SilverPaw

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Excerpts from the life of a prince

Prologue: Year 1711, Hibern

When she first saw Lady Morrigan alone with the newborn in His Highness’s chambers, she feared for his life. A member of the castle staff, she knew well the cruel reputation that preceded Morrigan. So vile was she that not even her parents could bring themselves to love her.

But was her heart so dark, her mind so twisted, that she’d harm her own cousin’s firstborn son out of envy? As she stood, frozen in indecision, the vixen’s claws reached for the baby… and caressed him with impossible tenderness, as if he were spun from the finest glass. “You’re so beautiful,” Morrigan whispered, then broke into tears.

This wasn’t the Morrigan Danrose she knew.

I. The execution: Year 1714, Aurea

His mother had chosen one of the small side balconies on the highest floor for them to settle in. She enjoyed the secrecy, and was especially cautious against exposing the young prince to the attention of too many wandering eyes. Meanwhile, his father was making a speech on a grand central balcony a floor below. Wulfric could hear him, but not quite see.

“What’s going on?” The little prince whined, squirming in his chair. Though the seat had been elevated, there was still a big stupid wall right in front of him, obscuring most of his vision. He stretched his neck and sat up, but no matter the struggle, he couldn’t get the view he wanted. He shifted, and was starting to climb up onto the chair when his mother turned to him.

“Settle down, dear child,” she said from where she sat adjacent to him. She looked at him with subtle adoration, but her tone was firm enough for Wulfric to know she meant it. Still, he was about to push it, but then she added, “Or need I hold you?”

“No!” He scowled, cheeks puffing angrily. He sat back down, properly as a prince should, but vigorously drummed his small legs against the chair, once, twice, thrice. “I’m not a baby,” he insisted to his mother, trying to show her that he could stay put. “But I wanna see!” he added a complaint.

“You will be able to see soon, it’s almost starting,” she tried to reassure calmly, and reached out a hand to smooth down his hair.

He huffed, and stilled for a moment despite his frustration. He couldn’t see, that was the problem.

Adults. They never understood.

Impulsively, Wulfric jumped down from the chair, and ran up to that wall. He put his hands against the cool brick, and tilted his head back. It was so high up, and all smooth. He couldn’t climb this. He snuck a glance at his mother. He could ask her for help, but then it’d look like he couldn’t do anything by himself.

Instead, he turned to one of the other adults present; a guard. He went to the armoured person, and called out, “Hey! You there!” Wulfric imitated how his father spoke and acted. Especially on a three-year old, the attempts at imperiousness made for a very demanding child.

As he beckoned the man closer, the knight approached, and went down on one knee. That made him easier to talk to, so the prince nodded, and set his balled fists at his hips. He wouldn’t tell anyone, but he thought the knights with their helmets on were kind of scary. He couldn’t see their eyes or faces, so he never knew what was there. Still, he showed no fear or shyness, and said, “Show me your face.”

The man obeyed, and raised his visor. He was still a stranger, but after asking who he was, he replied, “Glenn Reid, Your Highness.”

“Glenn.” The child pointed at the top of the railing. “I want,” he said slowly, so the man would understand, “to be up there.” Often, just saying he wanted something would get him that.

However, the knight glanced towards his mother. Wulfric did the same, and seeing her reaction, he knew what the man’s answer would be. “Sorry, Prince Wulfric, but that would be too dangerous.”

The prince pouted. “Then destroy it!” The knight gave him a very strange look, but it made sense, didn’t it? If the wall was in the way, it had to be removed.

“That, er, even if I could, it’d compromise the structural integrity…” the flustered man answered.

The child cocked his head to the side. “What’s that mean?” he questioned.

Recovering from his shock, Reid realized his initial words were too complex for someone that young, and said instead, “It can’t be destroyed, because it belongs to the king.”

Wulfric absorbed that, but almost immediately, he accused, “That’s not what you said! Tell me what you said!”

And thus began a back-and-forth wherein the prince was distracted by learning three new words. Once he understood their meaning, and knew their sound (he couldn’t pronounce them, but he still tried because he liked them), he started pestering the poor knight on the whys, why nots, and hows of rebuilding the balcony. His mother was content to watch on, choosing not to interfere.

“What’s the fuss?” To the distracted Wulfric, the sudden arrival of the king was a surprise.

Though Edin had been glaring at the knight, his son drew the king’s attention. “Father, father! I want to watch from there!” He pointed at the railing. His parents looked at each other; father was angry, mother was expressionless.

Instead of an argument breaking out, however, Edin gave a huff, and gleefully looked towards his son. “That’s why I wanted you to get the best spot.” Confused, Wulfric glanced at his mother; did she get them a bad one?

However, it didn’t seem the king was in a mood to climb any more stairs. After a quick look around, he said, “Well, then, simply have your chair pushed over there, and stand on it.”

That was a good solution, but, “Papa,” Wulfric began, utterly serious despite the instinctive slip into a more juvenile form of address. “A prince shouldn’t climb on fur-ni-ture.” He worded this carefully, but it was a phrase he’d heard often enough to repeat.

For a moment, Edin was startled. Then he broke into a huge grin, and chortled. “What a good, clever lad you are. Look what a clever boy he is! Takes after his father, he does,” he announced to the group of people nearby - the smartly quiet servants and his unimpressed wife.

“You’re great, father!” Wulfric agreed, returning the beaming smile.

Thoroughly pleased, Edin seemed to have another wonderful idea. “You,” he pointed at one of the servants who’d come up with him. “Move over,” he gestured where he wanted him. The man appeared perplexed, but obeyed. “Now, go down.” The servant blinked in confusion, but Edin snapped, “Down!” and he immediately kneeled. The king scoffed, and said, “All fours.” There was a beat of hesitation caused by perplexity, but then the man did as ordered.

Wulfric looked from the servant to the king, similarly bewildered. His father just laughed, and slyly noted, “Well, he isn’t furniture, now is he?”

Wonderment overtook the prince’s expression. “Human horsie!” He exclaimed cheerfully, clapping his hands together. “That’s amazing!” he told his father. “Thanks!” he said, but was already running up to the stationary servant to climb up on him. “Stay still,” he told the man after he’d clambered onto the man, who kept shifting in minor discomfort.

“Careful!” his mother called out sharply when she saw Wulfric so very close to danger. “I will be,” he called back, but kept his eyes peeled on the scene in front of him.

Finally, finally, Wulfric could see it all. The largest balcony where his father must have been; it was filled with flags of yellow and blue, and the symbol he knew was his family’s. But what drew his attention were all the people. He had never seen so many people! The stadium was packed full. They’d all gathered here to watch something; to see whatever was going on down there. After getting his fill of absorbing the numerous citizens, the prince decided to watch what they all were.

In the middle of a big open space, tall guards wearing shiny armor stood all around a raised platform. On that platform, two strong-looking men were holding down another man wrapped in heavy chains. The chained man wriggled and shouted.

A lady stepped up onto the stage. She had on a dress as white as snow and a long floaty veil. In her hand she carried a large axe that looked like it was straight out of a storybook, with all sorts of fancy patterns on it. Even though she wore a silver mask that looked like another lady’s face, Wulfric knew right away that it was Morrigan. Because when she saw him, she started waving at him, and sent him flying kisses.

Wulfric gave a small wave back. Morrigan turned to the people, asking them something. Many voices yelled back, saying things like, “Yes!” and “Kill him!” and “Off with his head!” Some were just shouting, and some started thumping their feet into the ground. The beating in his chest was getting louder too, and the child put a hand against it to feel it.

As much of a racket as they’d been making, they started to quiet down as Morrigan swung the weapon through the air. The chained man was forced to kneel, and his head was placed over a wooden block. His cousin had a huge happy grin on her face. She struck, just the once. It happened so fast, he almost couldn’t follow it - one moment, the axe was up there, the next it was all the way down, lodged into the block. A streak of red was gushing everywhere, staining the axe, splattering onto the floor, getting all over Morrigan’s dress. Now, it wasn’t pure white anymore.

But she was laughing, and first, she showed off her bloody axe. Then, she reached down. The body - the man was missing his head. There was red all over him too. His head had rolled into the bucket by the wooden block. Morrigan picked it up, then held it high above her own head, so everyone could see. Cheers erupted all around, and it was even louder than before.

Wulfric was too absorbed to be bothered by the loud sounds, however. He stared at that pool of red. The headless man was still oozing his life’s essence, rivulets of blood streaming down from his felled body to accumulate on the floor. It dripped from his head, his severed neck. Crimson was spreading all over. It stained the grounds, and continued to grow.

Drip.

Drop.

Splatter.

Even as the head was dropped, rolling around with wet plops, the blood was still spewing forth.

Red was everywhere. Taking over everything. Yet still it expanded, seeking to fill each nook and cranny. Eager to conquer every man’s heart. More. More. More. Never enough.

Just how much was there?

TLDR: At three years of age, Wulfric has a pleasant family outing. It just so happens to feature an execution. He’s a bit of a brat, but what’d you expect?

Black Clover: Fool's Arcana

So, apparently I got an infection and will be need to to be medicated for (at least) 10 days or so. I'm probably not gonna be super-active during this time, 'cuz, y'know, big sick.

I'll still probably log in and lurk, or watch for PM's as usual, but I won't likely be making any big posts. 'Cuz brain is mush and head is spin. :(

Just thought I'd give a heads-up.

Now to go sleep.

@Xaltwind

Rest well, I wish you a swift recovery.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

	Attire: Party fit (one brooch only) Date and Time: Sola 25th, Morning Location: The Edwards estate Mention(s): Anastasia, Farim, Drake, Duchess Edwards Interaction(s): @Rodiak Nahir, @Helo Rohit

Wulfric followed Nahir's gaze to his sister, who was sprawled in Farim’s lap.

He had noticed the two, of course he had. No one dared so much as whisper about the pair of debauched royals. Most averted their gaze from them, pretending they did not exist. Did that mean they were immune to the pitfalls of unfavourable public opinion? Not necessarily.

Wulfric was unfortunately used to Anastasia’s decadent ways. Watching the pair, a number of faces and figures transposed onto the image of the Alidasht prince; the various men and women she had been with. From his viewpoint, the two were just playing around, as she liked to do. There was nothing special or different there compared to her past dalliances. If Farim was so easily given to carnal lust, he did not expect there would be anything to the courting efforts he had claimed he would pursue.

Disappointing.

After a brief observation, he turned back to Nahir. “It has been eventful, has it not?” he agreed. “I do hope you have had moments of relaxation as well. I would not wish for your experience here to be too trying.” She referenced the recent chaos with deliberate delicacy. It was understandable an adept diplomat such as the Shehzadi preferred not to openly criticize. Nonetheless, Wulfric was aware the state of his kingdom was far, far from optimal.

Nahir’s words had shifted the conversation to the noble who had introduced himself as Rohit. The man enjoyed excitement, and asked for recommended spots to explore. “Within Sorian? If you are interested in naturalistic romantic retreats, you may enjoy the Lover’s Lake. Pasta Oasis is a well-visited all-you-can eat restaurant featuring a pool. Speaking of pools, the Seaside Heaven Resort has water slides I’m told even adults can enjoy. The Gambling and Games Hall is a fun time whenever you are in the mood for games of chance. Sports games are often hosted at the Athletic Stadium or the Athletic Arena. Generally, you will want to be on the lookout for the summer events which will be announced in the newspaper,” he listed a few venues based on what Rohit told them he had enjoyed so far.

Drake’s performance had nearly been a background event to their conversation, but then there was a disruption as his friend promptly fell of the stage. Wulfric frowned at the lord. It was unusual. His gaze swept through the crowds. Noticing a trend, he eyed Rohit – or rather, the drink the man had already started on. “If you would rather refrain from getting embarrassingly drunk, I suggest you do not finish that drink. As delicious looking as they are, it appears these cocktails are unexpectedly potent.”

Potentially spiked drinks featuring at this party was suspicious given recent events. However, the only apparent effect so far was inebriation. Not as concerning as drugging or magic, though Wulfric still figured it would be best to have someone collect a sample afterwards.

“What a farse,” a note of disdain coloured his tone as he coolly surveyed the crowds. The guests were getting drunk fast. As a result, the birthday party was getting rowdier than expected. People were shouting, insulting each other, laughing too loudly, or dropping like flies.

“There goes another one,” he commented dispassionately as Charlotte fell to the floor. Cassius joined her soon after, though in his case, it was very much deliberate.

Peripherally, he noticed Farim’s fingers making headway in exploring Anastasia’s abdomen. He still had to tell him about the Grand Vizier’s scheme, didn’t he.

“Shehzadi Nahir, how would you feel about relocating to a calmer venue? I cannot say this is the type of entertainment I am looking for…Though, I suppose if we are staying, we might as well wager on who is going to pass out or make a scene next. Duchess Victoria does seem worryingly close to bursting a blood vessel, does she not?” he noted. Unlike the concern implied by his words, he sounded bored, if anything. If this group of fools was going to cause a mess, he knew he might have to intervene. He never did easily suffer idiots who made things difficult for him.

Black Clover: Fool's Arcana

As long as there's (enough) activity, sure.

The Shadows of Blackwood Keep

Intriguing

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

	Attire: Party fit (one brooch only) Date and Time: Sola 25th, Morning Location: The Edwards estate Mention(s): Lorenzo, Charlotte, Cassius, Fritz, Zarai, Callum, Anastasia Interaction(s): @princess Duchess Edwards and co., @Rodiak Nahir, @Helo Rohit

Wulfric petted Apollon one last time, bringing their heads together for the briefest of nuzzles. His coat was soft and smooth, his mane like the finest of silks. Warmth radiated from him, fueled by his body heat, and enhanced by the sun’s rays. The royal breathed in, the distinctive animal scent as familiar as it was comforting. “You will be in good hands here,” he murmured.

Finally, he stepped away, admiring the handsome colt. Apollon appeared as if he were suffused with a muted glow, like a field of wheat at high noon. It would be a joy to see him race as he was born and bred to do, and he hoped Drake could utilize him to his full potential.

The prince gave a nod in farewell, turned on his heel, and left the animal behind.

The moment he returned to the party proper, it became clear much had transpired in his absence. The guests were all atwitter, hushed whispers cavorting in the breeze. Wulfric went about the business of greeting the guests. Coincidentally, that provided him with plenty of opportunity to listen in on the rumours.

“Oh, that Duke Vikena!” a lady fanned herself, scandalized, while her husband offered futile now, now, dears.

“He cannot go one event without making a fool of himself,” exclaimed another.

“But a bastard?” queried a gentlemen. “Is it true?”

The group became more hushed, and a lord added cautiously, “It was…a surprise.”

“It was, was it not?” Wulfric pitched in just then, casual as you please. But that one phrase was enough to embolden the group. They clustered closely together as they continued their discussion.

“I never would have thought–”

“Well, even the esteemed count could have made a youthful mistake–”

“He is taking responsibility…”

“What if he was blackmailed?”

Of course, even the existence of a bastard wasn’t enough to blacken Count Damien’s reputation. But it created a dent, it rose doubt, it made people question him, at least a little.

The prince moved to another group.

“Look at that minx,” hissed someone, glaring daggers at Lady Vikena, who was being held by the waist. The culprit none other than the infamous bastard.

“Or is he the rake?” chuckled another. “Ah, how I miss the virility of youth.” A few ladies grumbled at the coarse comment, while his fellows gave each other knowing glances.

Does he know whom his playing around will hurt? The royal wondered. A rogue the likes of that incessant flirt was unlikely to care, he supposed.

Speculations run amok on the chances of elopement versus a broken heart. So preoccupied the crowds were with the blatant, they failed to witness a moment of subdued affection elsewhere.

Wulfric did not miss it.

Count Hendrix caressed Zarai’s cheek. A single touch, tender and sweet. Blink, and you miss it.

Just a friend, Zarai? There was potential for more, he sensed, and decided he would keep an eye on them.

He traversed the gardens, learning a few other interesting tid-bits via made idle chatter. A helpful servant let him know Anastasia had brought in a stray cat as one of Drake’s gifts. The lord had accepted, and the cat was already in professional hands. Meanwhile, Callum had added to the chaos Lorenzo had caused. He had irritated Count Damien, however, so Wulfric deemed it a positive.

Speaking of, the count was sitting with one of the hosts. The prince approached, gracious smile in place. “Good morning,” he gave a nod to the collective nobles. “Duchess Edwards, I greatly appreciate the obvious care with which you organized this event. The splendid arrangements, strategic placement, and delicate balance are all the hallmarks of your touch.” When she offered her hand, he grasped it gently, and kissed the air above her knuckles. He would have greeted the Duke as well, but he had gone to attend to his daughter. So, instead, he offered the words he would have to the man to his wife instead. “I am fortunate to count your son as my friend. You have raised him well, and I am heartened he is such a reliable man.”

Next, he turned to the Damiens. “A good morning to you as well, Count Damien, Countess Damien, Lady Crystal.”

He exchanged pleasantries, giving them time to bring anything to his attention if they so wished before he excused himself.

Wulfric strolled through the garden, making two stops before approaching his designated table. “Good morning, Shehzadi Nahir,” since it was not their first meeting, he bowed to her in the Caesonian fashion. The subtle crinkling in the corners of his eyes indicated genuine delight; he was glad to sit with her. There was a stranger present too. Intrigued, he turned to the new face. “Well met. I am Prince Wulfric Danrose.” He bowed to the man, as well.

Introductions over with, he sat down. “I ordered for this table an assortment of delicacies, so I invite you to join me for a sampling.” As he said so, a servant wheeled over an elegant glass cart which bore a selection of food and drinks. The dishes were distributed at their table. As a final touch, a bouquet of light pink magnolias and purple tulips was carefully placed into the empty vase. “A mere trifle, my lady, but I thought this might suit,” smiling, he caressed one of the petals gently.

Nonchalantly, he then started on the hors d’oeuvres, enjoying the blend of tastes brought by altering between the seared scallops, devilled eggs, seasoned jerky, and stuffed mushrooms. “How has Sorian treated you two so far?” he inquired. Perhaps, the recent arrival would have little to say, but he was curious to hear Nahir’s opinion, if she were inclined to share it.

Black Clover: Fool's Arcana

Third Trial Collab - Part 2

"Ayo get your armpit out of my face!" Ludo shouted as he pushed through the flailing cluster of limbs and bodies. An errant hand punched the back of his head, and he could only grit his teeth and bear it. He could only move forward. The moment he looked back he would've been swallowed by the stampede, so he could only just push onward.

After what felt like ages, he stumbled out of the conglomerate and for the first time to check on his competition and saw that Solveig was almost out. He stretched his hand out to grab hers before he pulled her out of the narrow ditch. "It ain't a race if I run away with it." He said before he turned to look at the field of barbwire and mud.

With a surprised smile, Solveig accepted the hand up. "Thanks," she huffed. "That's more sportsmanship than I thought you'd show." She realized as soon as she said it that sounded rude. "Uhh, no offense. I figured you might focus on getting ahead. I might have," she admitted. "But, well...We have a good start now. Let's not waste it, hm?" That said, she jogged to the start of the wires, and lowered herself onto her front with a grimace. She began crawling, feeling awfully like a worm. Then there were those damn magical projectile going off here and there. Crawling as she was there was really no avoiding them, just hoping for the best. The good thing was, that as a swordswoman, her physical conditioning was decent, and her core was up to the challenge. Even so, she'd never done exercise like this, so while she did best than most, there were certainly still people better out there.

Ludo was going to have to put a pin on whether or not he should've been insulted lest he fell behind Solveig. He ran towards the field of mud and angry wire and lowered himself. Mud coated the front of his body, clinging to his clothes in thicker and thicker layers while clumps splashed up to his face. This was awful. Everything about this was awful. Sure, he wasn't unfit. He was a commoner, of course he did manual labor, but he wasn't fit in this way. Even with what he thought was a decent core felt like his abs were screaming at him to stop making them work so hard. The only consolation that he had was if he was doing this then Isvelt was suffering even worse than him.

Eventually, Ludo and Solveig pulled themselves from out under the wires and climbed back up on their feet. Between pants Ludo said, "I taste... so much mud. It's gross."

She was trying not to spit out the aftertaste; it would be unbecoming of a lady. Solveig brushed herself off as much as she could. "Best not to fall in there, then," she nodded at a long set of bars set over a deep mud pit. Those participants who were ahead of them had muddied the bars already. A few unfortunate victims had fallen into the pit, and were waddling out very, very slowly. Bracing herself for the trials, Solveig climbed up the starting ladder, and once her hands were positioned at the first rail, swung herself across onto the next one. She wasn't looking down, only straight ahead. Rail by rail, she progressed. Her arms were burning, her abs protesting with the occasional spasm, but she made it to the end without falling in. Seeing the next obstacle, however, she groaned. "Not another climbing task," she complained. She took a moment to study the handholds, seeking the easiest path up the wall. Each section seemed to hold its own challenges however. Still, she observed the wall until she had a route planned - the break also serving as a rest for her arms - then begun the ascent.

Ludo was not far behind. He swung his arms to each bar wracked by the sensation that gravity was going to pull his arms out of his sockets. His palms burned as the bars dug into his skin while his core began to radiate with a hollow ache. Near the end, his grip on one of the bars faltered due to the slick mud that caked it and slipped off. He held himself up with one tired arm, gasping for breath while he watched Solveig get ahead of him. "Maybe chivalry should die," he muttered to himself. The commoner forced his body to swing forward and catch the next bar before he quickly made contact with solid ground again.

To his abject frustrations, he looked up at the wall with disgust. "Oh fuck me." Ludo walked around, looking for the best path of least resistance or really the best options out of multiple bad ones. Biting the bullet, Ludo started to climb. It was uncomfortable to say the least. His wrist and ankles twisted in strange angles; the tips of his fingers gripped the holdings to get what little leverage he could get. All the while, he had to avoid getting his fingers stepped on by other contestants climbing the wall. However, despite the efforts of the captains to give them hell, Ludo was almost at the top of the bouldering wall, except he felt his foot slip. Quickly, he grabbed onto a rock with one arm and dangled there while he looked around for a way to get out though he needed to be quick because his grip was beginning to give out.

Fortunately, his newly minted rival had just managed to drag herself onto the top of the wall with a heaving grunt while he was still hanging there. Not seeing her competitor in front of her, she looked back down. "Oh, shi-" she almost cursed as she saw him hanging one-armed near the top a few paces away. Though all she really wanted to do was lie down to rest, she hurried to position herself at the top of the wall, and stretched one arm down. "Can you grab onto me?" she called.

"Yeah, I think so," Ludo called back. He stretched his dangling arm up towards her while his fingers gripped the rock as tight as he could.

Solveig lowered as much of her upper body down as she dared while still keeping most of her weight on the solid surface. Her fingertips stretched, brushed Ludo's wrist - and grabbed.

Suddenly finding herself weighted down with almost half of his weight, she felt herself starting to slip from the top. "I swear to God, if you make us crash down-!" She desperately braced herself with her free arm, digging into the ground with her legs, doing a slow back-crawl while dragging Ludo just far enough until he could get himself up top. When they were both safely on the ground above, Solveig remained sprawled out on the ground "I want a bath," she whined.

"I'll never take my magic for granted again," groaned out Ludo who laid on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Just then, one of those magical projectiles flew straight at her, and she barely avoided it by rolling over. "Damn whoever came up with this," she muttered. She felt like an overcooked noodle, but managed to stand up. She was literally trembling for the effort, and they were what, midway? "I wish I knew how much time has passed already." Since she did not, however, there was only one option remaining - move forward, as fast as possible.

The two newly minted rivals walked up to the pit which awaited them shortly after the rock wall. "I believe I can manage jumping," she commented. "The logs better not fall over," she frowned. With a deep inhale, Solveig made the first jump. Afterwards, she continued hopping onwards, unafraid of the deep drop below. She was confident in her balance, and her legs weren't as tired. Of course, she still had to be attentive to the task at hand. At the very least, the logs did not appear at risk of toppling.

Ludo followed beside Solveig for he was certainly not going to get left behind by her. "This isn't so-" As if the universe knew what he was about to say, he watched as one of those nondescript projectiles crash into someone and flung them off the log they were balancing on into abyss below. "Okay, it's pretty bad," he corrected himself. It was very soon that Ludo was watching out for errant projectiles, jumping when it was clear and ducking and weaving with as much space as he was afforded on the wooden pillars. By the time he was back on solid ground, he could feel his calves, quads, and hamstrings begin to feel like they were ripping and to his horror it wasn't even over yet.

"More mud?! And what the fuck is that cartoony nonsense?!" He gestured incredulously at the literal punching gloves spun around by a contraption in the ditch of mud. Ludo watched as some poor soul got bounced around by the gloves like some demented game of pinball. "Clearly someone had way too much fun making this." Well, there was only one way. Back into the mud Ludo and Solveig went. While he was not a trained swordsman, what he was, was a brawler. Ludo held his arms up in a boxing stance and waded through the mud slowly, taking his time as he eyed the spinning punching bags. A glove was blocked, another was ducked. One gut checked him so hard that he felt the air flee his body in a rush and he held his stomach in place before he forced himself to move forward. Slowly, yet surely, he waded through the mud as he adapted to the rhythm of the spinning contraptions.

"If anyone ever tries convincing me that mud baths are healthy again..." She huffed. Solveig was a swordswoman, and had her sword with her, but did not expect this would be anything like sparring or combat. Even so, she unsheathed her weapon, standing at the beginning of the path with narrowed eyes. She was focused on trying to predict the speed of the constructs' spinning, the timing she would need, the force she might be hit with if she failed. She inhaled deeply, braced herself for what might come, and marched onto the path.

One glove was ducked, another, she barely jumped over, one was parried. One hit her in her back, but whether by sheer luck or reflexes, she ended up being propelled forwards rather than into the mud wallow. She weaved through, blocked, slid under, clambered over, parried, evaded, and emerged at the other end with only an aching back as far as injuries went. Her muscles were pulsating in pain by now, waves of it spreading throughout her whole body. But finally, they were at the last obstacle.

A vertical ramp covered in oil.

"That is pure evil," she glared at it. "Any clever ideas how to get up?"

Ludo watched their rivals dash up the greased ramp only to flop over and slide back down to the base. He took his jacket off and gave it a strong flap, flinging off wet and dried off earth. The jacket was slung over his shoulder. "Hand me your sword." He held his hand out. "I'm not going to do anything weird. Just give it to me." Solveig passed over the weapon, and watched him create makeshift bandages.

Once the sword was in his hand, he held the edge against the old black jacket without a second thought and began to slice off swaths of cloth that had the least amount of mud before he handed the sword back to her. "Not an elegant solution, but a solution." Ludo said while he sat down and tied the cloth around his boots and then around his palms before he tossed the remaining scraps at Solveig. He stood there rolling sleeves up as he waited for Solveig to do the same. First she took her blade back. Next, Solveig dubiously began wrapping the torn leather strips around her hands and booted feet.

"Let's see who can get up there first." Right after he said that he dashed forward onto the ramp and clambered up the slick ramp, fueled only by adrenaline. The cloth he wrapped around his shoes and hands just absorbed enough of the oil to give him enough of a hold to climb up the ramp. His clothed hands grabbed onto the edge and pulled himself forward onto the platform, rolling onto his back panting from exhaustion. Ludo punched his hand up into the air in celebration before he looked towards the nearest attendant. "Get this fucking thing off me."

The young lady blinked once, then dashed after Ludo. It was more so like running on all fours than climbing, and she felt herself slipping with every step. She got up top a moment after Ludo, and flopped down onto the groun next to him. "Next time, I'll be first," she proclaimed, exhaustion lining her tone.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

	Attire: Party fit (one brooch only) Date and Time: Sola 25th, Morning Location: The castle -> The Edwards estate Mention(s): @Tpartywithzombi Ariella Interaction(s): @Lava Alckon Drake

After he had met with his younger siblings, Wulfric returned to his room to be readied for Drake’s party with the help of a servant. His attire was white and golden in colour, light and airy to accommodate the warm summer weather, yet appropriately resplendent. Though he tended to minimize jewelry, he selected a small jade brooch – a nod to the green theme he knew the young lord’s party would have.

He stopped at the stables to pick up Drake’s gift, and took a walk to the Edwards estate. By the time he arrived, his friend was already stationed at the main entrance. The lord’s positioning caused a slight congestion what with the guests stopping by to greet him, exchanging pleasantries and well-wishes while trying to engage in small talk. The Edwards heir and his servants did their best to usher all visitors in, yet there was still an undeniable crowd right outside.

Wulfric’s arrival at once resolved that problem, yet also worsened it. In their hurry to give way to him, people converged at the sides of the road, crowding each other as they goggled at the prince and his majestic steed. He was leading the young horse by a lead, its coat shining so brightly even gold paled in comparison. “Good morning, Drake, and a happy birthday.” The royal greeted the lord with a smile. “I decided that today is the day when you finally accept,” a hint of mischief shone in his gaze. In the past, he had offered the man his choice of a steed, but the lord had hemmed and hawed and ultimately oh-so graciously declined.

But this young colt, a palomino Thoroughbred of barely 2 years was so perfect no horse lover could possibly resist his charms. “He was sired by the famous Hyperion,” he named a well-known racing horse. “I named him Apollon, but feel free to rename him.” Finally, he extended his right hand for a handshake, still keeping ahold of the horse’s leash in his left. He drew the lord in for a half-hug. “I heard about your sister,” he whispered into Drake’s ear when he was near enough. He patted the lord’s shoulder, but when they released each other from the brief embrace, there was no hint of what he had mentioned in his expression. “May you and your family enjoy a blessed day,” was all he said.

Truthfully, the prince was curious about Ariella’s imprisonment. Callum had alluded that there had been no fine to pay, and only one night’s stay in the dungeon for her. That was odd, and Wulfric felt there was more to the story. He was aware that none of the Edwardses may wish to discuss it today, but he would endeavor to uncover what had happened.

“Now, if you do not mind, I should like to see this boy settled into his new home,” he patted the equine’s neck. “He can be rather choosy,” he commented. Indeed, Apollon was getting antsy, unused as he was to large gatherings. Wulfric did not expect Drake had the time to see to himself, though even if he had, the prince would have accompanied him. He did wish to say goodbye to the prized steed. So, he waited until a handler was called in, and followed them to the stables.

Black Clover: Fool's Arcana

@SilverPaw
Neither did I, until today. And apparently when they do, they're real effing hard to pull outta yer gob... Dentist spent about an hour and a half trying to get the last bit out, but just couldn't do it. :V

@Xaltwind

Yikes. As if the regular tooth removal wasn't painful enough (been through it twice already. The second time this year, tho the tooth was split into half which did make it more difficult to remove but at least the hole is smaller)

Black Clover: Fool's Arcana

Ebil dentist was supposed to remove one of my teeth today, but they couldn't get one of the roots out 'cuz it'd fused to the jawbone... So now I gotta hope that my gums heal over it and that it doesn't get infected, otherwise I'll need to pay a nifty $600+ sum (in addition to the $100+ I already paid for today's procedure) to have it surgically treated... My moniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis... T-T

@Xaltwind

Ooof, I didn't know a root could fuse with the jawbone.