Obscene Symphony

Scion: Children of Light

we suffer from a severe lack of assasins

@Vec

But

But I just wanna heal

Of Blood and Magic

The walk from the infirmary to the post office wasn’t far, but with Max having quieted down, there was nothing to distract Aaron from his stewing. He realized about halfway there that if he fiddled with his note in his pocket anymore he’d destroy it, and had to make a conscious effort to spin his ring instead, picking up the pace just to leach off some nervous—or perhaps frustrated—energy. Some of the tension he’d been relieved of at the infirmary was coming back, balling up in his chest like some kind of angry swarm, and with every step he took, he grew more and more agitated. Part of him almost wanted to turn back, crumple up his strongly-worded letter and just let Ryner deal with whatever storm Varis was about to sweep into her office without warning, but he didn’t stray. For once, this wasn’t about her. He was doing this for him.

He pushed open the post office door with a little more force than he intended, but luckily there weren’t many people inside to hear the ensuing bang. It must have been a slow night, with a quarter of the school occupied and all; in fact, there was only one other patron in the small building, standing at the counter with his back to the door. Inside, the office was unexpectedly cold; moreso than would have made sense if a gust of cold wind had simply blown in when the door opened. But when the only other patron turned around at the sound of the door, Aaron realized with an inward groan the exact source of the chill.

Ralph.

“Damn. I was enjoying my night away from you.” Ralph grumbled, his expression mirroring Aaron’s feeling. He all but slammed the package on the counter, ignoring the postal worker as they weighed it in favor of glaring at Aaron. “Your master let you off your leash already, huh? Guess you’re pretty good at licking dirt off your master’s boots.”

Aaron only became aware of the tiny sliver of good mood left in him when it drained away at the sight of Ralph. He leveled him with a cold stare, crossing his arms.

“How kind of you to notice,” he replied cooly, walking up to the second kiosk of the counter and leaning an elbow on the desk. Fortunately, there was a small basket with blank envelopes available for use, and Aaron quickly produced his note, skimming it one final time before stuffing it into one.

“I hope that's the only package you have tonight,” Aaron commented as he sealed his envelope, unable to resist a jab. Yeesh, maybe Varis was wearing off on him. “Stay here any longer and the poor staff will freeze.”

"They can put on a jacket." Ralph muttered, taking a moment to confirm the sending information. "I know you don't like getting too much time off your leash but us peons can afford them too now. It’s amazing how much things can change 500 years after you sold us all off."

“Indeed. And what prosperity we bought,” Aaron replied, shooting Ralph a smug grin. He used a pen from the desk to write Ryner’s name and title on the front of the envelope in elegant script, then flipped it over to write “No Reply Necessary” on the back.

With the office attendant still working on Ralph’s package, Aaron turned toward him, drumming his fingers on the counter. Fuck it, tonight was bad enough already; he could afford to have some fun.

He put on a blatantly false pensive expression, looking up at the ceiling. “Speaking of… you're Mr. Martin’s nephew, right?”

Ralph just scoffed at Aaron's comment, grabbing a pen and filling out the paper the postal worker asked him to sign. "Unfortunately. Why does it matter?"

“Hmm…” Aaron kept his face carefully thoughtful, having to resist the urge to grin. No wonder Eris messed with people so much - it was a surprisingly good stress reliever. “I thought I recognized the name, and I finally remembered why.” He slapped the counter, grinning. “One of my great-grandmothers was a Martin!”

Ralph stared at Aaron like he'd grown a third head. The postal worker quietly took the form and the package off the counter, placed a receipt in the same spot, and placed them on the counter along the back wall. Ralph's jaw clenched and relaxed repeatedly. The postal worker turned to Aaron.

"What can I help you with tonight?" She asked.

"Don't be disgusting. There's no way I'm related to a family of vampire fetishists." Ralph ground out. If looks could kill, Aaron would have dropped dead. Ralph certainly wished he would. "There's more than one Martin family out there."

Aaron grinned smugly at Ralph, the strangest giddiness filling him at the sight of that scowl, before turning his attention to the postal worker. “I’d like this sent as soon as possible, please. Before sunset tomorrow, if possible,” he asked politely, sliding the sealed envelope toward her. As he did, he brushed his hair behind his ear, covertly flashing his Sinnenodel earring.

Turning back to Ralph, he shrugged, insufferably nonchalant. “Yeah, you're probably right. There's no way your Martins are connected to the Garrick family.”

“We can probably have it there before sunrise.” She said, skipping over the outgoing mail slot and depositing it in priority mail. “Was that everything you needed tonight?”

The family name wiped that scowl off his face immediately. “You’re joking.” Ralph said flatly, though his face had paled considerably. “We are not related in the slightest. I refuse to believe we share any sort of blood relation.”

Aaron smiled sweetly at the post office worker. “Yes, that's everything, thank you.”

He didn't bother wiping the grin off his face when he turned to Ralph. “Small world!” He exclaimed happily, leaning on the counter like he hadn't a care in the world. “Oh yeah, the Noilas pull from the Garrick Martins every few generations or so. I hear they're very healthy. You and I probably have more than just one common ancestor.” He had to laugh, the look on Ralph’s face pleasing him more than he'd care to admit. “What are the chances?”

“Fuck you.” Ralph snatched the receipt off the counter and flipped Aaron off. “Go ruin someone else’s night.” He stormed out of the postal office, slamming the door as he left. The postal worker, Sarah, just rolled her eyes at the display as she typed at the computer.

Breaking into full-on laughter for the first time in what felt like months, Aaron must have looked like a maniac cracking up in the post office, actually needing to brace himself on the counter to get it all out of his system. By the time he was done, his eyes were watering and his cheeks were sore from smiling. He had to take a few breaths to calm himself down enough to thank the postal worker and make it out of the door, welcoming the cold air on his flushed cheeks. His only regret was that he hadn't had time to shout “See you around, cousin!” before Ralph took off, but that was fine. He'd have the chance to do that the next time he saw that asshole in class. For once, he was actually looking forward to it.

_{Letting out his inner Sinnenodel and fuckin’ with Ralph}

Scion: Children of Light

@Dead Cruiser Alright, I can jive with that.

Speaking of speaking, though, what's Photep's debate culture like? The OP gives me a vibe that the city is fond of/encourages discourse, is that true? If so, are there certian courtyards or public spaces in which people tend to gather to debate, sorta like the Greeks had?

Scion: Children of Light

@Dead Cruiser I'd argue it makes things easier to find since the indexing is discord is actually pretty good, but that's your choice. Would that preclude someone else from throwing something together that you don't have to monitor?

Scion: Children of Light

@Achronum I'm not a fan of using discord for RPs for a number of reasons.

@Dead Cruiser

Do you mean for IC or OOC chat? I don't like discord IC activity either, but I find having one for OOC chatter can be really beneficial for planning between characters and such. (Plus ofc, they're also just a lot of fun)

Scion: Children of Light

@Vec Oh no, he at first was anything but a Diviner, and now he's anything but a Pyromancer lol. He always liked Biomancy cause he wants to join the Khenetai and was fascinated by their healing ^_^

I'll give my aptitude section another look to make sure I made that clear.

Scion: Children of Light

Radaam Esi

Name: Radaam Esi

Age: 16

Appearance: Radaam has matured quickly, no longer the skinny long-legged boy some of his neighbours are at his age. He stands quite tall, towering over most of his peers, and his frame is solid and muscular, thanks in no small part to his dedication in honing it. The rich brown of his skin has been further deepened by a lifetime either working or training under the scorching sun, and his hands are rough and strong from both. His thick, long hair is black as river mud, and his eyes are dark as well; so dark, in fact, one may very well fail to notice they are actually blue. He does his best to look presentable in simple, loose-fitting clothing that allows him to move without getting in the way, usually made of well-used, inexpensive fabrics.

Radaam

(This is certainly something fancier than Radaam has ever worn)

Background: Radaam comes from modest means. Hailing from a desert-dwelling people called the Chenzira, it was Radaam’s grandparents, along with a number of other members of their tribe, who did the arduous work of gaining Photepi citizenship and thus, leave to dwell within the city. Radaam’s family stayed where they originally settled, in a part of the city that acted like a buffer zone, a place filled with working-class (and often, recently naturalized) citizens separating the shantytowns from the middle class. Like many of their neighbours, Radaam’s parents were general labourers, working particularly as brickmakers helping to supply the ambitious infrastructure projects sanctioned by the Sekhmet. Still requiring some skill, their work was just too freelance to warrant membership in a craftsman’s fellowship. Income was modest and often irregular, but through diligent work and careful management, Radaam’s parents always ensured there was enough to get by.

Always present in Radaam’s community were the Khenetai. Often overlooked or outright ignored by his neighbours, they patrolled his area often, and were a common sight on the street. Their effect was profound; crime in Radaam’s area was rare and severely punished, and its residents thought little of sending their children to school unattended or hawking their wares in the street with minimal supervision. Radaam himself never thought of them as much more than a constant, as much a part of the streets as the lamps and paving stones, until such time that he needed their protection.

That time came one evening when he was about twelve years old. It was dusk, and his parents were hurrying to finish their work before they lost the light, with Radaam and his little sister, only six, helping as best they could. When his sister opened the kiln hatch to try and stoke the fire, the sudden rush of air spit the flames out at her, engulfing her clothes and the dry thatch she carried in flame.

Instructed by his distraught parents, Radaam ran to the street and screamed bloody murder, beckoning two Khenetai officers to his aid. They rushed back to help his sister, administering medical aid with expertise the likes of which Radaam and his family could never have hoped to provide. Radaam attributes his sister’s survival to the actions of those two Khenetai that night, and from that day on, came to see them as akin to the heroes of legend.

In the years since, Radaam developed a fierce sense of patriotism in Photep and has dreamed of being selected for the Khenetai to serve the city as his childhood heroes did. He started training his body as soon as he reasonably could, but when he showed an aptitude for magic in school, both he and his parents worked their hardest to be able to send him to a moderately respected academy of sorcery, his parents hoping sorcery would brighten his future and Radaam hoping it would make him stand out in the eyes of the Khenetai. Applying himself diligently, Radaam’s work ethic rose him through the ranks of his school, and he stands now at commencement at the top of his class, a prime candidate for the Cults - provided there’s any room left after the picking from Pesedjet is done.

Personality: With his height, muscular build and oft-present stonefaced expression, Radaam cuts a much more imposing figure than he really is. While some may mistake him for cold or even angry by his usual thoughtful frown, Radaam is actually a kind and gentle soul, happy to keep quiet while others speak and simply do what he can to help. His greatest virtue is his work ethic; Radaam will do any task, no matter how small, as if it were vitally important, and has been known to make up for any lack of innate talent with an abundance of hard work. Above all, Radaam has a strong sense of responsibility, justice, and balance; it’s a small wonder the Khenetai appeal to him so much.

Aptitude: Were Radaam attending Pesedjet, he would hardly be remarkable; however, at his smaller academy, his unwavering dedication placed him at the top of his class. He’s dabbled in all disciplines with the exception of Pyromancy and has taken a particular interest in the mysteries of Biomancy, influenced in no small part by the medicinal expertise he witnessed that fateful night with the Khenetai. Overall, Radaam will admit that he is not interested in researching magic for magic’s sake, but rather to advance how it can be applied to improve everyday life.

Tutelary: Radaam rose to the top of his class through dogged effort, and one of the things that set him apart from his peers was being the first to summon his tutelary - even if he only preceded his classmates by a few weeks. His tutelary is named Toruk, taking the form of a young desert viper in colours much more vibrant than the dusty reds and browns found in nature, with pointed scales that look to be made of obsidian and ceramic. Toruk rarely speaks, but his curious and mischievous nature is abundant in his actions, contrasting his master’s much more reserved demeanour. It is not unusual to find Toruk snooping around in someone’s satchel or a bookshelf high out of reach, and he’s prone to investigating where he shouldn’t. He listens to his master (more or less) but never acts to his detriment; in fact, Toruk is fiercely protective of Radaam, and will do all he can to aid him in his endeavours and further his ambitions - even when his ‘help’ isn’t altogether wise or warranted.

Aura: Cool, quiet dampness and calm; like the cellar of one’s childhood home, or a brief terrace reprieve from a boisterous party.

Other:

• As stoic as he is, one might not expect that his sister's ordeal eight years ago actually made Radaam afraid fire. He won't turn heel and run from the cookfire, but he gives torches a wide berth, and Pyromancy is off the table.

The Chenzira

The Chenzira, or Chenziri people (meaning “journeyers” in their old language) are a swath of desert-dwelling nomads split into various smaller tribes, not entirely unlike the original Aemeni in lifestyle. Despite this similarity, the Chenzira are culturally distinct from the Aemeni; among other differences, they travel in smaller groups of 20-50 people and lack the Aemeni’s predisposition to magic, making up for it in rich spiritual belief and tradition. Principally, the Chenzira’s religious beliefs revolve around the worship (and revulsion) of animals. Most potently, rodents are reviled as ill omens and bringers of sickness and bad luck, and are universally despised; a campsite infested with rats, for example, is considered dirty and an invitation for bad fortune, and would be passed over. Similarly, those animals who kill rodents - principally snakes, cats, and birds of prey - are revered as symbols of good luck and protection, valued for their skill in driving out evil. As such, it is common to find snake charmers and falconers among the Chenzira, and one would be hard-pressed to find a Chenziri family without at least one cat. Purposefully harming any of these animals is a cultural taboo, punished by anything from ostracization to outright exile.

Chenziri theology surrounding all types of animals is vast and colourful, but the cat, snake, and bird of prey (usually represented as a hawk or a falcon) are revered above all others. All three are equal in prestige and valued by all Chenzira, but each Chenziri family line is considered to be specifically guarded by one of the three. Radaam’s family, for example, is guarded by the snake; small wonder, then, that his tutelary manifested as a viper.

Despite Photepi society at large generally considering animal worship primitive, Chenziri citizens of Photep still diligently practice their nameless religion all the same. Their beliefs are quite harmless and non-invasive, and thus usually get little worse than a strange look or patronizing comment from Photepi people outside their communities.

Scion: Children of Light

@Dead Cruiser The changes I made were very minor, but I'll put it here first just to be safe (changes are listed at the bottom)

Radaam Esi

Name: Radaam Esi

Age: 16

Appearance: Radaam has matured quickly, no longer the skinny long-legged boy some of his neighbours are at his age. He stands quite tall, towering over most of his peers, and his frame is solid and muscular, thanks in no small part to his dedication in honing it. The rich brown of his skin has been further deepened by a lifetime either working or training under the scorching sun, and his hands are rough and strong from both. His thick, long hair is black as river mud, and his eyes are dark as well; so dark, in fact, one may very well fail to notice they are actually blue. He does his best to look presentable in simple, loose-fitting clothing that allows him to move without getting in the way, usually made of well-used, inexpensive fabrics.

Radaam

(This is certainly something fancier than Radaam has ever worn)

Background: Radaam comes from modest means. Hailing from a desert-dwelling people called the Chenzira, it was Radaam’s grandparents, along with a number of other members of their tribe, who did the arduous work of gaining Photepi citizenship and thus, leave to dwell within the city. Radaam’s family stayed where they originally settled, in a part of the city that acted like a buffer zone, a place filled with working-class (and often, recently naturalized) citizens separating the shantytowns from the middle class. Like many of their neighbours, Radaam’s parents were general labourers, working particularly as brickmakers helping to supply the ambitious infrastructure projects sanctioned by the Sekhmet. Still requiring some skill, their work was just too freelance to warrant membership in a craftsman’s fellowship. Income was modest and often irregular, but through diligent work and careful management, Radaam’s parents always ensured there was enough to get by.

Always present in Radaam’s community were the Khenetai. Often overlooked or outright ignored by his neighbours, they patrolled his area often, and were a common sight on the street. Their effect was profound; crime in Radaam’s area was rare and severely punished, and its residents thought little of sending their children to school unattended or hawking their wares in the street with minimal supervision. Radaam himself never thought of them as much more than a constant, as much a part of the streets as the lamps and paving stones, until such time that he needed their protection.

That time came one evening when he was about eight years old. It was dusk, and his parents were hurrying to finish their work before they lost the light, with Radaam and his little sister, only six, helping as best they could. When his sister opened the kiln hatch to try and stoke the fire, the sudden rush of air spit the flames out at her, engulfing her clothes and the dry thatch she carried in flame.

Instructed by his distraught parents, Radaam ran to the street and screamed bloody murder, beckoning two Khenetai officers to his aid. They rushed back to help his sister, administering medical aid with expertise the likes of which Radaam and his family could never have hoped to provide. Radaam attributes his sister’s survival to the actions of those two Khenetai that night, and from that day on, came to see them as akin to the heroes of legend.

In the years since, Radaam developed a fierce sense of patriotism in Photep and has dreamed of being selected for the Khenetai to serve the city as his childhood heroes did. He started training his body as soon as he reasonably could, but when he showed an aptitude for magic in school, both he and his parents worked their hardest to be able to send him to a moderately respected academy of sorcery, his parents hoping sorcery would brighten his future and Radaam hoping it would make him stand out in the eyes of the Khenetai. Applying himself diligently, Radaam’s work ethic rose him through the ranks of his school, and he stands now at commencement at the top of his class, a prime candidate for the Cults - provided there’s any room left after the picking from Pesedjet is done.

Personality: With his height, muscular build and oft-present stonefaced expression, Radaam cuts a much more imposing figure than he really is. While some may mistake him for cold or even angry by his usual thoughtful frown, Radaam is actually a kind and gentle soul, happy to keep quiet while others speak and simply do what he can to help. His greatest virtue is his work ethic; Radaam will do any task, no matter how small, as if it were vitally important, and has been known to make up for any lack of innate talent with an abundance of hard work. Above all, Radaam has a strong sense of responsibility, justice, and balance; it’s a small wonder the Khenetai appeal to him so much.

Aptitude: Were Radaam attending Pesedjet, he would hardly be remarkable; however, at his smaller academy, his unwavering dedication placed him at the top of his class. He’s dabbled in all disciplines with the exception of Pyromancy and has taken a particular interest in the mysteries of Biomancy, influenced in no small part by the medicinal expertise he witnessed that fateful night with the Khenetai. Overall, Radaam will admit that he is not interested in researching magic for magic’s sake, but rather to advance how it can be applied to improve everyday life.

Tutelary: Radaam rose to the top of his class through dogged effort, and one of the things that set him apart from his peers was being the first to summon his tutelary - even if he only preceded his classmates by a few weeks. His tutelary is named Toruk, taking the form of a young desert viper in colours much more vibrant than the dusty reds and browns found in nature, with pointed scales that look to be made of obsidian and ceramic. Toruk rarely speaks, but his curious and mischievous nature is abundant in his actions, contrasting his master’s much more reserved demeanour. It is not unusual to find Toruk snooping around in someone’s satchel or a bookshelf high out of reach, and he’s prone to investigating where he shouldn’t. He listens to his master (more or less) but never acts to his detriment; in fact, Toruk is fiercely protective of Radaam, and will do all he can to aid him in his endeavours and further his ambitions - even when his ‘help’ isn’t altogether wise or warranted.

Other:

• As stoic as he is, one might not expect that his sister's ordeal eight years ago actually made Radaam afraid fire. He won't turn heel and run from the cookfire, but he gives torches a wide berth, and Pyromancy is off the table.

The Chenzira

The Chenzira, or Chenziri people (meaning “journeyers” in their old language) are a swath of desert-dwelling nomads split into various smaller tribes, not entirely unlike the original Aemeni in lifestyle. Despite this similarity, the Chenzira are culturally distinct from the Aemeni; among other differences, they travel in smaller groups of 20-50 people and lack the Aemeni’s predisposition to magic, making up for it in rich spiritual belief and tradition. Principally, the Chenzira’s religious beliefs revolve around luck and the worship (and revulsion) of animals. Most potently, rodents are reviled as ill omens and bringers of sickness and bad luck, and are universally despised; a campsite infested with rats, for example, is considered dirty and an invitation for bad fortune, and would be passed over. Similarly, those animals who kill rodents - principally snakes, cats, and birds of prey - are revered as symbols of good luck and protection, valued for their skill in driving out evil. As such, it is common to find snake charmers and falconers among the Chenzira, and one would be hard-pressed to find a Chenziri family without at least one cat. Purposefully harming any of these animals is a cultural taboo, punished by anything from ostracization to outright exile.

Chenziri theology surrounding all types of animals is vast and colourful, but the cat, snake, and bird of prey (usually represented as a hawk or a falcon) are revered above all others. All three are equal in prestige and valued by all Chenzira, but each Chenziri family line is considered to be specifically guarded by one of the three. Radaam’s family, for example, is guarded by the snake; small wonder, then, that his tutelary manifested as a viper.

Despite Photepi society at large generally considering animal worship primitive, Chenziri citizens of Photep still diligently practice their nameless religion all the same. Their beliefs are quite harmless and non-invasive, and thus usually get little worse than a strange look or patronizing comment from Photepi people outside their communities.

Changelog:

• Changed out reservations about Divination with reservations about Pyromancy
• Added Other - fear of fire

Scion: Children of Light

@Vec Ooh, two Biomancy people with snake tutelaries! I can't wait to meet her~

@Dead Cruiser Those of us who posted our sheets in the check, should we resubmit them here for official approval, or can we put them right in the character tab?

Not exactly new but after three years it looks like I have a lot to relearn

Congratulations on your marriage, house and career! That's super exciting. Welcome back!