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Heya. Getting back into text based RP after a long binge of DND/Pathfinder as it's more schedule friendly and I happened upon this lovely site.

Down for most roleplays as I'm looking to improve my writing ability and connect with other cool people. Only really draw the line at erp as that's just not my cup of tea.

If you wanna chat, shoot me a dm! Would be more than happy to entertain anyone who stumbles upon this.

If you've got any recommendations about the site, that'd also be lovely to know! I'm very new here after all!

Most Recent Posts

In The Hourglass Order → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Event: After the Melon Derby

The hour was dark after the melon derby. Though silence had not fallen upon Ersand'Enise. Instead, a night of celebration took its place. The tavern was packed, drinks were had and a rather rowdy brawl took place. Yet Yuli, despite enjoying all of these things, was not present. She was wandering the streets, reflecting on what had gone wrong. She knew she'd messed up - and revealed a little bit too much of her character towards the end. She thought about who'd seen it - and what she'd done, and eventually re-assured herself that everything was going to be alright. And by the time that came - she ended up at the remnants of the row. Supposedly the yasoi, the hegelans, the eeaiko and the humans had all fought against each other, and Yuli happened upon the interior of a tavern with people unconscious on the floor. She surveyed, and waited for no-one to be watching before picking a target to drink from. She happened upon a revidian with sweet tasting blood but was unable to acquire anything from it other than a satisfying meal.

Soon after, she found herself at an auction. It started out as a fun little gimmick, a few rocks being sold and people paying outrageous prices for them, but there were a few items that caught her fancy. The first was an aphrodisiac, but she was outbid severely by a smug noble boy who mentioned something about Djamantese parties. She would research it for sure, but it didn't change her frustration about not getting the item. Another, that caught her eye, was a music box. Something old, from before the avincean empire. She bid on it. But she noticed that the price went up and up and up. She was happy to compete with this agent for a while. She was goaded by a couple of girls into bidding higher, but she mostly wanted to score a win on this uptight little turd that beat her for the previous item. That was, until it got to the thousands, and he continued to bid. She watched the price skyrocket as a bidding war began between 3 camps. And before long, the item went to the back to be sold in a private auction. It was a mystery to her, and perhaps she thought she might have done a disservice to her country by not pulling in with the rest, but she simply didn't have the funds at hand, nor permission to use state money with reckless abandon. Her personal funds were great, but they were nowhere near what the final price of that item ended up being.

In the deep night, she went to strike again. And this time, she chose the wrong target. His blood was sweet smelling, and she knew there was a rare blood in there somewhere, but he was strong. A fierce fight took place, and for a second, she thought he might have an advantage. She did not fear that she would die to him, but she feared that the swinging of a fiery sword and the screams of his strange northern language might attract others into the fray and jeopardize her position. And so, she ran. And for a moment, she thought that she could have taken him out, but she vanished into the night. There would be no risk taken tonight, but she would remember his face. And perhaps, she'd go for him again....

Event: Hegelan Drinking!

It had been an interesting choice for the group. Yuliya had convinced her team of Shortlisted. She knew of the potency of hegelans, the mana brews and the wonderfully crafted items they held. After all, she had one! And, got together they did. In the morning before the Dragon, they had drunk mana brews. Yuliya had consumed 2 prime shots, and had convinced everyone else to give them a go. Zazzy didn't keep hers down well, and neither did Kaspar, but Augusto and Jomurr took to it well. By the end, they'd all had some significant increase in RAS though. She felt particularly strong, and she got the same vibe from Augusto after the drinks that she did from the ice king. Just a well of unimaginable power. She had to stop herself from drooling. He was her teammate after all.

For the race, she chose Street Hoghs, and was partnered up with Korin. The two had come up with a fashion related strategy - if she wore a red shirt, the other groups would avoid her in fear of losing time spent on the race, and so it was that before they were to begin. Korin had herself dressed up. The two had gotten along quite well and shared quite a bit of banter. It was nice to be with someone she could easily converse with, even if it wasn't her first language, she felt far more confident in her spoken Hegelan than she did in her Avincean. She felt confident, and determined to do much better than the derby. And she felt something new, that she hadn't quite felt before - an urge to win not just for herself, but for Zazzy and the others? Was this normal? She'd have time to think on it after.

Event: High Stakes

Yuliya felt comfortable. For it was the dead of night, and the heat of the ensolian sun wasn't beating down on her. It was these hour she felt at most peace with herself, but she wasn't up to her usual night antics. There was a hunt for a sanguinaire, and of course this had drawn her attention because she herself was a sanguinaire. Yet, there was zero suspicion towards her in this group, aside from small glances from the paladin she'd encountered the night before. Every time he looked over, she simply smiled and maintained eye contact. It was almost comical, to hear him retell the tale of her attempting to drink from him, in front of her, while being completely oblivious.

Khaliuns warnings were noted. If this was a true sanguinaire, or even a high, then this mission was a death sentence. She thought of her brother, and of her father, and of the strength they bore. It was worlds apart from even the strongest students here, and even some of the zenos. And so she took Khaliuns warnings to heart. She would wait, she would observe, and only if she thought she might win, would she strike. So she responded, in a hushed whisper to Khaliun.

"Если они хотя бы наполовину так компетентны, как мой брат, все здесь будут мертвы к восходу солнца."

As they got closer and closer to the scene, Yuli shuddered. Not out of fear like the others might have, but out of annoyance. No-one worth their salt would leave a trail like this. They didn't NEED to eat this much to be full, yet they did anyway. Who was this.. hedonist, and why were they fucking around at Ersand'Enise. This was going to bother her peaceful life, and quite frankly, that bothered her. It bothered her immensely. She felt her grip tighten around the hilt of her axe, and part of her wanted to disregard the warnings and go and brutalize this fool while she was still juiced up on the prime shots she'd had earlier, but she would wait. Because she wanted this dumbass out of her school, and out of her life. And perhaps she wanted to finally get a good drink. It'd been far too long.

"I'm going to cover exit, you go ahead. I won't let escape." she sighed in frustration, as she traced around the sides of the proving grounds, looking for possible entrances and exits. It was a cover, but she wanted to know if there was a way in to surprise this fucker if it was necessary.

"держи меня в курсе. мы наносим удар, если вы думаете, что мы можем победить." she said aloud into the air. This would be a good test for both her and the sentry.

In O R I F L A M M E → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


@Tackytaff@Force and Fury

Few remained so close to the outskirts of the city as the Timewalker's residence. There were contingencies for when forest fires broke out, it was always better to fall back and ensure the preservation of the inner city buildings. As it was, only a few were left scrambling for belongings when Dyric arrived at the timewalker's house. He'd gotten there before Talit at least, and hurried himself to finish his task before her arrival. She would come after all; it was a near certainty. He knew the timewalker to be an old wound for Talit, and not one she would let lay with her friend on the line. Dyric waited until certain there was no one else watching before using the little binding magic he had to seal the door shut. Smoke was already filling the air, and it would be only a matter of time before the trees in the area would catch. A tragedy to be sure, but if he couldn't frame Talit for the timewalker's death, an accident was the next best thing.

“What are you plotting now?”

As though privy to his thoughts, his sister’s voice descended from the branches above, her dervish chain evaporating as she lowered herself to the ground. Talit’s face was set with determination and anger. “Why are you here Dyric?” She asked in the same tone, beginning to circle her twin. They both knew he had no chance of escaping her.

Eliis had been tailing Talit for a little while. It was hard to keep up with the Dervish whilst also maintaining a degree of stealth, but the fires of the city certainly helped, as did the commotion of the Eskandr raid. There was a part of her that wanted to intervene with that, but her mind had been made up since yesterday, and she knew she had to have this conversation, for the sake of her people. But, partway through her journey, she had noticed that she was headed to the timewalker’s and, before long, she had also spotted Dyric there. She quickly began to put two and two together as she sat in the branches, observing the scenario. The barred doors from the binding magic and the confusion of Talit at her brother being there. What was going on here? She would wait for just a moment longer before she’d get involved, hiding in the branches, waiting, listening.

"What are you doing here?" Dyric countered, stepping backwards and away from the building he’d bound shut. "Shouldn't you be helping people with all that magic of yours?"

"I am helping them. Not my fault they don’t see it that way yet." She said, taking her eyes off Dyric only long enough to examine his work on the door. "Did you really think that would stop me?" She asked, blowing the entire frame inwards in a gust of force magic and splinters. "I'll warn you once Dyric: stay out of my way."

He scowled, but made no move to follow her inside.

Eliiis would wait no longer. She leapt from the branches the moment Talit went inside and moved to follow, attempting to ignore Dyric. She didn’t want to look at him, but at least she could assume that he was making a feeble attempt to save the timewalker. She brisky went to follow after Talit, hoping that she could stop whatever was going to take place, and get a chance to talk to the girl before it was too late.

There was a curse and a strong pull on Eliis' back, stopping her from entering the building. "What are you doing?" Dyric demanded, apparently in less of a hurry to leave than he'd let on to his twin. "Talit's lost all reason - she'll kill you as soon as she sees you."

”And you’re just going to let her in to kill the timewalker? After you made that effort to save her? What was the point of you even being here then?”

Dyric let out a short, cold laugh, but made no effort to loosen his grip. "Save her? What do you think will happen if she's allowed to speak truth to the Elders? This-" He waved his free arm at the encroaching smoke "Will be over soon enough. The trial will not. You think they'll show mercy to a Tar'ithan agent?"

Things started to click in her brain. She’d never prized herself on her wits, or her ability to see through people that were quite obviously using her, but she realized that she’d been betrayed. He was happy to watch his people burn if it saved his own skin. She turned to face him, unbridled fury in her eyes, as his words rang in her ear. He didn’t care if his sister damned herself, he didn’t care about her, he didn’t care about his great-grandmother's dying wishes. She’d been used, manipulated and tricked by this man and he was about to do the same to his own blood. No. No more. She’d not let it happen. Loriindton was a pit of vipers and this snake was particularly venomous. She would not let this one bite another of their own.

” Your city burns, your people die, your sister slays a kinsman, and you laugh? I will not stand here and let you manipulate your family once more,” she spoke, venom in her words as she grabbed the arm on her back and threw him into the floor. Close range was her specialty, and he was so very light before her rage.

"It was you-" Dyric didn't have the chance to finish his thought before the taller woman flipped him to the ground with shocking ease; knocking the air from his lungs.

"Talit?!" A voice called out from some distance away, but close enough to capture the pair's attention as it came closer. "Talit! Where are you?!"

Dyric took the distraction to right himself and catch his breath. "It was your hand that ended Merit's life." He gasped, "That's all they'll ever see you for. I'm the only one who can help you."

”And it was you that tricked her!” she spat back, as she went towards the door of the timewalker’s shack, hoping it wasn’t too late to save the two women inside.

"Eliis," Dyric called to her, his voice low. As she approached the entrance it burst into flames from a wave of his hand. "I can help you, but not if you go inside." Already he was making distance between them, falling back into a defensive stance.

”I don’t want your help, Dyric. Merit had your help, and she was your family. I don’t wish for anyone to die here except for the huusoi ransacking our city,” she exclaimed, her patience wearing thin as she took one step back from the door and turned to look at the snake. If he would not stop the flames, she would make him.

"Our city?!" He spat at her, drawing energy from the heat of the forest fire around them. "What do you know of Loriindton? Meddling southern bitch." He made no effort to hide his disdain and lobbed an arc of heat and fire at Eliis.

She’d expected as much from him. He had propped himself up ready for a fight the moment she’d gone towards that door, and it seemed that violence was the only path forward here. As much as she detested fighting her own kin, she could justify it now. He didn’t see them as the same, and by this point, neither did she. She drew quickly from the heat of the smoldering door in a rush, and erected a small barrier of stone shielding herself from the incoming wave of fire and dismembering it once more into energy she could use, before making a run at Dyric. If she got into close range, this would be over as quickly as it started. And so she used that energy kinetically, to increase the pace of her stride.

Dyric didn't wait to see if his first attack landed before drawing again. This time, his casting more subtle as the Maledict began to charge at him. A combination of essence in her mind and trick of the light on the forest floor gave the vision of two dozen Dyrics by the time she reached the first. As one they began to rush around her, each indistinguishable from the next unless physically touched.

Illusions. That’s all they were. There were those in her order who could use such abilities, and she’d trained against it. An important lesson rang in her mind: ‘If your eyes are against you, do not use them’ and so, she closed them and listened. The world became silent aside from the crackling flames of the city. And that’s when she heard it. A footstep on her right and a very slight indication of breath; it was all she needed. She snapped her arm out and felt flesh as she grabbed hold of his neck. His little gambit hadn’t worked. Perhaps it was because of the state of combat she now found herself in, that her other arm plunged into his chest without hesitation, like a sharpened blade. She opened her eyes to the sight of the man, who she dropped near instantly upon seeing his blood on her hand. She didn’t feel guilty. It was kill or be killed, she’d seen what he’d done to Merit and she was just another loose end to him. Else, why would he have attacked her? Justifications and excuses ran through her head as she took a moment to stare at him now lying on the floor.

"What did you do?" A voice came from behind her. Lyen's search for Talit had finally brought her to the Timewalker's house and she’d witnessed the fight between Dyric and the tall stranger that seemed too familiar to call such. There wasn't time to wait for an explanation in the end though; a glance to the inflamed doorway was enough to distract her. "Talit!" She called again, and rushed to the entrance, binding herself a new one free of fire.

Eliis snapped out of it the moment she heard the voice, and turned to face Lyen. Wasn’t that… The woman who was supposed to be on trial? She had sympathy for the girl, but why exactly was she here? And why was she looking for Tali? None of this made sense. She followed after the other maledict, eager to get into the flaming building as well. She hoped she would not be too late.
In The Hourglass Order → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Collab with @YummyYummy

Khaliun was the one to make the first move from team Pravda and the others, even the de facto leader Vasily, obediently followed. For such a silent and overall small presence, she appeared to command a lot of authority with the mysterious veil around her person flashing every red flag in a stranger’s head that something was definitely being hidden from the world. She held Yuliya’s hand when the gong rang, solidifying the collaboration between the two teams before the hour of planning could commence.

Zarina seemed to take the lead in that regard, providing ample opportunity for Khaliun to subtly drag the Sanguinaire a few feet away and under pavillon. At first she said nothing, merely levitating very close to the royal blonde. But before any break of the silence by Yuliya, Khaliun would cut her off, ”Your father weeps, Your Grace.” she uttered with a deep but still feminine voice in Vossoriyan, hushed just enough to be heard but easily drowned by the uproar surrounding them, ”Vossoriya would weep even more should it lose its Princess.” she added, turning her head to the princess. The shade provided by her hood lessened in efficiency from this close, revealing parts of Khaliun’s tanned jawline, ”It’s already lost its mother - Its queen.”

Yuliya cocked an eyebrow. The last thing she’d expected to see coming to the meet was a sentry from the palace. She did not object to being dragged away, nor did she object to the conversation. It had been so long since she’d gotten to speak her native tongue, that she almost relished the small lecture, In fact, she was. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t homesick, to say that she didn’t miss the weather, the shade of the palace, the sun setting sooner, the Lednikrayva, and most importantly, her family.

”I would not die here, sentry. I have taken many precautions to keep my identity a secret, and these events are reportedly non-violent. That being said, do any of your teammates know? About me, I mean.” she spoke, looking the girl over. Her head was glad that the girl had seized such initiative, but her thoughts weren’t occupied with that presently. All she could think of currently was her family. The tale of her father weeping worried her, even if it was metaphorical.

”No.” Khaliun immediately answered the question, ”But a well-dressed Vossoriyan girl will raise questions. I will keep them silent.” reassured the sentry as her eyes turned back to the group that was too caught up in planning to take notice of this brief absence, ”Not non-violent. Non-lethal.” she corrected with the same direct and monotonous tone she had been employing thus far, ”The games are not what concern us.”

Khaliun conspicuously oriented her attention toward a few teams that had made an echo even before the event. CUBED, Covenant, Vyshta’s favoured … These were not normal student teams, even among prodigies. Something was very off about this year and it was certainly not reassuring to the crown, ”Few take kindly to the existence of those with your blood, Your Grace.” she remarked as she let her index slide over the wooden railing of the pavillon, only to scoop quite a bit of dust she would brush away with her thumb, ”So many will use this noise - this chaos to exact things they wouldn’t be able to otherwise do in the Free City.” steam erupted from the darkness created by the hood as Khaliun loudly sighed, ”Be careful, Princess Yuliya. I can only do so much outside of home.”

The blonde girl cocked her head as she talked and looked over the others, taking in her words. She was concerned - as she should be - but was it because she thought little of her abilities? Or because she thought highly of the others? There were some strong ones out there. The group had been considering Cubed purely for the one in the parka, and she’d felt something off about one of the church teams, Alas, she shrugged her shoulders. She was thankful that she had a watchful eye near her, but she was not nearly as paranoid as her sentry.

”You’re very sweet, Khaliun. But you should be participating in the event without worry. I can handle myself, and I bet it’s rare for you to get a moment off like this. Enjoy it to the fullest.” she spoke, her more serious face switching to a smile. ”But, while we still have a moment, do tell me. How is Papa and Andrei? Is their condition stable?”

”Deteriorating.” she claimed with no reservations, ”But taking it in stride. Only the sentry and Head Advisor Raskolov are aware. We’re keeping it that way.” Khaliun began to float forward, aiming to reconnect with the team, ”I am not here for fun. I am here to ensure your safety. And if possible-” she halted but didn’t turn her head, ”Bring you back home.”

She frowned, though only slightly. She’d expected as much. It still made the news no more easier to hear. And this talk about coming back home? She’d not have it. And she’d let it be known.

”There are few that take kindly to my blood. There are few that can do anything about it.” she spat confidently. ”And I will not quit here. My job’s not done. ” she spoke, softening her voice so that the others could not hear, as she spoke to the back of the cloak. She took a deep breath and got closer to the girl before she left for good and regrouped with her teammates, to leave one last parting message.

”Your princess commands you - enjoy yourself.” she whispered with a grin, before leaning back once more on the pavilion.

There was a desire to deliver an important lesson to the royal blood she had pledged herself to, but Khaliun abstained. Her hooked fingers, looking just about ready to squash something invisible in her palm, eventually relaxed. It wasn’t her place to act. Another steamy exhale escaped her, and she silently departed the little hideout and sought out the team. Zarina was enthusiastically introducing the dragons they would be using while Olga hatched up a convenient plan with Kaspar to maximise normal melon production, ensuring victory even without a single rare melon. Khaliun remained a discreet, ghost-like presence for most of the time, serving her role as defender and long range attacker as she always did, even if the only contested thing was a melon.

(To be continued)
In O R I F L A M M E → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Interaction: The Timewalker
Scene: Tall Trees & Long Shadows
Location: Loriindton - The Timewalker's Hut


A tall, red headed woman sat at and observed this trial from a good distance. She was not a relative, or close to Merit, at least in public knowledge. And whilst she’d done a great service for her, it was to remain a secret, or her dying wish would fall apart. But the more she watched, the further she slipped into a silent rage. It did not show on her face, for she had trained so extensively to hide her expression, to keep up appearances and to appear innocent in the event of an inquest. But by the 6, she was furious. She thought that perhaps the people of Loriindton had simply forgotten what the Parrench had done to their city and needed reminding. She truly believed that this last, heroic sacrifice of their hero, that they would finally wake up to reality, but they did not. The spider persisted, fueled by emotion rather than the truth that lay bare in front of her. She persisted in her defense, asked for a trial by combat, did everything to avoid the justice that was to be put on her companion. It was as if the elder’s death did not matter to her compared to the whims and wishes of the crown, and she could not understand why. It made her head spin. It made her filled with rage. How far had these people fallen into human depravity, and why. Why!? This girl, who was almost certainly the aspect of Vyshta, was determined to destroy her own people for the sake of another, simply because of a feeling of belief in her friend. What utter nonsense. By the time the first day was over, she went for a very angry trip through the forest.

Perhaps it was a feeling of futility, that nothing she did could wake them up. She saw that a lot were outraged, but those who were already lost weren’t coming back to the fold, and that stung. Maybe the city would return to neutrality, but she didn’t really care about that. That is what the Eskandr wanted, and she could give a rats ass what Hrothgar and the rest of those heathens thought. What she wanted was for her people to realize that they were a frog in boiling water, and to leap out and change things before fate closed in on them, and she hadn’t achieved that nor did Merit. She didn’t want to speak to Dyric and she didn’t even want to speak to Jyluun. One word was ringing through her head as she leapt from tree to tree, cloak firmly covering her hair and Tetsoi. Why?

And as the words rang out in Eliis mind, she realized. There was a person she could find the truth from. Perhaps she’d steered away because of her latent fear of it, but the Timewalker is a name she’d heard again and again in this city. People spoke of them with fear as well, and it was for good reason. To play with time and space was to walk a path of pain and destruction. Deep down, she knew why she was afraid. Perhaps she would be weak in the face of a reality where things could be different, where she could have lived a happy life rather than one of duty to her people, but if she wanted to know the truth, she’d have to go there. She reluctantly stopped her speedy travel through the tall trees, and began to find her bearings, to find this character and speak to them. She’d brought treasure with her, only Damy knew if it would be enough to pay for what she wanted to know.

It was a surprisingly humble hut, on a lower branch near the edge of town proper. It did not even have a door: more of a curtain made of heavy skins and furs. Eliis had heard of ‘darkmen’ before, though they were known by a different name in her region. Pitch-black gaps in reality taking the shapes of people or everyday objects, they only tended to appear around timewalkers, and many were the cautionary tales surrounding them. As she brushed the curtain aside, she was careful to watch her step. Indeed, a couple of them sparkled darkly in a corner. One simply appeared to be that of a man - likely a yasoi man - but the other stood out for, once she could make sense of it, it appeared to be a woman with one leg.

“Ah, so the red rose pays me a visit,” rasped an aged voice. Bent over a gnarled cane, sightless eyes blank but somehow keen, an ancient woman hobbled over from a back room, reaching blindly for a stool and seating herself with a small huff of exertion. For a bare moment, there was a rush of energy and then… light. Dozens of slumped and withered old candles - their sides sculpted by rivers of melted wax - lit up the room with a flickering glow. Sticks of incense burned. A lick of wind clattered the bone chimes just outside. “Now, the question is, Eliis’qarmena’luunetar: why?”

Panic immediately set into the Tar'ithan’s brain. How? What? She’d nay said a word since she stepped in, yet she was immediately greeted with her full name. Eliis had been training her entire life to be stealthy, to not show her thoughts or emotions, yet this old crone immediately got both. What exactly was she? Did the witch really hold such power? She shuddered slightly before responding, It had been a while since she had genuinely felt creeped out by something, at least like this. It even beat the blistering anger she felt before coming here.

“That is why I came here, Timewalker. I want to know why.” she struggled to talk, a lump forming in her throat before finishing. Why is it that she was so afraid? Yes, she knew her name. So what? She built a name for herself. Wasn’t that the point? She forced herself to be calm, as much as she could without leaning on her gift.

“Why does Talit reject the truth in front of her, the death of her dear elder for the likes of the huusoi? Am I the one who is blind, or is it they who refuse to see what will come?”

“Hmmm,” the old crone rumbled, and she let out what could’ve been construed as a mirthful snort were one inclined to view it that way. “There are three parts to this question. You do not know the answer to any.” A gnarled old hand, the skin so pale as to be nearly translucent, emerged from a drooping sleeve and waited, palm open, in front of her.

Eliis pondered for a moment. Of the treasures she’d brought with her, she liked them all. She hardly wanted to part ways with them. Yet, she knew she’d have to, for why else would the crone stretch out her hand. She hesitated for a moment, before drawing a beautiful golden medallion from her bag. She’d picked it from a corpse of some noble kid she’d killed in Relouse. Perhaps that would suffice. She placed it in the timewalker’s palm.

“Is this to your liking?”

“All of them,” the old woman croaked, handing it back.

Eliis sighed in sadness. It hurt so much to give it all up, but she knew such information could not be cheap. She placed the medallion back in the bag and handed the satchel to her.
”There. That’s everything I brought. I have naught else to give, unless you want me to run back to [HOMETOWN] and empty out my tree.” she spoke a little disheartened and bitter.

“Hmm, mhm,” the elder acknowledged, and she spent a minute or longer in perfect silence but for the rustling of her hands through the bag and the gentle ‘clink’ and scrape of the bone chimes outside. One by one, she took objects out and placed them on the stool. First came some coins. Then, there was a pin that Eliis had received as a girl. The timewalker moved… perhaps pointedly slowly. Next, came a comb, and then a vial, and then a book - the Menanne. She lingered for a moment with that one. Finally, the old witch held in her hand a skull. Both of her hands worked their way over its surface. “This,” she remarked with a reverent sort of glee, “is exquisite.” She tilted her head slightly to one side. “I have named my price.”

As she watched her treasures be pored over by the old woman, she winced every time. The pin, then the comb, then the menanne. It got worse and worse for her. Those weren’t valuable, not by the metric of the huusoi. But she supposed, that they weren’t dealing with them. Even still, they weren’t beautiful by the traditional metrics. They were merely memories she held dear to her, and oh how it hurt to watch them be handled by another. Then the skull. She hated the fact she’d put it in there in the first place. It was her purpose, her goal. She could not give that up - nay - would not give that up for a few questions. She strengthened her resolve firmly. She’d negotiated before, it was custom.

”The worth of that man is far more than a few questions. But, the Menanne is yours for your answers. That is a price I’m willing to pay, hurt me as it might. ” she spoke, struggling to keep her composure still. Try as she might, she cared for that book, the skull and the comb more than anything else in her trove.

“It is a partial payment and will receive a partial answer. I shall make that clear.” The timewalker’s hands felt around for a moment, before seizing the book.

”Then the comb as well. I do not want partial answers. I want the truth.”

“I do not deal in truths, child,” the old woman growled. “I deal in answers and people make their own truths of those.” She paused. “If you wish for all three of the answers, I should very much prefer the skull. You may buy two of: your own truth with the book and the comb, that of your people’s future, or that of Lady Talit’yrash. Not all of them, and I shall not negotiate further.”

Eliis frowns. An impossible choice, yet she knew that she could not give the skull up. The menanne was his, and it gave her strength to continue, and the comb was a memento that she held dear, but the skull was her dream. Eudes deserved a proper resting place, not an old crone’s workshop. But what to pick. Deep down, she wanted to cry. She had always wanted to cry. It wasn’t for her to make decisions. But she had to pick. That’s why she came here. She hardened her heart, and took the skull back. Eliis had always picked duty. Today, she would pick curiosity, for once in her life.

”Tell me of my own future, and of Talit. My people's fate is surely not yet sealed.”

“It is, and yet it isn’t, but events of significance will happen soon.” The old woman palmed the objects and set them down reverently on the table with the candles. “With Talit, I do not need my abilities to tell me much about her. She is known to me and I have…” she trailed off, still for a second. “Regrets, and yet not. For yourself, however, please give me your hands.”

There was no hesitation in her mind or her heart at this point. She put her hands on the Timewalker’s expectantly, hoping to find out her own truth. The old woman closed her sightless eyes and her grip on Eliis’ hands tightened. “I hear deception,” she croaked, brow furrowing. “Not only in the future, but in the past: a deception you are aware of and one that you are not. You are being used as a tool, red rose, by people far more cunning than you are, and they lie to each other as well.” She tensed for a moment, grip turning into a vise before slacking off. “Your honourable deeds are not so honourable as you believe them to be. Merit’s dying breath was not one of gratitude but one of betrayal by her own blood.” She shook her head. “What a villain,” she murmured, “What a villain!” She paused. “Not you, child. Do not worry. You have done black deeds, but your heart is not black. Bringers, I wish he could’ve turned out differently, though I knew he would not.” She released Eliis’ hands all at once and her eyelids flickered blindly open.

What could she mean by all of this? She always knew she was a tool, it did not take a genius to see that. But what deception was she unaware of? And Merit, betrayed? By her own blood? Her head spun. The dots began to piece together, and Eliis began to realize. It must have been Dyric. But why would Merit permit her to do it, if not for the cause she stated? And how did Dyric betray her. It was all too much. She came for answers and got given twice as many questions as she had prior. It hurt her, that she wasn’t smarter like one of her parents, or one of those scheming huusoi nobles, and could just figure this out in a few minutes and understand it all. She was only a weapon, and she needed time. More time than she had. Even still, she had paid for more. And she would get more.

”You speak of what I have done, but not of what will come. There must be more, or do I meet my end at this trial.” she spoke, becoming more panicked and anxious. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here, though she did not realize it yet. She gripped her arm with such strength that she thought she might rip it off, though she was careful not to. Another set of strained deep breaths filled the room as she looked expectantly at the Timewalker.

With a sih, the old woman closed her eyes again. “I hear a clash: a violent conflict. You fight against an ally and on the side of an enemy. A clever but cruel deception forces the hand of the huusoi and they force the hand of Loriindton’s people. The yasoi have no time. They must act or their city will burn.” She shook her head. “They are galvanized into choosing a side they would noto havve chosen.” She regarded the younger woman sightlessly now. “I am sorry, red rose, if it is not what you wanted.”

More riddles. Perhaps if this was her childhood, she would have quite enjoyed herself, but she’d lost the luster for it now that she would know what was to come. Alas, this news was far less bad than she was hoping. She did not seem to die, not yet and not fruitlessly. And the people would act or die. Perhaps it meant that they were forced to fight, rather than staying well alone. It was not the fate that Dyric or many of them wanted, but it was the fate that was to come, in her mind, regardless of those who rejected it.. But she was still confused. Who would the ally be, and who would be the enemy. Regardless, she wanted to know more. Was it greed? Or was it a necessity at this point. What could be done?

”I don’t know if it is what I wanted. I don’t know what I want, I only assume I know what I must do. And if there is anything else for you to see, please tell me. For if this city has little time, then I must act. Poisoned as they are, they are my brothers and sisters.”

“You have made your choice,” the timewalker croaked. “And I have given you more than that already, but you are still owed the other half of your answer.” She sighed. “The wounds between Talit and Dyric run deep: to the years when the King of Parrence visited as a boy. The two children vied for his attention: one as a playmate and the other, unbeknownst to her, as something more. One of them won that contest, and a bitterness and jealousy grew between them.” She scowled. “I well remember the day that Talit’yrash walked through that same curtain, though she was not yet ‘yrash’, then: a girl just shy of eleven.” The old witch shook her head. “She wished to kill a scagbiist. She wished to prove herself heroic, to shame her brother’s anger, and to cement herself as Oirase. I saw her future and, when she withheld her greatest treasure, I understood that I wasn’t to alter it, so the truths that I told were open to interpretation. She’d been chosen not as Life, but to be chaos and Fortune, and far be it for me to tamper with the will of gods.” She was silent for a moment. The chimes tinkled and the candles burned. “Talit has spent all of her life since both embracing how special she is and running from it, and so she runs into the arms of the huusoi, who have never lied to her or treated her badly and whose king she still covets. With how insular our people have become, she believes that it is poison in our veins not to travel the world so freely as we once did. She thinks that Parrence represents the best chance that we have for a secure land. Dyric, however, grew up an afterthought in her shadow and, in truth, he hates her. Ever was the love of Lady Merit the rope in their contest and, in truth, she softened greatly towards the huusoi and the Parrench in her later years, though she could not make her position public for fear of the reaction.” She stopped abruptly. “Tali will succeed, at least in part, though she shall be wounded deeply again, as may you. Now, I have said enough,” she snapped, “far more than I have spoken in years and far more than you paid me for. Begone!”

Eliis paused for a moment after being told to leave. She wanted to ask more. She wanted to know more. She thought that this was the price of knowledge, to constantly desire more and more, and that is why such precious items had to be given, but she knew that she could not give more, for then she would lose her purpose. Truth be told, she was slightly afraid of the timewalker, though not as unnerved as when she first walked in. She seemed far more sensitive about the issue of Talit than the monster she initially thought she was. She bowed her head in respect. ”Thank you, Timewalker. You have given me much, and I hope that I can give just as much to Loriindton.” she spoke solemnly, still deep in thought but giving pause for just a moment, before exiting the small hut.

Eliis searched for a place to contemplate and rest, finding a secluded tall tree a good distance off from the commotions of the city. She caressed the skull that the timewalker oh-so wanted and began to think, harder than she’d ever thought in her life probably. Were the Parrench really the best hope? The people that desecrated their religion and brought fire and blood to their people? But they were more similar than she thought. Perhaps if Eudes lived, she would have stayed the confused girl she was, rather than what she had become now. Would Arcel have to die for her to see reason? But she did not wish for this girl to suffer as she already had. Being bound by duty was already a terrible curse. Eliis thought and thought about the matter and what she could do, eventually finding herself in a deep sleep and no closer to an answer. Maybe a choice would be forced from her, but she had made one too many today in her mind.
In The Hourglass Order → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




The time between enrolment and arrival for Yuliya is a blur. Living in the moment was a blur, and thinking back on it is even more hazy. It is not as if she wasn't conscious, but rather the process was so.. uninspiring. Letters came back and forth, coin exchanged hands and requests for discretion were given to the Zenos. Before long, she was ready to head out under the new surname of Zolotova, a fitting one for a merchants daughter, but not one that she had intent on using. A boat was set to to the misty river docks of Karamevo, and they set sail. No royal procedure, no grand exit, just as her brother had requested.

Truth be told, Yuliya didn't remember much of the long voyage that brought her to the shores of Constantia, for she was not above deck much. Even on the largely southern sea route they took, the sun still stood high in the sky most of the day, and so most of the days were spent in the cabin below. The rattling of the waves against the ships, the taste of fine Vossoriyan vodka and far too many card games were how she spent most of her days aboard the boat. Occasionally she'd wait for people to fall asleep, and sneak out onto the deck to look at the stars and feel the cold air, but it did little to soothe the nerves in her stomach. It did the opposite. She began to realize with every day, how much further she was from the shores of her home. And so she'd drink again and forget, both from the bottle and from the unfortunate sods kept in the bilges. They were far from a good meal, but they kept her from going insane.

And as nearly 3 months passed, they finally arrived. And yet, time never really seemed to slow down for the girl. She was put under the merchant dorms, assigned her classes and began to get herself acquainted with the city and those around it. A few parties here and there, but she was still struggling to build a meaningful connection with her fellow students. That would be, until she'd make a fateful encounter on the 29th, the day the student society faire began..


Assani 29th


Location: The Guild Stalls - North of the School
Day of the week: Lepdes
Time: 3:00 HO
Characters: Yuliya, Zarina @YummyYummy

Zarina emerged from a session of bureaucratic management and was met with a faire that was just as energetic as it was when she had left her Zeno Bucks stand. Both her’s and Marceline’s paperwork were in order and packed neatly in a messenger bag over her shoulder. Beyond that more rudimentary container, she looked relatively plain for someone of her merchant class with only her lavish rings showing off the wealth her culture was keen on flaunting a tad too much.

Most were indulging in their luncheon but the stalls were still active and doing their very best to garner the attention of youthful-looking individuals. Zarina was noticed rather quickly, and by the Society of the Gift of all things - It was the rings, she thought, for there would be no way they’d pay attention to her in her current getup. They were bleeding members to the Magicians’, it seemed.

”My Lady, if you would kindly hear u-” the young, noble alumni froze in place as she noticed the bag Zarina was carrying around. In no universe would anyone of their calibre be caught dead with that dead animal on their backs! ”My mistake, errr, yeah no.” she finished with avoidant body language. Zarina, silent from the surprise, squinted. There was an opportunity here, “Woah woah woah, hold on there, love.” she waved her arm and shook her head, taking a step closer to close the distance the representative had created between the two, “I would LOVE to know more about your Society, it looks real fancy, m'lady.” the Virangish accent was particularly thick.

Yuliya watched. It’d been a little while since she enrolled but she’d recognize the tall beauty with the thick accent anywhere, for she was on her team. And what a situation she was in. She’d heard about the guilds, and this one seemed to be for the snobby elite. She had a particular distaste for those sorts. As far as she was concerned, the difference between nobles and rich commoners was a shitty little title. And this club seemed to fit the name of that bill. With a mischievous smirk on her face, she walked forward to the stand, admittedly dressed the part of someone who’d look like they’d belong there, but that would only serve her true intent here better.

”Sorry to interrupt, but where did you get that bag!? I’ve seen them all over court in Sawand!! It must have cost much money!” she spoke, her Avincean still rusty and ladened with even more accent than Zarina, though this was not by intention.

The noble secretary was making her discomfort very obvious to the Virangish teen that prodded for more, and it would be exacerbated by an interloper that most certainly fit the Guild’s criteria entering the scene. Wide, blue eyes from the olive-skinned creature leered at the bag she had once judged and then looked over at Yuliya’s lavish fashion sense. Something here didn’t add up, which just added to the stress, “Oh!” Zarina exaggerated a gasp as she twisted to acknowledge the Vossoriyan girl, “Mind you, it’s actually an EXCLUSIVE from Ahangaziz! Your friends at court must have some REAL GOOD friends to get these over in Callanast!” a toothy, impish grin took form onto her visage. That same, amused face then slowly turned to face the Guild’s representative. The poor, mousy critter was overwhelmed.

“So! What were you saying, love?” she leaned over the girl just a little, arms crossed and her golden hues shifting toward Yuliya from time to time with a wink added there for good measure. ”Uhm. Yes, right this way …” they would be brought to the stand where the now nervous piece of nobility fiddled with various, expensive-looking brochures, “Sawand you said, yes?” she turned her attention to Yuliya for a moment, “My my, wouldn’t have guessed! Our enterprise does cover all of Palapar, and we do get many Sawandis to work for us.” the more she talked, the more the rep could see just how painfully AVER AGE Zarina truly looked, with more and more onlookers, especially those affiliated with the Guild, beginning to whisper whilst gawking.```

As the two girls made eye contact, they both knew that some fun was about to be had. But they had to string it out just a bit longer to truly get the most entertainment out of this as possible. She turned back to the olive skinned girl with a confused look on her face, shifting her parasol all the while to cover herself more from the sun. Yuliya spoke once more, trying harder to sound a little more pompous than usual.

“So, you haven’t heard of Tatas? They are most extravagant wear, you agree?” she smiled once more, expecting a response.

“First Edition Tatas, too.” she waved the piece of crap she was wearing over her shoulder. The stall holder was sweating and it wasn’t from the heat of the high-noon. ”Would you like-” Zarina cut her off immediately, “Tell me honestly, love, does this Ruis Zeburg fit with the bag? The colour schemes are a little off.” she waved her hands over her pair of dark, unremarkable legwear that covered her legs and were a tad too baggy. There were some light coffee stains here and there if one looked closely enough. The girl was speechless, ”Uhhh.” the Virangish girl then reached out for one of the pamphlets and hastily flipped through a few pages, “Hmmm. Whatcha think? Getting a little competitive these days, no?” she peered over at her Vossoriyan accomplice, eyebrow conspicuously raised in a manner that the stall owner could very much see Zarina’s full-expression.

”It’s very modern look! I see Duchess Tatyana wearing something just like it before I came Ersand’Enise. I might have change my wardrobe to fit the fashion, you agree padruga?” she smiled inconspicuously at the ever more frustrated stall owner, not giving anywhere near as much away as Zarina was currently, which no doubt served to confuse her further.

The poor stall owner stared blankly at the blonde dame and could barely compute the information entering her ears, ”No.” she said with a mousy voice. To have Yuliya’s awe-inspiring getup be replaced by whatever amalgamation Zarina was wearing caused quite the meltdown in the poor girl’s brain. It was important to note that she too was dressed for the part as to best represent the Guild’s image. They were spitting on this image! ”No! You look far better. It’s just a fact!” Zarina furrowed her eyebrows and dramatically slapped her hand onto the stand, “What? You’re saying I don’t look good enough?” a panicked look was conferred to Yuliya, and it quickly turned into exaggerated outrage, “I bust my ass off to get this LIMITED edition Tata bag, and you …” she was gritting her teeth, holding back laughter.

Yuliya was managing just as well as her friend to stifle a laugh, but she knew that the best was to come, so she bit her tongue slightly before speaking once more. ”You are just being nice, I know I am not looking good as her, you can be honest." she almost struggled to get it out, swallowing a little bit of blood from her tongue, her pride for the gag and a laugh that almost definitely would have slipped out.

”No- I uh-” her heart was racing, the stares were growing in numbers and none of them showed interest in what was once a prodigious Guild. The others were enjoying their luncheon. This was too much! ”You. Look …”” she sighed and took a moment before speaking again, ”You’re messing with me. I get it. Another one of these Grapes. Yeah, yeah. You do this every fucking year …” she clenched her papers and glared at both of them, ”I’m not going to let you lowly wenches tarnish our good name with some practical prank.” she stood her ground, posture stiff and eyes shifting between both trolls. “A prank?” she looked over at Yuliya, “I think she’s calling us fools.”

The Callanasti girl was enjoying herself far too much. She felt a tinge of anger as she was called a lowly wench, but she kind of respected the fact she stood for herself a little bit. It’d be no fun if this was just a walking over. But this was the time - to seize the moment. And so she would. ”Lowly wenches? Do you know who you speak to? This is Fedwa Bukhari! And I am Ochistitel Kartoshki Maria Svetlana. How dare you speak to us this way!? I thought your club were for nobles but apparently is for uninformed people!” she spoke, bringing out a more enraged maidenly voice than she was ever used to making, before scoffing at the woman in an exaggerated fashion.

”I don’t believe you and your wenchy lies. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve dealt with your KIND before.” now she was just being venomous. Zarina could only raise her eyebrows at the flames emitting from this little noble creature. Just as she was about to speak up, however, a male associate of the stand owner’s emerged from the back. He too was well-dressed and looked to be albino with platinum hair - A Bloodchild, maybe? ”Wait, Elana. Did I just hear Bukhari?” surprised, he noticed the two standing before them, with Zarina more or less fitting the profile of a West Constantian noble. Again, the rings gave it away, somehow, ”Goodness! Yes! We were errr- expecting you, My Lady! Are you aware that every Harrachora has been an alumni of this Guild?” looking anxious, it seemed the name actually bore weight, “Wait, so now I’m no longer a wench? What is this circus?” with these words, the male stall owner twisted his head to glare at his associate, ”... They’re lying, Pierre. Look at them, th-” Pierre raised his voice, [b]”Look at them? Have you seen her friend’s clothing? That’s Vossoriyan haute couture. It doesn’t matter if a Bukhari dresses this way, you don’t call- …”[/color] panicked, he quickly bowed toward Yuliya, and then to Zarina, ”I am oh, so sorry. Oh Gods.

Yuliya smirked at the ‘recognition’ but she couldn’t help herself now. She looked politely at Pierre, before turning back toward Elana and looking at her far more seriously. She had to fake the level of offense she felt, but it helped that she’d used such strong words. It made her job at this point easy.

”Thank you for fixing your friend's mistake. But she slight us very much. It is custom to kiss boots in apology in my home. If she does that, the offence could be forgiven." she said pridefully, trying very hard to hide a shit eating grin.

Zarina wasn’t really hiding her’s at this point - it wasn’t like Pierre was looking at their faces with all that bowing. “I can agree to that.” she nodded at the direction of Elena, ”No. Oh no no.” Pierre shot a foul glare at her, ”You will get their forgiveness, Elana.” he leaned closer to her, ”For the cause.” Elana’s heart visibly sank as she realised her position. She knew this was total bullshit, but the Society of the Gift would not take this loss lightly. There was a lot at stake.

Her body language showed nothing but resistance and revulsion as she slowly stepped aside and made her way around the stall, ”A kiss on each one?” she inquired whilst looking at both teens. Zarina pursed her lips at the sight and raised her hand over to Yuliya’s shoulder, “How’s about we get them to pay for luncheon, hmm? Boot kissing is fun and all, but I’m staaaaaarving.” she subtly shrugged as both teens looked at one-another. Maybe it was about time the con ended, as the air got a bit less lighthearted.

Yuliya got closer to Elana after making eye contact with Zarina. As much as she wanted to break the girls pride, she knew that maintaining appearances was a bit more crucial in the present and decided to settle for the compromise that was suggested. She got as close to the girls ear as she could and softly spoke: “Lunch is fine. Intent is what matters. I forgive you.” before pulling back and gesturing in dismissal. She smiled sweetly at the girl, still holding back the laugh that would come when this would be over. Oh how she wanted to go further. But more fun would be had, if Zarina was as fun as she thought she was.

A sigh of relief escaped Elana, and she made herself scarce quickly after with Pierre catering to the two. A few pleasantries here and there and they would get to cut through a line to the nearest Revidian parlour for what they called a “Pizza”. With sausage on top too! Pierre bowed once more and Zarina spoke, “Well, I’m sure we can put this behind us, Mr. Pierre.” not even Lord or Sir, “We will mull over our options after this lunch, yes? A Guild choice is very important after all.” a few enthusiastic nods later and they would be given a new brochure of the Guild before Pierre took his leave and the two could enjoy some fresh pizza on a nearby bench.

The brochure was promptly hurled to the nearest bin, “Pfffftttttt, HAH.” with a burst of laughter, Zarina raised her hand for a high-five - if that even existed in Vossoriya, “EASY lunch! And she was gonna lick your feet too! Pffftt hahahaha!” munch, she took a first bite from the slice in her hand.

Yuliya didn’t restrain her laugh anymore. A hearty chuckle was given in response to her newfound friend and the high-five was met, though it definitely felt less pleasant for Zarina than she anticipated. She thought back to the girl at the stand. How delicious she’d be. Night Time, she thought. She’d fill her stomach and distract herself for now. “I was very hungry. It was good suggestion from you.”

When their hands met, Zarina winced! Just how hard could this broad hit a high-five?! She waved her hand in the air and furiously wolfed down her pizza slice, “Fuck, I’d almost say you’ve got that wanker’s cramp going with how hard you hit that.” she snorted, “Now, if you want a real good dessert, there’s this stand that has a very pretty girl’s face a block down, near the bakery club. You like that shit back in …” she paused, “Where are you from again?”

Yuliya sighed slightly as she watched her shake her hand. She forgot she had to control her strength here. She was no weakling but even still, restraint was necessary. She didn’t want to break hands or something akin. That would almost certainly raise suspicion. She smiled as she scarfed a slice down, before turning to face her again. Dessert sounded good. Another distraction, and she was definitely partial to sweets.

“Oh! I am Vossoriyan! You heard of it? Not many sweet thing, but I like very much. she paused. Was her accent that unrecognisable? Perhaps her Avincian was improving faster than she thought. She smiled with pride a little. “You are Inipori? What is your name? I am Yuliya but can call me Yuli if you like.” she spoke, missing a couple of words from her new friend. What was a wanker’s cramp anyway? She’d have to study up.

Zarina shook her head, “Virangish. You’ve probably seen a few of us near the islands.” she paused and tilted her head, “Or not.” she shook her head to get back on topic, “Ah! Yuliya of Vossoriya! I’m Zarina Al-Nader. Zaz is fine. Zazzy if you’re feeling Sassy.” finger guns away, “Yuli. Yuyu. Yuuuu. You’ve got a strong nickname potential, Yuliya, I can sense those. It’s my special power.” she did a little bit of ominous hand waving, and then snagged another piece of pizza, “Oh, wait.” she snapped her fingers, “I remember where I saw you.” finger wagging followed, “You’re one of Afraval’s, yeah? We’re on the same team. I think.”

Yuliya took a little longer to process. Zaz as she called herself talked fast, and used a lot of wordplay, and boy was she expressive. It was always exciting to meet foreigners and this was no exception. She could hardly keep a light chuckle escaping her lips as she ate the last slice completely shamelessly. Yes. I recognize you. Tall beautiful one. There were three others? Pale boy, tan boy. He looked like he from my side of world. And another pretty one. Dark skin. Is boy or girl? I don’t want make bad impression.” She spoke, more confused as she went on. Avincean was hard. Why couldn’t it be easy, like Eskandish or Vossoriyan.

Zarina shook her head and waved in dismissal, “C’mon now, you don’t gotta flatter me, you helped me get free pizza. Easiest way to my heart.” she took a bite and munched away, making her reddened cheeks come out a little more, “Girl, I think?” Zarina shrugged, “Ehh don’t worry about it, half of them are cool. And the other half is the three guys you didn’t meet.” she snorted, “... So, do you know what clubs you’re joining?”

The two continued to chat for a good while. It turns out they shared a couple of mutual interests in clubs and they discussed for a while, and in fact, Yuliya managed to talk Zarina into considering the society of the grapes. After all, there was nothing better than a good drink after a good jape. Or both in tandem for that matter. Regardless, not more than an hour passed before they walked right past the stall for the Society of the Gift right over to the Magicians Guild and signed right up. To put salt in the wound, Elana watched it happen.



Location: North of the school, near the noble dormitories.
Day of the week: Lepdes
Time: 5.00 HD
Characters: Yuliya, Elana

Long after her lunch had settled, Yuliya set out for a different meal. She hadn't had a real drink in a couple of days, and she'd picked her target. That prideful girl who'd been running the stall, that had spoken to her so disrespectfully. It wasn't like it was unwarranted, but that didn't matter. She'd been keeping distance for a while now, and the school was silent, yet the girl was still out. She'd gotten an earful by her guild, perhaps for falling for such an obvious scam, or perhaps because they let such a big fish get away. She didn't stress the details, nor did she attempt to listen. Her focus was entirely on the meal she was about to have.

Alley to alley, she moved with pace but quiet, getting closer and closer to the mousy noble lass until it was too late for a reaction. A hand over her mouth to stop her screaming, and her senses of sight and hearing were stripped, but not her sense of touch. How terrifying it must have been for her, to not know what had came and not be able to comprehend what was happening. Within seconds, she was dragged away to a less public alley, and a drink was had. Slowly, she sampled the flavour. A savoury taste, perhaps owing to her Revidian diet, and definitely a healthy blood, but it was nothing special. She'd had better, and she'd had worse, but the taste was still new to her, and so she'd keep a tally in her book. She knocked the girl out when she'd had her fill, content with her meal, and left her where she drank, using some extremely mediocre binding to cover up the holes she'd made in the girls neck, before briskly walking back to her dorm, and making sure no-one saw what just took place.




In The Hourglass Order → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



NPC Secondary:


In The Hourglass Order → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In O R I F L A M M E → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Interaction: Dyric, Merit
Scene: Tall Trees & Long Shadows
Location: Loriindton - Merit's Home + The Mette'stiroi

Eliis had accustomed herself to her vacation rather quickly. Between the fireside chat with the spider and her accomplices, and the vastly different climate of this strange town, she’d gotten sucked in a vortex. She thought that Eudes would have quite liked this place, aside from the fact that there were seldom Quentists to be found, but those thoughts quickly left her brain and made space for a new friend, Jyluun. Whether the younger girl wanted her around or not, Eliis had taken quite a liking to her and spent much of the trip walking and talking with her. It somewhat felt like the sibling bonding time she never quite got to experience growing up. Still, even if she wasn’t conscious about her work, she still found herself completing her routines and habits of new areas. Finding escapes, tunnels, plants and good vantage points to use. All the while, spending time with a new friend.



“It’s you, right? Eliis?” The hooded figure who had just brushed her was male, young, and a couple of inches shorter. He had a forceful voice, though. He didn’t even wait for her confirmation. “Per our correspondence, Lady Merit has been waiting for you.”

A jolt of surprise filled her as the brush and voice assaulted her senses in unison. She was no stranger to sudden contact, especially in her line of work, but perhaps she had gotten too comfortable in Loriindton. Regardless, she swallowed. She had an idea of who this might be, and the mention of Merit brought her back to the harsh reality of her daily work. It had been nice to forget about it, just for a moment. She stretched and turned towards the cloaked man, and nodded in approval.

“And I have been looking forward to speaking to her. Let us not waste time” she said with a friendly smile. Her truths and falsehoods were difficult to discern but there was genuine enthusiasm in her voice as she readied herself for a surely interesting meeting.

He smiled from under his hood. “Well, then I’m the guy you’ll want to follow.” An almost mischievous quality nestled among his words, but there was something else underlying it as well: something harder to place. “Dyric, by the way: Dyric’antiil’osmax.”

They wound their way through the platforms and bridges of Loriindton and the town was a-bustle as far as even keen yasoi senses could discern: sounds of work and laughter, swirling lights and colours, rushin bodies, smells sweet and sour alike. Tonight was to be a mete’stiroi in honour of both Lady Merit’s birthday and that of her three-times-great grandchildren: the twins Dyric and Talit. They were not all that far past a scaffolding in the town square when Dyric turned abruptly and leapt up onto the end of a steep hanging staircase. Hanging onto a rope railing with one hand, he twisted back and lowered his voice. “When we’re in there, don’t be too formal - she’s not that sort - but remember to speak loudly and clearly. Her hearing isn’t what it used to be.” He paused for a moment before swinging back, starting to ascend. “A lot of things aren’t.”

Eliis was never a good judge of character, but she found that this one liked to talk. And most notably, didn’t carry the same presence as his twin sister, nor did he move as well among the trees which surprised her. Even still, she listened and saw the sights of the trail before speaking up once more.

“What do you mean by that, Dyric?” she uttered, in the same low tone, perhaps without even realizing it. She had always been one to follow the tone of a conversation.

He paused. “Her age has caught up to her. She’s soon to become one with Exiran, and she knows it,” he related glumly, “as do I. Her body and mind alike have begun their final decline.”

She paused for a moment. Perhaps she had expected a different sort of answer, or that he was subtly hinting at the state of affairs in Loriindton as of present, but she found it both heartbreaking and endearing that he cared so much about his elder. She almost wanted to reach out and pat his shoulder and tell him something reassuring, but Eliis held no such privilege, nor did she think the gesture would be appreciated. Regardless, she solemnly spoke once more.

“To fall victim to aging is a great shame. Alas, I hear she has lived a long, proud and fulfilling life. That even she should fall victim to the effects of time is proof that we will all meet Him some day.”

“Truly spoken, suunei,” he agreed, “would only more of my people here in Loriindton still remembered that.” They were nearly at the top now. The stair-ladder rose through a hole in the landing and there was a pleasant-looking residence above. “In truth, it is not only her who has changed. Grasping Parrench hands are everywhere here, trying to draw our people in and smother them. You will find Lady Merit no friend to the Parrench.”

“I do find the Parrench’s eagerness to send our people to fight for them particularly detestable. Still, I pray she finds no friend amongst the huusoi. The best of them are dead or dying, and the worst seek to tear our people out of our homes, root and stem” Eliis spoke, her voice filled with contempt as she craned her head slightly towards Dyric, giving a nod of approval at his thoughts and moving on. She found it odd how different these siblings seemed to be, and it made her only more excited to meet the legendary Merit.

“It is a truth I well recognize,” he admitted, as they paused before the door. “But I pray you go easy on the old lady. She is of another generation and much enamoured with rose-tinted memories at this stage. In her time, she took us somewhat closer to the truth, at least.” With that, he pushed the door open and stepped through.

It was a surprisingly simple space: wooden walls and floors, a handful of platforms and tables displaying some of Merit’s treasures from life, dating all the way back to the days of the Avincians, and a small but well-appointed kitchen that was more than a simple hearth. In a comfortable-looking chair in the middle of a large sitting area was Merit’entasp’osmax herself, in repose. Ancient and wrinkled, the points on her ears gnarled and drooping, eyes half-hidden behind folds of skin, she started as the two of them entered. “Tali?” she inquired hopefully, twisting round. It took a moment for her to peer over and appraise the new arrivals and a ripe pause took hold of the room for a moment. “Ah, no, Dyric, dear.” She looked to Eliis. “And you must be Eliis!” Her eyes lit up. “It is so very good that you answered my call.” The elder began shifting, then. It seemed that her aim was to rise to her feet and come greet her visitors.

How good it was to see her and her place of residence. So many years of experience, of knowledge, of service to her people. She looked at her trove not with envy but with admiration, before her eyes darted across the room to the woman she’d been so looking forward to meeting. In the same way that falling leaves in autumn are picturesque, she found herself for a moment feeling the same experience looking at the Meled. Every wrinkle on her face, a story or experience, 173 years of living. It was only when she was addressed that she snapped back to reality, realizing that Merit had meant to stand up to greet her. She strode across the room once she realized and began to help her to her feet.

“I would never refuse a request from someone who has given so much to our people.” she cheerfully extended her arm to help Merit up.

“Oh, what a good girl you are.” Merit patted her arm and rose, though Eliis could feel a little bump of Force magic at work as well. “Too good, perhaps,” she joked. Then, the former baroness turned to face her. “Now, my dear girl, as you may have gathered, I had Dyric bring you here regarding a rather serious matter.” Her hands still held some strength as she reached out and gripped those of the much younger woman. “I can feel, as a tree does in the cold after harvest, that my leaves have been falling fast and the last are about to leave me.” She sighed. “I am not truly content. One should never be, but Vyshta has smiled upon me more than most and I’d be quite an old bitch to complain.” She chuckled raspily. “I want my final act to be brilliant, though: memorable, and that’s where you come in, my dear.” She wore the same mischievous expression as Talit the other night. A century and a half of age and a limb apart, they were startlingly alike in their mannerisms.

Eliis knew what the woman meant, and it made her want to cry, though she buried that feeling as quickly as it came. She would not have them see her tears, lest they think her incapable of the job she would be doing, nor would she dwell on her sadness. Tar’ithan d””id not weep, nor did they remain bitter when faced with a difficult job. Eliis forced herself to smile, and after a second, it became natural. She squeezed Merit’s hands softly, before looking into her eyes once more.

“You amaze me, meled. Even in your final hours, you still wish to give to the world. I will see to it that you have the finale you seek, whatever it is that you wish it to be.” she spoke, quivering slightly at the beginning, though it quickly faded. For how could she not be grateful to be able to help such a woman.

Merit nodded. “Dyric was right in contacting you.” She smiled briefly, craning her aged neck to look Eliis in the eyes. The old woman’s quickly flicked over to her kin’s however and a look passed between them. She went still for a moment, and turned back. A shadow of confusion passed over her face, before it resolved into certainty. “Now, my dear girl, as you may have gathered, I had Dyric bring you here regarding a rather serious matter.” They were the exact same words she had used a minute earlier. She squeezed Eliis’ hands. “I can feel, as a tree does in the cold after harvest, that my leaves have-”

“‘Old Nan,” interjected Dyric softly, and she stopped. “I’ve been repeating myself?”

“Yes, Old Nan.”

“Hah!” she barked. “See? This old brain’s gone! Mush!” She laughed somewhere between mirthfully and bitterly. “Further proof that I need to get out of the life business.” She smirked, or at least it appeared so, for her movements were quite feeble. “Now, you know of the ven’silmuu, correct?”

“I do.” she solemnly uttered. The mixed feelings she had were beginning to fade, but she couldn’t help being surprised that she wanted poison to be used. She bent down slightly to be at a better level with the elder.

“I imagined you might.” Merit reached up and inspected a tuft of Eliis’ long red hair. “Such pretty hair,” she murmured. “So well-dyed. Anyhow, you’re probably wondering why.” Merit nodded sagely. “I want to make it look like I was murdered.” Her elderly face hardened. “Let my last breath be poison to those Parrench creatures who seek to encircle our people here and make us like them.” She shook her head, or something like it, stopping to cough softly, but it did not fade, instead going on for a good twenty seconds while Eliis had to steady her. Dyric watched from nearby, concerned but coming no closer. Merit blinked. “Blast it! What that I was young again, like you.” She scowled and furrowed her brow, lost. “Dyric, what was I saying?”

“Poison to the Parrench,” he reminded her, like a coach of some sort, and she collected her thoughts. “Yes,” Merit continued, “Those creatures are ever seeking to encircle our people here and make us like them!” Her elderly face hardened and she said it with just as much vigour as she had a minute earlier. “But I am no lover of the Eskandr either. At least they do not make a mockery of our gods, but they are savages,” she spat. “So I will drink the essence and then, at an opportune moment, when some well-known Parrench ally of poor, misguided Talit’s is near me, you will change that essence, hm?” She grinned toothily and perhaps a bit of the fire that had made her such a force for over a century was in it. “A poisoned chalice,” she crowed, “not just for me, but for the girl’s fool ideas and the probes of those huusoi.”

And just as the fire returned to Merit, Eliis’ eyes lit up and she gave the elder a hug, just tight enough to not choke the previously coughing woman. She couldn’t help it. How noble her heart was. The conviction her words held ran true, and she found herself agreeing with every word she was saying. Even if Merit repeated herself, she found herself listening intently, all words the elder speaking ringing true to her heart. How glad she was that Merit understood, and now, so did she the nobility of the cause.

“Thank you, Lady Merit. I will endeavour that this not only saves this beautiful city, but also your great(is there a better term?) granddaughter from the lies they whisper in her ear.” joyfully she uttered as she pulled away and bowed her head in respect.

“Good!” Merit exclaimed, “good.” She released Eliis, then, standing somewhat unsteadily before calling a cane into one of her hands with the Gift of Force. “Now, I shall drink when they are busy with their playful mocking, and you shall know the moment. Dyric will give you a signal.” Eliis felt a sudden pinch behind her ear. “Like this,” he said. “Just so,” the elder agreed. “I shall die on the day I was born,” she remarked. “Poetic, I think, and how it shall set the world alight.” She took a couple of steps. “I thank you for being the one to do it.”

Just then, below, they could hear the music starting up. “Ah! That’s our cue!” chirped Merit, suddenly a good bit lighter in her bearing. “Walk ever in Vyshta’s fortune,” she wished the woman who would kill her. The elder smiled faintly and gestured toward her door, hobbling a few steps in its direction to show Eliis out.

“And I am thankful that you chose me to do the job. I hope I will make you proud.” she spoke contentedly as she moved to the entrance once more.

Once they were outside, Dyric took the lead. “You’ll be able to go through with it, then? Sorry if my ‘signal’ nipped a bit, by the way. I figure you’ve faced much worse…”

“Absolutely. It pains me to kill a fellow yasoi, but she wills it and it is for a noble cause. And your signal was fine, have no such worries, though I appreciate the sentiment,” she nodded at Dyric and patted him on the shoulder as she wanted to do before. It felt appropriate. She spoke once more.

“It cannot be easy to lose such a person, even after such a grand life. If your mind grows heavy after the deed is done, you are welcome to share your thoughts with me. I will listen, for I believe I understand.”

Dyric smiled tightly and appreciatively, as if it was already weighing on him and he wished to be along. “Thank you for your concern. “I know I am doing the right thing. Perhaps we shall speak before long.” At the bottom of the ladder, they parted ways. And not long after, they both found themselves at the mette’stiroi, though at far different stations. While Dyric was beside his elder, Eliis was enamoured with the snail derby, and for good reason. She’d assassinated many people before, and the best way to remain guiltless was to focus on something else. Every so often, she’d steal glances at the birthday trio, until she was to feel that pinching behind her ear.

It was so easy. Even if she wasn’t a master of essence, all it took was a slight change and it turned the ven’silmuu into a deadly agent. Seconds later, Merit was dead, and Eliis shed a tear as Dyric placed the blame on a girl she’d met the night before. By all accounts, she held no ill will against the woman, but so strong was Merit’s will that Eliis could not bring herself to interfere now, as the deed was done. She looked up at the sky for just a second and thought to herself:

“I hope I made you proud, Meled.”




Interaction: Snorri
Scene: Served Cold
Location: The Kongesalan

Truth be told, Dietrich did not expect much from the young boy at chess. He was clearly intelligent for his age and possessed an all too familiar sense of cunning, but he was but a child. Alas, he was being entertained in the match regardless, Many young people give in to anger, pride, impatience, caution, but the prince did not have these faults. Perhaps his biggest ‘flaw’ was his abundant curiosity, but that did not lend itself to a weakness at this particular game. Snorri was measured in his approach, and every move had intent. Should he become king, Dietrich thought, he would make a fine ruler. Perhaps finer still if he shared some of his experience with the lad.

Alas, he found himself thrown off by a barrage of questions while thinking about his next move, and found himself drifting in his memories for just a moment. The Grontempel and the waters he drank, and the experience he felt. Even when the effects of the water had dulled, he had felt the god's message so strongly in his brain. He had received many messages, maybe from them, maybe from his subconscious, maybe from the sheer adrenaline of the experience, and many of them he was not so willing to share. Still, the one thing that lingered in his mind was this: he would have a crucial role to play soon. Whether it was this, or in the near future, he was not so certain, but he was sure in his belief that it was coming. He centred his thoughts once more to find that Snorri had made his move, and a good one at that. So he'd buy some time by answering the boys questions.

"It was something I've never felt before. We have temples to the gods in Kressia, and Sturmfeld too, though we also have many Quentics clouding their guidance. Here, it is clear as day. And when I drank the water, it became clearer still. You can feel their presence. I do not know if the experience will be the same for you, having grown up here, but it was eye opening." he sighed and pinched his nose slightly as he hovered a hand over a pawn, and waited for a moment.

"I'm not sure if it was necessary, but it brought me closer to the truth, to understanding the world you and your kin inhabit. We share gods, but our practices differ and so does our language, customs, traditions. It helped me. And no wise man refuses help when it is put in front of him. You would do well to remember that. It's a philosophy that has served me well so far." he smiled, and moved a knight. He could see Snorri's impatience flaring slightly when he took his time to move, and he would use this to capitalize on the next move. The two exchanged blows on the board a couple more times, before he would speak once more.

"I used to believe in the false gods when I was your age, you know. I had a teacher who taught me how to use my Gift in the ways of old Avince. To my young brain, it seemed logical, as a man I respected followed them so should I. You have the benefit of a loving mother who has guided you well in the ways of old, but not all men are so lucky. Many of the desperate flock to the Pentad because it's easy." he paused for a moment after his brief lecture, just to measure the boys thoughts, before continuing after moving another piece. It wouldn't be long now before the game would be over, but he wanted to impart some knowledge on the boy before the busy day ahead.

"But, Snorri, the easy way is usually not the right way. I'm sure you see how weak the Greenlanders are, how their armies melt like butter before yours. If you fight no battles yourself, you will grow soft and content, and fall like the Avinceans did, and like the Parrench will soon." he gestured to the board as he spoke, and knocked down a rook, before smiling genuinely at the young lad, and it was hard not to, as he saw much of himself in the lad. He wondered, if their positions were switched, would they live the same lives they had so far? Who knows. He thought he might be boring the boy, so he finished up the remainder of the match before dusting himself off, and preparing himself for the evening ahead. Still, he had enjoyed the game, and the conversation.

The rest of the day was not as eventful. He was beginning to get a feel for Eskandr politic, and court etiquette, and he wasn't as far from home as he previously thought. Still, there was something oddly curious. A meeting between the queen and a certain Jarl Bjorn, and a servant girl from Lindermetz. They seemed particularly interesting, and there was something he found interesting as he observed. Whilst they did not hesitate to stomp on the idols of the Pentad, the way they spoke was.. curious? He knew many languages, and he knew many important people who spoke many languages, and as he observed the switch from Eskandr, to Avincian, to Parrench, he couldn't help but notice a slight accent there. Not one that seemed particularly familiar, or Drudgunzean for that matter. He thought he may be reading too much into it, but he would find out soon enough when he spoke to the girl. He did also find it odd that this Jarl did not know any of the other tongues being spoken. To not speak at least some Avincean raised concern for him. Was this normal? He had much to reflect on.

In Pokémon: Rust → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sorry, I've just realized what a massive dumbass I've been. I am at a convention until the monday so I haven't got my post lut yet. If you wanna post for me you're more than welcome but otherwise I'll deliver when I get back.
In O R I F L A M M E → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Interacting: Queen Astrid, Snorri @Force and Fury
Event: Best Served Cold | Location: Meldheim + the Grontempel

While his forefathers may have been great sailors, it didn’t seem to carry through with the camp he’d brought. Drudgunzeans had not been sea born for far too long, and although the rainy weather of his fathers duchy had braced them for poor climate, it did little to settle the shaky hands and sickened stomachs that came from sailing great distances. The journey from Relouse to Meldheim was not a short one, nor an easy one, but they would endure for the sake of their mission. And perhaps it was the long journey that made the arrival into Meldheim so beautiful for the young man. While the many warriors and prisoners were brought to shore, Dietrich took a second to take it all in. The beauty of the stars and the five moons shining upon the jungle of a port was a sight to behold. So rugged. So harsh. Yet, it felt strangely familiar to him. Like a home away from his own. But he couldn’t forget his mission in the face of his nostalgia, so he steeled his stomach from the voyage and walked on land for the first time in far too long, as his brother and the remainder of his troupe began to unpack.

A more sensitive man would have waited to let Queen Astrid’s countrymen deliver her the news, but Dietrich was not sensitive. He was bold and he knew that the best time to seize the initiative would be from the get-go. So he spoke, with confidence, even if his proficiency with the language wasn’t as fluent as his Avincian and his accent still came through:

“Your majesty, I bring great news from Relouse, though I believe a dock is a poor place to tell tales of your husband's triumph. It may be presumptuous to ask, but words should suit the locale” he spoke about as respectfully as he was capable of, First impressions were key and he knew he had to get the news to her first. A degree of honesty between future allies was a recipe for success after all.

“Mm, you’re eager,” the queen muttered. Small, pale, and black-haired, she had a pleasant, friendly face belied by her bearing and expression. She looked Dietrich up and down for a moment and, evidently satisfied enough, pursed her lips. “You would be one of the Kressians.” It was a statement. She knitted her hands before herself. [color=a187be]“Ulf,”[color] she said, directing her voice but not her eyes towards a lanky youth. “You will show Uncle Kol to his chambers in the kongesalan. Inga,” she continued, “You will supervise the unloading of the ships and the preparation of the spoils. If there is not enough, you will go with Hvitserk and retrieve some from the treasury.” A preteen girl nodded and bowed her head respectfully. “Snorri, you will come with mother and her Kressian friend. We are going to show him the city.”

She gave her greetings to those familiar with her and promised to catch up later at a feast in the kongesalan. For the time being, however, Queen Astrid merely flicked her eyes Dietrich’s way. “Come then. I take it you have a name. Tell me of my husband’s newest triumph.” Ushering her youngest son along, she began walking. Among the curious crowd that had grown about the foot of the pier, a keen eye might have noticed a series of individuals, armed and martial in bearing, moving at a discreet distance in escort. The people gave their queen a very wide berth.

Dietrich smiled. He was no stranger to judgment by appearance and although a little scruffier than usual due to the length of the trip, he was still more than presentable. Being cleanly has its benefits. He watched the kids scuttle to their duties, and it brought back flashbacks of home, though it was somewhat odd to him. Ulf, the firstborn, was sent to do a rather menial job, whereas Inga saw to a very practical and fruitful occupation, and Snorri was given the privilege of listening. He didn’t know if he was reading too much into it, but it definitely stuck with him as something that was different. A taste of Eskandr culture, perhaps. Regardless, he began to walk and talk, as was dictated. He was in no place to refuse such an offer. Nor did he want to.

”This one’s name is Dietrich of Sturmfeld.” he spoke, before giving Snorri a friendly handshake and matching pace with the queen. He had sympathy for third sons after all.. And regardless of his armed company, he began to speak. The queen must trust them greatly if they were waiting in the wings, though it made the walk slightly more tense. Still, he waited till they were somewhat away from the crowd before he began to deliver the news. [color=gold]”König Hrothgar was successful, though not in all his aims. The force came ashore, and managed to deal a great many blows to the greenlanders, but were unable to take the city.” he stopped, before choosing his next words carefully. He would be honest, but he must be tactful.

“The fleet was also destroyed, for the most part. They caught the culprit, but alas, many were lost. Though I’m sure that despite this, the König will be quick to return. I believe a man of his character would not want to leave such a beautiful family waiting long, and I saw how he tore through the Quentists like parchment.” he uttered slightly more softly than usual. He remembered a word from his mother, that a wife waiting for her husband to return home is just as troubled as the soldier. And truth be told, he did feel some sympathy. She definitely seemed to care about her husband, and her children looked well mannered, far more humble than he’d seen in a lot of the courts of Drudgunzean lords.

“I see,” she replied shortly. “Thank you for your candor.” Snorri, too, nodded. “And father didn’t ask for more soldiers?” the boy inquired, tilting his head to the side in an almost adultlike fashion. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

”Very apt. That was a request he made, though I’m sure it will not be an easy one to provide. Even still, I believe it may be necessary to win a complete victory. Our nations have more enemies than just the Greenlanders after all.”

Snorri nodded. “The Parrench are strong now.” He furrowed his brow. “They’re going to be even stronger when I’m old enough to fight them.”

“Unless we stop them now,” said his mother. She regarded Dietrich over her shoulder. “You’re not a fool, so you would not be here if you didn’t think we could win.” They were on foot, but winding their way slowly up towards the Grontempel. The darkened streets were fast emptying out, as all sensible people who were not employed in some duty at this hour headed for sleep. Shops, workshops, longhouses, and more private dwellings clustered thick around the roads, some of the largest rising three or even four stories. Banners mounted on bronze posts fluttered lightly in the cool wind and torches lined the large thoroughfare that they presently occupied. “So what is it that you are here to offer us, Dietrich of Sturmfeld, and what is it that you seek?” For the first time, Astrid met his gaze directly, hers very much like a more developed version of her son’s.

What a sight the city was. It was not refined like his home, nor was it sensibly planned or an inviting place to be, but the simplicity and the utility of the architecture really made him wonder. To do so much when the world gave them so little was nothing short of admirable. He almost lost track of the conversation in his inner thoughts, but he stayed focused on the point. They were very perceptive after all. And although his conversations were usually direct, this was a breath of fresh air. No notable subtext or pretense behind it, it made him want to grin. But he held it in.

“I offer friendship. An alliance between our respective nations will do nothing but benefit both of our people in this sacred war. For should we lose, our ways of life will be lost to the wind.” he stopped for a moment and looked out at the landscape before them. “And as for what I seek, it is to save my people from their own stupidity. We may be different now, but it was not always so. One hundred years of madness and acceptance of Quentic preaching has turned our kingdoms into unlit bonfires.. Hrothgar was wise to cull the priests, but we made the error of tolerating them. And now, though they display proud eagles and lions, I see rabbits waiting to be gobbled up by the wolf of the north should we not direct the course” he stated, passion in his voice. Perhaps he had been a bit too honest, but he could not hide his convictions about this matter.

There was a long pause, and they walked in silence. Torches licked and snapped on posts and the boots of three people - including Snorri’s small, quick footsteps - squelched softly in the Spring mud. “Have you ever visited our Grontempel?” Astrid inquired. “Some say that it is the holiest site of our faith: that the Gods walk there.” She gestured almost absently ahead, in the direction where they were now headed in earnest. A colossal stave temple, its bottom floor intricate stonework and all the rest planks and carvings that seemed almost to shift and breathe with a life of their own, it rose two hundred feet upon the final foothill before the Eldfjall. Crows and seabirds perched upon its spars and statues in great chattering, cawing flocks. The queen clasped her hands behind her back and glanced Dietrich’s way.

“I unfortunately haven’t, and witnessing it now, it is a great shame.”he almost whispered into the cold air as he truly began to feel the altitude and the wind bearing down on them. It was not often that he felt in awe of something other than himself, but it almost left him speechless as his eyes wandered from the bottom to the top of the grand structure. He had seen great chapels built for the Pentad, but nothing he’d witnessed gave him the feeling he had stood before this structure. He felt as if only now, he was worthy of his name. He did not see the gods as she said, but he felt them. It took him a small while before he was able to speak another word, perhaps due to the cold or perhaps due to the nature of the place.

“Have you seen them here?” was all he was able to utter, looking back at Astrid, if only to distract himself from the feeling he felt in his heart at that moment. Was he losing it? He couldn’t quite tell. Perhaps he was nauseous from the trip, or the height, or the cold, or perhaps this place truly was sacred.

“I have felt their presence, as you now do,” the queen answered simply, nodding as she walked. “as many do.” They were approaching now, and there were numerous small shops and huts clustered lower down on the hill, hawking products and housing pilgrims. “Just as I have felt it atop the Eldfjall, or staring out across the ocean at dawn.” She turned to him, eyes narrowed against a gust of wind. In the distance, dark wings spread and a series of birds took flight. “As I felt it the first time that I touched the Mother’s Tree as a girl, or when I felt each of my children stirring inside of me.” She took in a long breath and released it after a moment. Snorri glanced up at her, looking as if he wanted to say something, but the boy was silent, perhaps unused to his mother speaking to an ambassador at such length. “You see, Jarl Sturmfeld, the Gods do not confine themselves to one place. There is no such thing as a ‘holiest site’.” She shook her head with a soft, knowing smile. “They live where we make space for them and where we open ourselves to them. Someday, perhaps,” she mused, “They will not have much of a home in Eskand, but in Parrence or some other distant land, where people shall build great monuments to them: ones to stir the heart and mind. I can see that your words are not mere words.” She stopped and faced him as they neared the top of the steps. “You are an ambitious man, perhaps, but your face and your voice tell me not an untrue one. This war is not only for the continuation of our ways. It is for the growth of Eskand: the flourishing. We will conquer the green lands of Parrence for our own use and fill them with our people.” She regarded Dietrich thoughtfully. “It may very well be that, if we win, Drudgunze and its kingdoms shall cease to exist. Encircled, they shall be made part of their mother once more. Is that truly a possibility you are willing to entertain?”

Dietrich stood in contemplation for a moment. Between the dialogue and the atmosphere, there was much racing through his brain at present. It was smart for her to bring her here to talk, for what true believer would be able to fully compose their thoughts in the presence of the gods without being at least a little nervous. Yet, she had a point. It was not so much the building itself that was holy, as it was the reverence of the gods in the city that allowed them to be here. A truly enlightened view in his mind. It seemed that they were more similar than he had previously thought. Yet, the second point rang clear in his mind.

“I see now. Perhaps this is why I do not feel them as strongly in Drudgunze as I do now. The monument may be grand, but it is the acceptance of their presence that truly allows them to be present.” he stopped for a moment, taking another deep breath himself. The cold air bit his lungs but he would not let it stop him. There was more to say.

“What do you believe separates our people? There is the rising threat of Quentism, and I believe this may be the biggest barrier to a re-unification, but I also see much difference in our society from yours in the short time we’ve been separated. Every time you move, you gain and lose a bit of what you were prior. Our people are no longer comparable sailors, but I believe you’d be surprised at our architecture, metalworking and art.” he turned to meet her gaze once more, putting his hands behind his back.

“Your people may experience a change greater than ours were you to settle Parrence. It is just as likely that Eskand births proud new sons that make their own way, than it is that a grand rejoining takes place. However, what happens between those options, is infinitely preferable to being subject to a Greenlander.” he smiled. That question was a tricky one, and it did make him think about his morals. Did he care more about the survival of his people and their ways of life, or the power he could receive from this war? Was it wrong to want both? Or simply greedy? He would have to ponder it more.

They stood in front of the great doors now, a fog creeping up from the harbour and pooling in the valleys and alleys of Meldheim. It drifted over and between silent houses and hills, snaked along the thousand branching roads of the great city like ghostly blood through arteries, and made its way, presently to the beating heart before which Astrid, her son, and Dietrich stood. Ethereal in its grasp, torches flickered.

Pulling her hood over head, the Queen of Eskand reached out and pointed towards the doors. “I have seen you for what you are, Dietrich of Sturmfeld, and I accept you.” The torches scored a line all of the way back to the docks, but here, around the Grontempel, they were as legion as Parrench soldiers or farmers in a field. With a stately groan, one of the doors opened a sliver. A powerful gust of wind whipped at Dietrich’s hair and the torches in front of him flickered and went dark, wisps of smoke trailing off and losing themselves in the encroaching mist. Crows cawed. Inside, torches and incense beckoned. “Drink the water you will find inside and know if the Gods, too, feel the same way,” she said softly, and Snorri stood beside her, trying to remain dignified in his bearing as a prince and not steal glances inside. “I shall speak of alliances and more soldiers to those who need to hear it.” Her eyes gleamed soft blue from beneath her hood. “Brother’s courage, Kressian.”

Dietrich swallowed nervously as he looked inside. A preposterous statement of usual circumstances for the man, but as he looked inside, he felt them more strongly than ever. But there was no shred of fear, merely a feeling of.. unworthiness? Something he'd seldom ever experienced. Yet it built like a pit in his stomach, goose bumps flaring across his skin as he felt the cold wind and smoke of the temple hit his face. He took only a moment to steel himself as he looked back at the now cloaked Queen of Eskand, and giving a nod of understanding, before venturing forth into the temple, past the phalanx of torches that smouldered from the breeze. Slow steps echoed around him as he walked further and further into the inky dark, to where the water was. There was little hesitation in his mind now. He would prove his worth, he deserved to be here, he would show the gods what he could become. A quick recital of Femrigr bounced through the empty halls, filled his mind with courage, and he drank deep.

He felt his vision shift and blur, and his mind churn in strange ways, and the world itself began to slow down. He tried to stand, but he could not find his feet, as he felt as if he was falling through the floor that was very clearly there, but his legs were like pigs blood in the moment, and he was brought to one knee. His mind was still clearly his own, but this world was unfamiliar, as if he was new to it. Sensation was overbearing, and as time passed, he felt as if he was born again, forced to experience breathing, swallowing, clenching his fist, thinking all over again for the first time. And more than ever in his now vulnerable state, he felt the gods watching, judging his every action in the stupor he found himself in. But, surprisingly, he felt as if they agreed with him, and respected his moment of weakness before them. And as he got to grips with existence once more, he stood with his arms held high, outstretched in acceptance of their being. And for a moment, just a split second, he would swear to the end that he saw a far too familiar figure in the corner of the hall smiling at him in approval. That was all he needed.
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