and even then, they didn't explain much. They barely explained anything.

"I just wanted something... and I thought it was the only way. It wasn't evil. And it doesn't matter now, I'm not there anymore, so it doesn't matter. I won't try it again."

Karlus let his arm drop back to his side, and slowly slide his sleeve over the fading remains of terrible, terrible mistake.

The Arrangement [Suki & Kassarock]

So yeah, I think one more post each then wrap it up and move onto the next scene?

The Arrangement [Suki & Kassarock]

By the time the man's convulsions had ceased beneath him, Ozragad's head had began to clear once more. The red mist lifted from his eyes and he saw the scene before him. A dead man on the floor, the Princess and Manawyndan standing shocked above him, a cluster of guards and courtiers nervously peering through the open doors. There was blood on his hand and cuff from when the servant had begun to wretch and splutter. He stared at it for a moment before he wiped it on the front of the dead man's tunic and rising to his feet.

"Get this out of my sight." He wearily commanded the two guards who had brought the servant in moments before. "And then shut that door." They readily complied, dragging the dead man from the chamber, and then sealing them off once more from the curious and worried gaze of the court.

Treachery and treason, in his own palace, he could scarcely believe it. He had thought he had put and end all of that after the regency of his youth, and he had marched against those who had conspired against his mother. Poison. It was the weapon of a coward. He despised that more than anything else. It shall not happen to me, I will not let it happen. They fear to face me, I shall hunt them down.

The thought of what he would do when he found whoever was behind this reassured him for a moment, until his councillor spoke once more.

"That was ill done."

"Really? How?" The King shot Manawyndan a poisonous glance, but the Lord Steward did not back down.

"That did not help us find who was responsible for this, he should have been taken and questioned. By the Gods, he might not have even known that he served you poison. But we can't find that out now, because you killed him." His tone was disobedient, bordering on insolence. But Ozragad could not find the rage in him again. He just felt tired.

"Oh, just get out of here. Go do your job and find out who did this." Manawyndan stared back at him, and with a snort of derision marched out of the council chamber without a second look. Now he was alone with the Princess.

The King went to say something but the words caught in this throat and withered there. What was he to say? Should he thank her? Should he apologise again? Should he beg for her forgiveness. Or should he ask her what his councillor advised him - is this your doing? He did not know.

He didn't meet her gaze as he wearily walked back to his seat at the table, and slumped into it. Somewhere in all the action his grey streaked dark mane had come loose from the knot that had held it behind his head. Strands of hair hung down around Ozragad's face. Unselfconsciously, he reached up and removed the plain circle that rested on his head and set it on the table before him. He shook his hair loose, let it fall free.

"I am sorry for my councillor. It is his job to be suspicious." He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, as if he was in pain. "It seems... I may owe you a great deal. There is one question I have though... why? Why did you choose to save me? If I had died you might have been free of me, and this place, which you clearly both despise. So why did you save my life?"

Of Blood and Burden

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Karlus Marsh

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There comes a time in life of every person where there can be no turning back. Where the multitudinous ways that a life might have turned out narrows down to a single, unavoidable, path. For some, their entire lives are a series of these moments, a continual narrowing of their options, until they are imprisoned, trapped, in the life that had been created for them. For others, this moment only came once. But there are none whom escape its grasp entirely. For what is death, but the final narrowing of our choices?

Karlus had never seen a man die before. Not until he came to Viscelles. Not until he had taken this last step on his journey down the ever constricting path that was his life.

He leaned his head against the wooden side of carriage, feeling the rough texture rub against his skin as they rumbled onward through the darkness of the night. He had been thinking about choices a lot recently. He had been thinking about the choices he had made. The choices Karlus had made had led him here, indentured in a strange land, watching strange men die. But still... I am not there. I am still alive. I am still a mage. He shivered at the thought of that, the fate he had only just escaped.

That choice had been an easy one, though in its way it was another constriction. But it was better to be sent to the fog haunted wastes of Viscelles than to be a Mute. In fact, it was probably better to be dead, than to be a Mute. It was not a choice Karlus had been expecting during those weeks he had languished in the dark places beneath the college, bound and chained in a warded cell. He had expected the worse. But when his time had come, and fate threw him this one last lifeline, he had clung to it with a desperate hope.

There was no turning back, but it seemed for Karlus, that final, inevitable narrowing had yet to come.

But we are not all so lucky... certainly not poor... Karlus's thoughts stopped in their tracks. He realised then he hadn't known the dead man's name. They had sat together for hours upon hours in this very carriage... But they had sat in silence. He supposed the dead man was free now in some way perhaps. He hoped he was.

And what had he died for? Nothing really. Just so that their new master could scare them into blind obedience. Once they had entered Viscelles, he had taken them deep into the blighted flog, to show them the horrors they would to face. And they had seen horrors alright. Rotted men, bloated like a drowned corpse, but somehow still living, and... hungry. Karlus couldn't remember how exactly it had happened, but he had seen them as they had feasted, ripping... tearing... biting.

It need not have happened, if they had not been bound, if there had been no ward.

He pushed those memories aside. What ever happened, he would not let that happen to him. He would become stronger, he would do anything, fight anyone. He would destroy them, these monsters, or The Order. He would find a way to free.

As the cart rocked Karlus to sleep, he dreamed of freedom.

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He awoke to the grey diffuse light of an overcast morning, and sounds of life outside of the canvas topped carriage. Bells. Karlus realised, he could hear the sound of bells. He sat up off of the bed of the cart and pressed an eye to tear in the fabric. Outside of the carriage the woods began to thin, walls and towers emerged hazily in the mist. Fort Stag, he presumed, their destination. There came a cry from the walls, and the sound of ratting chains and groaning hinges as the gates heaved open to allow them into the grim fortress.

The carriage stopped in the outer ward and they were called out by their keeper, Elias Black. Lambert, his fellow from the college went first. Karlus hesitated at the threshold of the cart. Another moment, another threshold, another narrowing, he thought to himself, until he received an elbow from behind and nearly fell, stumbling into the world outside.

He kept his head low, but surreptitiously glanced around him. The castle was busy with people, men and boys tending to horses, blacksmiths hammering away at their anvils, and soldiers, many soldiers on duty, or training, or just loitering... watching them. He felt out of place here already. These were rough men, coarse men, he had been trained as a scholar, not a warrior. Worse, he was slight... and pretty. Where men were kept confined with little company, dark things could happen, it had been the case in the college also.

Elias approached Karlus, knife in hand. Gods! Have they waited this long just to gut us here?! He flinched and almost stepped back from the man, until he realised it was only to slice the bonds from their wrists. Clearly they were no longer a threat now they were within Fort Stag. Karlus didn't feel like threat himself right now.

As that baneful erasure ward came out of the Ward's pocket, Karlus averted his eyes. He had felt its presence the whole journey, always there, always in the back of his mind. Pulling at him. He was glad it would be gone soon.

They were escorted across the yard as Elias Black spoke to them. The stares were accumulating, and Karlus withered under their presence. Self consciously he buried himself deeper within his cloak, trying to will himself to be unseen. It did not help when they halted by the arrival of some grandee from the keep that looked over the courtyard. This lord adding his own gaze to the collection. Karlus did not meet it.

A woman arrived next, a priest of Minerva, with an accent so thick for a moment Karlus did not realise she had been speaking Common. Elias gave his name to her, Sister Angelique, and then he and Lambert were passed into her care. Awkwardly he slunk through the gathering crowd, eyes cast down, following the heels of the Sister.

She led them out of the courtyard, and into some hall that led off from it. It was quieter here. As the number of people staring at them began to lessen, Karlus glanced up to get a bearing on his surroundings. Light diffused in from the arched windows of painted glass set high above. Two long rows of wooden pews led down to an altar at the far end, beyond it stood a statue. Flowing hair and robes, snake in hand, and fox curled at her feet. It was one of the Ten Divines, Minerva. They were standing in a temple. Well, that would make sense considering the Priestess. He would be living in a temple it seemed. I hope they aren't expecting me to give sermons. The thought almost made him smile.

"This is her Ladyship's chapel. She is a patron of our Order, your patron now." Sister Angelique paused at the crossing of the nave and transept and looked up to the face of the statue. Karlus followed her gaze. He could see the symbol picked out on the Goddess's forehead. An erasure ward. The God of magic is a Mute.

They turned down the transept, and went out from a door to emerge into a walled cloister set to the site of the temple. A covered stone walkway led round the circumference of the smaller courtyard, the outer walls lined with many doors. In the centre were raised beds, the scent of medicinal herbs overlay the sulphuric stink Fort Stag had smelt of so far.

"The Clergy keep our quarters on this side, closest to the temple." Sister Angelique pointed as she led them down one side of the cloister. "On the far side is the infirmary, where you will do your duty as healers. You'll be under supervision of Doctor Aemma there, she is a little strange, but she does the Lady's work." They turned the corner, standing under the walkway that led between the Chapel and the Hospital. "This side is where we keep the Mages, the cells at the end should be vacant. If you need anything, please find me in temple, do not disturb Father Marrow, he is a busy man, a great man in fact. You have him to thank for the tolerance Mages receive here in the Order. That is his vision, guided by Our Lady of course."

"Thank you." For the first time Karlus allowed his gaze to meet with that of the Sister. The words he said were low, polite, but there was something in his eye, something cold and hard. They will tolerate me? No, rather I will tolerate them.

"Minerva bless you both." The sister spoke as she departed, Karlus kept his head up and watched her go, footsteps echoing down the stone halls. The priestess went back into the temple, and for the first time since he had been hauled out of his cell at the college, Karlus was unwatched, alone.

Alone that was, except his fellow former student, Lambert. They had both been so silent on their journey Karlus had almost forgotten he was there. But now the elf turned to Karlus, stealing a glance at him now they were unobserved.

"What happened back at Cambridge? Is it true what they said? Did you try t-"

"I don't want to talk about it." Karlus stopped him. "You shouldn't talk about it either." He slipped into one of the ajar wooden doors before them and securely closed it behind him.

Breathe.

Now he was truly alone.

The room was smaller than the one he had roomed in at the college. It was a stone cell, dusty with disuse. A small window set with bars opened out onto a view of another stone wall, but it did let in a small amount of light. There was a desk, a chair, a wooden trunk, and a bed. His bed now. This was his room, and his room alone. He had never had that at the college. The only time he had been alone was in the dungeon.

Karlus dropped the bundle of his meagre possessions on top of the trunk and sat down on the side of bed. A slow realisation came to him as he lay back. A feeling he hadn't experienced his childhood, since before he had been taken to the college.

No erasure ward.

In privacy of his own room, Karlus smiled.

Tips for writing POC, LGBT+, and other minority characters in RP

Yeah, so I'm a member of the LGBTQ community, and something I've noticed about fiction involving gay men when written by non LGBTQ people is how they often replicate quite stereotypical or even toxic heteronormative dynamics. I think this is especially common in slash fiction and yaoi adjacent stuff. But basically, pairings often end up being a question of a dominant and submissive. One will have a bunch of traditional masculine traits, the other will have a bunch of traditional feminine traits, and they will basically fall into traditional gender role divisions, except they're both male.

Now my lived experience of pretty much every relationship I've ever had, has been nothing like that. There are a lot ways I would conform to being the 'dominant' and 'masculine' stereotype, but there are equally a lot of ways in which I don't conform to that. And I would say the same is true for most (if not all) of the gay men I know, they all exist on spectrum of masculine and feminine traits and behaviours, not as a binary.

On the subject of playing POC characters, its something I have done, but generally not in a modern or contemporary setting. Playing a POC in fantastic or speculative situation is very different, because obviously you can abstract away from real world racial dynamics and reinvent them as you please. I won't say I would never play a POC character in a modern setting, I just don't feel comfortable in my ability to write one well as of this point in time.

With female characters, I do write them on a semi-regular basis, but its something I've deliberately tried to research and improve over these last few years. I did this because I thought it was a weak point in my writing that I wanted to improve upon, and you can't improve without practice. Maybe I'll do the same with writing POC characters at some point.

MFP#4 - Ox (voting and feedback)

Aye thanks for the votes everyone! Shout out to the other entrants, this was a strong contest!

The Arrangement [Suki & Kassarock]

I was intending for it to be a fast acting poison, would you rather it be slower?

Kass's Kharacters

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Karlus Marsh

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Art by toodledeedoo

Character Summary

Karlus Marsh

Name: Karlus Marsh

Titles: N/A

Aliases: Rookie

Age: 18

Race/Ethnicty: Human

Continent of Origin: Carthus

Gender: Male

Class/Subclass: Mage, Constitution

Stats

Strength: 8
Dexterity: 15
Constitution: 10
Intelligence: 20
Wisdom: 8
Charisma: 12

Physical Attributes

Height: Five feet and seven inches.

Weight: Seven stone and nine pounds.

Appearance Description: Karlus is a waif like youth, naturally thin, small, and pale, these traits have only been accentuated during his recent captivity. His stay in the college dungeons have left him looking positively scrawny and underfed. Even before then his fair skin had been pale from much time spent indoors, now it is practically milk white, if one looks between the fading bruises. A tangled mess of ash blonde hair hangs down to partially cover the delicate features of Karlus's somewhat effeminate face and his pair of strikingly green eyes.

Day To Day Attire: Karlus wears the only clothes he possessed when he arrived at the order - the worn out and tattered uniform of the college of Cambridge and a smoke grey travelling cloak.

Strengths:

• Knowledgeable in many academic subjects, particularly those related to the arcane.
• Moderately powerful mage.
• Moderately skilled healer.

Weaknesses:

• Scrawny, weak, and underfed.
• Little to no martial training.
• Desire for vengeance can lead to unwise decisions.

Psychological Attributes

Erudite * Compassionate * Power-Hungry * Secretive * Vengeful

Sexuality: Unknown

Relationship Status: Single

Personality: There are three distinct forces at work within Karlus that shape his personality, his curiosity and passion for to learning, his defensiveness and weariness of others, and his burning disdain for what he sees as unjust authority. But the outside observer would be hard pressed to uncover these facts. Life in the college taught Karlus how to be inconspicuous, how to escape notice, how to guard his emotions, and hence he rarely displays his true feelings to the world.

Because of his guarded nature, Karlus often comes across distant and reserved when first met, he rarely laughs or smiles. He is most likely to let his defences down around those he sees as being vulnerable and guileless themselves, especially children. In fact, Karlus's inner nature is somewhat child-like itself, compassionate and curious, when he is not warped by his suspicion of others and his desire of power.

Habits:

• Staring out into the middle distance for extended periods of time.
• Avoiding Eye Contact.
• Nail biting.
• Easily flinches.

Hobbies:

• Reading.
• Cloud/Star Watching.
• Nursing small animals back to health.
• Cryptology.
• Journaling.

Fears:

• Tightly enclosed spaces or being restrained.
• His master from the college.
• Muting.

Likes:

• Learning new things.
• Being outside.
• Children and animals.
• Personal Space.
• Hot baths.

Dislikes:

• Being touched.
• Authority figures.
• Feeling vulnerable.
• Telling the truth.

Skills

• Arcana: The knowledge of all things related to magic and its practice.
• History: The knowledge of the past ages.
• Medicine: The knowledge to supplement Karlus's magical healing abilities.
• Perception: The ability to keep watch and notice things.
• Multi-lingual: Languages include Common, Old Speak, Elven and Old Elven.
• Keen memory: The ability to recall details and information with ease.

Magic

Constitution, with an emphasis on healing supplemented by some barrier magic.

Spell list:

• Cure Wounds: On touch healing of physical injuries.
• Detect Poison and Disease: Diagnoses illnesses or poisons.
• Mending: Repairs inanimate objects and broken bones.
• Shield: A protective field that can block an attack.

Possessions

Possessions Generally On Person:

• College Uniform: The worn clothes of a college mage.
• Grey Cloak: A large hooded grey great cloak.
• Broken Nail: A metal nail Karlus has been using trying to use as a lock-pick.

Armor:

• N/A

Pack Contents:

• Wooden Trunk: A wooden trunk containing all of Karlus's worldly goods from the college.
• Spare clothes: A spare set of clothing.
• Research Journal: A leather bound journal containing Karlus's research, mostly written in code.
• Quill and Inkwell: Used for writing.

Magical Items:

• N/A

History

History: Karlus Marsh was born in southern Astoria to peasant family. He remembers them little as he his talent for healing injuries and wounds with a mere touch manifested itself when he was only a young child. He was taken to Cambridge and the college there to be educated as a college trained magician, a responsible servant to the crown and people of Astoria.

As he grew older he grew to hate the gilded cage of his existence. He grew to disdain the path that was set out for him, forced to be bound, forced to serve, not even free to explore their varieties of his innate magic outside of foci he was assigned by his masters. He grew even more to hate the wise fools who believed this was the best way to control their own kind. Those who should rail against the injustice that was done to those of the craft, but instead became the enforcers of that very system. They revelled in their perfection of their discipline and rigour, praised the tightness of the shackles with which they bound themselves.

Even worse than that however were those masters who knew how the colleges restrained them and so instead made themselves feel powerful through their hold over those weaker than them - their students. Karlus's master was one such man. The inner workings of the colleges were also obscured to those outside, those kept there were isolated from the outside world. Abuse could easily be disguised as discipline in such an environment, especially so for those students taken from peasant families, as Karlus had been.

Karlus vowed he would undo it, bring it down. But in order to do that one needed power. Real power, more than healing and simple wards. He needed the power to destroy.

But how does an lowly student of the Constitutional Arts acquire such power under the eagle eyed regime of the masters of the college? Adjuration. The art of reaching beyond the veil to bargain for power beyond one's own abilities. Something that could be pursued by all members of the college if they showed aptitude. Most would seek patronage to enhance their prowess within their focus, but what if one sought other powers instead? What if one used their bargain to gain mastery over more than one kind of magic?

And so Karlus deceived the masters... or at least he believed he had.

They took him at night in his sleep, bound his hands and gagged him. Chained him in a warded cell deep beneath the college. The master has discovered his attempts to break his rite of conscription and use adjuration to acquire destructive powers. They believe him to have failed, but nonetheless it was a grave violation of their code, serious enough to warrant expelling him from the college. He was given a choice, either make use of himself in the one place that could have him, or under go under go the ritual of Muting.

And so, under duress, Karlus chose to join the Order of Vigilance and start a new chapter in his life amongst the fog haunted forests of Viscelles.