The Arrests of the Renegades
“Pick up the pace, garçons! We don't have all day!” The calls of the young Private broke over the steady marching of thirty soldiers that were crossing through the landscape around them, following the steed of their leader. Juliette Miramonte turned her steady gaze on the man riding besides her, Barrulf Blackmyre.
“Something on your mind, Private?” He asked finally after her attention had returned to the path in front of them, tuning out the men behind them.
“Just running through what we have to do again, never had this sort of responsibility before.”
“First time for everything, aye?”
The Private gave a nod and pressed her heels against the horse to sped its pace up as she shouted again, raising her...
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“Get up then. Show me that you’re no longer a spineless coward, Vauclain.”
“...”
“Leave her alone. You have no right to speak to my sister that way, you disgusting woman.”
“Leave her be. You have no power here now.”
“So you’re her protectors again? Making up for how you failed?”
“Overthrow the Queen, overthrow the Queen!”
“Would someone please shut that bird up?”
The study grew quiet as the occupants turned to look at the figure slouched at their desk.
The figure’s hair was a mane of unruly curls and had not been touched by a brush or been attended to all day. The outfit they wore was a simple nightgown covered by a thin, but clearly comfortable dressing robe. A soft noise would occasionally escape them, the only true sound...
It was the day, the day both of them were waiting for, to finally be able to call each of them their own. To love and cherish one another, and finally be married.
Maxence was dressed in a fine black suit, a red rose within the breast pocket of the blazer, and a red bow tie. His shoes the finest of leather, shining a stunning obsidian black. Hair brushed back into a more formal style, facial hair also trimmed for the occasion. Glancing into the mirror, looking at his attire, he was overwhelmed as to what was about to take place. He had already gained the blessing, and was about to take such leaps in wedding the woman
Glancing to his Brother who was in somewhat similar attire, minus the red accessory. His brother gave a nod, a...
The wind hit the sail with a loud roar, the rain showering down like a waterfall. The men ran around on the ship like wild chickens, the captain yelling orders as the ship swayed from side to side violently.
“Lower the sails! Balance the shipments in the middle of the deck, don’t let her sink!”
The men yelled and followed each order given, but one man ran up to the captain, pointing towards the Captain’s cabin.
“T’is is all due to tha’ woman! We all kno’ bringin’ women to tha’ sea is bad luck! Tha’ weather was sunny an’ gorgeous durin’ tha’ day, an’ tha’ night brough’ us a migh’y storm!”
With a loud slam, the door to the Captain’s cabin swung open. The blonde woman, wearing the top of a blue dress, a black corset, white pants and...
~Within the Falcons Nest~
Poppy Cuffburt flailed her arms through the air as a gargantuan of a feud suddenly broke out within the Falcon's Nest! Mugs, chairs, dwarves! All were tossed through the air, now dangerous projectiles! What used to be an Emporium with the rule of 'no fighting or combat' had now just become the play ground for a massive bar fight!
Figures wielding unlikely weapons against each other could be seen. Some used chairs, some their bare fists, others the mugs and glasses spread around. It was at this time that Alec Dondario has placed himself between Nyx Richter and Harper Payton, grasping a chair which Harper had swung towards Nyx, catching it mid air!
Seeing this, Harper changed her focus onto Alec, aiming an...
She couldn’t actually remember much of it. The screams she had only heard rarely came from her own mouth. Her body felt like it was engulfed in flames, only interrupted with the cooled patting of a random hand from her side. Her body crashed together like rough waves into a strip of sand. It was the closing of her eyes that brought it to an end.
Now as she leaned back against the chilling headboard of her bed, her arms encircling the warm body of a small essence. Her eyes couldn’t help but never move from the light and precious cargo nestled within her arms. The small physical wriggled with a cry, the North woman having to rock it gently to get it to shush. “Hush now my little owl.” She mused, her hand tucking the blanket back, staring...
Come to me, Come to me wise bird of the solace.
Turn to me, turn to me a blind eye on the sphere.
Drape yourself in the wings of morrow and fly towards the peroration of the lear.
Tell them of the peel of sin that lays beneath the truth.
Fly to me, Oh Fly to me wise bird of the solace.
Turn to me, Oh turn to me a blind eye on the sphere.
Pull into the darkness, the calls that lure the dawn of the dead.
They bring themselves a land of void, to drop those who are numbed.
The poem like lyrics drifted through the drop of darkness one would call night. A the shadow of a drop of poisoned dust twirling fastly towards the edge of the border. It dripped to a stop at the mere edge of a cliff, casting a longing blow of it’s smoke out into the...
The Assault on Colael
The Assault on the Elven City of Colael by the forces of Houses Piergaten, Ravenstad & d'Ortonnaise, under the banner of the Cadar's Wing, Commanded on the field by Lt.Col Benedictus d'Vaud.
Contents
Smoke
Ember
Blaze
Steel
Blood
Smoke rose from the several small campfires which huddled around tents scattered in the vicinity of Fort Tond, rising into small pillars of dark cloud, before being blown away in the easterly wind. Soon, the soldiers that sat around those small campfires and rested within those tents of pink, red & magenta would march with the wind, beneath the blue banner of the Cadar’s Wing. It was early in the month of February 306 AC when these quarrelsome troops had gathered at on the...
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"I think I'm drunk on your love"
The morning was clear, birds would sing a harmonizing song together along the branches of the park trees. Standing before the still, clear waters of the tiny river stood a Qadir, Hunsi Na’im Imad. Held in his arms would be Johanna Sauer.
“Can you please release my neck so I can place you down?” Hunsi would ask as his fuzzy grin formed a smirk, exposing his obvious lie.
“Na’! You’ll drop me in the water!” The Avanthar would reply in a rather tired tone of voice, alas her lips would also form a smirk.
The Qadir offered no further remark, not daring to liberate the witty remarks his brain had crafted for him...
The darkness of closed eyes drove a pang of fear through the young Vigilant’s heart as she held close to the maimed Hightower Commander. The man slumped briefly under her arm and she rattled him gently, murmuring with her fellow guardsman- and cousin- to the injured man between them. Beneath her legs, she could feel the trembling Northerner that had gone from a brave man threatening a god to a fearful child that had dove to hide on the floor in front of her pew.
The ghostly woman not far in front of the Half-Ithanian laughed eerily, her voice singing the gruesome rules of her game, and before long, a lonesome and frightful scream from a man filled the Holy Cathedral. At the shrieking, Juliette leaned slightly against the Hightower...
Screams. Blood. Chaos.
The whole world stopped in an instant for Meredith. What was happening- How, where, and why? She could see her friends, lying on the cold stone floor of the cathedral, bleeding out, dying. She could see the angry, betrayed faces of her Azure comrades, comrades who were horrified with her revelation of her loyalty to The Lady of the Song, to Cora, to the Arken. In fact, she felt their anger, for she had nearly perished in the hands of one such Erwald Ravenstad, Sentinel Supremus. And just hours ago, they had engaged in mere banter, light hearted banter. Now, she stood with her partner in her hands, listening to the Shendar cry her name, crying for help, for relief. She was hurt, quite possibly dying in her arms...
On the 18th of February, a lone ship sailed into the harbour of the Crown City. It was a small sloop with elaborate decorations and ornaments. The latter, despite made of gold, remained stained and murky. The ship's sails were tattered, its hull littered with barnacles and moss. A simple flag flew in the wind from the ship's mast, a pair of fabrics in yellow and black. Though down below at the aft of the ship, a different black-blue-silver banner signified the ship's commission and owner.
The sailors cast their ropes to the pier where the vessel was secured proper. Soon after the captain gave the clear, a pair of women emerged from below the deck. One mother seemingly in her twenties, the other a little girl. The older led the younger...
It had become easy to overlook now what she had in life. Sat upon the swing that hung in her family's estate gardens which allowed her to peer out over to the beach and the ocean, the d’Vaud turned Ravenstad sat in contemplative thought.
She had been in Regalia for years now. There were times where she thought about returning to Anglia, or even to Opper Calem, to hide herself away from whatever it was that bothered her that particular day. But she could not. She had stated that once to her husband, who had replied to her with a look of horror and fright. It had been before they had married, but he had reacted as though he would lose the most important thing in his life if she left, and she could not do that to such a man.
The woman...
Tlaloc was walking in the slums and finally the entrance to the Oasis. When he got there he was met by another Maiar with red warpaint around his eyes like slashes of a sword. The violent Tlaloc lunged for the opposing Maiar. Tallow was met by a heavy blow to the head from a well planned punch by the opposing Maiar. Tlaloc not quite knocked out but was very dazed. The opposing Maiar approached Tlaloclooking at him before going to whisper in his ear.
“The name of your killer is Neptune and if you are who I think you are then I am sorry for having to do the right thing.” Neptune said as he put his hands onto Tlaloc face before twisting to the right snapping it and killing him instantly.
As it turned out it was the Maiar he thought it...
Sitting in a booth, minding their business on a fateful eve sat three people. Two Shendar, Mori and Retrisa, an Ailor, Addie, and a Maraya, Lemoran. They drunk deep on the fine wines and the fine beverages of the Slum Tavern, laughing and cheering before being approached by the finely dressed man...if you could even call him such. He had crooked horns like that of some gnarled tree, skin as black as darkness, and a third eye, constantly jittering around, as if searching for something that might never come. The vilitatei made his greetings to the one he knew first, Lemoran, offering him respite from the cold air and a sip of his warm tea, before extending the offer to the others and revealing his name to them. The former Avanthar’s name...
Introduction
Deep within the slums, an old forsaken pub rested. Its foundation seemed barely kept afoot from the soil around it as the building itself seemed in ruins.
Tonight however, a crowd could be seen lining up from outside. What used to be a dusty old pub with hardly any business now suddenly danced with activity! A famed figure stood swishing his hips left and right as he hopped atop one table, jumping to the next. He leaned with a toothy grin towards those who gathered around.
The Bet
Women fainted at the melodious talent of the figure, while men wished to be the handsome minstrel who played atop the tables. Who was this figure so adapt to bend notes to his will?
Suddenly, the door of the pub slammed open, and in stepped a...
The first day she assaulted and took note.
The second day she memorized and resisted.
The third day she commenced to yield.
The fourth day she degraded herself to fit.
The fifth day she stayed deferential and registered new entries.
The sixth day she struck tacitly back without an utterance.
The seventh day the Leviathan they devised was unrestrained.
<><><><>
The day that she arrived, already broken as is. Her body scared with the claw marks and bites of what seemed to be a feathered creature and a dog. They did not question it. The dark figures that had from the moment they received her chains, left the blemishes of days to come on her physique. She called them the Tormentors of the Pneuma. They placed her in an all too familiar cell...
G l i m m e r
The soft heads of wheat stalks brushed the bare skin of their arms as they walked. A chorus of crickets voiced their displeasure with each crunching step. The eerie glow of the full moon guided the pair onwards, deeper into the sea of dark blue grass. Cutting through the fields was the fastest way to get to town.
“Hurry up, y’slowpoke.”
“Can’t see where th’feck I’m goin’. What if I step on a mouse or somethin’?”
“Sure it wouldn’t mind. C’mon.”
They whispered. Home was far behind them, but they couldn’t risk waking those who slept inside. Vytas had made a habit of slipping out of the house and venturing into the darkness. He did so nearly every night. His brother, however, did not.
“Why’d I even agree t’this?”...
The young woman leaned against the railing of the ship, looking out across the endless blue as they sailed onwards. She breathed in the salt of the sea, her left hand rose to rest on top of her hat and keep it in place atop her head as the ribbon on the sides snapped and whirled against the wind, trying so desperately to escape the woven straw hat on the adventurer’s head. The woman only ignore the frightful streamers of her hat though and pushed herself off the railing to pace across the ship, slowly but surely.
“Land just ahead!” Called the man above in his crow’s nest. It was a line the seafaring Ithanian knew well and she began to race across the deck, her boots slamming against the boards like marching soldiers coming home and...
Her Run
Her Questions
Her Eyes
OOC: Emilia is officially retired as a character.
@Sozzer @miner1011012 @Masterman120
“They say you shall find yourself infatuated with one other person. They call this love. I’m here to tell you such a thing has no one form of this body, one thing cannot be classified as this...love. There is no precious gem in the rough, there is no one star along the sparkle of the light under the million and other objects that circle it. They say love is what one finds themselves jumping off the end of the world for. They say it is when you feel something deep down in the innards of your soul. They say you will do anything for this one individual. Gazing into one of each other eyes as they run their hands along each other jaws and bring their lips into a muzzle against each others. However much they mutter the words “I love you” or...
For a majority of Enzo's life, sleep had been a luxury; this was no longer the case as of late.
It was most nights that Enzo woke up screaming at an undesirable hour.
It was always the same chilling images rushing through, each night.
Bastien.
Because he'd never seen his brother's murder, It made it all the worse;
viewing a makeshift version his mind had conjured to envision as it.
He'd always be running in these helish nightmares, his hand always extended to
tell his brother of the oncoming killer--Always an inch too late.
That's when he'd wake up, as the blood flew back into his face.
As his brother passed on.
This night was no different to that of usual..
<d'I> "BROTHER, BROTHER!" Enzo would jolt awake at these words.
It'd...
The Dressolini girl tossed her curly hair behind her as she walked down the street. The city was bustling as per usual. People were doing their daily errands, smithies pounded out impurities, smells of all sorts of goodies wafted from every street corner. Another beautiful day in Regalia. The girl carried a basket filled to the brim with fresh fruit. She had done her own shopping that day, which was special for a married noblewoman. Her dress danced in the afternoon breeze as she walked towards her destination, one of her husband’s perfume businesses.
After making her way through the winding streets, the girl came to a stop at the door. As she opened it, the most pleasant smells poured out. Any and all assortments of floral odor...
Maxence had always kept a journal at his side, whether he’d draw within it or write his thoughts, it was something to log his words in, it helped him move past the deaths of his parents. With it being a hobby the Nursery Maids gave him to take his mind off grieving.
Returning home after an eventful day with his family and another household, he sat at his desk. A small kindling flame flickering on the nub of a candle by his writings, pulling open the leather bound book he opened it to a fresh page, clicking his knuckles briefly before dipping his quill into the inkwell.
“ Journal,
You wouldn’t think I’d be writing to you explaining how much of a happy man I am. After all the death and trauma a sole person can go through, I never...
"And in the darkness I found my past, my precious memories all in the pages of my journal." - Tobie Peirgarten, 306AC.
Tobie sat in the attic of the Peirgarten Estate in Lorhauser, staring at the pages of an old, tattered leather book with somewhat of a grin on his face. His eyes were set upon the pages with something of a soft shimmer within his gaze.
As Tobie flipped through the pages of the journal afront him, he overlooked drawings of himself and his cousins. Reading passages written by none other but himself, many of them detailing his days spent within the city of Lorhauser. One article in particular, a more recent entry stood out and read as such.
"Everyone still looks at me as though I am some sort of creature, the...
The Slum Demon by Anonymous
Cloaked in darkness, the Slum Demon was,
His dark curses make room for buzz,
No doubt in all minds, he was a threat,
For the Slum Demon was the cause for wreck.
His words were hissed,
Like a viper kissed,
Sinful statements fallen from his lips.
Tales be told of his twisted tricks,
The spells that bent from his sharp nails with only a flick;
The man of Void, he angered a king.
A king of law, a king of guard;
The Slum Demon found himself wanted, but he didn't run.
A Villain, as all know, does nothing but walk;
For if you hold all Void in your hands,
What do you have to fear in any lands?
But all was wrong, for even the Demon was still mortal,
The King of Law brought down his word, all spell fell feeble...
“For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.” - Khalil Gibran
Myra’s shoe got stuck in a hole in the cobble street during her run. She gave not a sound of panic however, for she was far too engaged in the chase, and freed herself with a swift tug of her leg. She hurried after her younger, lighter-haired cousin, Eileen, who babbled and screamed out of excitement from their game. Their laughter intermingled and echoed down the pathways they traveled along, occasionally darting around slow-moving neighbors or strangers.
“No!” Eileen exclaimed amidst a laugh. She looked over her shoulder to a swiftly advancing Myra, who then lunged out to grasp at Eileen’s shoulder.
“You’re it!” Myra said. Eileen started to...
A wisp of music could be heard from the Emporium. Normally this would be the cause of two bards who attended the Emporium on a regular basis. The names of the two bards would be Benjamin Journey and Elias Loveridge. Today however, only Benjamin would be seen, panning up towards the Arken Cora.
"Benjamin. Cheer them up, will you? With a dancing tune." Called the Arken.
All of a sudden, the bards finger tips fell at mercy of the lute, a quick pace of instrumental playing. The notes seemed to speak, expressing sadness, speaking in a world far away. The notes lashed out heavy and harsh, brassy and loud but continually rhythmic with awesome fragmentation and melodic liquidation.
The bards fingertips continued to graze the lute’s strings...
Star Bright, star light, every star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
On every star I see tonight,
-
Marie gave the man a firm shake. After her unique form of sass had driven her last customer away, she began to close up the bar for the night. An old poem had been ringing in her ears- It was purely childish. Stars don't grant wishes. She's had plenty of experience, where time and time again, her desires went unfulfilled.
Except, though, when it was purely by chance.
Marie shut her eyes, giving an easy sigh. Instead of leaving, she decided to sit behind the counter and nurse a mug of rum. All those years ago, all the changes- And I have yet to fulfill my promise to Juan. Huh.
Turning to her side, she allowed herself to...
WARNING! SENSITIVE CONTENT!
Reminders
295 AC
I sat daydreaming, my chin resting in my hand while my elbow rested on the wooden table that lined sloppily with four others that sat in the middle of a large caramel colored tent. My own blue eyes rested on the lips of my lover, trailing them and noticing each flaw, but marking them as perfections. My young mind twirled and danced with the possibilities of everything surrounding him, encompassing his very being. My gaze shifted to his nose, a smile easing onto my plump lips as I traced his nostrils and the bridge leading up to his eyebrows and eyes. I allowed my eyes to stare into his, his being the same color as mine if not more full of life.
His body reminded me of nature, everything...
Plop.
A small droplet of water falls from the large mast of a sailing boat onto a sheet of paper laid on an oak desk which was stationed below the mast, a quill beside the paper. The paper was decorated with faint pinkish flowers in two corners, top left, and bottom right. The written words on the paper dilute from the water, the ink spreading and making the words unreadable.
“Tragic. Though, water never fails to create something beautiful.”
A soft voice, sounding like ocean waves hitting a shore in an elegant fashion, spoke to no one in particular. The holder of the voice looked down at the newly formed, unique pattern formed from simply ink and water. A delighted and soft hum escaped her shut lips, grabbing the quill as she dipped...
____________________________________________________________________
As the night shines down towards the Holy city of Regalia, Somewhere around the Slums
Leon walks around the castle of the Rat king, He entered the building gazing his eye towards everything there. The seat, the tower and the walls, But his eyes gaze at one thing in particular that he is interested in /The Throne/. He walks up the steps towards the throne and touches the arm rest on it.
He looks at the flag on the throne with his light brown eye, He turns towards the entrance of the castle, stared at it a couple of seconds before looking back at the throne, He lets out a sigh before turning back towards the entrance and makes his way towards there.
He walks outside...
The Battle Within
Johanna shuffled down the cobblestones from the garden located on the north-east side of the tavern, her gaze traveling from tree to branches to leaves, down to the cobbles she and many others set their feet upon. The woman’s eyes closed briefly as she walked, contemplating the Arken attack she’d just witnessed, those she was friends with and worked beside nearly drowning in the very fountain some went to for peace. Her bright blue eyes, dulled by the sadness of her was-to-be husband leaving her, fell on the very man that fit the description, one of the main reasons that caused exhaustion to radiate from her very touch.
Shane Marth had his right foot perched on the bottom step leading into the tavern, speaking to...
When a heart shatters, you can always see the exact moment in which it happens. While these moments can be repaired, the breaks stitched and glued, they still mark a once flawless soul. The chill of a Spring’s night was nothing compared to the ice stabbing into the heart of the young Claith. Her knees ached from pressing so long to the tiles of the Bastion bridge and her eyes burned from her unending tears, which flooded down her cheeks like unruly sea waves, threatening to drown the little village on its edge named Hope.
Her heart did not shatter when she begged for her lover, her heart did not shatter when lies won against her truths, nor did it even shatter when she was told her own self was to be locked away with the other Claith...
“Haihooo!”
The men heaved the mooring lines of the large vessel, tying the long ropes to the side of the harbor. The blonde woman took steps to the railing, her expression cold, almost as if motionless. She looked over the many figures, her gaze sharp, piercing.
“Lady d’Vaud? What is it that is troubling you?”
A hoarse voice spoke, the sound of it sounding like nails against a bumpy rock wall. The voice tore through her ears like an annoying mosquito which you cannot seem to kill. His voice alone indicating he did not only smoke one sigg a day.
“Nothing of importance. You keeping quiet would lighten my mood immensely, though.”
The woman’s voice was harsh, not faltering even a tad. Her shoulders remained low, relaxed as she watched...
"Finders Keepers"
It spoke to him, most times at night when the images of a vast white world would lull him to sleep. The young halfling went hours past his bedtime most nights, playing with the gem inlaid in silver metal that was woven into intricate designs of leaves and plants around the entirety of the band, muttering to it, to himself for ages on end. His glowing silver eyes were hidden beneath his blanket, making his mother unable to see the young silven was still awake in the wee hours of the morning.
When he first came into contact with the magical jewelry, he had run away from home late one night, far past the walls of the holy city and deep into the adjacent forest. Still, night never faded and the silven was able to...
DOCUMENTATION OF EVENTS TAKING PLACE ON THE ████ OF FEBRUARY ███ AC
EVENTS TAKE PLACE OUTSIDE THE WALLS OF ██████, DUE ████ OF THE █████ DISTRICT
A coronation of fire, for the heir of flames.
That’s what they thought the feeling would be. Triumph. Success, power, and most of all, conquest. They didn’t want to compare it to the searing flame that started in their back and spread down to their arms, the smell of burning skin and blood blasting into the air. Really, they had made a pyre for her by themself, as an offering- yet the turn wasn’t gradual, it was a tempest of hellfire that spread through their veins without restraint.
They really, really thought that ███████ couldn’t be as cruel as this.
When they started incorporating...
Erwald let out a quiet exhale of breath as he ran a hand through his fiery hair in his usual stressful manner. The day had finally come. Standing in front of the altar, he glanced towards where his older brother, Medard, was situated behind it in preparation for the ceremony. The siblings exchanged silent nods, a gesture of reassurance from Medard and one of gratitude from the groom. Everything had be perfect for his beloved, which seemed to be the case as the Ravenstad cast a furrowed gaze over the rows of pews to his right hand side.
He had imagined he would marry at some point, but not to somebody who suited his character so perfectly. From the moment they had met, the two nobles had gotten along swimmingly and their relationship...
The man is sat at his desk, quill scribbling speedily across the parchment in front of him.
Dearest Moonlight,
How are you? That's the first thought on my mind when I awake. Are you okay? I hope so. Where are you? That's the second thought. Are you happy? That's the third. I hope you're having fun. That's the last, before my mind wanders onto things less important than you. I look forwards to your return, though I want for you to have enjoyed yourself, because what else would there be to feel. What I feel is a distinct absence of your presence, and it follows me through the day, like I’m missing something. Which I am, your smiles. I can’t see them when you’re not near. I look forwards to seeing them soon. I hope you're safe...