LadyRunic

Star Wars AU: After Knightfall

Interested! This looks really awesome!

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

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

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Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Interacting with @Slim Shady

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Gen nodded as if in thought as Mikhail spoke. "Melian would have descriptions of myself I suspect." The eldest of ther bothers noted. As Faeril's constant companion he was a common sight near his old friend, and if there was indeed a traitor among the people of Aven or someone Faeril had healed then it was entirely likely that the wicked Melian had a description of him. "Bellinar travels enough I don't think you'd be missed brother." The warlord commented to his brothers.

Bellinar was lugging a box containing the basic amenities off the couch, setting it on the dusty road the man nodded. "Might not be a bad idea as I'm less noticeable." The Warlord Prince looked troubled at something as he looked about at the hot and weathered plains of Shalador noting the signs of fights in the past and the weary look of the land. A land that desperately needed a Queen's love and the Blood's care. "But then we have the problem of the fact that I'm a Warlord Prince. People get jumpy when an Eyrien Warlord Prince comes to town." Giving a wolfish smile at Jean, Bellinar gave a rueful shrug. "We generally spill blood before we leave." While the Kaeleer native might not be aware it was common knowledge to those who lived in or had been in Terreille for some time that Warlord Princes were outright feared and with good reason. They were the most vicious of the Blood and the 'delights' of the Queens often honed that temper into a shortened fuse. Eyriens more than any other as their fuse often burned at both ends and with their renown as warriors. The most fearsome of which was Saetan the Seducer. A Warlord Prince of rumor and legend that served the Queen of Hayll personally. A man who was arguably more feared than the Reaper, not that anyone was going to mention that even when Xandar was moving out of earshot.

"A Prince of exotic nature, a Warlord who could pass for a Dhemlan of this Realm, and a Pruulish witch passing through Shalador." Faeril sighed as she rustled her wings slightly. A cool breeze passed by the others in the shimmering heat of Shalador, a heat that rolled up from the deserts of Pruul. "I suppose if we doll up her a bit and hide those tattoos we might be able to have Dareen pass as somewhat wealthy.: The words were blunt but Faeril had been in foul mood for days since learning that her house had been trashed and they would have to flee. "Though I would want to know how you plan to hide Mikhail?" Giving the assassin an apologetic look, or as close to one as she could manage, Faeril sighed. "You stick out with how you look. Jandar and Dareen might pass as a wife and husband." It was a fair idea, Pruul bordered Dhemlan and while it was not common the long-lived races sometimes did marry the short-lived. A partner that would last mere decades in a life that would span the centuries. It was a rarity and the children often found it hard to find their own partners in turn. Too long-lived for the shorter-lived races and the long-lived races were loath to see their children die before their own time. It was a bittersweet match.

Yet Faeril turned her gaze towards the distant town looking puzzled and worried. "I do not think we should light any fires or risk any light above the ground at least. It would not do to be seen." But that was not the Black Widow's concern. There was a pull, an irresistible urge to go to the town or to weave one of her webs. Yet neither would be permitted with the way her old friends gathered about her nor did she suspect that the Reaper would take it well after complaining about her restlessness. Her brow furrowed more as she unintentionally glared at Jean who just happened to be between her and the town. The Black Widow trying to put a finger on what it was that was pulling her, as it was only her training in the Craft of the Hourglass that allowed her to notice it so definitely.

She was not alone to feel this pull, however, a subtle urging was pulling at the Queen's power as she opened the lid of the box to find a small flute inside warped with the age and elements. The Shalador were a people who adored their music and history and Hayll was tolerating of neither. The Queens raised the taxes for their own coffers and had dances and music only for their own pleasures. Giving nothing to the land and taking all it could offer to leave a barren wasteland that would in time become desert from the starvation of love. Xandar meanwhile would find himself in a large building that might have once been a manor house for a Queen. It was the most intact building and the yard in the front was thick with Witchblood. The red-leafed flowers declaring to Jandar's knowledge that while witches had been killed throughout the town this area had been the true site of death. There was a distasteful psychic scent that left what would be the parlor reeking to Xandar, but with a bit of looking about the Ebon-Grey would find his way to the cellar.

The darkness filled with the subtle chittering of a mass of viper rats as they suckled their young. If a light was shined into the darkness it would reveal a mass of bones, odd bits of wood and cloth that the rats had gathered in their search for food and had built a rat's nest with it. The pieced apart skeletons of horses, dogs and cats littered the pile as did the remains of humans that for all the knowledge in the world could be Blood or Landen. Some were whole hinting at the ugly idea that they had been tossed in here on purpose or perhaps were desperate to risk hiding in a pit filled with the vile venomous rodents. It would take a fair bit of witchfire to clear out the mess and that would surely rile the viper rats causing them to swarm and attack the threat to their claimed home.

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Elsewhere in Eldra ,Shalador

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It had been a messy few weeks since he had left Hayll in an uproar, the shattered and twisted body of Dorothea's little 'special guest' Alanya had been found in her room by her servants the day after the 'ball'. If one could call the parade such a thing, Saetan was more of the mind to call it what it was. A play for Dorotha's entertainment, to see what trouble she could potentially stir up for her own amusement. Fingering the glass of wine he held, the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince almost smiled as several youths apprenticing in Lady Laska's court scuttled past whispering between each other in hushed tones as their faces grew pale. Word had already spread here of what he had done, but not quite quick enough to the Queen of Hayll's delight. Laska had graciously accepted the gift of his services with open arms in exchange for a few of her apprentices to learn more about the 'culture of Hayll'. As if they had any! He, in turn, was to prance to the lowly Queen of Eldra's tune. Only it had been mere days when one of the apprenticing queens had sent back a letter hastily written to Laska of the true reason Saetan had been so cheaply put on loan. The poor, brave, little fool had undoubtedly paid with her life for risking so much under Dorothea's nose and the Queen of Hayll had let the letter go through to just stroke the flames of terror all the more.

Setting the wine to the side, Saetan almost wanted to just break the chain binding him to the bitch-queen but he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was so much at stake and to risk it would be a miscalculation on his part that would bath what remained of Dhemlan in blood. Blood that they were slowly losing to the Hayll Queens who had swooped in like harpies onto the land to divvy it up among themselves. If any of the queens already there opposed them or were in their way? They disappeared and no matter how many he made disappear it was never enough. Hayll was a festering breeding ground for the rot that plagued the Realm. The fear instilled in the men by Dorothea had them instill fear into the witches under them and so it spiraled until all the Realm would be a mess and the Blood for what they were. They were already forgetting with each passing year. Eons of training erased as people fought for power over each other and laid fatal flaws in the methods they taught others so they would not be shown up and later disposed of. It was a disgraceful situation and it drained on Saetan's weary heart.

He was tired of it. The hushed whispers, the urges that if he just complied things would go all the better, the offers and bribes for him to sweeten Dorothea to something or other. As if he had any control over what the woman did! Oh, he had some through the terror he inspired but it was an ongoing battle between them. Pulling on the light black coat over his white dress shirt, the man walked towards the door. No one stood in his way as he exited the Queen's Residence, no one dared. It was just as well, thought the man, he would rather not be interrupted with his thoughts. The streets of Eldra were clean for a time around the manor but after that... Shopkeepers let their windows dirty to discourage certain guests and people hurried along trying to hide the terror that they might be sighted as potential amusement for Laska or one of her favorites. A few braver souls nodded in greeting to him subtly, before going about their business. Yet no one approached the Black Jeweled Warlord as he strolled down the street. Disgusted by the smaller form of Draega that Laska's great-grandmother, Marthea, had built just within sight of what she had and her descendant now called the 'rat pit'. The ruins of what had been Sharon, a beautiful town before Marthea had driven out the queen and declared she liked where the landens lived better and was taking that for her own. The landens had been thrown out and left to rebuild while expected to pay a heavy tax. Thus Hightop had become Eldra, and Marthea had gained her own personal playground. The reports he had gained on the woman suggested she had kept a house there for her amusements complaining that her parties made a mess of her own residence and her servants never could clean it well enough for her liking. Saetan gritted his teeth, it was rumored that from time to time Laska too would use the 'rat pit' for entertainment though he had seen and heard little proof of that.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

@SilverPaw Last day to get posts in. Do you need an extension or anythng?

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

Poke

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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In her workroom within Ashkevron Residence, Askavi

Interacting with @Slim Shady

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Faeril gave a squawk as she was scooped up and carried from the room. Her mind slightly blurred by sleep and stunned by the indignation of her position. "What do you think you are doing?!" She protested, if she hadn't drained her jewel the Widow would be trying her best to slap her kidnapper silly. Alas, she was incredibly weak much to her disgust. This is what she got trying to help people!

Xandar brought the bed and put it back into its original spot as he gently lay Faeril back down in her original position. He shrugged his shoulders “Well you were complaining I moved your bed, so, I moved it back. Simple enough.” Xandar yawned as he crawled into bed next to her, taking the covers and burying himself in them. “Now you can go back to sleep, Lady Faeril.”

The dark brow twitched as Faeril stared at the obnoxious warrior. "I shall." She growled deeply. "Get out of my bed!" She tried to snarl, a weak yawn interrupting the threat. Pushing at his larger form to try and force him from her. "You bone-headed-! I will rip your stitches out!"

“Hey, I worked very hard to keep those stitches in, per your advice.” He groaned, not even dazed by the weak pushing he felt. He curled up tighter into the blankets, peeking his head out. “Come on, one night? Mikhail bloodied up my usual sleeping area and all the other furniture. You could be a gracious host and provide me a place other than the floor.”

Faeril sighed, at least this Eyrien was taking care of his wounds. Others like him would be ripping wounds open just to prove who could flex more. Then her thoughts paused as she growled. "What...? What did Mikhail do to my house?!" Faeril swung her legs over the edge of the bed as she pushed herself weakly to her feet.

Xandar sighed, seeing Faeril try to get herself up and roam the house. He leaned forward, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back into bed with him. He kept his one arm draped across the front of her. “Shh. Don’t worry about it. We can take care of that tomorrow. It’s late and you need your rest.”

The Black Widow glared at the man over her shoulder as Xandar yanked her back to the bed. While she was concerned about the house, it was hard to keep that to the forefront of her mind. It was late. A late morning, along early afternoon of fights, and then whatever they had done. It was now merely early evening, but having stayed up the night before. Faeril was feeling the ache of tired bones. "I'm a gracious host. I haven't killed you yet." She hissed, pointedly moving Xandar's arm off her waist as she laid her head on the bed. "And I could give you worse than the floor."

Xandar groaned, retracting his hand and rolling over as he laid facing away from the Black Widow. He knew that she should rest and if she wasn't going to realize that herself he would babysit her and make sure she was in full health. They would need her strength in these coming days, and she was far from replaceable. This much he knew, considering she was the one to heal him. "How rude. Then how would I go about chopping your wood with a sore back? As much as you won't admit it, you need me just as much as I need you. And I need you to rest and relax a little."

Faeril huffed a breath as she pointedly ignored and failed to ignore Xandar. "I am resting!" Relaxing, however... especially with the most annoying Eyrien to walk through her door next to her. "I'll gut you." Came the tired mutter.

[center]

In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Interacting with @Slim Shady @eclecticwitch @13org @SilverPaw @Zoey White
It had been a solid few days since the group had left the Ashkevron residence in Aven. Faeril had been less than thrilled to leave her family home, but there was little other choice as the Queen was hot on their heels. Randalvar had taken possession of the property and sworn to keep it safe for her return. A return she did not expect to ever be a thing. It might have been to Mikhail's relief that Randalvar had also promised to make sure her eyrie would be cleaned and kept that way averting the woman's wrath. Gennar and his two brothers had been hovering about the Queen and the Black Widow as much as they could despite the fact they were needed to act as the group's hands among the Eyrien settlements. They were not suspect unlike Xandar and could be risked, unlike Faeril. A point that all three had ganged up on their younger friend about. Faeril's job was to keep safe and thus out of the way.

It was through the brothers that the group was able to procure a coach, one that Gennar felt comfortable steering through the Blue Winds, though not the green. With four Eyriens, Mikhail, Jandar, Dareen and Fatima not to mention two horses a larger coach had been procured. Something that Gen would not speak about the price of what it cost him. "We can afford it." He stated simply, though he did whisper something to Faeril. Dareen would be the only one who overheard. The coach had cost enough to keep a family fed for a year, an outrageous sum. Faeril had winced at the price, but said nothing. The coach was a means to the end and got them out of the mountains of Askavi as quickly as possible.

Now, they stood before the landing web of a ruined town. Off in the distance was a second town. What might have been a Landen's village before the Blood claimed it for their own. War had come here in the past few decades, as in evidence in the hollow shells of homes and shops charred from fire. The blood-red witch blood bloomed about the buildings and along one side of the street. Left untended and a reminder to the horror that was being wrecked across the realms. Around the village, a circle where the Shalador people once had danced was now grown over and thorns weaved into the grasses. The tall yellow sea that surrounded the town interrupted with strands of orchards and trees. True forests to the east and far closer to the foot of the mountains.

Assured no one was in the town, the three brothers had returned to the carriage with their news. Gennar offered a hand to help Fatima out first as well as Faeril, the latter of who had recovered in part from overworking herself. "There's a newer town out to the north-east, but we didn't see or sense anyone in the area close to us." Gen reported. "Figured we ought to pause here and figure out if we want to stop by the town or not."

Faeril nodded to herself as she looked at the ruined shells that were once were homes. Homes she did not want to draw the memories out of, for the last memories here would be of things better explained by the blood red flowers. "We should stop, if only to hear the news." She offered as she looked at the witchblood flowers. Turning her head away after a time.

Ω Heroes of Olympus: The Next Age of Heroes Ω

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Athanasia Theroux

Location Camp Half-Blood, Dining Pavillion

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Athanasia rolled her eyes at Andy's older brother's antics. It was amusing in a charming way but in no way did it make him less strange. Though being able to shift into an elephant? Not there was something interesting! She absently wondered if he shifted into a skeleton if she could control him. Probably not as he wasn't dead. Giving Andy a sly grin she winked. "He's not wrong! You were amazing!"

Dismissing her skeletal bodyguard with a little wave and a thank you, the pale girl grinned impishly at her brother. "Dont worry, brother. I'll use it if you cant find a use for it!" She teased in reference to the dagger Arthur had been gifted with. "And some more tea sounds lovely. Then we train some more?" The question was aimed at Amdy but she glanced over at each respective brother in invitation.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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In front of Ashkevron Residence, Askavi

Interacting with @Slim Shady @eclecticwitch @13org @Zoey White @SilverPaw

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The screams that echoed in the subterranean room were haunting. The two men were quick to spill what they knew, only asking for mercy as they had families of their own to care for. A fact Gen shot down in harsh and short order while asking for details the men could not or would not provide. "Most Eyrien warriors live in war camps and go to their families only to produce children." It was a harsh light into his own society, but young men in their prime like these two were not likely to have formed such a close bond to a woman to treat her with any decorum. A fact that was cemented as they spat curses even as they begged. From them Mikhail, Gen and Dareen would learn that they had been sent by the order of the Master of the Guard to Queen Melian. Someone Gen had no kind words for, though he held off on the judgement on whether or not to kill the two warriors, mentioning that perhaps it would be best to leave that to the Queen and Black Widow.

Up above, as Jassen's body burned, Randalvar watched as he and Xandar stood next to the fallen man. Bidding his farewell to Queen and men, the elderly Eyrien glided down from the eyrie. It would be later in the afternoon when everyone minus Faeril found their way inside. Both Bellinar and Denvar busying themselves with packing up bits and pieces of the house that couldn't be left behind. Gen was pouring out a mug of coffee for Fatima as he started the conversation. "As much as I want to wait until Faeril wakes up. There's no sign that she will any time soon, and we do need to figure out where we are going. Not to mention how you are going to fill your Court, Lady Fatima." The Green Warlord stated formerly as he began rummaging about the dining room and vanishing the precious sets of dishes. The front parlor made less than pleasent by Mikhail's earlier display.