Helo

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Port Vanarosa
Interactions: Jun@JJ Doe, Tanithil @Lava Alckon, Arlen @SilverPaw
Equipment: A halberd and half-plate armor

---

A light elf, who Zion would soon find out was called Arlen, lept from the side of the ship in an acrobatic display. Zion offered an exuberant exclamation of “Outstanding!”, for the elf. Both for his impressive leap and for what he had said. Finally, some good news was delivered their way, they were right on time for breakfast! “Wonderful to meet you, Arlen.” The lion’s tail flicked with excitement, not only for breakfast but at the mention of an adventure afterward.

He nudged at Jun with his elbow. “Did you hear that? Breakfast and an adventure! See it ain't so bad here.” He attempted to whisper but there was little chance that anyone nearby couldn’t hear him. Zion flashed a large grin at the pirates as he tried to pretend that Jun was not pouting about being here.

He turned his head to Captain Tanithil as he asked for their sea-faring experience. “None. Never set foot or claw on a boat, and I avoid swimming. Certainly not a cat-fish.” He answered, his toothy grin only widening at his own joke. “Skills include huntin’, trackin’, and brawlin’ but I think I can manage diggin’ as well.” He nodded at the captain. “So where’s the best spot to grab a bite ‘round here?”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Morning
Location: Sorian Palace: Guest House
Interactions:

Flashback; Sola 23, Evening following the Damien ball

Leo, having received no help from the guards, set out to track down the possible watch thief himself. He exited the Damien estate and desperately glanced around looking for any trace of the dark blue-gowned woman who might just have his pocket watch. Just as he was beginning to think too much time had passed, and his only suspect had made a clean escape, he thought he saw a flash of blue toward Sorian’s Park. It was his only lead, even if it was a farfetched chance.

The lion-masked nobleman took off in a sprint toward the park, eyes wide and desperately searching for his suspect. Soon his pace began to slow, a brisk jog, as the dimly lit path through the park was illuminated only by the moon above. Would a thief even be on a path? Perhaps hiding about in the bushes? He wondered. Then he saw it, a glint of moonlight reflecting off what was unmistakably his pocket watch. It dangled, just out of reach, not from a woman in a blue dress but one in orange. The very same orange-clad woman he’d spoken to at the ball!

“Halt!” He shouted, before immediately quickening his pace. It was then that his cursed luck struck again, the unhinged fit of laughter he fought to suppress began to bubble out. It choked back his words as he tried to speak, You stole my watch! You wretched liar!, but all that roared forth, in a mist of manic laughter was “Liar!” As he ran, so did the thief, a brief chase through the park until finally, the thief was just within his grasp.

Return my watch! The stern order he intended to give was drowned out by continued laughter, all he could choke out as his hand grabbed the thief’s shoulder was, “Watch!” And then a swift knee collided with the jewels of the future Duke. The brief loss of air from the unexpected blow cured the laughter but he quickly crumpled to the ground from the shock of it. He let out a long string of profanities as the orange-clad thief made her escape, taking his prized pocket watch with her.

The night had been a dreadful and sleepless affair. His stolen pocket watch and the thief, a person he’d spoken with, who he’d taken at their word simply due to her proximity to Nahir at the time, replayed in his mind. He fixated on every word of their conversation, noting every strange thing the woman had said, how she’d seem to have been trying to goad a reaction out of him the whole time. He wondered if Nahir was also in it and then immediately felt guilt for suspecting royalty of such a petty act. His thoughts were occasionally interrupted by giggle fits that began to wane in frequency. As the sun began to break he noticed his voice had finally returned to normal. At least the strange illness had gone.

Leo had decided to start his day off early, sending one of his own servants out to fetch shoes the moment the shops opened and headed off to wash yesterday’s troubles away with a nice bath. He lounged in the tub of hot water until it grew cold, reminding himself that everything involving his voice was back to normal, his shoe situation would soon be fixed, and that he would find that watch even if he had to tear Caesonia apart brick by brick himself. It was a new day, yesterday’s problems were in the past. He breathed easier.

But as he exited the tub he noted a new disturbance. He looked at his hands, his arms, then he checked the mirror. He stood there frozen in a state of shock. What the fuck?

His skin, his hair, all of him was now hot pink. Several baths later he finally realized this was not washing off. In fact, the incessant scrubbing seemed to have only made it brighter.

And he was supposed to go to King Edin’s Royal Worship today! While sporting the plumage of a flamingo? It has to be the water here. He convinced himself, hoping that he was not the only one who’d soaked in water that was clearly contaminated with something. He dawned a robe and returned to his room, avoiding looking to see if anyone noticed the flamingo man walking through the halls. He continued pacing around his room, repeatedly checking the mirror there and noting that he was in fact, still very, very pink.

He wondered if he should seek out a doctor, what if whatever was in the water was toxic? Eventually, he decided against that, mostly because he hated seeing doctors and did not want to miss the grand opening of The Royal Curd. So he got dressed, several times, trying to find something that didn’t clash with his new shading. It was a fruitless effort, no matter what he put on he was still ridiculously pink. Leo left his room in a gray linen suit and headed to church. Almost fitting to look this ridiculous while attending an event that he guessed would be equally ridiculous.

Daily Misfortune: Leo's hair and skin are now hot pink. Seriously, what's in Sorian's water???

pink Leo

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: North Pass; Cabin
Interactions: Rue@Potter, Bardulf@Lava Alckon, Bridgette, Mister Luum@FunnyGuy, and Zeva@Pink Khione, Masako @dreamingflowers
Equipment:Sword, hunting knife, a backpack with supplies, and a stoat named Raze who naps in the pocket of his vest.

---

“Or…” Bowyn spoke up following Bardulf’s hunting game for amas suggestion. He moved around the cabin’s main room as he spoke, scratching at his nose and constantly peaking out windows or watching the door. “Instead of game, we can hunt large beasties and goblin hoards, bigger ama payout, and doubles as training.” He suggested; there were always good rewards offered to those brave enough to hunt down the large and dangerous creatures that roamed and reaped havoc through Avalia. “Then we can keep game meat for ourselves and cut down food costs.” Bowyn continued, he could see little reason for them to spend much, if anything, on food when most, or all, of the group could easily hunt and forage.

Bowyn had spent enough time in North Pass that it was almost like a second home, it was great for hunting, winter fairies weren’t out of place here, and it was always coated in snow. Other than his village, he couldn’t think of a better town to be in. The everpresent cold that seeped and snuck its way into everything, though every crack in the cabin’s woodwork, made his magic feel stronger. The constant embrace of icy chill made everything feel a little more comforting. It made his self-appointed duty of staying up all night, pacing around the doors and windows, locked in a state of heightened awareness; just in case anything were to happen. He felt less lonely in the cold, he didn’t feel tired either but maybe that was due to all the flarus he’d snorted. It wasn’t the cold that caused Bowyn’s nose to run.

He glanced at Zeva, who seemed chilled to the bone despite being indoors and covered in a blanket. “Rue and I can go shopping, seems like you’ll need more than a cloak to keep the frost from biting.” He offered. He’d do almost anything to get out of the cabin and into the fresh air.

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Gaurav Village
Interactions: Phia@princess, Darius@FunnyGuy, Dante@Alivefalling, Menzai@samreaper
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

"Is your family important for some reason or are they wanted for doing bad crimes?"

Cyrus opened his mouth but found the question too complicated for an answer. Dante and Darius bantered about a garden he’d never heard of as Phia slid apples across the table. Menzai emphasized caution and sticking together, he looked as if the burden of all of Avalia rested upon his shoulders, then excused himself from the table.

“Both.” He answered after a long, opened mouth, pause. “Bad crimes being resistance against dark elf rule.” He answered carefully, and since he was certain Menzai already knew and the other three were trustworthy, he added, “My family, royals of The River Fairy Kingdom, refused to be usurped by a false king without a fight. We lost.” He spoke, a hollow statement of facts without attachment to them.

“There were always plants and animals in abundance, I hope that has not changed. And music, everywhere, always someone filling the air with sound, always people dancing. A very fun place to be.” He looked from Phia to the two human brothers, who wanted a day of fun and hoped his home hadn’t changed too much since he last saw it. “We can only give the fliers to people we are sure can be trusted, those uninterested in aiding dark elves for their own gain.” He said but Cyrus quickly realized this would be a hard thing to gauge.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: Edge of Lover’s Lake-Roman Ceremony
Interactions: City Guards, Ana@princess, Ari@Tpartywithzombi

---

A wide grin overtook his serious expression as the guards scrambled to remove their boots. Metal clanked and rattled, some of them nearly toppled over in their haste to follow his command. He hadn’t expected a silly demand, coming from him, to be followed as faithfully as it was, and his reaction was to delight in the brief moment of power and control he wielded. Quickly the grin vanished.

“You have already been told to leave this place by myself, Princess Anastasia, and Prince Munir Ibn Raif al Kadir. I should not have to repeat that.” A voice that barely seemed to belong to him continued. “And inform Countess Damien that a messy room and her inability to keep track of her daughter is not a valid reason to show contempt for our honored guests. Neither I, nor Princess Anastasia, will tolerate any further disrespect towards Varian or Alidasht.” Callum shouted, everyone in attendance would have no trouble hearing that. After all, he had told Wulfric he would work on improving relations with their foreign neighbors, and this was merely him keeping his word. It wasn’t Cal’s fault the beloved Damiens had caused an incident.

Once the guards had taken their leave he draped one arm around Ari’s shoulders and the other on Ana’s. “Thanks for the backup, think I could ask for one more favor? This has been enough excitement for me, I’d like a peaceful, unfollowed, walk back home. Think the two of you could help cause a distraction so I can lose my guards?” He asked, looking first at Ana, “Maybe rile everyone up for your night swim after party?” He suggested before turning to Ari, “And we can continue our talk tomorrow?” He offered, with a smile that conveyed he was certainly up to something tonight.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Evening
Location: Masquerade Ball: Damien Estate
Interactions: Fritz/Riona @JJ Doe, Nahir @Rodiak,
Mentions: Watch-thief Suspect #1 @Potter
Daily Misfortune: An annoyingly high-pitched voice and random fits of laughter.
Predictable Costume: Leo the Lion

---

Leo couldn’t help but wonder about Nahis’s choice of friends; if the other woman even was a friend and not simply a fresh acquaintance. “Indeed it might, but the keeper of the lost and found, I am not. Splintering one’s focus is the best way to ensure nothing gets accomplished.” He replied, it was simply not his responsibility to track down the owner of a lost object. The way the woman in orange went on about servants stirred a chuckle. “I can assure you it is not an impossible task to cater to one’s guest while ensuring no crimes are committed during a party.” Leo didn’t find this to even be a high standard either, only a baseline expectation.

“My mother hosts many events, they tend to be a bit livelier than this, and all without a hitch. A testament to proper leadership.” Despite the turmoil in their relationship, Leo never missed an opportunity to remind people that Dutchess Smithwood excelled at her duty. “But seeing is believing, so might I have your name so I can ensure an invite to the next gala in Stravy reaches you along with Shahzadi Nahir and her family?” He offered, before turning to Nahir. “The views in autumn are exceptional. Expansive forests with the leaves painting a tapestry of warm colors, and the harbor is often described as breathtaking.” He talked up Stravy.

Since no further information on the likely thieves was relayed to him, and the unknown woman seemed more invested in talk of footwear than thieves it was clear that this conversation was becoming nothing more than a waste of time. The woman locked arms with Nahir like she was trying to forge a strange alliance against him. Over decluttering his room? He kept a tempered response in the presence of royalty. He rephrased the exaggerated tale she’d spun.

“Strange, to paint me as the villain when I simply removed the collection of gaudy footwear,” The irony of ‘gaudy’ coming from a man in a lion themed outfit, slippers and all, was lost on Leo. “That cluttered up my room and put it outside for the responsible party to clean up. But I should get back to my devious plan of finding my stolen watch. I wish you and Shahzadi Nahir a wonderful evening.” He offered a respectful bow and resumed his quest to find his watch. Leo scanned the crowd for a woman in dark blue with gloves.

A lull in the music timed with the scattering of glass caught his attention. A sea of faces turned to look as a woman matching that description ran from the ball. His prime suspect on the run, so close to an escape, with his pocketwatch nowhere to be found.

“There’s been a pickpocket stealing around the ball tonight.” Leo rushed to the nearest guard. “I bet that’s her.” He explained.

And then the giggling returned.

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Port Vanarosa
Interactions: Jun@JJ Doe, Tanithil @Lava Alckon
Equipment: A halberd, hunting knife (unless Jun lost it), half-plate armor.

---

“You must be Tanithil!” Zion’s voice boomed with excitement, he had never met a friendly dark elf before. What an exciting day! His eyes wandered to the ship behind the man, a nice enough-looking boat but it sat perched atop an endless sea. Foul waters from which, should that boat sink, there would be no escape. A grimace formed as he thought about his chances of trying to swim, a skill he lacked, with only one arm. He hoped it planned on staying docked. “I am indeed Zion, and my quiet friend here is Jun the Unwavering, savior of young ones.” He introduced Jun, who remained silent, and bestowed upon him a title Zion felt was more worthy of a hero.

Zion waited for a moment, leaning against the halberd he could no longer properly swing. But Jun’s silence persisted. While Zion understood, he too was saddened to see Malachi and Kenia both called away for a different purpose, he did not want to enter a new team on the wrong foot. “Ah, it is hard to think of something to say when the cries of the belly demand attention.” Zion attempted to cover up Jun’s silence, and on cue, his stomach emitted its own mighty roar. “I hope we have not missed breakfast!” His head swiveled to one side as he caught the scent of fresh, hot, fish dishes wafting towards the dock. The motion nearly caused a fall, his balance still off-kilter, but he hardly noticed as he remembered the one good thing about the seas. They were filled with tasty fish!

Avalia

Cyrus doing Cyrus things

Time: Dawn
Location: Gaurav Village
Interactions: Alone
Equipment: A mask, a shield/drum, and an acorn.

---

Before those few first rays of dawn had broken through the canopy of trees that surrounded Gaurav Village, Cyrus had already ventured deep within the forest. His boots squelched against mud and undergrowth as soft rain fell with no signs of letting up. Despite the coverage of thousands of the silent sentinels, trees both young and old, ever watchful over the forest and village they hid; he walked long enough for the rain to chill him. The sun’s warmth struggled to overtake the dark in the cloudy shower. His clothes were uncomfortably wet, his hair was slick and clung to his face, and every breath drew the scent of a wet forest into him. A heaviness clung to him, one that had nothing to do with rain, or the mud that caked his boots and occasionally threatened to pull them from his feet.

He continued until he was far from any canine ears that perked and twitched for the slightest sounds. He only halted once he saw those hazy pink rays of sunrise finally begin to break through, illuminating the blanket of darkness. Critters stirred, foliage ruffled, and all that surrounded him greeted the new dawn. Without the sense of urgency his walk had held, he shifted through the brush, gathering a few fallen branches. He removed the soggy adornments of foliage and twine that decorated his clothing and used it to tie the branches together. Then he carefully propped his mask on the makeshift stand he’d built for it, his eyes leveled with the empty holes of the mask.

Cyrus pulled his shield drum from his back and fixed it to his arm, his hand gripping it tight as if nothing in the world was more important to hold onto. His eyes locked on the vacant eye holes of the mask. Even as rain obscured his vision, his focus never wavered. Memories swirled, bringing with them every heavy emotion they carried. He removed the oaken mallet from his belt, slowly beating it against the drum. A soft noise that matched the rain.

He recalled the sparse details Viola had shared of her captivity, their conversation only days ago about the toil that had taken. A life left tormented and altered by darkness. Eventually, second-hand accounts gave way to vivid memories. Every detail permanently etched into his mind; was reflected in the mask’s eyes. The vibrant green of his eyes soon darkened as they reflected the hollowness of the mask's eyes. His wounds, both old and fresh, tore open as he revisited every dark moment witnessed and relaid to him. A steady rhythm grew, one that matched the beating of his heart.

Ophelia: found alive, but with memories lost, bonds broken and forgotten as if they meant nothing. Menzai’s request: not to rekindle those memories. His agreement: a continued lie for Phia’s safety. A bitter sting built within his gut. The unfairness of a brief glimpse of hope, that he might have regained a fraction of what he’d lost, only to have it snatched away. The tempo of the drum quickened, its intensity growing as he shared his pain with a suspended wooden vessel. He delved deeper into the past.

His brother’s final moments, pain shone through Florian’s eyes, and then they were vacant. His death, a public spectacle. His life, extinguished. All without a care for the brave and kind man his brother was. The tempo of his heart quickened until it matched the drum, a quick and frantic pace. Rage exploded forth and every wound was made as fresh as the day it was inflicted. Such public executions continued to happen, a testament to how little The Tyrant cared for life.

A deep guttural tone erupted from him, it echoed off surrounding trees, filling the forest around him, as loud as thunder. This was not a quiet meditation; for rage was not a soft prayer but a furious bellow. To utter it in its purest form caused pain. From his depths, Cyrus exhaled all of his pain. His words were shouted and growled in an ancient Fae tongue. A song of rage, grief, and hatred flowed from him and into the mask. The eyes of the mask were hollow things, unfillable and unflinching no matter what was poured into them.

Screams that sounded of desperation. More life fading from the eyes of those he loved. The smell of blood, sharp and metallic. How it felt, to be a child, and to be left alone and without hope. To have been blessed with such a large family, to have been cursed to see so many of them slaughtered. Hatred quickly flooded him as the drumming reached its crescendo and everything in him burned with it.

His violent song had persisted long after his throat had grown raw and raspy. It stopped when only one memory remained, one that left a warm ache in his heart. The final moments of Ceder and Elyna: a selfless act of bravery, as they died for their children. Cyrus held tight to this memory, he would carry their legacy forward, and save all his rage for those who cause his pain. The beating of the drum began to slow, as did his heart. The transference was completed, and the catharsis was obtained, for now. But it never stayed; every time he poured out this sea of grief, the maelstrom always returned.

Slowly the rain washed him clean of sweat and tears, and he lingered in it. He lowered the mallet, closed his eyes, and angled his head towards the sky and the gentle rain. Cyrus stood in silence, save for his shallow, ragged breaths. When he opened his eyes again, they matched the vibrant green of a forest, his heart beat a calm rhythm, and his breath came easily.

He buried the makeshift stand and planted an acorn from a mighty oak. A tree most fitting of Florian Millinia, brave protector of his people, in the hope that it would bring protection to this spot, rather than leave it haunted by hateful memories. He fed the seed his magic and watched it sprout and reach toward the heavens. He whispered a soft prayer to Xylia, She of the Spring, to offer this tree her grace. He knelt beneath it, one hand placed upon the oak’s trunk and his bowed in silent conversation with the otherside. Finally, Cyrus asked his brother to bestow upon him even just a fraction of his strength.

The mask once again hung from his belt as he held the shield above his head, keeping the rain away from the zemak joint that now dangled from his lips. The smell of its smoke, warm and calming, filled each breath. He walked back to the village accompanied by the soothing sound of rain beating against the drum. Rain still clung to him, mud still grappled with his boots, but his steps were lighter.

TL; DR option

Cyrus does a ritual deep in the forest at dawn, placing all of his anger and grief into his mask for later use.

---

Time: Morning
Location: Gaurav Village
Interactions: Phia@princess, Darius@FunnyGuy, Dante@Alivefalling, Menzai@samreaper
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

Cyrus returned to the village only a little late for breakfast. His hair and clothing were still soaked from the rain and his pants were splattered with mud that also caked thick around his boot. He smelled of rain and forest with the sharp scent of zemak clinging to him, strongest of all. His time in Gaurav village had been filled with tension, misplaced bottled anger at Menzai for a situation out of the wolf’s control. An ever-following unease at building tension of those around him, the looming danger. Now his calm demeanor was restored, and all that bottled wrath dangled from his belt. Its hollow eyes kept watch, lying in wait for a time when it could be set free.

He ate quietly, barely listening to the ambient conversation as a warm meal easied the chill of rain away. His attention was caught only by the sound of Phia banging a spoon against the table. As she announced her idea, Cyrus slowly shook his head, but to his surprise, Menzai voiced his agreement. Far too exhausted to argue, he only turned his head to Menzai and spoke in a tone empty of emotion. “If I or any of my family are recognized, things will become very dangerous for us.” Then he looked at Phia, whose joy was an infectious thing, and offered a faint smile. “We must be very cautious who we share those fliers with. But I would like to buy you all a Riverfruit Slush.”

InCheck - Descendants of Time (reboot)

and three years later...is there any interest?

@Emma

Are you reincarnating this rp?

Interested.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: Edge of Lover’s Lake-Roman Ceremony
Interactions: City Guards, Ana@princess, Ari@Tpartywithzombi
Mentions: Munir@Infinite Cosmos

---

"Yeah! And take off your boots!"

Callum was surprised to hear Ari’s voice behind him. There were very few people he did expect to have his back and it was a pleasant surprise to find that number grow. He finished his speech and turned around grinning at Ariella. Before he had a chance to say anything else, Munir spoke up as well.

"And I, Prince Munir Ibn Raif al Kadir,”

Callum’s head swiveled in Munir’s direction, he wasn’t expecting support from a Prince of Alidasht either, but he was thankful for it. Yes, not only have they offended the Varians, but a royal from Alidasht too. Gods, even Lorenzo had only managed to piss off one set of guests at a time.

“...Take your leave this instant and I will have words with your commanding officer after the dust has settled from you trampling this sacred ground." Cal gave a grateful nod to Munir.

"Go on and get, guards! We're too high for your shit!"

What was Ana doing? Where had she even come from? He had only a look of confusion for his sister. Unsure if this was an attempt to help or to make this all look like some drug-induced ramble. It wouldn’t be the first time today one of his siblings moved to sabotage his plans. “Ana,” He whispered through gritted teeth. “Someone has crossed a line, I won’t let this get swept under the rug. We need to expose who's responsible for this.” Right here, right now, Callum would see whether or not he could truly trust Ana.

“As the lady said, remove your boots, for the ground you now tread has been made sacred tonight.” He took a step back so that he and Ari stood side by side. “And leave them here as an offering for the offended spirits. The collective ancestral spirits of Varian, of Alidasht, of Caesonia, and the entirety of the Danrose line.” His performance continued, the support of those around him only emboldening him further. “Now, give me the name I’ve asked for.” He said it like an order.