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So one more post from Atomic then you can spin us up into round 2?
The prince has no reason to address brazen ladies who plant their face in his royal personal space! -grumble-
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FamishedPants
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BERSERK LIVES
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2 yrs ago
1 year later... Still in denial. Also trying to set up a discord server.
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3 yrs ago
Still in denial about Berserk. Also RL made me busy.
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3 yrs ago
"Insert witty quote here"
3 yrs ago
If there is anyone out there... could you please tweak the RNG of the world?
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I run on GMT+1 Schedule.
And coffee.
And coffee.
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The prince has no reason to address brazen ladies who plant their face in his royal personal space! -grumble-
The streets of the city were bustling as ever, come hell or high rain. It was a pitiful instinct, a misguided attempt at survival. Humans flocked to cities and tall walls made in eras whose knowledge had been struck from all of their books. Humans wanted hope, they wanted safety, and like moths to a flame, they would gather here, at Southhaven. The city would never cease to be bustling, not even when a calamity borne of the skies, an once myth made flesh, a dragon, was dangling its threats over the rest of creation.
But for what reason? A beast knew of no glory. No fortune. Had not the cravings for human flesh, or else they would have sacrificed more maidens to placate his anger. Some sort of spite? Perhaps. The mantled knight, clad in a worn coat ragged at the ends to preserve his incognito, flipped the shining coin to the bard. He had been there for a while, after paying the courier for his services upon being delivered the news. He had arrived earlier, for he had been born in the ruling family of Southaven, and knew shortcuts many people never suspected of. The heart wanted to escape his chest, and the thrumming of it hurt his eyes. He had never felt so angry before. Prim was one wild princess, but she had been her sister, and the one beloved sibling of his. Unlike Gerald, whom he usually met strong opposition, to the point that both their parents had to take measures in the situation.
No, it would not do to show an angry face. And so he decided to feel the cobblestones beneath his feet for a short while. Hear the voices of people. Commoners, nobles, merchants and bards. The people... the word in the street so to speak. Unrest was certain, according to the bard who thankfully did not notice how High-birthed the knight talking before him was.
His eyes darted to the gates, where he had spotted the insufferable poise of Sir Patronus, whose prowess with the ram had been the tales of drunk knights. A couple of people with...unique attires had been shuffled inside the castle. That was his cue. For they looked outcasts, and whom other than the desperate and the madmen would take the insane edict of his father, the King? With somber strides he closed the distance, without announcing himself. He even made sure, when they decided to look at his face, to gesture them silence about his presence, as he passed in, the ragged incognito cloak hiding his features.
He did not wanted to start with the official paraphernalia, not just yet. Two folks from Fellmore, it semeed. One whose armor was vaguely familiar, but could not recall. Plus someone which, according to rumours, fitted the description of a mage-knight. Darvus thought to himself it could have been worse, as he waited patiently for his cue to identify himself or be addressed by the Castle retainers, or his Highness.
But for what reason? A beast knew of no glory. No fortune. Had not the cravings for human flesh, or else they would have sacrificed more maidens to placate his anger. Some sort of spite? Perhaps. The mantled knight, clad in a worn coat ragged at the ends to preserve his incognito, flipped the shining coin to the bard. He had been there for a while, after paying the courier for his services upon being delivered the news. He had arrived earlier, for he had been born in the ruling family of Southaven, and knew shortcuts many people never suspected of. The heart wanted to escape his chest, and the thrumming of it hurt his eyes. He had never felt so angry before. Prim was one wild princess, but she had been her sister, and the one beloved sibling of his. Unlike Gerald, whom he usually met strong opposition, to the point that both their parents had to take measures in the situation.
No, it would not do to show an angry face. And so he decided to feel the cobblestones beneath his feet for a short while. Hear the voices of people. Commoners, nobles, merchants and bards. The people... the word in the street so to speak. Unrest was certain, according to the bard who thankfully did not notice how High-birthed the knight talking before him was.
His eyes darted to the gates, where he had spotted the insufferable poise of Sir Patronus, whose prowess with the ram had been the tales of drunk knights. A couple of people with...unique attires had been shuffled inside the castle. That was his cue. For they looked outcasts, and whom other than the desperate and the madmen would take the insane edict of his father, the King? With somber strides he closed the distance, without announcing himself. He even made sure, when they decided to look at his face, to gesture them silence about his presence, as he passed in, the ragged incognito cloak hiding his features.
He did not wanted to start with the official paraphernalia, not just yet. Two folks from Fellmore, it semeed. One whose armor was vaguely familiar, but could not recall. Plus someone which, according to rumours, fitted the description of a mage-knight. Darvus thought to himself it could have been worse, as he waited patiently for his cue to identify himself or be addressed by the Castle retainers, or his Highness.
Diana frowned and bit her lip her. Never thought the vexation would continued. Abandoned to her fate by Lightbringer and losing her best summon in a contest against the cultists in what she thought it was her speciality. She felt weak and useless, her limbs and temper only staying put due to sheer pride and refusal to stand down. She stood in place, despite Michael saying so.
"THey will be used as spell components. We all be if we don't stop them here and now. Or turn them into other creatures as we speak. We could run and save our lives, true... but people have fought here valiantly, and now they're attacked at their weakest. Even for someone like me, some lines shan't be crossed." Diana gritted her teeth. So what if he had Ulf. "Open a escape route if you must, but I will stay by these people and win time." She paused.
"Initially people did not have gifts, Michael. We relied on these kinds of arts to keep the Adversary at bay." Diana said, as she cut her hand with an scalpel. A sacrifice of blood was a very minimum.Allfather, Lord of Thunder, King of the Skies, if you exist, any of you, I could use some help. She thought to herself as she spotted one of the trauma response machines, the defibrillator. The closest thing to a miracle made of lightning to revive people. Also a device with a lot of energy. Without thinking twice, she energized the pads, and pressed the bloody hand against them.
It hurt, a lot, and even the searing of charring and flesh could be felt, as Diana's barely functional body struggled against the electrical spasms the machine was giving. She was bumped backwards, a jolt finally ending. In her hand a coalesced lightning bolt. The spell had been a success. A sword of lightning. Probably not the most powerful of ritual magics, but anything would work now.
"I am the sword in the darkness.!" She recited an ancient pledge.
"I am the watcher on the walls.!" A tentative swing of the humble spell, that seemed to be about to fizz out, as if embers in a storm.
"I am the fire that burns against the cold! the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.!"
She began to walk, sword at the ready, her frazzled hair waving alongside, with little more than her underwear and the tatters she was in.
"And you shall not find me wanting, Thrall of Demons" She added in a hiss, as she began to swing her blade at the nearest undead.
I don't mind. Darvus won't get a letter as he is within yelling distance.
Why do i feel Darvus is evaluated as meal ticket?
And yes he is single.
And yes he is single.
As an aside, anyone willing to discuss previous relationships with other characters?
@Thinslayer mentioned i could gun for this one.
Prince Darvus David Dragan
- Birth date - 7/17/3132, raven hair, blue eyes, fair skin, human
- Possessions: Blessed full Plate, Masterwork kite shield, masterwork sword, cavalry lance, crossbow, mace, dagger (He carries most of them in his horse) a prince's share of gold, a diary, his prized black mare, and his royal signet ring. He doesn't own any territory yet.
- Relationships: Darvus is the second son of the current reigning king. This makes him the princess' brother, the king's son.
- Skills & Abilities: Darvus has received the very best of educations even since birth. Not being the direct heir, he was trained to be a shield of the kingdom and his own brother, the king to be. He is a sure bet in any battlefield, with his skill in any knightly weapon, including the crossbow. However, he doesn't see himself talented at all, always doubting himself and with a nearly permanent inferiority complex. So he thinks, he thinks how to beat his opponents throughoutly and has learned a wide variety of fields as a result. The quintessential jack of trades, Darvus does know healing, assasination techniques, leadership, logistics, trapmaking... the list goes on forever. He even has tried his hand at magic, but he hasn't found the right master. There is one constant in his varied attempts, however: Under pressure, he maintains his cool rather well.
- Blurb: Highly skilled second prince who doesn't think he's that skilled at all, and excels in outside the box tactics. His sister was also kidnapped less than a month before his 18th birthday.
@Thinslayer Hi.
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