LadyRunic

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

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~Nyte Bloods~

Reply is coming. Just have writers block for Alice.

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

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Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”

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Faeril Ashkevron

Location - Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

Faeril gave herself a shake as she patted away the lines of tears. It wouldn't do for others to see her in such pain, after all. She was the Ice Healer, cold and heartless. Standing she smoothed out the wrinkles of her clothing, paranoid about maintaining her appearance. The night was drawing in, and supper would need to be made. It had been some hours since the boyos had left with their 'packages' and with luck they would be back soon. While she had little talent in the kitchen, between herself and a Queen they ought to be able to whip something into an edible form.

Fae's slippered feet padded softly on the carpets that ran through out the maze like eyrie. Her eyes studying the prone form of Fatima. A blanket wrapped about her explaining why she had not come storming down the stairs when Faeril had twisted about the mind of her former Court members. Tucking the blanket about the shoulders of the young Queen, a warming spell gently laid over it to keep the woman warm despite the fire having burned down the slow embers. For all the woman was a hard woman, she did have a heart albeit one that was buried deep under her gruffness. Too many patients had passed away while Faeril had strove to save them, too many family member and friends had passed to protect their secret from the twisted Queens who bent their will to Hyall's desires. The loss of her mothers, aunt and son... She was the last of a long line that was a natural Black Widow. Perhaps she had distant cousins who were of the caste, but Faeril had no way to contact them and even then there was the risk they had broken their honor for Dorothea's ambition.

Bitch.

Soon there was a pot of rough stew boiling over a small banner of witchfire, and the steady chopping of a knife as meat and a small mountain of vegetables were chopped up and set to boil in a thick broth. A tight shield kept the mess from getting on her hands and clothes, though it was awkward to work about. She knew her Craft, but her Craft centered about being a Healer and Black Widow. Hearth craft was not her strongest suit in any way shape or form as evident by her puckered brow and narrowed eyes as she eyed up Gen's precious spice rack. "What am I to add? How on earth does Gen know these things?"

@nohbdiesThe small hostel was not a true stop, but night was drawing in. The place was known to be run by a young Healer and her husband, both of whom were carefully eyeing the straggling folk who were seeking shelter for the night. While it would not be hard for a Sapphire Warlord to ride the Winds all the way through, it had been a long day already and Vaclav despite being healed would notice it might not be wise to show up in the dead of night. The hostel itself was a relatively clean place, filled with those who were taking a pause from travelling for rest or for food.

Artemis would notice an older woman near the warm hearth that kept the bite of the rain and bitter mountain air outside. She was an Eyrien past her prime, with no jewel upon her. A broken witch most likely. Her knobby fingers fed wood to the fire every so often as she carefully set about mending bits of cloth and clothing with shaking hands. The draw to heal this woman would be there, though not overly strong, as Artemis might notice arthritis in her withered hands.

@TorackThe grizzled Eyrien gave a grunt as he wiped out a set of mugs with quick and practiced movements. Quiet as the bar was, it was not hard for the man to overhear the conversation between the two customers. While he had lost a wife to the District Queen when his wife had stepped up to the line when the changes first swept through Askavi, he had been spared his daughter thanks to the witches of the Ashkevron family. Since then, and like so many others in the town, he had kept his eyes and ears open for them. Directing those who needed their aid to them, and directing danger away. A healer was a valuable resource and a Black Widow? Even more so, when that Widow was on your side.

Thunking the two mugs before the wearied travelers, along with a pair of sandwiches, the old man gave a non-commental grunt. "Popular tavern today. Had a bar fight, had another fight before that." He noted with a annoyed look at the aftermath of a pair of Warlords getting too full of themselves. Setting his hands on his hips he studied the Warlord Prince carefully. "Overheard you're sniffing about for a death of some..." His words trailing of in question.

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Rhys Asher

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Location: His home

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As the boy nodded eagerly, Rhys watched on in amusement at the first- to his knowledge- attempt at magyck. So when the book flew across the room to strike Badger's hand with a solid thwack, and the boy was knocked off his feet. Rhys's eyes marginally widened in amazement and a sly smile crossed his features. He had asked for revenge and been graced with a weapon he could mold to his whim. "Very correct." The Rogue Wizard stated with hardly hidden delight and amusement.

Plucking a heavier book from the shelf he set it in the middle of the room. "Again. This time try to limit the force you put behind it. Gently, lest you need to Fetch something fragile and harm it and yourself. Doing the little things is just as important as moving the large. Finite details will give you the advantage over sheer power at times." And it was always good to cover all of one's bases. He would teach this boy with the support and kindness that had been denied to him. Badger would be loyal for that if nothing else. Already he was from the Young Army giving him that hard edged, this would just sharpen him. "Never let the idea that magyck can fix everything become your cornerstone. Magyck is as limited as anything else in what it can do, and it must be handled with care. It is a weapon with two edges and can cut you if you let it." The man lectured carefully instructing his lad of the dangers of the powers they both possessed, and of the benefits.

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Skaoi Silverveil

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Location: Palace - Infirmity

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Murder and plots. Skaoi was unnerved by such things for they usually meant trouble. Just as strangely appearing and disappearing men dropping children into beds, she figured. As Valda and Taj spoke, she politely pretended not to hear though she caught the words. So a missing stone was causing such worry? Perhaps a artifact of some sort, but it must be of some degree of importance if the Emperor was so obviously worried about it. All the more reason to remain out of the mess, Skaoi thought to herself quietly.

Nodding with the senior woman's declaration that the children needed rest, SKaoi gave a small whispered agreement. "I shall do what I can to help with that and with your newly emerged powers, if that is agreeable Your Highnesses." Her words more meant for Myrus as she would be more concerned with him and his trait for blowing things up. Not to mention the boy who had been deposited here upon death's door. Running a hand through her pale hair, Skaoi moved back to her little kit pulling off the scarf over her locks as she considered the herbs. Murder, scheme and plots. Missing stones and strangers appearing, it was all so odd.

Then again, she was considered very odd with her quiet and apologetic ways. Not to mention her complexion. Pale as snow, and just as silent. That was what her mother had said once in passing praise, a rare moment when so much was heaped upon her by siblings eager to get into mischief they did not have to pay for. But then let them, Skaoi shook her head and set about mixing a second brew of calming tea. Finishing the mixture she turned to Princess Luna and offered her the brew. "Please drink, Your Highness. The day has been long and harrowing, this will add you some what. If you would." Her form shifting nervously about Valda as she disliked being in the presence of rulers, unnerving was what it was.

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

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X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine

Ayita Dyrkin

Location Cells

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Ayita expected a hole in the ground and a gun to her head to be where they ended up, not to mention the last things she would see. Thought they doubtlessly would not waste a bullet on Richard. Her amber eyes never left the man's too still form. The movement of his chest being the only indication that he was still alive. A small thing to be thankful for, but she was.

Her expression was one of emptiness. Her amber eyes filled with hatred and anger that surpassed mere rage. If she was able to move Ayita would attempt to twist her fingers within the bullet wounds and pop the meances out. She would get revenge for her brother. Ayita hated few, it was not worth the effort generally. But these men? She would hate. Any response to speak with her would be met with no thg ing but Ayitas soft keening at Richard's condition.

Richard drifted in and out of various levels of white agony. Death would have been welcomed save for the fact he would be leaving behind Ayite. To leave her at the mercy of the psychos, and Allison as well! They were girls. They needed protection. All the brats did, damn them for it.

He'd survive. He knew that. If he didn't? Ge didn't want to think about what fresh hell would follow the fools that attacked them. Ayita knew the mercy of the wilds and that was no mercy at all.

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Rhys Asher

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Location: His home

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Rhys hissed as the ether smeared rag was smashed against his skull. At least the boy meant well and had stayed put. "Careful lad. Gentle, I do not need more wounds. And dip that in the ether and hold it over a flame before you stick it in my head." His words were softly said, but there was a biting sternness to his voice as Badger tended to the damnable wound. Curse the ExtraOrdinary Wizard and Palace folk for this!

As Badger finished the task set before and the blood stopped flowing, Rhys took a large swallow of drink he had fetched from a small cabinet he kept such- edible and non-poisonous potion ingredients. "When Tom is better he should be able to. The Call I placed upon him should work and lead him back here." Giving the boy a firm and friendly clasp on the shoulder, Rhys gave a groan as he stood up and walked to the potion he had been making. With luck it would not be ruin, but luck was a fickle thing and seemed to have fled him of late. "A Call is used to make someone come to the one who Called. It's more complicated and difficult than simply that, but that is the gist of it. If you want a useful spell generally that would be Cause or something you can try, Fetch spell." Gesturing for the boy to stand were he was, Rhys tossed one of his less useful tomes in the middle of the floor. [color=Gold]"Focus, imagine the book coming to your hand, imagine walking over and picking up the book without actually doing it. Repeat 'Fetch book'." Rhys left the words he uttered without meaning, giving it that subtle twist that would not send the book to him. What good would it do when he needed the boy to learn?

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Skaoi Silverveil

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Location: Palace - Infirmity

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Skaoi winced when Becky called the man a 'rat bastard'. Not that she was wrong, but Skaoi found such language and insults pointless at best and just rude at worse. A fact she would not hold against the woman, for who was she to judge? Her own crimes were far worse according to her family. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly at that thought as she dismissed it to turn her attention to Myrus adjusting several herbal powders into a small mug of water. It did not need to be heated luckily, a cold tea sometimes would work better than a warm one if merely for the comfort of the flavoring.

As Emperor Taj and Queen Valda entered the infirmary, Skaoi's pale hand jerked slightly in shock before resuming the mixing and straining. Why did she have to be at the Palace with nobility about? It was not that she disliked it, but rather that she feared to draw attention to herself. Keeping her eyes to her work as she gave a deft curtsy to the two leaders, the woman considered what they spoke of. Apparently this Esren had placed a spell upon Myrus and killed the Queen while working in league with the Port Witches. Now this troubling person was supposedly dead, and Skaoi winced at the callus way life was treated. It went against her grain as someone who helped people heal and live. "Drink, Your Highness. It will sooth your nerves."

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”

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Faeril Ashkevron

Location - Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

A strong hand patted Fatima's back as Denar guided the Queen to the chair she had occupied formerly. The Warlord Prince acting within his instincts despite this woman being no Queen of his. Faeril watched on with her impassive eyes of ice, the Saroth brothers waiting for the decision of their de facto leader. Pinching the bridge of her nose, the Black Widow in her reconciled the possible avenues. Point out that it was unlikely any Hyall witch would be able to break a tangled web the Red were to weave about the men. "Bring them." The woman snapped with a sharp gesture that had both men- Denar being far more concerned with the Queen- turning on their heels and rushing to retrieve their guests. Willing or not, Faeril noted with a stern, cold smile. The Warlord Princes would come and there were enough men in the village who owed the Ashkevron Healer and Black Widow that they would aid the Saroth brothers.

Turning on her heels the woman strode down the hall, leaving the Queen with her protector. Denar would see to it she did not leave the room, and thus interrupt the delicate spell work that Faeril was about to weave. Hefting aside the tasteful painting that leaned agianst the wall in her private quarters, the Widow revealed the heavy door that led down into the depths of the mountain. Carved by lovers, husbands, and sons over times that a shorter lived race would deem more than merely ancient the stairs opened up into a room that would not allow sound nor psychic scent to betray it's existence. Wooden shelves housed books bound in delicate leather that had been copied several times over. A large table that was scarred and stained from mistakes or purpose was set against one wall, bearing the weight of the mountain above. But it was the large stone slab in the center of the room that was the terror of all who entered. Thick straps would hold a victim down while the Widow extracted the knowledge or payment. Once that table had been for innocent purposes. Something better than wood, that would bear the weight of ages. Then violence came and the blood of the Blood had been spilled upon it's surface in defense of the Askevron witches. Now Faeril would spill it for the Queen that would remake Terreille for the better.

Flipping open a particular tome the woman scanned the pages aimlessly. Waiting in absolute patience as the witchlights about her flickered. The sound of male voices raised in argument announced them before Gen and Belor appeared hefting one of the Warlord Princes between them. A large man with a Opal jewel upon his finger. "Hold him down." He had put up a damn good fight as Faeril studied the battered Eyrien males. Gen was sprouting two black eyes and a good many deep cuts that didn't require immediate healing. Belor was not so lucky. His wing was torn and his body was covered with deeper gashes. All in all, they looked like they had been through a war as they wrested the struggling Warlord Prince to the table. "You two will go and see the village Healer when we are done." While she could have done it herself, Faeril was not sure what shape she would be in after this. Denar appeared behind his brothers with a man smelling strongly of drink and the Healer guessed he only had a few years left even with his jewel burning the brew off. Meaning he had left the Queen to her own devices.

Snapping a Red lock about the door at the base of the stairs the woman shook her head. "I've gone soft. Trying to spare the Queen agony. You two would do well not to fight me." She advised the two escorts. Only to have spit land just shy of her eye. Raising a gloved hand to wipe away the mess she plucked off the soft material, tossing them onto the stone table. Laying a hand just out of reach of the struggling Beneth's teeth Red power slammed into the metal shields and tore against them. Slowly rending his mind open to her work. It would be easier if he did not fight her, but what could she do? He would fight her no matter what, his dislike was plain. Something that irked the woman, for his hatred of her stemmed from her being a Black Widow. Something she had been born to. Slowly Faeril began her work, weaving a truth into his mind and the truth of the world. Slowly her reorganized his memories, spinning the truth in a snare that would fight against any removal of it. His Queen had left them, ordered them to return. She had gone to seek out a Black Widow. Her tangled web using his hatred of the caste to fuel the certainty that Fatima had fallen to the hands of one.

Releasing his mind, his eyes now glazed in the fog of delirium, Faeril turned to the drunk. His mind was far easier to enter, for he was either far too drunk or had given in. In truth though it was neither. He saw the Black Widow for what she was. Someone who sought to aid his child- a child he had been denied the paternity to and thus could not acknowledge. It had been Fatima's mother's cruel punishment for obeying her. Jassen had slept with other witches for the pleasure of his Queen and to aid her, even as she sneered at his 'betrayals' which were nothing of the sort. Little wonder why he drank, then and now. The death of his Queen, the risk his daughter was going through. Was it his fault? "No. Not your fault. You did as you could. Which is all any of Terreille can do. Now we do as we must." Faeril soothed quietly. She could not risk him knowning the truth and Jassen understood this. Weaving the web of lies and deceit within him. The Black Widow knew that it was not going to last long. The loss of a lover and Queen was a hard blow, but the loss of his child- even with paternity denied... He would not outlive the months to come. Collapsing against the stone table, Faeril covered her eyes with one hand as she pulled out of Jassen's mental shields. "Take them to the border. Leave them there." She snarled, knowing all three were considering remaining. A risk they could not take. They needed to get rid of the men of the Queen lest her webs begin to unravel. The Red lock on the door undid itself as Faeril gave a sharp flick her her fingers. Limping up the stairs after her family, the Ashkevron slouched on the bed dabbing at the tears that slowly fell from her eyes.

@nohbdies Artemis would notice a speck high in the sky, winging hard towards the Tamanara Mountains and Askavi. A likely place where those seeking somewhere to lay low could. If you didn't mind the scorn of the warrior race of Terreille. Eyriens were proud and consider themselves the closest race to the dragons that were the first of the Blood. Of course this gave some of them a ego to match their blunt ways.

@Torack Lucivar would catch the Winds, riding on the web of the Ebon-Grey back towards Askavi. While perhaps not he best place to go it was a good ways from Dena Nehele. A place where he could rest. The village was a small thing, settled among the tall mountains and typical of a Eyrien community it was built within the stone itself. The Winged Boar was the local in and tavern, sitting just above the forest lest it be too far away from the source of wood and local game that provided it with most of its fare. Within the bar looked like a war had hit it. Tables and chairs were shattered, flattened or tossed aside. Blood speckled spots in the floor, and the psychic scent of a fight was a few hours old. The grizzeled barkeep was straightening tables as he made snarly comments about some 'getting too big for their britches'. A younger woman- perhaps a daughter- mopping up a decent pool of blood from the floor. Looking over as the chime of the bell sounded the Eyrien looked about ready to shout before realizing he was facing a potential customer. "A good day to you, don't be minding the mess. Bit of brawl is all. What can we do you for?" His voice was weathered and was the remains of someone who had shouted a bit too often to his men before retiring to this slower business.

Blood's Jewels

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