LadyRunic

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Richard Laine

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Location: The Palace

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Richard gave a roll of his snake like eyes. "Ah, then who wrote it?" He question the dragoness, reaching a hand down to tousel his child's scaled head. Little did he expect the small child to sneeze a fireball. Yanking a hand back before it could be singed. Though he noted with slight amusement that Puck was not so lucky. While he held no ill will towards the man, and catching on fire was never a fun experience. The scream was a added garnish. A hand waving off Lyra's apology. It was not necessary to his eyes.

But then Puck threatened his baby girl and his child's mother. Richard let loose a dangerous hiss at the small man, his body in motion as he steered Thalia and Zekarra behind him. "I would chose your words carefully, little man." His eyes flashed in anger as he stalked towards Puck with a deadly grace. "While I do not agree with my child lighting things on fire, my wife does speak true. She is just a child and a babe." The mutant's fist wrapped into the front of Puck's shirt as the fabric strained when the fool was lifted and slammed back into a wall. The assassin leaning in close as a knife appeared in his hand. "And she. Is. Mine." There was no little in how angry Richard was. He was a protector of his family, it was how he had always been. Now with a child of his own? It only magnified the drive.

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Rhys Asher

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Location: The Castle walking to his home

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The rogue wizard gave a groan of annoyance at the crowd before him. Well this explained it all too clearly. Running irritated hands through his hair the man cursed the witch twins that had brought them to the Port. It had been well worth it! Hah! That was a laugh, all he had to show for his troubles was a bullet in his leg and people who knew his face. Cold rage seered the man's innards as he mused over the quickest way back. The quickest way to being forgotten and then dragging down ever single pathetic existence in the Castle.

So he muttered the simplest of spells, a teleport to his home. It was easy enough, he had done it before. He would feel the rush, the power- the utter sputtering of cracking failure as his spell crashed and burned. Rhys felt that ire grow. He was no blubbering apprentice, rather he was a grown accomplished wizard! Despite the insults his mentor threw at him. Gritting his teeth, the man stalked towards the Smuggler's Bolt. A foul smelling, putrid marsh. But a quick way home. Cursing out his luck the entire day. Rhys felt fresh air fill about him and the man picked up his pace. His leg would ache later but what choice did he have?

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”

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@eclecticwitch The Winged Pig, a popular spot in the small village, wasn't exactly teeming that rainy night. The grizzled old Eyrien who tended the bar was pleased despite this to see new faces in his establishment. All too often one saw the same faces, a tiresome fact of life in this particular little village. Those that did have new faces were marked as here for two reasons. Either they were sniffing about and unwanted, or they were here for a particular brand of aid. The latter of which was something the barkeep was leaning towards. The woman's psychic scent had the undertone of 'Queen', and being the one to point out the local stop that would be appropriate to the appropriate people he was rather good at his unofficial job. Dropping two large mugs of mountain chilled water before the Saroth brothers, then set three tall honey mead mugs in front of their new guests. A convert sign. But who would do anything else for the Healer and Widow of the town? It was this town's secret and the reason they were as well off as they were. Their Queen was a fair one, their 'guests' eager for aid and willing to spend coin and keep their mouths shut.

The large winged brothers were a both a good head taller than either Beneth or Jassen. Their wings only adding to their mass. Gen ran a large hand over his face as he turned to peer at the woman and her escorts. They seemed harmless enough, week enough that Gen felt as though he could take on both Warlord Princes if it came to it. Buy Denar and Belor some time to get the upperhand against the woman. Break the woman, break the men. On top of it these men and this woman were from Hyall. The dreaded place where half his blood came from. Gen could feel Denar tense next to him. But a warning look reined in the Prince. As much as they hated the Hyallians and murder wasn't against the law, it could draw unwarranted attention and put their mutual friend at risk.

Denar nodded with reluctance but it was the barkeep who spoke, his voice hardly light and friendly but it's usual gruffness was lessened by interest. "So tell me, what are three Hyallians doin' in Aren?" His rag back at work wiping down a table that looked it had been thrown across the room one too many time. The walls that were battered and cracked in some places testifying this to be true. "You lot don't get out of your holes often." Jassen and Beneth stiffened at the implied insult to their village though they kept their tempers leashed. It would not do for them to draw trouble upon themselves. No Queen wanted another slipping through her villages and threatening a take over. Which is what exactly it would look like.

@nohbdies Liran had suffered only superficial wounds, though Beneth seemed to be going into a state of shock. The boy nodding in agreement that the bowl was the best place to aim. His lips trembling as the smell of smoke from the city filtered about the the house on traveling winds. Either the burning was close or there was a lot. Perhaps even both, though Liran closed his eyes and winced at the smell. Beneth was the one who spoke faltering through the syllables. "I= The town's on fire. They were draggin' people out of their homes and puttin' them to the sword. Laughin' while they did it." The bow wielding youth whispered. "Can't be staying here. Not if they want more fun." His hands ran over his face in panic as wide eyes stared at the body of the Hyallian killer. "Killed one. They were putting people to the sword at random, but I killed one."

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine

Ayita Dyrkin

Location Stark Tower

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Richard ran a hand through his dark locks as he came through the lab's doorway with Charlie in tow. He had heard enough from Stark and the other girl- what was her name?- that he was not so sure as to if they could (or should) try to predict Jakobsen's moves. The man was a crafty bastard and often the best thing to do in those situations would be to wait for them to choke on their own tail. "As much at I hate admitting it Stark, you have a damn fine point there. As do you- Mira was it?" Giving a sigh the assassin, forlornly considering his mussed locks. "I hate balancing everything on the damn knife." The Adder swore.

It was Ayita who spoke then, stepping behind then from her brother as his slightly taller and wider frame blocked the bloody tearing and twisting of her flesh. While it never lasted long on forms she knew well, it was still painful and unpleasant. Both for her and for those who viewed it. Shaking her auburn tousled hair in a manner that much resembled a fox shaking it's fur. The younger Laine cast a leary eye at Stark and Mira. The voice that held the uncurrents of the wild was surprisingly soft. "Brother." Her mind brushed against her elder's with a wave of patience. "The hunt is not won by the charge. But by the hidden pack member." It made sense to Ayita that Jakobsen would strike here. There were children and thus it was weaker. The young were always prime prey.

Richard gave a irritated huff as he looked down at the smaller Laine. "You have got to start thinking in human terms, Sister. Or the terms of an assassin." His cheeky grin was visibly shaken as the amber eyes locked upon him and Ayita quirked a brow. Assassination to the woman was not just for human. How many nights had stealth put food into her belly? How often had it allowed her to envade a hunting pack? Turning back to the others-namely the older Stark- Ayita shrugged absently. "Can you tell the voice to let me look at the floor plans? I have no interest in your creations or belongings. They are useless." The Adder gave a choking noise as Ayita tilted her head and frowned. "Perhaps I have spoken the wrong words." The woman admitted looking rather put out. "But I wish to see what the territory looks like so I might better transverse it if a fight were to come."

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Richard Laine

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Location: The Palace

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Richard gave a prolonged and forlorn sigh at the antics of Thalia. "We also do not light our fathers on fire, mon cher." He noted with humor in his voice as he lowered his head to kiss the small Zekarra on the head. Giving her mother dragoness a reproving look while doing so and managing to make it look cheeky. "Forgive me dearest wifey, but I am not fire proof and you don't need me worrying about burns when I am here to be your everlasting servant."

Giving a peck to the mother of his child's hand, he wrapped his arms about Thalia's shoulders protectively and not to small in a way possessive. Doubting the small Zekarra wanted anything to do with him as of current. It wounded the man slightly, but he shoved it aside. She was a baby and hardly knew he wasn't fireproof. Was he resistant? Yes, but not foolhardy. As the others uncovered a tome of strange writing, Richard thought it might be wise to look himself though he could not resist a parting jab. "You all offer to look, instead of asking the Dragon Lady of the room who probably knows more? My apologies for my wit dear ladies. It's my truest failing." His head laid on Thalia's shoulder as he gave a grin at the current company and his young daughter. "It reads... 'Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down...'" His voice remaining serious and courteous as he raised a brow. "Shall I continue?"

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Rhys Asher

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Location: The Castle walking to his home

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Pain was nothing new. It happened at times and it was never convenient but he would deal with it. The spell thankfully closed the wound in his leg. The walk home was not what he would call pleasant but he needed the time. Barges would be faster, yet he could feel the icy rage stir within him. Damn the ExtraOrdinary Wizards for allowing the Witches into the castle not to mention the Young Army! Thought that thought led him to a cool and calculated notion. The Young Army was known for stealing and enslaving children namely of political enemies and orphans. But truth was never a clear thing and people were very loud about their young.

Listening to the whispers, Rhys only grew more elated inside. Rumors were spreading about what was happening at the castle and the rogue wizard was in glee to hear about the supposed 'cursed child' on the throne. With the suspicious death of the Queen, the Witches' little war in the Port Coven's Quarters, he suspected there would not be much good will towards either side. Battles were messy things and often people on the side could get hurt. Property would be damaged. The Young Army was in the Castle as well. A cruel smile sprung to Rhys's lips. He could work with this. Young children disappearing the supposedly fill the Young Army's greedy ranks. Perhaps, turning up a time later dullard and broken. Waifs and orphans would not do for that. He would need prominent children. Those from respectable families. A complication. One that would not do as of ye. Setting aside the idea of action, Rhys focused on the idea of words. The far more powerful and hard to prove weapon. A dagger that was invisible, and as useful as fear.

Many people here were frightened. Terrified even. He would use that terror. Lure the Young Army woman out again and into his clutches. Women often responded well to kindness so he would continue that trend. Continuing on his way he feigned a cough which in truth was a grimace of pain. Words of magyck leaving his lips as he drew out a shiny coin and peered into the reflective surface. [color=Gold]"Woman of the Young Army with eyes of ice blue. Hair of Auburn, curls of light. I Watch and Listen to you." Careful to keep the coin in front of him lest he would not look where he was going the man, peered against the surface. Hoping to see some glimmer of a name.

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

@eclecticwitch @Torack Do not forget to post! 2 days left!

@nohbdies @NanoFreakV2 Post when you can, please. I know you both have busy lives right now and stuff going on.

~Nyte Bloods~

Alice frowned and shook her head. "I know dresses, but weapons I do not." The tailor admitted, her fingers plucking absently at a piece of paper and pen. The ink swirling ab9ut the page as a dress, most likely for a funeral, took form. It's long draping skirt, the sleeves that hugged the arms of the figure, and the high neck. But here and there were small details. Bits of false gems and jewels to give a bit of life in a time of woe. Black lace and ribbons gave texture without taking from the tragedy. "I do not see how that-" Her eyes burned crimson in utter rage for such was the tailor's delight in clothing and care for it. "Aleera- could hide one without me noticing. Her dress was rather... spentacular." A sour note underline just what Alice thought of the dress. A beautiful creation, though one she could out do, that outshines her own cheaply bought and quickly made work. Which then had been stained by the horrid woman.

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”

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Faeril Ashkevron

Location - Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

The rain fell in thick curtains of a steady downpour that would last the day as the Black Widow peered out the window that gave a lovely mountain view from a cozy kitchen. The sharp scent of stew that had been set to boil throughout the day was paired with another sweeter scent. Adjusting the witch fire that burned beneath a small pot big enough for a mere cup of liquid, Faeril gave it a small swirl of a silver spoon that had been passed down from her ancestors. Belor sat perched on a chair, and for a decently sized Eyrien warrior, the man appeared more like a drowned, winged rat than anything else. His expression far past thunderous and his thin lips clamped wisely shut. Faeril brooked no argument from males in her home and with good reason. A man that did not heed a Healer got in the way. One who did not listen to the Widow did not wander among the living for long. He had returned two nights past, and with news that was sour to his brothers and their chosen Lady.

Dusting her hands free of several herbal leaves, Faeril gave an amused look out the window at the grey landscape she called home. Were she a Queen herself they would not be going to such lengths, but she was not and oddly enough Faeril was grateful. She did not have the patience for stupidity and the knack of manipulating the Courts. Oh, she could do it well having grown up in one. But she was not a Queen and thus missed that subtle little something else they needed. Wringing moisture from the stem of a wormwood plant Faeril reasoned she would have met an untimely end before she would have matured. The twisted queens would not suffer a rival who could claim Healer and Widow as well as being a Queen. "If you keep sulking, you may go back outside and continue to make firewood for me." The Widow threatened the older Prince. "Really Belor. You pout like a toddler, yet you will not allow me to fix the problem."

As the dark haired Healer shook her head, the Eyrien male gave a deep growl that threatened violence. Though it was not intended to her, Faeril gave the Prince a sharp look gaining nothing but the contempt of a male for another of his sort who threatened what the Warlord Prince considered his. "You are not going near that place. Not after that bastard tossed me out with a blade at my chest!" The wood under the large hands of Belor groaning before he remembered himself. "As if he does not know the rules of survival! You cannot be open-" A sharp click of Faeril's tongue cut the older male off.

"You should have brought him here-" The woman raised a hand, her leathery wings spreading slightly, to cut off Belor. "While he is an Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince, I believe him trustworthy. Believed." Faeril amended, for she too also worried that secrets were not going to be kept secret. That soon no one could be trusted and the Helios war camp was going to fall. It would suit with the weather. Belor merely shook his head stubbornly, casting his own look towards the window and past it. Down into the valley were the village of Aren lay. A small place that supplied the Eyriens about it, namely with a place to pick up a keg of ale. Or sit down to drink the keg and several others then need to be carted home by neighbors. Faeril shook her head with a wry smile and continued working on the little hangover cure she was putting together. Belor for all his sour mood was not sitting about just to sulk, but also to wait to see Denar and Gen have to drink the stuff. It was a bad tasting as it was sweet smelling and if he wasn't over a thousand years old the man would be rubbing his hands together in glee.

@Torack As Lucivar whirled in fury using his Craft to pin and pummel the Master of the Guard to the late Queen Karlianne, Tristan erected a shield to protect himself. The feat was nothing more than a token of resistance before the Ebon-Grey Power pummeled the broken man. There was only one jewel in all the Realms that could put down Lucivar with little trouble and few would drag him into battle without good reason. While there were other jewels that could go toe to toe with the Eyriend Warlord Prince, they were few in the Realm of Terreille. The Queens having worked to great effect in wiping out their best weapon in an attempt to keep the leashes of the Warlord Princes' in their hands, or bound to the Realm of Hell. Blood seeped from Tristan's lips as tears ran down his cheeks. "I do not deny my failing." The Master of the Guard whispered through the pain of his body breaking apart. It seemed he wished to convey more to the enraged Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince, but there was only a gout of blood, as his jewel's power was burned out and his remains went limp. Painting the once dainty walls about him with gore.

From the window Lucivar could see the many citizens of Greyhaven locked away in their homes and businesses for the best it seemed. Though those favorited by Karlianne were being dragged from home and shop, their buildings being ransacked by what appeared to be males from several courts that supported Lady Sonya Thorne. While those loyal to the late Queen were rallying in defense it wasn't going to hold. Hyallians were in the mix and devastating with their numbers and bloodlust. A wonder what pact Lady Sonya made to gain such aid from Dorothea of Hyall. The corridor and rest of the manor was filled with the throes of battle and fighting guardsmen that were slowly being pushed back. Those attempting to protect which now laid dead, her ruby blood spilled about the pale floor.

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine

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Location Stark Tower
Personality Traits: Clever * Ruthless * Self-Confident * Sarcastic * Charismatic * Predatory

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Richard ran a hand through his hair as Charlie informed the rest of their small group that the others had gone on ahead. It irked the Adder that he could not be there, and damn Marygold for that! He was by far more experienced in dealing with risky meetings, one of the perks of being an assassin. Your drop could be covered by a cop, or the target could get suspicious. There were numerous ways for things to go wrong. "Do not count Stark and the Hulk out of the fight just because they lack in numbers." Richard admonished the younger man. "But of course you control fire, so I presume you'd have no probably aiding a handful of people in defeating an entire army. Not to mentioning trying to take down Stark in an assassination being a mightier in that regard than I?" His words were not harsh, but they carried the fact the assassin was heavily amused. After all, he had never even considered taking on the Starks. It was far to risky and dangerous because of their connections and what they were capable of.

As Allison stood in a panic, proclaiming there was danger and that she needed to find Tony. A wise move, he had to admit. Though he would like to know what they were going on about, Richard gave a small chuckle as the red fox of his sister followed after the 'Seer' as Ayita referred to Allison as. "JARVIS, you there?" Picking at some invisible lint under his nail the man considered sauntering after the duo. "Inform Stark the Elder and proficient that Allison and Ayita are looking for him with dire news." Looking to the fire based mutant, the man sighed in reluctance as he stood and made his way after the two. "Come along, boy. Might as well see what the girls got going on." The long legs of the assassin carrying him easily after the others.

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Ayita Dyrkin

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Location Stark Tower -Movie Theater / Following Allison
Personality Traits: Clever * Cynical * Loyal * Distant * Disciplined * Predatory

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Ayita sighed as she considered the ideas her elder brother had place before her. To look to the past for the creatures? It was plausible, if worrying. She would need to research a lot of information, even then she felt the knowledge that theses were beings who would not fear man. Who would see only the monkeys man had once been and nothing more. A dangerous thing, especially if she lost control of their primal instincts. Giving Charlie a slightly irritated look, with such similarity a older wolf would give a bumbling young pup it was almost comical. The shifter felt the man counted out the Avengers far too easily. They were not mere anything, and Ayita would not want to fight them when they had something to protect or 'avenge' at their back. Situations like that made one's opponent all the more deadly.

When Allison jerked as if brought back to her sense- which she had been Ayita realized a minute later- the woman moved instantly to her friends side. Listening carefully to the rushed words. Shifting in a blur as the closest of her friends lunged from her seat, Ayita took the form of a red fox. Scurrying after the running Allison nimbly. "Stark. Stark. Stark! Trouble! Stark Trouble!" The mental telepathic thoughts stretched ahead of the two woman reaching for any sentient life as Ayita kept pace with Allison for all the world acting as a siren to herald the Seer's vision. Spying Mira with the Iron Man, the fox gave a flick her ears in recognition as she sat out of the way of human feet, daintily licking one soot black paw. "Trap." Ayita agreed with that notion. Leaving her mental 'microphone' on for any mind who could or would hear.

[High Casual to Low Advance] [18+] Wide array!

Looking for Vampire and Hunter Rp mainly. Victorian era preferably. And prefer to play the vampire.

But won't say no to other offers or suggestions til I hear them!

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Richard Laine

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Location: The Palace
Clever * Ruthless

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The large king cobra gave a annoyed hiss, as his child spat fire at him. While Richard was not unused to the antics of the young, this was getting particularly annoying for all that she was adorable. There was a fine line between cute, and deadly. Something Richard had learned to appreciate in the youth of his life. When snowstorms or wild animals were a danger, and you also had a little one to watch out for life became interesting. Especially when one's little sister had always appeared so much older than a mere five years of age. Those large brown eyes drinking up the scenes of nature and not flinching away. He had done the same but with war and gunfire. Shaking his scaled nose as he focused on the little adorable, scaly ball of flaming pain.

Coiling about his lover and 'wife's' feet the cobra-Adder reared up to be just above eye level with his errant child. Giving a warning hiss as a bolt was shot at him, the snake flared out his colorful hood. Giving a irritated hiss, the man stood before the girl. One hand gently holding his dragonette's mouth shut. "Enough of that." The man said firmly. For all he was going to be very lenient with his offspring. He drew the line at being on fire. "I am not fire proof and your mother is." Giving a deeper growl the man shook the small mouth firmly- though being gentle as she had just hatched. Making sure to keep eye contact with the little Zekarra, before releasing her to tickle the girl under her chin like a cat. The man was still well prepared to dodge aside another bout of flames. Casting a look towards the two woman, without fully taking his eyes from the youngster, he managed a woeful look. "I don't suppose either of you can fix this?" He gestured to the horribly singed hair.

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Rhys Asher

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Location: The Palace
Cunning * Ruthless * Diligent * Heartless * Wise * Self-Centered

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Rhys swore viciously as his concentration broke. A club hammering him in the head and causing his spell to falter as her fall to the street. The woman falling from his arms, as his hand flashed up to check his wound. His other hand moving to shove the ground beneath him lest he fall upon the woman he had tried to snatch away. It was no more than another second before there was twin blast and his thigh was on fire as a bullet pierced his hip. Rage burrowed in Rhys. Rage of the likes he had not felt since Arya Rincewind was chosen. Rage that echoed back to him killing his Mentor, not that anyone cried over that. The snarl upon his face was a thing of pain and hatred shone in his green eyes. So, luck had abandoned him?! He marked the faces about him. The Princess Luna, the woman he had meant to take to his home to twist to his own means and her little boy-toy. The gun wielding woman who had shot him, and he was most certainly not going to forget the woman who clubbed him.

Oh, revenge would come. Even if he had to dig two graves, he'd fit them all in one before he buried himself in the other. Turning on his back he swore at his bad luck. Pulling himself to his feet, Rhys slammed his fist against the building. "Fleur. Damn you, wytch!" He cursed, his temper peaking dangerously. Where had she been?! Off playing with Wendyllon Wytches is what! But it was a quick thing, he did not need to make an enemy of the woman. Not yet anyways. Calling up to the window he had fallen from, he hoped she was there. "Woman. That invitation to dinner is still open." Staggering away from the building he moved towards his home. Muttering a spell to conceal the wound on his thigh. "Conceal the blood. Cause the blood to stop the flood." He gritted out the spell as he walked. With this mood and temper riding him, he would be making curses this night. Curses enough that the entire city would burn if they went wrong.

There was an idea.