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Vanq female Member

The Chaos Ladder

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9 yrs ago
Comic Con for the day, woo!
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9 yrs ago
cComic
9 yrs ago
Can't afford to be neutral on a moving train
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9 yrs ago
8 months? I don't feel like I received enough warning at how quickly time flies the older one gets. Poking around, taking a look.
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9 yrs ago
Work isn't cooperating with giving me time, working on catching up.

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In A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns → 16 days ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

Tyrosh

A short time after the conquest of Tyrosh and before the Stepstone Invasion


“I hear they call you Silvertongue.”

The silkily rich voice curled in the air, a pleasant note that quieted the background chattering to near perfect silence. Brightly hued heads turned to watch the figure delicately float through their presence, towards the man who had betrayed and sacked his own city. To the man who now gripped the free-city in a tyrannical fist and wielded it against its neighbors.

The figure was in no hurry, nor would she be. Cloaked from head to toe with layers of silk and lace, her face remained obscured with delicate silver lace, she moved with a confidence that a path would clear for her. And it did. A small sea of people parted for her approach, curious stares were followed by whispers in the wake of her greeting.

“They do.” Alequo Adarys spoke in return, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. The self-declared king ran a hand through his beard, flamboyantly pink and jade. “You are not Tyroshi, who are you?” The once-merchant prince’s personal retinue had formed behind him.

While Adarys was swaddled in vibrant - garish even - robes of purple, gold, and jade, his men were simpler in their presentation. They seemed as out of place in the sea of colors as the unannounced guest was in pure white. Where she effused mysticism, they menaced in monochromatic indigo.

A few feet away from the man and his retinue, the figure stopped without fear or uncertainty. A half circle of sycophants formed behind her. Curious still, yes, but tense, questioning, worry and excitement melded into an unpleasant perfume. Her head cocked softly to the side, an action that sent a ripple of movement down the layers of silk.

“I am here to finish work that started many years ago.” A long pause tempted the new king to speak. She undid a silver pin and pulled the veil away from her face. It was an aged visage, but it was difficult to place just how aged. Her skin, though lined, still seemed supple and full. The hand that removed the lace from her vision was flawless but for a few arthritic knuckles. One eye sparkled a brilliant green but the other was clouded blue with cataract.

“Such vague-” He began only to be promptly cut off.

“Do not worry, it is nothing that will impede your little conquest, Silvertongue. Or that of your fellow kings who wage war now in the Stepstones.” Her lips spread to a pleasing smile. “Your deposed Archon and I had an agreement, one I now seek to have with you.” She withdrew a scroll from a voluminous sleeve and offered it to Alequo.

He broke the seal easily, eyes flicking across a scrawling script, one eyebrow arching as he neared the end. “I see.”

The succinctness betrayed the flourish that followed. When one of his men took the scroll from him, he clapped his hands together loudly. “It is agreed, welcome to my new Tyrosh, Riña se Kasta.” The men behind him did not relax, but the crowd behind her began to whisper and chatter, a few scattered claps echoed their king.

“How gracious, thank you..” The smile returned slowly, a small bend of her neck to bow her head revealing hints of silver beneath the fabric. “If you would be so kind as to have a few young women made available to aid me, and when you are done here, come speak with me more on that matter.”



The city had been sacked but from what Riña se Kasta had seen so far, it seemed eager to ignore such trivialities. Outside the palace walls the din of the mundane continued on much as it would have if the Band of Nine hadn’t sought to bring the Free Cities under their control.

She had passed walls singed and blackened from fire and smoke. The harbor contained the broken ships, still being salvaged for their wood and metals or to recover what dead could be found. The Tyroshi king had planned his conquest well, a betrayal from one of the city’s own merchant princes.He had had the gold and means to bribe many to inaction even if he had not won them to his cause.

The slaves of the city surely had seen no difference to their lives, they carried on the same as they had when there was an Archon ruling from behind the palace walls. The pleasure houses still called out for those lonely, depraved, or needful souls. Priests of the many religions welcomed their faithful. The city’s common folk carried on, what else could they do when rich and powerful battled one another for power?

Men, always playing at these games. She thought as the warmth of her bath soothed aching joints and relaxed weary muscles. Her head leaned back with each brush stroke the young girl pulled through the elder’s long strands. A heavy sigh escaped her, a long life and yet she still had so much more to do.

“Enough, I will call for you when my bath needs refreshing.” She dismissed the girl without opening her eyes. Small and quick footsteps were followed by the quiet slam of a door.

Alone. Alone with her memories that played freshly in her mind as if it were yesterday. How had they become such a shadow of their founders? It wasn’t her problem to solve, it had never been anything she cared to assist when he lived and breathed. But to see what the legacy had become was disappointing. He would be disappointed, angry, disgusted. So would the other one, no worthy opponents remained, who would he find to be his equal in this cohort of imposters. The silence was broken with a groan of frustration.

“More loose ends, more mistakes come back to haunt me.” She spoke to no one, she spoke to the memories. “To haunt us and the choices we made.” It was nothing to set right, nothing that could be set right. What had begun would carry on, on its own accord. Unless…

She rubbed her hands over her arms and crossed them beneath the warmth of her bath. The bath water splashed, droplets of red hit the cool marble floor beneath her, dripping from her fingertips that curled around the edge.

“Girl!”

The patter of footsteps returned. The woman stood, but had to shift her weight onto the girl for assistance in getting fully out of the bath. A waiting robe was draped around her, soaking away the remaining water and moisture, staining the white fabric a pale pink.

“Has the Silvertongue arrived?”

“Kessa, ñuha riña. He is in your sitting room.” The girl was nervous, her eyes darting about as if she wanted to run but fear held her legs in place.

“You’re not needed tonight, return tomorrow.” She eagerly ran off, disappearing from the rooms as Riña se Kasta left the most private chamber to the small adjoining room.

The king of Tyrosh was there, waiting, as promised. It was a greedy eagerness, a hunger that she knew well enough. Age had not stolen everything from her.

“I expected more of a challenge from you.”

“I have heard stories that tell me it would be unwise. If what this contained is all truth.” He gestured to the scroll that he had placed, still furled, on the table beside him. He sat back in a plush chair, one leg pulled square over the other.

The woman’s slim shoulders shrugged dismissively. “Those that play with fire are often burned.” She poured a measure of pear brandy into a silver cup. “Especially when they ignore advice offered freely - or near enough.” She tipped it to her mouth, savoring the rich warmth. “Will you follow in the same folly?”

Her eyes met his, the eye that had been clouded seemed clearer now. The bulge of age on her knuckles decreased, her body eased and soothed. “Silvertongue.” She repeated his name as she approached him, her hands gripping his knee as she knelt to eye level. “What makes you think you can succeed where no one else has?”

The king grunted in annoyance. “Stay, advise me, and only me. You will be given access to whatever it is you want.”

“Of course, my king. Only you.”
In A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns → 27 days ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
In A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns → 27 days ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Index of PC and NPCs


House Targaryen



Essos

The Band of Nine

  • The Old Mother, a pirate queen
  • Samarro Saan, known as the Last Valyrian, a notorious pirate from a notorious family of pirates from Lys
  • Xhobar Qhoqua, the Ebon Prince, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who founded and led a sellsword company in the Disputed Lands
  • Liomond Lashare, the Lord of Battles, a famed sellsword captain
  • Spotted Tom, known as the Butcher, from Westeros, captain of a free company in the Disputed Lands
  • Ser Derrick Fossoway, known as the Bad Apple, an exile from Westeros, a knight with a black reputation
  • Nine Eyes, captain of the Jolly Fellows
  • Alequo Adarys, known as the Silvertongue, later called the Tyrant of Tyrosh, a Tyroshi merchant prince, ambitious and wealthy
  • Maelys I Blackfyre, known as the Monstrous, captain-general of the Golden Company

Other Essosi Characters

Red Cult
Godric Stark
Red Cult
Doombringers of Volantis


The North

House Stark

The Vale

House Arryn

The Riverlands

House Tully

The Westerlands

House Lannister

The Reach

House Tyrell

The Stormlands

House Baratheon

Dorne

House Martell
House Varranis of Duskspire

Other Westerosi Characters

Maegara Blackfyre
In A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns → 27 days ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
House Tyrell of Highgarden


Growing Strong


House Description:
Sourced from AWOIAF

House Tyrell of Highgarden is one of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, being Lords Paramount of the Mander and the liege lords of the Reach. A large, wealthy house, its wealth is only surpassed among the Great Houses by House Lannister, and the Tyrells can field the greatest armies. Additionally, if they call the ships of the Redwyne fleet, the lords of the Shield Islands, and the coastal lords, they can command a navy that equals if not surpasses the royal fleet of King's Landing.

Highgarden is an ancient seat of rule and the heart of chivalry in the Seven Kingdoms; the Tyrells style themselves 'Defenders of the Marches' and 'High Marshals of the Reach', and traditionally, they have been Wardens of the South in addition to Lords Paramount of the Mander. Their sigil is a golden rose on a green field, and their words are "Growing Strong". Members of the family tend to have curly brown hair and brown eyes.


History of the House:
The Reach was originally an independent kingdom ruled by House Gardener. However, they never held the title of King. Instead, they traced their lineage back to Garth Greenhand, a mythical figure. House Tyrell originally served as stewards to House Gardener. It was only after the Field of Fire, where Aegon Targaryen defeated King Mern IX Gardener and extinguished the entire line, that Harlan Tyrell surrendered Highgarden and was granted the title of Lord Paramount of the Reach.

As Wardens of the South they frequently warred with the Dornishmen, who remained independent. Harlan disappeared in the Dornish sands during the First Dornish War (4-13AC).

In 129AC as the Dance of the Dragons began, Lord Lyonel Tyrell was an infant, and his regent mother was judged likely to align the Reach with the House's "overmighty" bannermen, the Hightowers, and the greens. However, House Tyrell decided to take no part in the war. The Tyrell bannermen, on the other hand, were split during the war, with men of the Reach fighting on both sides. Later Ser Ulf White attempted to claim Highgarden for himself, as House Tyrell had taken no part in the Dance and he believed they should be considered traitors.

When Daeron I Targaryen, the Young Dragon, attempted the conquest of Dorne, Lord Lyonel commanded the army that invaded via the Prince's Pass. After the initial victory, Daeron appointed Lord Tyrell as governor of Dorne. Lord Tyrell liked Dornish women and one night he pulled the rope that would signal for a wench to come to his bed, and a hundred scorpions fell from the canopy instead. His death sparked new revolts, and the conquest was undone in a fortnight.

Lord Leo "Longthorn" Tyrell participated in the tourney at Ashford Meadow, beginning the tourney as one of the champions. Both Prince Aegon Targaryen and Ser Duncan recognized him as a formidable opponent, one that Duncan would better avoid.


Recent Events:
Luthor had been betrothed to Shaera Targaryen in 237 AC, but the pact was broken in 240 when she married her brother, Jaehaerys. His father was slow and reluctant to make another match, having been spurned by the royal family, he did not revolt but sought to have them make it right. When Prince Daeron, who had spent his youth squiring at Highgarden died in battle in 251, under a hint of scandal given his favoritism for a knight met while at House Tyrell’s seat, Lord Willas finally made a match with a Redwyne daughter, Olenna.

The pairing has produced three children in the years since. While their wealth grew in the realm’s newfound peace, the tragedy at Summerhall and emergence of a new threat across the Narrow Sea has brought House Tyrell again to a decision point. Their history has other houses whispering on their opportunistic ways and ulterior motives for when they do partake in affairs of the realm. Lord Luthor, known not for stunning intellect nor martial prowess, seems primed to disappoint.


Family Members:
Luthor Tyrell - Lord of Highgarden, b. 220 (40)
Olenna (Redwyne) - wife to Luthor b. 228 (32)
Gormon Tyrell - a maester in Oldtown b. 224 (36)
Garth Tyrell - younger brother to Luthor b. 226 (34)
Moryn Tyrell - younger brother to Luthor b. 230 (30)
Mina Tyrell - daughter of Luthor & Olenna, a child b. 255 (5)
Mace Tyrell - son of Luthor & Olenna, a child b. 257 (3)
Janna Tyrell - daughter of Luthor & Olenna, a child b. 259 (1)
Rhialta (Fossoway) - of Cider Hall (red apple), Luthor’s Mother, b. 196 (64)
Several cousins through Willas’s two brothers (both living) and distant cousins through Longthorn’s brother’s progeny

Leo “Longthorn” Tyrell - Luthor’s grandfather, b. 156 - d. 214
Willas Tyrell - Luthor’s father, b. 184 - d. 252









In A Song Of Ice And Fire : A War And Nine Crowns → 1 mo ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Maegara Blackfyre



Age:
25 (b. 235 AC)


Appearance:
A woman of average height and of strong Valyrian looks. Her hair falls in tight silver curls to the middle of her back, though more often than not she has it twisted into a large, low bun. Her eyes are the palest of lilac that leans gray, rather than the vibrant purples her distant cousins were known for. There is no denying that her body holds appeal to many, though she does not use this as a weapon even in passive ways. She walks with purpose, not the languid strolls of women raised to please their husband or clients.


Description & biography:
The daughter of Daemon III Blackfyre and his wife, Darra of Lys; she was born barely a year before his death in the fourth Blackfyre Rebellion. Her mother’s claims of her own heritage varied, but in each telling, her mother was Shiera Seastar. Shiera had fled Westeros pursuing Aegor Rivers, Bittersteel, and their fraught union produced a single child that Shiera raised hidden away in Lys. Other times, it was that Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven, was her father and Shiera had again had to flee to raise her daughter in secrecy in Lys. When she was young, the stories were magical and romantic. When she grew older, they were things she wished her mother would just stop speaking of. The veracity of these stories would never be able to be confirmed and only brought danger with each re-telling.

Following news of her father’s death, her mother fled the Golden Company’s remaining camps in Essos before the survivors could return. Mother and daughter took up residence in Pentos instead; though never explicitly in hiding from the remaining Blackfyres, it was also something Maegara learned early on to not disclose. They maintained an easy life in the city, from what Darra said she provided through hidden caches of wealth left for her from her mother and grandmother.

The girl’s time was not idly spent. She would not be raised to be an empty-headed pretty trophy to hang off the arm of some wealthy merchant, her lineage was too proud for that, her bloodline would not be wasted. Darra arranged for education in several of the bastardized-Valyrian dialects and also in the Westeros common-tongue. She learned of the politics of Westeros and the free-cities, but also of Yi Ti and the Summer Isles. Maegara was expected to be well-read and well-informed. Darra had even insisted on basic martial training, though she showed not even mediocre talent for it. In the end, Maegara was a bright child and eager to learn, but not particularly talented in any physical feats.

She had been content enough to stay at her mother’s side in Pentos, though she’d had more than one suitor, each had been politely and delicately turned away. The Blackfyre daughter had little desire to alter the course of her comfortable life.

That changed after her twentieth nameday when on a lark and a bet from companions she went to a seer. It was a decision she would come to regret in many ways. The seer saw her immediately for what she was. The wizened woman’s plea made little sense to her though - a charge to find and reunite the last dragon lords’ swords, the Valyrian blades Blackfyre and Dark Sister. The seer refused to share the details of what would happen in a world where they were lost forever, but as a Blackfyre, the duty could be fulfilled by her if the Targaryen line did not.

Maegara laughed it off to herself for the absurdity it surely was. She ignored it for months, but her dreams turned dark and tormented her night after night. What if it were all true?

She knew that both men her mother had claimed could be her grandfather had taken a sword with them in their banishment or exile. Blackfyre was almost certainly in Essos, though her father had not wielded it. But to search for it there, while her cousins battled for control seemed more than a little unwise. To go to Westeros as a Blackfyre seemed all the more absurd.

Months turned to years before it was luck - or perhaps fate - that had her cross paths with Daegan Velaryon, a young man on his own adventures in Pentos. A deal was struck between the two, and against Darra’s strongest wishes, that when he returned to his homeland, Maegara would accompany him. Ostensibly, in order to see the land where her father had lost his life in the ill-fated invasion.

In Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
It was hot but not unpleasant beneath Helios’s rays on Old Olympus. A salty breeze washed over the crowded beaches and eased the unsavory scent that lingered from the unending party. Mortal and divine mixed together freely; the city did not judge on this, only on appearance and wealth.

Persephone lounged on a balcony overlooking an already chaotic scene below her. If she were mortal, perhaps she’d be nursing a hangover or withdrawal…if she ever chose to fully partake in what the party capital of the world had on offer. One day, maybe, she mused to herself, thoughts everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Korrrrrre.” A voice purred from a pile of pillows next to her, tried to pull her back to the present.

She ignored it, head still propped on slender knuckles, a cascade of auburn hair obscuring her face. She could have been sleeping deeply. Until she moved to pull at the waistband of her pale pink swim bottoms, adjusting them for no reason other than to fidget. Her legs kicked back and forth, a graceful movement that ended with light patters each time her feet met her own plush nest.

Where had he gone? Aidan had taken her eye immediately. Tall, confident, with an easy swagger. He had given her a wide smile as he sauntered up to her and put his arms around her as if they were old lovers and not strangers. She thought she would melt. The nymphs with her had not been pleased and separated them quickly enough, chasing him off and back to his own people. He was mortal, he was male, that was more than enough for Demeter to disapprove and for them to prevent anything more from happening. Traipsing about and having flings with her nymphs or girlfriends hadn't been able to rile up the goddess as much as the mere possibility of any man touching her baby girl.

This one was no different. But the goddess had had practice at getting around her ever watchful guardians. It was a short-lived taste of freedom, one kiss, fleeting but full of fire, and a promise to meet again for breakfast. She’d barely slept but beakfast had come and gone hours ago. The man was nowhere to be found.

“Ugh, Persephone!” The voice whined now. It annoyed her mother to no end, that she refused to respond to Kore anymore, that she refused that maiden was intended as an honorific. Finally addressed as she wished to be though, Persephone turned to meet her friend’s eyes.

“You don’t need to say it.” Wishful thinking.

“Men are liars, he didn't get what he wanted from you then, and now here you are, mooning away. Forget him, let's get a drink or ten and go to the beach.” It was advice given lightly, as if it was all a joke the goddess just hadn't figured out yet.

It didn't feel right though. She fished her phone out from where it had fallen between two pillows and scrolled for any updates nearby. Aidan had sent her a friend request not five minutes after they parted and she couldn’t stop herself from clicking on him again. His face stared back at her from the screen with the same easy-going smile and confidence. He had new posts from other friends, all asking where he was, why wasn't he at this party or that bar, or the beach. It couldn’t be a coincidence. But even if she asked directly she wouldn't get an answer from anyone. Her mother's interference, again, no doubt.

“No.” She surprised herself and her friend who sat up quickly in response. Persephone stood and stretched, languid movements meant to irritate her friend as much as give her time to think it through the rest of the way. Hermes had delivered her invitation forever ago, her mother had forbade her from attending and it's not like she had wanted to go anyways. A bunch of old stuffy gods and their minions playing stupid power games with each other.

Except now…two could continue to play this game.

“We're going shopping.”



She had never actually rsvp’d. But her friend had been certain there was no way they’d bar the daughter of an Olympian from entering the festivities. It was after all, her home too, the Accords made that clear. Her mortal companion was Persephone’s closest confidante and friend. The woman had proven herself quickly and technically worked as her executive assistant. In truth, the goddess couldn’t run Lillium now without her. Meghan was one of the few that the goddess felt confident was not under her mother’s thumb, and together they often evaded the ones who were. They had shopped until the goddess found perfection, but that had meant they arrived late. There would be no grand entry for Demeter’s progeny.

“It's better this way anyways, probably can hide from your mom a bit longer.” Meghan whispered into her ear when they neared the gate to the palace courtyards housing the party. “And actually have some fun before we’re forced out.” She paused dramatically, a look of fear darkening her face. “They won’t kill me for being an innocent bystander right?” One flash of concern and the mortal cracked a grin. “Kidding, kidding.”

How the girl managed to maintain her composure when Persephone herself felt overwhelmed to be at the seat of the gods was a feat. So little seemed to phase her, another reason to love her, even when she was annoying. The goddess squeezed her friend’s arm and pulled her closer.

“The point is she sees me at some point though.” She giggled nervously. “Or else I came here for no reason.”

They entered without fanfare even as her arrival was announced. Her list of epithets was unnecessary and most caused her to roll her eyes.

Persephone watched as Meghan scanned the area, clearly looking for Demeter only to give up when the matron of the harvest didn’t come swooping down in judgement of them.

“Well when she does, she’s really going to take issue with what you’re wearing.” Meghan paused only to add with a knowing smile. “Because you look sexy, downright ‘indecent’ with all that cleavage.”

“Not enough to draw attention with what everyone else decided to wear.” Her head turned, taking in the scene for herself. “Or not wear.” She spied Aphrodite and groaned internally, nudging Meghan to take in the sight. “Apparently love doesn't need imagination.” Her dress in contract was downright conservative, even with the plunging neckline and back. Faint vines crawled across her skin, pulsing to her annoyance, framed by the dark green cloth and woven vines.

Her friend made a slight tsking noise, but seemed rather taken by the sight. Most everyone would have been really. “Should we dance then?” Meghan proposed with a sly grin. “Or are you going to stay out here the entire night and not even bother tempting the fates.”

Persephone’s brow shot up at the flippant suggestion. Her mouth opened to rebuke the statement.

“Oh stop, I know, I won’t invoke them again.”

“I will absolutely disown you if they appear because of you. I don’t know you, never did.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’d do the same.”

Meghan laughed, but held out her hand dramatically anyways. “Maybe it will be enough to make someone jealous, hm?”

That was not in her plans, no matter if she saw someone who could send her heart fluttering, her mother’s warnings about the danger of New Olympus were too ingrained. She was here to be seen, to send a message to Demeter that she was her own person, and that she could handle herself.

“Doubtful, but we can try.” The goddess agreed at last before taking the offered hand and joining the others already on the dance floor.

Eventually though, Meghan found where other mortals of importance had gathered and decided it was an excellent opportunity to network. The woman always seemed to find a way to fit work in. Persephone gave her leave and danced alone, moving to the ever changing rhythms in a mass of bodies. She submitted to the music, let it move her as it willed, a freedom she craved, to just be. It was enough that she nearly forgot where she was and she was around.

A body slammed into her and she instinctively pushed it away, her head snapping about to see who had disturbed her.

“Oh hello pretty little bird.” His words slurred. A man, no one recognizable, ignored the push and stepped back into her space. “No, not bird. Pretty flower, are you in bloom sweetness?”

Persephone’s expression turned hard and she stopped dancing completely to take two steps back. The guy didn’t take the hint and closed the distance again. “Yeah, that’s not going to work.”

If he heard the rejection he didn’t heed it or even acknowledge it. He leaned in and grabbed her elbow, soft hands, the type who had never had to work. Persephone knew he had to be someone of some status, but she twisted away from his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“Dance with me baby.” He urged, his fingers tightening.

Anger welled in her and spilled over, a thick vine grew from her shoulder and snaked it’s way down her arm and around his wrist.

“Want me closer, do you?”

“Pervert.” The vine crawled with speed up his arm and around his neck, enough to lift him so his feet danged just off the ground now. Realization set in and his expression shifted between anger and fear. “I said don’t touch me.”

The crowd immediately around her finally took notice of the exchange.From the corner of her eye, she saw one or two bodies running off somewhere. This was not exactly how she had wanted to make a scene. And now she really didn’t know what to do, she wanted to leave, it was a mistake to come here.
In Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Mood Music


Many years ago…


Even in the midst of a siege, Zeus found a way to dishonor her. Her eyes met his. Dark, cold, and dead to his sparkle. It was eons of hatred and loathing. How many times has she seen him like this, buried in some doe-eyed, pleasant, young mortal? He groaned as he discarded the woman from their bed, the little thing with mouth agape and confused, left to figure out how to get out of her own. What had Zeus promised this one? That her village would be spared? It didn't matter, not anymore, he had nothing left to give.

He expected her to run to him, to slap him, to scream. She would have, once. And then the queen of the gods, the goddess of marriage, would forgive him. She would wrap herself around him and absolve him of his sins. She would tell him that she loved him, only him. He would lie and say it was the same, that his actions were not who he was.

But this time, as the rebel forces broke down their walls and converged on their hidden sanctuary, the kiss she gave him was deep, but the despair was his alone. There were no tears or pleas that he be true. He had ravaged the land and threatened the delicate balance they had carved out again. He had made her a joke and he would never change.

“If only I could send you to our father.” Her whispered words were harsh in his ear. “To devour you over and over again for an eternity. Death is too kind for you, consider it my last gift, undeserved but given all the same.”

As men filled the room, weapons drawn, they found Hera holding a kneeling and lifeless Zeus against her. His face twisted in a pained death grimace, vibrant blood covered the lower half of his face and splashed against the white gold marble floor.

“It is done.” A declaration that the Tyranomachy War was ended, the King of the Gods had been deposed.


Present Day - New Olympus


New Olympus thrummed with anticipation. It had been some time since so many gods had been in the city at once. Mortals who served the city and the Queen had been preparing for months. The city streets were packed, local restaurants and shops were decorated and gleaming, and though Hera had attempted to shutter them - brothels and gambling dens were geared up for the impending crowds.

Invitations had been sent to gods and demigods - though Hera had pointedly ignored any of Zeus’s mortal or demigod bastards. She could not do the same for those of equal status, no matter how much she may have wished to bar them entry. The Accords demanded compromise from her the same as the rest.

Within the white palace, the buzz of activity was kept far from Hera and Hebe’s personal wing. Where once Zeus and his entourage had kept the halls full of mostly naked women - living art he had claimed - it was now nearly subdued in comparison. Hera had had the women removed and had brought on a staff of men who she required to be dressed in plumage of jeweled greens and blues. Though she kept them half-nude as well, she had not found the same joy in it her husband had seemed to with his staffing. Maybe one day a glimpse of the joy it had brought him would make itself obvious to her.

In the silence of the early morning, the queen stirred to life. The peacock servants stood at attention, always ready to assist her, though the ones in her rooms had the additional requirement of being blinded. Hestia had joked with her about the oddity of it for a non-virginal goddess, but Hera could not stand the thought of these mortal men able to look up on her form. Neither was she willing to invite women back to such familiarity. She burned with anger at how her husband had wielded it against her, and it had yet to abate.

One arm escaped from the soft covers, extended gracefully and just as quickly was embraced by the sleeve of a silk robe. The servant moved effortlessly, no matter his lack of sight, in wrapping his charge in her dressing robe as she drew herself from the bed. She sighed. Yes, she had arranged this celebration, but it did not mean she was eager to see it through. Especially with how absolutely deplorable Hebe’s attitude had been lately. It was like nothing Hera did was good enough in the eyes of her young daughter and she was being nothing more than an ungrateful brat.

“If my daughter tries to sleep in, you have my permission to douse her with iced water.” Hera waved one servant off to relay the message to the servants who waited on the girl.

It was the last moment of peace for the rest of the morning and afternoon. There was an endless stream of requests for audiences, last minute changes because of some drama or another that was now the most pressing issue of the millenia, and all of the other finishing touches Hera had wanted to oversee. As much as it irritated her, she enjoyed knowing there was a power in it. And it distracted her from other things she had been unable to resolve. The sky and thunder still remained out of her grasp.

The immortals and their entourage - limited by the Accords and custom - crowded a great courtyard. Peacocks, of both servant and animal kind, mixed between them. The mortal men served drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Disappointing to many, no doubt, was the lack of any other entertainment, the sort that had been common when Zeus reigned.

Hera approached the balcony where she would officially welcome those assembled with her daughter. She had chosen a structured top of deep nephrite color, high necked and with caped sleeves that enveloped her. Though her pants matched in color, they were of a wispy, ethereal fabric, that with the wide cut could forgivably be mistaken for a skirt of vintage design. A delicate crown of gold, adorned with jeweled bulls nestled into her dark hair.

“You’re late.” She spoke without turning when she heard Hebe join her. “Though some will crow endlessly about how fashionable that is for your own party.”
In Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga → 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
I’m gonna start working on a Hermes. Who as the God of Merchants, speed, messages and such, is very ingrained in the current internet and probably works for/with a company like Amazon.


Excellent! I look forward to seeing the sheet. And definitely don't feel like you need to hold back on his role within a company. Gods owning and running the corporations that run the world is definitely on point.
In Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga → 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Name:
Persephone

Titles:
Kore, Daeira, Azesia - The Maiden, The Knowing One, The One Who Seeks

Appearance:
Persephone appears to be a young woman in her early to mid twenties. She can cause vines and flowers to grow and blossom on her mortal form as well as transform into a being of pure flora. When not adorning herself with verdant blooms, her skin - from neck to toes - is adorned with what looks like pale tattoos that seem alive, twisting and growing like vine.

Character Type:
Goddess - born after the gods returned

Divine Domain (Source of Magic):
Goddess of Spring and Rebirth

Powers:
Persephone has become most prominently known for her ability to urge life from the earth, even in wastelands that her mother struggled with. Her powers are not absolute, however, and lands that remain heavily irradiated are resistant to her touch. She was integral to the rehabilitation of much of the crop land that now feeds the new cities. Her preference now has been to create vast gardens, crafting artwork out of plants and flowers.

More recently she has discovered the ability to transform things, animals, or people to flowers and plants. It was an accidental discovery, and one that can be reversed. The goddess has mostly just employed this with clothing for her and her friends, causing beautiful flowers to bloom to life on their clothing.

She is ageless, upon reaching the god equivalent of adulthood, which her mother believes has already occurred. Only time will tell completely if that has happened.

There is an untapped power within her, something she can almost feel, as if seeing it from the corner of her eye. When she focuses on it, it is gone, as if it was never there. Thinking on this for too long, searching for it for too long, brings on feelings of dread and illness. She has learned to ignore that itch within her soul that says there is something more.

Assets:
Persephone has few assets that are truly her own. Much of what she has is still directly tied to Demeter and Demeter’s realm. However, the goddess does maintain a lawn and garden business - Lillium. Within the chain of stores offering seeds, fertilizer, anything that could be used to start and maintain a garden, it also offers consultation services. Persephone is rather fond of providing these services herself, although her priestesses, nymphs, and dryads assist and are the primary contacts for their clients.

Primary Location/Areas of Influence:
Persephone is still most strongly tied to her mother’s domain. However, in recent decades she has taken to longer time away from it and her mother’s influence. She has become a regular within the party culture of Old Olympia, where the youngest gods, demi-gods, and rich young mortals spend their time and money beneath a blazing sun and too-warm waters. The goddess has a small but luxurious apartment here, and though she is often spotted at the parties, it has been a rare occasion for there to be pictures of her fully imbibing in all the former-Greek isles have to offer.

Biography:
Her exact origins, other than being born to Demeter after the goddess awoke to a devastated world, are unknown to Persephone. She doesn't know who her father was - if she even had one - and after many times of asking her mother as a child to receive no answer, she gave up on the task.

Her earliest years were spent on her mother’s back as she worked to bring healing to war and nuclear ravaged lands. From the moment the little goddess could crawl, though, she left budding life in her wake. Her ability to bring life from death was concentrated and passively inherent to anything she did. It took time to learn to control it enough to be fully effective in how she repopulated the earth with plants.

These were happy times for the girl, when it was only her and her mother, their nymphs and dryads. Rarely was she allowed to even catch a glimpse of another god, so protective was Demeter. It didn’t bother the girl then. She didn’t need anything else. She had motherly love, close friendships, and they taught her everything she could ever need to know. The goddess barely even knew of the war when it happened, tucked away safely in her mother’s greenhouse, spared the fear and cruelty of her family.

With growth and encroaching maturity though, that protection became stifling and suffocating. She longed to see more of the world, a desire she couldn’t quash no matter the fights it caused with her mother. Persephone’s love turned to resentment for all the rules and coddling. No going out into the world unless Demeter was there had become no going out into the world at all. Even travelling within Demeter’s realm came with restrictions that she always had to be accompanied by an overwhelming entourage of priestesses and nymphs.

Her rebellion began small. A few minutes here and there snuck away from the sight of her minders, late night swims in their rivers. Her mother swore her to a life of chastity, and yet she began to take lovers amongst her friends in the acolytes, the nymphs or dryads. While it caused some reaction from Demeter, it never seemed to be as strong as the daughter expected.

And so, one day, she ran, and didn’t stop. It took a week before her mother finally found her in Old Olympia and dragged her home. Yet, Persephone found new ways to escape until finally, she was gifted the small apartment that was surely surveilled, but allowed the goddess a longer glimpse into what the world was like. And while she maintains her duties out of love for them, she does not dive too deeply into the culture of Old Olympia for fear that her mother will lock her away in the greenhouse for good.

In Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga → 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Name:
Hera

Titles:
Queen of the Gods, Eileithyia

Appearance:
Text description, art, or both! For gods, feel free to include a physical divine indicator (markings, unusual/unnatural attributes, etc.)

Character Type:
Goddess

Divine Domain (Source of Magic):
Women, marriage, and childbirth

Powers:
Hera’s power was often seen as less on their own and instead, the power of being consort to the King. It is a misunderstanding rooted in misogyny, and one that even the Queen herself has fallen prey to, in fits of self-loathing. To be the goddess of women and marriage yet have a husband such as Zeus had always seemed a cruel joke. Even now, after Zeus's demise, Hera struggles to embrace and fulfill her purpose.

She shares the familiar powers of strength and vitality, as well as some capabilities with premonitions, but her other powers are subdued and subtle.

She can bring two together in marriage, beyond just the few trite words spoken as vows. Her mere existence, though, remains what binds the Olympians together, a power that she can exert as needed, particularly in moments of high animosity. On the other end of the spectrum, she can inflame emotions rather than soothe, even to drive gods to madness.

Hera’s most sought after power though is her ability to grant boons of power.

Assets:
The Palace at New Olympia, though in theory belonging to all the gods, is firmly under Hera’s control and ownership. It is a richly extravagant residence, though it has undergone renovations since the King’s death.

Her influence is spread through her temples where any mortals of wealth or importance must be granted her approval in their choice of spouse. For particularly high ranking mortal weddings, Hera herself will attend to provide a blessing. For the masses, they attend her temples and receive blessings and instruction from her priestesses.

Hera also has thousands of midwifery clinics throughout the world to aid women in their pregnancies and family-planning. Often, but not always, attached to the clinics are services to help women escape domestic abuse. The Queen rarely attends these herself, though there are rumors of her direct involvement from time to time.

Though not technically part of New Olympia, she also maintains a smaller residence in the countryside outside of the city proper. It contains a grove which is said to be where she brings those deemed worthy of her boon. It is heavily guarded and warded against intruders.

Primary Location/Areas of Influence:
New Olympia

Biography:
She was the first to stir, she was certain of it. The world has changed since she had last walked the mortal plane. Humanity had done much in their absence and yet they were still children, now playing with powers as if they were toys.

In ancient times, even at their most powerful, Hera had always been secondary. But now, her husband still slumbered in the divine realm, and the Queen of the Gods was free to do as she wished. The great kingdoms of the world bristled at war with each other, and in time, she grew tired of simply watching their flailing attempts at mastering the cosmos.

The pain her husband caused her had not abated with time. There was no healing, no growth. Old pains and jealousies rooted more deeply, unable to be excised. Memories of how he had betrayed her without second thought, even when she had always been faithful. Even when she had been loving and adoring before her spirit has been completely broken. The fates seemed to give her a new path now, one she would not ignore.

She went to Mount Elbrus, where it seemed that some humans also hunted her quarry. They were no match for a goddess, and it was Hera who found Prometheus, still bound to the mountain after all these centuries still. A deal was struck, his freedom and in exchange, he would once again teach humans that which they should not know - how to split the fabric of the cosmos. Zeus would awaken in time, and in that time, humanity would surely destroy itself. When the King of the Gods returned, Hera would be waiting, to revel in his dismay.

It had worked, though not entirely according to plan. Humanity had destroyed more than she thought them capable of, and in that extreme destruction, the gods found a way to put aside their differences and worked together for a time. Zeus was angry, but her enjoyment of it was nullified in the face of the rest of them again submitting themselves to the King of the Gods. Hera sulked, doing little to directly aid in the rebuilding period. When the alliances and collaboration ended and strife again rose up amongst the gods, she was ready.

It was ultimately Hera and her betrayal of her endlessly insufferable husband that led to his demise. She had stayed by his side, loyal as ever, until she could watch him break as the rebels stormed their hallowed halls. She poisoned him with one final kiss, a joy that she would never need to touch him again after this. It was said that Hera held his face in her hands as he slumped to his knees, so that he knew it was her. At long last, she had seen him overthrown.

The deals and sacrifices it had required to end a god’s life were no small feat. In the aftermath, The Accords were spearheaded by Hera, an attempt to install herself as King of the Gods. She achieved it, in title only; a fact that continues to be a thorn in her side. She is paid lip service by many, but the Accords required little more than that and few make any real effort to treat her with the same respect and fear that was given to Zeus.

She has spent the last hundred years trying to claim Thunder and the Skies as her domain to no success. The Queen of the Gods resides in New Olympia and oversees the daily functions of the Gods’ capital. She maintains, begrudgingly, her role as goddess of women, marriage, and childbirth. But there is no fulfillment in it for her. She craves what she believes to be true power, to take what should be rightfully hers.

Her last child with Zeus, conceived at the beginning of the war, Hebe, resides with her, cupbearer and a friendly face to visitors unlike her mother. Hera has called for a celebration in honor of Hebe’s birthday, a weeks long celebration in New Olympia. Though invitations were sent to all the gods, they should know to not consider their presence optional. Much as Hera may care for her youngest, the celebration is not without ulterior motives.

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