The water crashed and slammed against the boat. Finally, it was home. Finally she was home. Though, was this city truly home anymore? That was the question that had kept her awake for most of the evenings on the voyage home. Alongside the ghost pains and shiftings of her now non-existent left eye, the question had kept her up.
Her boots made contact with the wood of the dock and gathering her bag from the cargo, the large Avanthar woman moved away, going to join the crowded streets.
Seraphina kept her head down as she shouldered her way through the crowds, not at all caring who she bumped into or even knocked over. Her fingers were tight upon the strap of her bag as she made her way deeper into the city.
It was a decent walk from...
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She was a defiant little girl who thought she could rule the world. With every step she took since the age of fifteen and her arrival into the grandest city in the Regalian Empire, her head had been held higher than she ever earned to. She strode with a step that was undeserved, that came with the pampered life of being raised by a jewel covered hand. Her hands were free from blood, they were pale and uncalloused for she had yet to drive her nails into the dirt to fight her way to the top.
So she appeared to those that glanced at her from the corner of their eyes. The young Ithanian that demanded respect when it all felt undeserved: but why was it?
At the age of fifteen, a defiant little girl entered Regalia, free from the hawk-eye...
Rage. A familiar emotion to the Folelsa practitioner, but one he rarely ever felt himself - at least with such intensity. His honor and name had been besmirched, dragged through the mud, by an Ithanian no less! And then there was that nobody wearing the purple with the stupid smirk... The Ombre's hand clenched into a fist as he remembered that ugly smug. There were others there too. A Velheimer, or half Daen as she insisted, the Grand Commissioner and... That girl. Thinking of that rabble latching onto him just fueled his rage even more. He stumbled away from the Throng towards the Golden Willow, returning for yet another drink. The Ser knight had never been a heavy drinker but now, at this low he found himself, comfort could easily be...
The Silver Bear of Opper Calem
Prologue:
"The tougher d'Vaud" is how I introduced myself to him, as we firmly shook hands in the Golden Willow Regalian Tavern, alongside his radiant wife. What begun as a simple invitation to the Open Forum would suspiciously strike a spark, like those to light the lithe fuse found on a firework, resulting in a similar explosion of entirely unexpected events. I do not claim that I was neither the flint nor steel that set the spark, for I was, but I was not the singular stone to set the firework alight. So kindly allow me to share with you my version of events, which led to the regular duel between the Lord Consul Hengest "The Hound" Harhold and myself, Benedictus "The Silver Bear" d'Vaud.
One...
Haunting Pasts, Burning Futures
The burning sensation as the whiskey was poured into the tall plants mouth was all that they could feel at this moment. And the faint stinging sensation of the burning plant like skin on their upper arm. They could feel themselves shake with every movement as they sat on the ground before the sound of papers rustling.
Nyth’s gaze shot to Darcie, who had been napping away on her desk prior to the plant silently entering the room and drinking themselves to the void with the whiskey bottle sitting next to them on the floor. The noblesse would blink away her exhaustion, yawning before noticing the plant and nearly falling out of her chair in surprise but caught herself. She’d notice the shaking form of the...
'Time is a weird thing. You blink, and several years have passed by while your eyes were closed. It slips through your fingers before you can try and catch it. Appreciate the time you have with your loved ones, and let them know just how much you care for them while you still have those moments with them.'
Aoibhin let out a sigh as she rose to her haunches. Below her was her beloved mother, who had become part of the earth twenty years ago. Leaning down, she kissed the top of the headstone and moved over to her violin, pulling the delicate instrument out of its casing. Sitting in front of the grave, she placed the violin under her chest, and drew the bow across the strings, starting to warm up. The music echoed through the open fields...
Learning from the Past
Shrouded by darkness, a group of five silently traversed the countryside, the rain that cascaded from the skies above leaving the ground soft, and slippery. They were lead by one slightly taller individual, who, like their comrades, sported a thick gambeson and was clad in leather armor. They appeared to take charge, though only communicated with her comrades through subtle hand gestures and the occasional whisper. However, none of the forms slipped, their shadowy visages giving off an eerie sense about the night. The group were one with the night as the night was one with them.
The dark smoke that rose from the nearby camp melded with the pitch black atmosphere, being in sight of only the most perceptive of...
Scratch, scratch.
Her pencil moved quickly across the pages. A soft mumble escaped her as she erased a few of the words she had written down only to replace them not a moment after. Her written words were a jumble of Common and D’Ithanie, a confusion to an onlooker.
Except for the occasional mumble from the woman, the entrance hall was silent and calm. The candles over head flicked and shifted as a gentle spring breeze came in through an open window. The silence was broken by the the door swinging open and someone entering.
Nyth glanced over at Darcie who sat vigil at her desk. Two movers, having been left to handle the final touch-ups by Leonzio, ducked around the plant fellow as the Yanar drew closer to the desk the woman sat...
"Have you given up then, is that it? You have abandoned
me in my time of need, broken my faith all to spite me?
I renounce my faith to you, Spirit of Union."
Many would notice a change in Tobie Peirgarten in the days to come, his face was slimmer and his eyes weary after his long and troublesome experience with hallucinations and otherwise unworldly affairs. His eyes had grown a darker shade of green than before, much grayer and without their usual twinkle. The way he acted was almost as if he'd become a more troublesome individual and had been openly challenging people to duels within the Fang and Throng fighting pit in the Regalian Park. He seemed to stop in order to talk to the Arken Generals that traipsed through the city and...
"Is this all you see, dear Spirit? The eternal blackness that rests upon each of our souls?"
Throughout our lives we create what is known as a personality. It is created from the things we witness and through the things we do and can never be lost, but remember. That which is forged with such ease, can be broken just as easily.
The blackness closed in on the long haired blonde as swiftly as a blade may cut through air, flames from the candle licked the bleak and cold backdrop that surrounded the mindless man whom sat in the middle of the cell. He was writing, all the while with tears falling down his face. His eyes were wide with terror and upon a final glance, it appeared the flooring that was lit by the candle was a deep red...
He knew he messed up. he didn't know how, but as he left for the slums from the clinic, there was a voice of regret, haunting his thoughts. It came often, like am an delivering milk, or maybe the mail. Though, he never figured out how to get it out of his head, much like the horrible silence he found within the noisy main-street. He could hear himself breathe, half-expecting a frozen breath to come out and whisk him of the rest of his lungs with. As if it'd comfort him, the feeling of strangulation, suffocating, seemed so more much comforting than his hoarse, drying throat. Alistair entered back-alley to back-alley, he knew where he was going, but his thoughts drowned out his sense of direction. The road ahead seemed to blur with his...
"Folge deinem Pfad, selbst wenn er mit Dornen bestückt ist. A lesson from my ancestors to me, words I believe in. Nobody will ever take that from me!" - Brendan Heinrich, 303AC, The Battle of The Curag Fields.
Screams echoed throughout the field about him, the mist covered everything around him and for once, he was afraid. The loneliness of war had befallen him, told to stand by his brothers, only a man so detached could refuse. Flames filled the air as mages clashed with what, in his mind were impossible beings. His eyes scowered the battlefield for any sign of help, though none came at his time of need.
With his blade drawn, such a large blade that even an orc would be brought up on the topic of 'compensating'. He brought it...
Tracing the rim of his mug with an index finger, Jamie continued to stare at the journal before him, its pages clogged with scratches and stains and thoughts and notions and ideas. It was a product of his brief bout of flu; something to keep the boredom at bay, to keep his mind awake at times when he would otherwise venture to D’Hellegum and take inventory for the evening.
What had once been a puddle of ink began to evolve and transform, shedding any extraneous material and leaving just a few bold sentences glaring back at its author.
The Rosendahl reached for his quill, his face creased with determination. Flipping the journal to a fresh page, Jamie began to scribble furiously. Throughout his mad sketching, his subconscious kept...
The latest hours of the night had crept upon Alexander once again, and there he was, staring at the wooden ceiling of his house, wide awake as he had often found himself as of recent. The recent events that had transpired had seemed to have gotten under his skin in more ways than he would like to admit, Alexander slowly closed his eyes, yet no sleep came, only a memory, one from the recent Imperial Audience.
There he stood, leaning on a railing, next to him stood very interesting Brown haired women "Can you stand up to them?" She asked in her usual tone "The Arken I mean, will you be able to stand up to them when the time comes?" He didn't have an answer then, at least, not an honest one, because the truth was hard to swallow. "I...
Avynn flipped through another page in the book she was studying. Her eyes darting slowly over the pages. Taking in everything that she could. Once in a while, her eyes darted back to reread something or look at a picture. She’d often shift to move her body to the motion the book gave. Around the table where scattered books of what she had dedicated herself to before and now newly. She for once felt dedicated to something again, she just had to prove herself. She just had to. She had failed Leonzio, the first man she’d ever looked for approval in, wanting him to be proud of who she was. She had failed Sigurna, the person who had given her everything, who had been her friend through thick and thin. Failed Alexander, the boy who reminded...
As the moon shines under the rainy night in Regalia. A woman was walking down the path way back to her house. As she was walking the wind blew more and more dangerous, like a roar from a dragon. The woman would keep walking into an Alley way as a shortcut but then She stopped as a figure was standing in front of her.
"Hello, Who are you? Are you lost?!" The woman yelled at the figure. She moves in closer to the figure to look at him. The figure stood there in silence as he breathes heavily. The woman would move in a bit more closer, her heart is racing with fear and anxiety but she still moves in closer "Sir, are you deaf?! answer me!" The woman yelled at the figure. The rain pours under both of them, after a couple of...
((This is a collab between @SpoopMelon and I about the Cantaine siblings when they were children! I wrote for Agustin and spoop wrote for Micaela.))
It was a peaceful day at the Cantaine estate and out the door to the garden walked a young girl with brown hair and blue eyes. She walked extremely carefully around the various plants in the garden as she made her way to her brother’s greenhouse. The beads in the girl’s hair clicked against each other as she walked along the pathways. Sometimes she’d stop at a certain plant to stare at it for a moment before continuing on with a smile every now and then she’d let out a small kitten-like sneeze and rub her itchy eyes. The girl was allergic to some of the plants in the garden, which kept her...
The snow fluttered peacefully over the city, ironic for the current settling of excitement that buzzed through the air. Across the other side of the gate, someone was shouting encouragements to the Slumdwellers, yet outside the Slums, in the army of guardsmen and women, there was not much speech for long moments, simply people muttering to their own men and occasionally giving their armour a nervous readjustment- at least that was what the young Vigilant captain was doing.
Juliette gazed about with an expression of excitement and anxiety- she didn't plan to chicken out of the small civil war that was about to occur, but that didn't mean she wasn't nervous. The troop of guards split to either side of the walk following the shout of...
As the wind blow and the seas roar on the docks of Regalia, Leon stands there looking at the scenery.
He stood there in silence, thinking of all the things that has happen when he got to Regalia, The seas roar closer to the docks and the wind Blew larger across his face.
"All aboard the ship, Sailing to Warrenord!!" The captain yelled. Leon heard the man yelled and he walks towards him holding his crate. Leon showed the man his ticket and proceeds to walk into the ship. At last the ship sailed and Leon looks at Regalia for one last time
A couple of hours later, The night falls. The strong gust of wind blew at the ship but it is maintaining it balance across the dangerous Seas. At this point...
Her boots were the first to go, the trickiest thing to remove with only one functioning arm. The next was the sling itself, dropped onto the vanity stool as Darcie stepped in front of the mirror.
A bruise was beginning to form on the side of her head where the Northerner had hit her. It was simply another injury to add to her ever growing list. Letting out a sigh, she leaned closer, staring into her own eyes.
“Well old girl. It seems you’re back on top again. A could have been Norvakt, a would be Krier. From Vauclain to Dubois and now…” She took in a breath and spoke the next few words as a smile appeared on her face.
“A Wodenstaff. Darcie Wodenstaff. I like the ring to it. I truly like it. It fits.” Darcie’s smile would widen and...
Blood Washes Over Your Demons
It was a crisp afternoon on the date of December 31st, 305 A.C. guardsmen Alec Dondario had been going through his normal patrol after declining to drink earlier in the night.
He’d receive a message from a guy, it was proclaimed to be urgent. Was at the Bridge connecting to the Crown Isle. He rushed himself over.
Upon arrival, the Bloodcast Knight saw a girl seated, over the guardrail legs fully extended. There was another woman, Roesia Alaire at the foot laying down “Now I don’t want to push you but I have to..” Alec clanked over quickly. “Oi!, there’s a fockin’ guardrail for a damned reason!” the girl froze up from pushing Roesia off the bridge. “Help” cried the Roesia. He promptly...
Waves washed gently onto the shore, the waters mellow at this early hour. The orange rays from the sun peaking over the horizon and casting sharp beams onto the glass surface. A gentle giggle from a toddler broke the silence of the early air. Sitting on the shore were two figures, one small and the other much larger, familiar shapes to this coast.
Leonzio sat in the sand with his son Gabriele, the child giggling up a storm as a stray crab washed on shore and manage to get stuck on its back. The older Dressolini smiled, letting out few chuckles of his own before flipping the crustacean over and watching it flee back into the depths of the unknown. The young boy managed to catch his breath just as his father scooped him up into his lap...
She couldn’t wait. She had to venture forth into the wilderness, warnings be damned. At least she had waited until the sun had risen, enough that she could see clearly. The past few weeks had been a trial for her. With event after event after event, Darcie was growing tired. Exhausted even. Nothing, though, would stop her from having her morning ride.
It had been something she had started doing the moment she arrived in Regalia those many years ago. Insisting she use her allowance to purchase the needed stall to house her beloved steed and the other expenses that came with him. He was a big brute of a creature, mostly brown with white patches upon his flank and around one ear. A creature more accostumed to someone of a more larger and...
Benjamin peered at the pamphlet in his hands, giving it a sudden crumble as he flashed his bright, Jade eyes up, flickering them with a hidden irritation.
He was working overtime now, an unrelenting pile of assignments continuously handed out to him. With a large chunk of the Violet order seemingly to be “Possessed,” whatever the hell that meant, he began to notice a great many of spots opening free, and a large lack of Violets at post. This is what burdened him with so much work.
One such job was babysitting. He was assigned the annoying task of watching over Eske Ulfmaerr and Urijah Jameson while they performed various forms of labor for the city.
“Velheimers...” he muttered as he watched them shoveling snow.
The two seemed to...
The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive.. Yet, this evening in particular; it had a certain feeling of livelihood to it..
A pair of boots would stumble through the grassy mess surrounding them, a scarlett cape following suite soon to find themselves at the entrance to this house, followed by a prompt knock... No answer.
"Mère."
Still, no answer..
With this, a firm kick was offered to the door by the visitor, the fragile ebony door flying open.
The scarce floor boards of the house creaked as stepped on; making their way up the thin staircase,
the figure would stop in their tracks.
"Mère" , a knock was now provided to the smaller secondary door, which would be followed by a push.
The final room that...
November 25th , 305 AC
Lazaruz breathed in on the fresh Ithanian air surrounding him..
There was no better place to teach his loyal companion than the
vast landscapes he'd been cheerished by, as a child.
" 'Ey, Sigrun! Get back over 'ere!~" , the pup would respond by playfully dashing between the surrounding greenery.. As a snowpaw Felicis, their fur contrasted harshly to the pure green nearby.
It'd been a couple of hours treking through the countryside from La Portée du Paradis that the pair had found themselves immersed by the great forest that surrounded them.
Lazaruz planted himself at the bottom of a nearby tree, opening his satchel to retrieve the sandwhiches he'd made himself before the voyage. The man had grown...
Her hands were outstretched.
That was all that mattered. That she would reach him on time, that she would prevent him from any suffering. Her fingers curled around air, having just missed her target. A desperate cry of anguish leaped from her throat, her feet stuck in place as she was unable to reach out anymore but she tried, with all her might did she try. She felt as if she was being torn in half, every nerve in her body felt as if it was being split apart as she managed to gain an inch. She hated this dream because that was all that this was, a dream. A sick and twisted one but a dream nonetheless. And yet.. she couldn’t help herself but play right along with it, every time reaching out for his hand and every time failing to grasp...
When I was a girl, I never had the chance to play with dolls. I never was told I was to marry a baron's son, nor even told I was to be a musician or to be sent to a medical school. Being the eldest child meant there were expectation of me. Expectation that were provided because of my birth, as a girl. Father wanted a male for his first born, yet he had me. In time he had my brother, but my fate was already sealed.
For generations my family had made enemies with those more powerful than us. My father's personal guard was omnipresent. At times I viewed them as the uncles and brothers I never had, nor would have. Not until my brother at the very least. And when the young Wulfram was born, he needed a protector. He was provided such from...
A gentle snow began to swirl around outside Mitau Palace, coating the already thick layering another time over, blanketing the Regalian countryside like a fog, seeping into each corner it could. The potted trees and hedges within the courtyard offered to and fro movements in the brisk, subtle wind, which occasionally made the colossus estate creak in tired agony. Percy could hear chattery folks and shouting children down by the road, who were heading off to enjoy the fruits of Rothburg. Every so often, Ulysse would poke his graying snout up, sniffing the air with interest as their noises reached his droopy ears. Pursed in lip and quiet in tone, the relaxing man would watch his hound place his paws up on the windowsill, gazing over the...
A thud, a crash, the sharp clang of metal. The painfully loud sound of the torso of armour hitting the floor pierced the the night's silence, almost shaking the room in the process. Gloves, boots, cloak, shirt, all followed suit, dropped carelessly to the floor with a chaotic order that saw it all relegated to a corner of the room in a single pile. For most the sight would be irreverent, Blacksteel armour, Imperial colours, the finest leathers, all strewn to the floor with such negligent disposition. No care was taken but no love was lost for Gerold Ravenstad-Krier. To some it would represent honour, duty, servitude, they would hang it proudly, the Imperial Guard armour in pride of place for all to see, but not Gerold. Armour was...
The vast Anglian wheatlands gave a serene and almost calming look to them, as the light of the moon brushes up against them. The usually bustling streets are quiet, but not unsettling. These peaceful lands are kept like this due to an uneasy alliance between two great Anglian houses, an alliance just waiting to break out into war. All it needed was a little push, one stone to be thrown; this was their mission today. At the very edge of one of the great lord’s lands, lied the little farming village of Grantsfield; named after the lord’s eldest son, who resided in the keep in the little village. Grantsfield was a prosperous, and beautiful little place, a largely unguarded one. It’s position served as another purpose too, as a lot of...
It was not till late morning that the Wodenstaff woke from slumber, having fallen asleep with the dawn's arrival. She laid in bed with warm surrounding her and found not a reason to remove herself from the quilts of her quarters that kept herself bundled up. The minutes ticked by and finally she called for a maid, the same one that counted as the midnight intruder that she'd pitched a letter opener at in fear. The chambermaid returned to the room in a jovial mood- speaking of the grand day ahead past the weekend. Klausmas. Yet Juliette paid it no mind, too set on commanding her servant to fetch her clothing.
The woman had a green silk dress pulled onto her- a gift from another noblewoman- which left her shoulders bare but she paid no...
Her hands shook as she pushed back a stray curl that fell over her face. Sitting back upon her legs, she heaved in a small breath. The third time that morning she had been awoken with the urge to purge. After the first it was simply dry heaving and she had attempted to keep quiet as best she could, not to alarm the servants within the estate.
Slowly she rose to her feet and moved over to the sink. Her fingers clenched firmly around the rim of it. Her knuckles were chapped and had bled the evening before due to the cold and icy winds that battled her upon the wall she stood post upon. Flexing her fingers, she splayed them out upon the flatter part of the sink. Her mind wandered to all the hands had touched as of late: a gloved but...
"It never troubles the wolf how many the sheep may be."
They gathered on the bridge leading towards the Bastion's gate. The Vigilants, the Violets. Hearsay flooded their ears; chaos was brewing. The dragon had returned, and it had come with more a vengeance than it had the last. Ania was prepared to lead her men, to protect the innocent from the hellfire that the scaled beast blew from its lungs. It was a single beast; one with wings and claws, but one mortal and one that could bleed. It could be defeated.
Valbrand and Valentius ushered them all to form readied lines--the Vigilant Shield on one side of the bridge, the few Violets present on the other. Ania gazed around, furrowing her eyebrows while she noticed so few of the latter...
The bell chimed three times, signifying the start of the third hour of the morning. The soft snorting of the bloodhound taking up the long since absent side of the bed was the only other sound for Juliette to hear as she stared about the close darkness- only a single dying candle keeping the night alive as she kept watch for intruders. Her left hand shook briefly as she scanned the surrounds again- the letter opener clasped in her hand jittering a bit due to her nerves.
The darkness was unwelcoming, reminding her only of the pit of nothingness she'd faced when she had felt her life leaving her upon the basement floor. The Wodenstaff pressed her right arm closer to her side as if to guard the first set of stitches while the ones on her...
It was hard to get any time in to think that hasty night. There were about six or seven, very injured and very dirty people lounging in her city estate that she had to help care for. Her own stab wounds and bruises almost completely forgotten as she rushed over her bloody and muddy floors, sending bandages along as well as food. It took a long while for everything to settle down and even after when Avynn finally was able to lay down, it was still hard to sleep.
Memories came flooding back to the pain and excitement that encompassed the day. She reached out to touch her side, hissing slightly as it stung back its pain. So much blood that she had washed off today, she was glad it was more than enemies than her own. How many had she...
The short Ithanian had vanished beneath the suds and water of the tub. Only the bridge of her nose and eyes were seen save for her waterlogged hair. She sat there for a long moment before lurching forward with a hack of a cough, water sputtering from her mouth- in the moment of utter mental drain, she had simply breathed in water and soap. She stared around the room in distraught after she eventually saved herself from drowning by soap, her gaze catching onto the yellow, and now red, uniform of the Rangers that was crumbled like a child's doll atop the floor. She rubbed her eyes with a sigh before flinging water at the accusing clothing as if to tell it to depart from her quarters, but of course it ignored the demand and continued it's...