FunnyGuy

✨Beyond The Veil✨

^{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Location: Elodie’s Apartment above the Honey & Hemlock • Time: Dusk

Interactions: N/A • Mentions: @Tae Elodie, @princess Angel

^{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Drones…

Brown irises peered through an apartment window, much too cozy for the man they belonged to. Looking down at the ever-shifting bodies below was something that always calmed the mind of Sean Stone whenever he was left waiting for something. At the moment, two things were keeping him seated at the small round table beside the window, but the strangers that roamed the sidewalks or stood waiting on the corners of the busy intersection pulled his mind away from such matters he couldn’t expedite.

The first was Elodie, whom he could faintly hear in the other room, either walking to and from her closet or fussing about something not being quite right. All she had to do was pick out an outfit to wear to the Velvet Bite. For Sean, visiting the club was not just a matter of entertainment or satisfying vices. It was a prime location for his kind of business, a place where all the monsters of Halcyon mingled, most without a care in the world about what occurred outside its doors. Sean had no need for those types. The few… The few who sought to trade information and broker deals were opportunities to be had.

The second matter was simply receiving a callback from one of his contacts, Griggs, a half-reliable weasel doling out jobs that weren’t always what they seemed. However, dealing with Griggs was sometimes a lot better than relying on his gig-finding pistol holster. Letting the Fae-touched item lead him to work that needed to be done wasn’t half, but he never knew what sorts of clients he’d wound up meeting.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Sean grabbed his phone, vibrating on the surface of the table beside his warm mug of coffee but shot a glance toward Elodie’s bedroom door. You let Griggs beat you.

“Griggs,” Sean answered the phone flatly

“Oi, Hollow! Saw the missed calls. Thought you were one of me missus. ‘Pologies, really. Lookin’ for work?”
“Only reason I call. You mentioned you had something you were putting together, and if it’s ready, I’ll be willing to take it off your hands.”

“Well, ‘bout that… eh…”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. Who took the fucking job?” Despite the anger in his tone, his voice hadn’t raised much. He had no desire to interrupt Elodie’s thorough outfit selection process, and he just wasn’t the type to yell into the phone at person who was barely worth a damn.

“Oi, Hollow! Listen, listen, listen, I know what I said, but the tip came in outta fuckin’ nowhere, and then lo and behold, Sicily called and snatched it right up. I tried to tell her it was yours.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ya know me, Hollow. Can’t say no to a pretty face.” Sean took a sip of his coffee, creating an awkward silence between them. “Hollow? Ya there?”

“Yeah. If you don’t have anything to work with, I need two things from you. First, stop giving away my jobs to Blondie. Second, I need to know if the streets are hot or not before I step out.”

“No promises on the first, but I’ll pass ya grievance along to Sicily. She might’ve been a touch ambitious this time ‘round. Ya know how she is.” Griggs continued as all he received from Sean was an aggravated sigh. “Anyway, stuff’s starting to stir up from the rumblings I’ve been hearing. Just rumors, Hollow, but I’m thinking I’ll be lining up jobs ‘fore the sun comes up again.”

“And so will everyone else out there. Thanks for the heads up Griggs.”

“Huh? Oi! Hol-”

Sean ended the call and returned his phone to the table while taking another drink of his coffee. He made yet another glance at Elodie’s bedroom door and frowned.

She’s not going to like going out with Hollow tonight, but it’ll give chance to see a little of the other side of things. The uglier side.

With his mug in hand, he faced the window once again. Watching the drones would have to continue to keep him occupied for now.

…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…

Fucking Blondie

Okay, now back to the drones.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{Lorexander Deakena}

Time: 6 p.m.
Location: Entry Hall, The Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Alexander's suit and Lorenzo’s fit
Interaction:
Mention:

---

The entrance hall. Cold, quiet, and empty it was as the two men briskly stepped through its doors. Lorenzo was still leading Alexander who took a watchful look around for anything unusual upon entry.

“Here?” Alexander offered but he phrased it like a question. He felt almost bored about how easy it was to control this man.

“Here?!” Lorenzo questioned, whipping around to face Alexander who simply wore his signature grin.

“Yes… here,” he replied, tempering his frustration. Lorenzo narrowed his eyes and appeared as if he was thinking a little too hard about the placement.

“No!” he refused, taking a single step back. “Here!”

You fucking dolt! He took a step forward Lorenzo.

“Perfect. Now, what exactly is our issue, Duke Vikena?” Alexander wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible but unfortunately, Lorenzo wasn't of the same mind. In fact, he wanted to be as thorough as possible about this whole situation regarding Charlotte. Whether he’d actually accomplish what he wanted was truly up to him. This was Duke Lorenzo Vikena after all. He gave Alexander a good once over before adjusting his own posture, straightening up, and holding his head high.

“Don’t pretend to be foolish! You know exactly what this is about!”

“I… I don't, your grace… If it's about your shares with the Black Rose Trading Company, your hefty investment is more than secure, I assure you.” Alexander figured he could lighten the tension by changing the subject entirely to something he figured the Duke might be drawn to. A gamble but the slight glimmer in Lorenzo’s eyes brought forth optimism in his decision.

“Oh!” Lorenzo’s demeanor shifted sharply. “Hmm… let's discuss this matter quickly and then we can talk about you and Charlotte.” And just like that, Lorenzo was disarmed.

What about her? What did she tell him?

“As you wish, your grace. You see, the company has seen nothing but rapid growth since its humble beginning, all thanks to you. And even now, despite our main office relocating here to Sorian, Veirmont’s beautiful ports are still filled with vessels waving our flag. Lord Delronzo is quite grateful for your many contributions.”

“Oh… is he?” Lorenzo questioned, recalling the businessman being far too busy to arrange an official meeting with him in the past.

“Of course! We're even thinking of naming one of our vessels after you… The Lorenzo, just picture it.” He said as if there was magic in the words. Sure, it was a lie, but this was beginning to become rather fun for Alexander.

“Hmm… The Duke!” Lorenzo offered the name with weight in his voice.

Is he..? The Duke?

“The Duke! A perfect name! I like it. I will ensure we have one of our ships bearing that name… Now, is there anything else we need to discuss? Perhaps your medicinal shipments?” Alexander inquired which caused Lorenzo to raise a brow in suspicion.

“You know about my shipments?” Lorenzo questioned with a scrutinous glare. He didn't think Alexander would know something so personal, yet Alexander’s expression didn't waiver against his.

“Naturally, yes. We, The Black Rose Trading Company have to ensure we keep our investors happy, so we make sure any laudanum with your name on it gets priority. Even if the King were to declare it an illegal substance, we'd surely find a way to smuggle it over to your doorstep. Just for you, Lorenzo.” He shot the wink before walking over to comfortably lean his back against the wall, arms crossed.

“...Thank you.” He still didn't know how to feel about the invasion of privacy but having a reliable flow of his medicine seemed worth it for the time being. “Now… ehem… Now that we have gotten that out of the way… Lottie. Why did you reject her today? And don't you lie! Don’t. You. Lie.”

“I think…” Something imaginative seemed to click deep within the confines of Alexander’s mind. Something devious. “I think I know what you're referring to. How is she?”

“Terrible. Absolutely terrible! She came back home with her eyes low and barely able to sit down to listen to how my performance went at the theater! I'm sure you heard. I won the damned thing! No contest!” A potent aura of cockiness enveloped Lorenzo for but a moment. A moment that nearly made Alexander burst into laughter but he kept his composure as difficult as it was.

What is wrong with this man?

“And… what about now? Lottie. I she doing better? I believe I noticed her spea-”

“DON’T YOU!”

Lorenzo’s voice cracked as he nearly pounced on Alexander who jumped slightly from the sudden action. Lorenzo’s face was mere inches from Alexander’s now, his eyes fiercer than before

“Don't you dare say it, Deacon! Don’t you dare tell ME what you saw! Are you blind?! Do you not see that I am her father?! The only parent she has left…” And slowly Lorenzo’s tone began to weaken while his expression softened. “I saw everything she did tonight. I saw how she slowly crumbled away… She crumbled away and lost her self-worth while staring at her reflection in her wine glass… Do you want to know what else I saw, Deacon..? Hm?!” Alexander just kept quiet to avoid triggering the Duke any further. He figured if he refrained from talking too much, Lorenzo might run out of steam. Yet, this was Duke Lorenzo Vikena after all.

“What I saw was the moment my Lottie decided any man who could so much as breath… was worthy enough for her embrace.” Lorenzo huffed and looked down and away from Alexander in an attempt to calm himself. Perhaps if he didn't look at the man, he could return to civility. “And it's all because of you… isn't it?” his hands closed into fists, believing the worst of the entire situation. He felt a firm hand land on his shoulder but still, he refused to look at the man in front of him.

“Lorenzo, I’m sorry. Truly, I am…” He lied easily as he had waited for a moment like this to return. “...but I am not the man who wounded her heart. That dove is too precious. A rare soul that young woman is... In truth, Charlotte was in a similar state at the art gallery as well. One moment, she was wallowing in something deep. Drowning in it. The next, she was preening over me. She even attempted to kiss me…” Alexander felt Lorenzo quiver beneath his grasp. “...but it was our first outing together and in the public eye… you and I, we both know how such an intimate exchange would look… with a married man at that.” Lorenzo slowly but surely faced Alexander, his visage sad and pitiful as if he could shatter if he decided to simply squeeze his shoulder in comfort.

“I was only trying to protect her in my refusal but… I do wonder now, Lorenzo. Who could have hurt her… Twisted her mind in such a cruel and awful way?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lianna Deacon

Time: 5:30 p.m., before this evening's events
Location: Deacon Residence
Interaction: Benjamin
Mention:The Dove

---

Far from the lively, drama-filled banquet at the castle that would only serve to birth rumors and raise tension, Lianna was seated comfortably in front of the warmth of her fireplace. Her visage and intentions were juxtaposed to the dancing flames her gaze remained affixed to, dark and lacking any semblance of warmth. Her inability to see did not hinder her ability to lock eyes with the center of the fire with the waves of heat gently tempting her to blink.

Silent and hands rested comfortably in her lap, the wife of Alexander Deacon was patiently anticipating something. And so, she was left only with her thoughts.

Why did you let her take it so easily, my love? In exchange for this? And whose interest does it even serve? Marek’s? The familiar’s? Your own?

Lianna furrowed her brow and softly shook her head in an attempt to deny any ill feelings toward her husband's actions. She was not in favor of his plan, yet she felt obligated to play an essential part in it. Still, she could not help but wonder if he had his own ulterior motives. Motives that played against everyone on the board, including herself. She didn't think he'd dare to ever consider such a thing yet… he rid himself of the ring. It was a magical artifact that aided him in curbing his vampiric nature. It kept him sharp but with feeling. It retained that beautiful piece of humanity within him. It reminded her that he still loved her the way he always had.

The man who sat in the royal dining hall was just a monster with a charming smile and honeyed words. It wasn't merely a side of him or an alter ego. Right now, Alexander was the same man stripped of the parts, leaving only his ambition. A dangerous thing, like a silent garrote that was once an elegant violin string.

The sudden croaking of a raven outside the window pulled Lianna’s attention from the fireplace. Deliberately, she faced a looming figure standing beside her, a tall black-bearded man wearing an overcoat and tophat.

“Benjamin. It's time. We need to perform this quickly,” Lianna urged softly. Benjamin had been nothing but polite since his arrival and assisted her around the home without a hint of fuss. Just as there were those born to lead, there were those born to serve.

Benjamin wasted no time, walking up to the fireplace with Charlotte Vikena’s blue hair ribbon in his right hand, and a slip of paper with a drawing depicting the face of a despairing woman howling upward while clawing at her own face in his left. He tossed items into the flames.

“As you requested, m’lady,” He said, his tone plain and steady. Lianna gave an affirmative nod and took a breath before she began. This was not something foreign, nor was it something she feared. Whether it be gods or demons that bestowed such a gift to her, she dedicated its use for only one man.

“Lady Vikena. I would ask you to forgive me if this hits you harder than normal but… I do this with malice. Mentis Fractura!”

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Sean Stone

__________________________________________________________ Basic Information __________________________________________________________ • Name | Sean Stone • Nickname(s) | Hollow • Age | 30 • Gender | Male • Birthday | 3 October 1996 • Race | Human/Warden • Rank/Status | Field Warden, Mercenary Appearance __________________________________________________________ [+] • Height | 6ft • Build | Athletic, muscular • Eye Color | Brown • Hair Color & Style | Straight, short, brown • Skin Tone | Fair, slightly tanned • Notable Marks | Several rose tattoos along his neck, torso, and arms; a piercing in each earlobe • Typical Clothing Style | Cargo pants, muted colored shirts with matching shoes or boots • Aura/First Impression | Difficult to read. Mysterious, yet unnerving • Voice | somewhat deep, smooth, slightly airy Relationships __________________________________________________________ [+] • Openness to Friendship (1-5) | 2 • Openness to Romance (1-5) | 2 • Romantic Preferences | He doesn’t mind a fling, it’s not like he thinks he’s going to get hitched in this line of work • Current Romantic Interests | Insert • View on Forbidden Relationships | It’s better than being food or their puppet • Biggest Turn-ons | ✦Displays of competence or grace ✦Confidence ✦Independence ✦Reliability • Biggest Turn-offs | ✦Overdependence ✦Carelessness ✦Unpredictability ✦Lack of motivation • Known Acquaintances | Elodie Ashbourne, Locke Devlin, Angel Beaumont, (will update if anyone else is interested) • Known Enemies | None (will update if anyone is interested) • Known Family | Father - Sylas Stone (deceased)

Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Hobbies | ✦Weapon cleaning ✦Discovering new elements of Halcyon on foot ✦Cruising through the city ✦Conducting research ✦People watching • Likes | ✦Productive work ✦Coffee ✦Red Meat ✦A challenge ✦Studying his adversaries ✦A good joke here and there • Dislikes | ✦Not meeting his own standards ✦Wasting time ✦Bickering ✦Warden Internal Affairs ✦By-the-book Wardens • Fears | ✦Discovering which memory he lost ✦The Warden being right about the veil ✦For his wallet if he’s around Angel when she’s hungry • Habits | ✦Watching the “drones” drone about ✦Daily exercise ✦maintaining his weapons ✦Sometimes he pats his pistol holster for luck when seeking his next job opportunity ✦Poor sleep schedule • Vices | ✦Caffeine Addiction ✦Callousness ✦Shamelessness Core Motivation Sean only desires to perform what he's good at while making the best of life in Halcyon. He's accepted that anyone emotionally invested in this “war” is just taking the long path in realizing they've already lost the game. He'll live by his own terms, not guided by a code or empty loyalty. Personality Overview A Warden without a code or sense of duty is a dangerous element on the streets of Halcyon, and Sean knows this full and well. To be free in this way is something he values greatly. To most, he comes off as a bit of a mystery, as his motives seem to be too simple to be true. Wardens, Vampires, Lycans, Fae; one thing most could agree on was that, despite his weak motivations, he was highly driven and thoroughly precise in doing what needed to be done. When Sean set his attention on a task, he stuck to it and kept his word on its completion. Sean often pities the vengefulness of other Wardens, finding their feelings to be their self-constructed cage within this prison of a city. To him, such feelings were limiting and blinded one to the big picture. He knows there are some sick fucks in the ranks of each faction, and he's willing to put them down, but similarly, there are others that are simply trying to thrive in this ruthless steel neon-lit jungle of a habitat. Being unbound by a vendetta allows him to keep a level head in a fight with any foe, monster or otherwise. He doesn't mind being heartless at times for he knows he must be as the creatures of the night are relentless. Sean is not a fan of two things: bickering and wasting time on trivial matters. He would much rather give up on an argument than continue on, and is straightforward with most things. He's not the most open about all his methods, but is willing to share enough for those he works with to succeed. He tells people what he thinks they need to know, but only that. When he's not engaged in his work with or against the supernatural, Sean is cool and casual. He might jest a bit, but it's usually in the form of a sidebar comment or a backhanded compliment.

Background ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Current Occupation | Warden/Mercenary • Level of Schooling | Homeschooled • Socioeconomic Status | Corrupted • History Summary | For Sean Stone, becoming a Warden was not a matter of choice, but his birthright passed down by his father, his father’s father, along with a long-spanning lineage of men and women who fought tirelessly against the creatures preying upon the vulnerabilities of humanity. The Bastion was his second home, and those trained alongside him from childhood were his brothers. From a young age, Sean knew who he’d be and what he’d be for the city of Halcyon: a crusader of humanity and the last line of defense between the longstanding veil and the beasts that yearned to breach it someday. Sean promised that horrid day would never come, not through words or wish but through action. His training was intensive as his father ensured there was no room for his life to veer in any direction except for the path his forefathers laid in blood, sweat, and duty. As a young man, Sean filed into the Warden ranks, from Recruit to Field Warden. He operated as cold as the steel he carried and performed with noteworthy precision, yet curiosity was his devil. More knowledge granted his mind a wider berth of ideas and tactics used to exploit his adversaries. Still a cog in the system, but one that spun at its own unique pace, one that had questions that should never be asked. It was the strong that let faith lead them against heretical ideas and challenging questions, after all. It’s what his father did, and it was also what got him killed in the line of duty. He died a proud Warden who never faltered, so that was the path Sean chose to take. In commemoration of his father, Sean invested in getting a tattoo of a rose on the left side of his chest. The first of several he would mark upon his body. A temporary shield… How long would this war against the dark last? The unnatural wiped out forever… What did complete eradication look like? One day, Halcyon itself must burn… Can we even trust the Fae concerning the veil? A necessary evil to contain the nightmare… Why does this feel…? The questions plagued him with each brother who fell in the line of duty. He stained his skin with each comrade he lost. He killed everything he was assigned to kill. Men, women, and children of the dark had no refuge when caught in his sights. And who was it all for? Them? The ones who walked around as if nothing was happening, absorbed in their weak ideals and fleeting desires… the weak? The ones who ignorantly welcomed and embraced the monsters with no knowledge of those who risked- Who wasted their lives attempting to fulfill an oath… a dream… A temporary shield… Made permanent. The unnatural wiped out forever… Lofty. One day, Halcyon itself must burn… A day that will never come. A necessary evil to contain the nightmare… A necessary evil to contain the nightmare… A necessary evil to contain the nightmare… A lie Time, violence, and loss left the promising crusade jaded and vexed after the loss of his last childhood friend, who served in his squad. He thought he had been numb to this type of thing by this point, but it was the last one that hurt the most. Taking temporary leave of duty, which became more permanent with each passing day. Sean left with nothing but his pain of loss, vices, and, of course, his devil. With no desire to rejoin the Wardens and their empty duty, Sean, curious as he was, the man went looking for something to keep him busy. He just couldn’t see himself working amongst drones of society, and his skillset could be put to use. Unfortunately, the searching was the difficult part. Without reliable leads or useful contacts outside the Wardens, Sean found himself lost moving through the streets of Halcyon. As he wandered as a stranger to the city that he should have considered his home, it came to life around him in ways he had never managed to notice before. There were moments when he felt as if he knew where he was going, despite not having a specific destination in mind. His desire for guidance was exactly what led the lost man to where he needed to be. Whether destiny or trickery, Sean found the large doors before him, and his devil encouraged him to step right through them and enter The Fated Thread. The Fae within the enchanted store was unlike others he had encountered previously. Korinna was her name. The two did not converse long before the deal was struck. It was odd how the two both knew what they wanted. "...to find your future, you must surrender your past…” Sean figured he could choose something ingrained in him, something he could never forget, no matter how powerful this Fae seemed; she couldn’t just take someone from his past. Who was it? He couldn’t recall. How much did they mean to him? He couldn’t feel it. It was almost as if they had never existed, to begin with. What was it? What was missing? The love, the laughs, the joy, the years… all of it gone in mere seconds. All for a leather pistol holster that softly pulled him in the right direction to someone who needed work or required firepower. Vampires, Lycans, Fae… the client didn’t matter because, to him, it was the same old shit he was doing for the Wardens with a little extra on top. The crusader for humanity turned mercenary for his interests. Extortion, assassination, debt collection, strong-arming, sabotage, bribery, the list goes on. To Sean, Halcyon, the city beneath the veil, was nothing but a cruel game created by the Fae, and he was choosing to play on his terms. There was no end to this war waged in the darkness. There was only blood, profit, and power, and Sean found a comfortable place amongst it all. Living in a duality between his work with the Wardens and the other factions wasn’t easy, but he accomplished it using the moniker “Hollow” while operating ‘independently.’ Things for Sean had been going as smoothly as they could be. He’s acquired clients, a reputation, and some unlikely acquaintances in his new line of work. Sometimes it’s ugly, but what he had been trained to do since childhood was never not ugly. However, recently, he somehow managed to pick up a stray in the form of a woman unwillingly turned into a vampire. Normally, he wouldn’t get himself involved in such cases, but he can’t help but feel responsible for what happened to her. He chose this life… she did not.

Race-Specific Questions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Race Info ▸ Wardens ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Enhancement Use (if any) | Resorts to using Nightshade-X when under pressure • Preferred Weapons | Firearms but will alter his loadout using Warden standard-issued weapons • Willingness to Break Warden Code | Only applies amongst other Wardens • Views on Fae | Tricky bastards. I just treat them like con artists, except that seamstress lady. • Views on Vampires | Most of them are pale, uppity, and power-hungry. That changes real fast when you give them a taste of mortality • Views on Lycans | Surprisingly organized, sure, but no matter how self-disciplined they believe they are, their emotions rule them. That is something I capitalize on Miscellaneous ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Theme Song | Minus Sixty One or Dream is Collapsing • Favorite Food | Medium Rare Steak • Favorite Animal(s) | Lycans • Favorite Music Genre | Something to get the heart thumping • Favorite Haunt | The Honey & Hemlock Cafe, The Velvet Bite • Signature Weapon | M70 Rifle (w/ suppressor) • Preferred Vices | Caffeine and bums cigs if he’s feeling too antsy, but any source of nicotine will do • Pet Peeve | Don’t waste his time • Guilty Pleasure | He likes being praised or complimented

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Miris

Race: Changeling
Class: Part-Time Fighter
Location: Upper Viewing Lounge, Airship to Khorvaire
Interactions: Mentions: Menzai, Arya, Bastion, Gears, @samreaper, @Oso, @potter

Equipment:

Equipment

⋆ Lots of Clothes
⋆ Arming sword
⋆ Battle-axe
⋆ Mace
⋆ Daggers
⋆ Bow & Arrows
⋆ Shortsword
⋆ Leather Armor
⋆ Half-plate Armor
⋆ Hide Armor
⋆ Toolkit
⋆ Camping Equipment
⋆ Locked chest filled with old trinkets that ARE NOT FOR SALE
⋆ Magnifying glass
⋆ Diary
⋆ Sketchbook
⋆ Pencils
⋆ Dried and Cured Meats
⋆ Nuts
⋆ Second Locked Chest with self-care products
⋆ Bag of holding

Attire: beige trousers, brown tunic, and worn brown boots
Gold Balance: 3 (on hand)
Injuries: None currently
Current Persona: Wendel

---

“It’ll do for now. This is the kind of situation it was forged for, after all.” Wendel had said to Menzai while giving the weapon a quick once-over as he returned to his feet. His folly had garnered some suspicion on whether or not Malik's weapon was enchanted, or worse, cursed but Menzai's skillful display made the dwarf second guess that notion.

What was that pull, then? He wished he could note it in the journal for the other personas but now was not the time. His gaze lifted toward his foes as felt the warmth of his own blood trickle from his nostrils. Everyone around him had been successful so far, which was a good sign they were beginning to gain control of the situation.

Five remaining and five of-

Gears unexpectedly sprung into action, dowsing one of the assassins in alcohol before setting him ablaze. The sickly stench immediately hit him, but he hadn't so much as flinched. He couldn't cheer or wince. He couldn't wipe the blood from his face or ask Menzai about his injuries. He couldn't keep the enemy in his sight.

For it was now the best time for the enemy to strike!

In retaliation, the hooded figures darted toward their opposition, taking advantage of any sliver of complacency among the group of would-be heroes.

Not this time.

There was no tingle, no tug on his being. As stubborn as an old mountain, he maintained his stance. His grip was absolute, and might as well have been welded to the hilt of his sword. His eyes were sharp as the weapon's blade, anticipating the movement of the one advancing to offer him death. With a frigid visage and blood hot as molten metal, Wendel swiftly shifted his body from the attacker's blade, rejecting his offering as it was not his to receive. He stuck down on the hooded figure’s blade, guiding its trajectory further from its intended target while ensuring he would strike true.

A low guttural grunt accompanied the quick rising swing that removed head from body. Wendel could only assume the decapitated body slumped rather miserably while the head rolled several feet from him. His mind was occupied and his body was too tense to become distracted by a corpse. The old dwarf was primed and ready to strike his next foe.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{Lorexander Deakena}

Time: 6 p.m.
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Alexander's suit and Lorenzo’s fit
Interaction: Wulfric Danrose, Alibeth Danrose, Edin Danrose, Mina Blackwood, Roman Ravenwood, Violet Damien, Calberto Damien, Sebastian Blackwood
Mention: Fritz, Olivia, Ariella, Hala, Kazumin, Kier, Cassius, Every young Varian woman, Sjan-dehk

---

Lorenzo marched forth on a warpath toward Alexander's seat, narrowing his focus only on the man who had caused such turmoil. It was only mere moments ago that he sat comfortably in his seat at the ‘head’ of the table. Compared to other occasions, this one was nigh to perfection. All the food he could eat. He had beans, greens, potatoes, tomatoes… you name it. Around him were the faces of those he enjoyed being around. Even Fritz stopped by to give him a warm greeting. He hadn't brought Kier, which he regretted but it kept unwanted eyes off him. Everything was good. It was good. Good!

No. There was nothing good about this evening if he had to watch Charlotte shrink in her seat while mulling about being rejected. There was nothing good at all about this!

Sure he has a wife. Sure he does! But Lottie is good enough! She can make a man doubt his love for another. She can make them become lost in their thoughts just thinking about her! She’s smart and talented! She stays out of trouble. Never mean or nasty. Never! No, she is sweet to everyone and minds her manners! Her cooking needs work but we have servants for that. For crying out loud she is the Duke of Veirmont’s daughter… Both Dukes of Veirmont! This will not do. I must speak to this man after this feast is done. Yes, I will talk to Alexander Deacon about reconsidering his decision… No, I will make him regret his decision! Yes!

Lorenzo nodded to himself before glancing up at Charlotte, who was seemingly flirting with… he couldn't recall Sjan-dehk’s name, but he knew his face after seeing it a few times. For a moment, she appeared happy but… No… this is… No , no, no… It's not that bad. Lottie is a friendly young woman and perhaps she knows him better than I do. Yes. Hmmmm. There was too much touching between them.

Lorenzo unintentionally wrinkled his nose before looking down at his plate questioning if Lottie had begun her plummet from grace. He trusted her but he knew emotions ran wild in young women during courting season. New love, heartbreak, lovesickness. They were exposed to it all during these trying times. He had to trust her, just as he always had.

Quietly taking a deep breath, Lorenzo raised his head to find Charlotte gone from her seat, her arms now wrapped around another man. Count Fritz Hendrix. If Lorenzo had food in his mouth, he might have choked with how hard he gulped. He briefly looked up at Fritz, horrified before looking back down at his plate. He noticed his hands were trembling now, as he imagined fear became a reality. No… No, no, no. He denied what he was seeing. He'd deny as hard as he could. Perhaps if he waited a minute, she'd be back in her seat as if nothing occurred.

The gods were not pleasant this evening.

"I'm always so happy to see you, Kazumin."

“Ka-” He caught himself but his head shot back up, hoping he mistook who she addressed.

KAZUMIN?! That horrified look on his face. He was screaming inside. He couldn't help but shake his head but not a word would leave his lips. Charlotte, his beloved Lottie had seemingly thrown away any self-worth she had. She had become like one of them.

Rejection was a powerful thing. It could shatter your perspective of your dignity. Three men in minutes. Perhaps even seconds apart. He watched her as she eyed her seat, silently wishing she would return to it.

Lust. It moved her now. How could he expect her to simply stop at three? His eyes caught sight of someone else. He knew this young man quite well. Calbert's son and also quite the fun drinking buddy at the Tipsy Tavern. Cassius. He was aware the two might have some kind of friendship despite the ire between himself and Calbert. There was a short pause of consideration from her before she headed in Cassius’ direction. She thought about it! This is what Charlotte desired now. The comfort of multiple men without regard for her reputation.

“Why?” It came out as just a small whisper. Now he was the one shrinking in his seat.

She hugged him as well, and though he imagined his heart to become still from this repeated action, to be powerless and forfeiting, his heart throbbed with intense vigor. Charlotte had moved quite far down the table, enabling one man to enter the scope of his line of sight. The one man who had started this and ruined his beloved Lottie. And there he was, smiling and enjoying himself in the company of the royal family.

Lorenzo would not wait another goddamned second.

“ALEXANDER DEACON!” He roared without care for how inappropriate it was to yell while everyone was enjoying their meals. Nothing was going to stop him with everything he had just witnessed.

What now? Alexander turned to see the Duke marching over, displeasure visibly on his face. He hadn't expected to deal with Duke Lorenzo. In fact, he had made sure and well that he'd never have a reason to speak to the man. Now, of all times, couldn't have been any worse. Queen Alibeth had risen from her seat, returning Cassius’ threat with one of her own; King Edin kept leaning across his table, whispering to him with gawdawful breath; Wulfric was being as pleasant as ever; Roman was handing Violet a shovel; and Violet buried him in a teary-eyed funeral.

Things hadn't exactly calmed down but he could at least go on knowing he made an attempt to diffuse the situation. Did it matter to him if it was successful? Of course not, Alexander felt he could wipe his hands clean while all the others pointed knives at one another… Almost all of the others.

There was Wulfric, still pointing that sword of his in his direction. It was quite goading but Alexander knew better than to cross too far across the line with the prince. So to Wulfric’s comment, he simply said softly with a challenging raise of his eyebrow, “Of course not, your mother told me otherwise, remember?” For the first time tonight, he showed Wulfric his true face, knowing Lorenzo was just a second away from disturbing the surrounding chaos with his own personal storm of ridiculousness. He looked at the prince indignantly, as if he was wet shit-stained filth left at his doorstep. Calling it a sneer would be an understatement.

“With all due respect, Queen Alibeth… No! This problem is-”

“Duke Vikena, we have no need of your intervention. Please return to your seat,”

Lorenzo’s head whipped toward Wulfric with an intense glare in his eyes.

“Did I address you, young man?! I have no need for your intervention! I, the Duke of Veirmont, need to have a word or two with Alexander Deacon, regarding my daughter. I do not wish for Charlotte to become like one of these young Varian girls with no self-worth!” He made a glance at Mina Blackwood, not caring how she felt. “I don't need or want to speak to you, Prince Wulfric and I don't need or want you to speak to me. So please,” Despite his sudden outburst, Lorenzos was far from his goofy self.

Juxtaposed to his demeanor was Alexander facing forward with a pleasant smile. Surprisingly, he was content with his eyes on Roman. The man had surprisingly impressed him tonight with cold ruthlessness. He had done more than just broken Violet's heart. He tore into it for all to see with a quaint smile on his face.

A part of him wished he could comfort her during such a vulnerable time but her body language told him she did not desire his touch. Taking this wonderful opportunity to take a short break from chaos, Alexander decided he would go along with whatever Lorenzo had in mind.

“Duke Lorenzo Vikena, a pleasure.” He slightly turned to look up at the seething visage of Charlotte's stepfather.

“We need to talk. Now!”

“Of course, of course. Lead the way, Duke Vikena,” he said coolly while rising from his seat. “Excuse me, this shouldn't take long. Oh and don't miss me too much, Your Majesty. My heart only yearns for the love of a woman after all. Toodle-loo.” He winked before following Lorenzo down the aisle passing seat after seat with his clasped behind his back.

He couldn't help but notice how vulnerable Lorenzo was at the moment. One wrong turn in whatever secluded location he chose and he could ensure Charlotte became Duchess early. Though, doing such a thing would likely go horribly wrong. As they passed by Charlotte in her seat Alexander exchanged eye contact with her with a much too pleasant grin on his face.

I wonder what could be troubling you tonight, Charlotte. I tried to warn you, little dove.

“You said this was about Charlotte, correct?” Lorenzo did not answer Alexander as he was more focuwere on searching for a suitable place. He looked toward the balcony.

“No, not there. It's already taken.”

Lorenzo frowned and started toward the door leading directly outside.

“I saw quite a few people go out there already. I think we should try the long hall we used when we entered. The doors will be shut behind us.” Alexander guided Lorenzo from the rear, who begrudgingly took his advice.

“To the hall!” Lorenzo demanded as if it was his idea in the first place.

“Of course,” he said, playfully conforming with Lorenzo.

The two walked through the double doors, disappearing into the entry hall. That is what it is.

Young Justice

&

Daphne stood in front of Viktor’s room and had been standing there for a good five minutes or so. She lifted her hand up to the door for the third time and knocked. The matching lavender gown and robe she was wearing contrasted to the disheveled braid that was hanging on for dear life. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face was puffy.

“Viktor…?” She said softly.
“I’m sorry I know it’s late….”
“Are you still awake?”

She struggled with the pillow and the comforter she was holding, readjusting them in her arms.
This was her last resort, she exhausted every other option. The sleeping pills Black Canary gave her weren’t working like they used to. She even tried Kassy’s tank, hoping that would do something.

Viktor opened his door wearing a black t-shirt and blue-checkered boxers while rubbing one of his eyes. There were no alarms blaring so he didn't bother pushing through his drowsiness. Messy hair and low eyelids was a rare look for Daphne to see.

“Daph…” He yawned before he craned his neck down to take a better look at her face. Crying? No… just tired. Very tired. Viktor noted. “Need something?”

“Do you mind if I come in for a sec?”
The lack of sleep made her behave very uncharacteristically. She didn’t wait for an answer and ducked under Viktor’s arm, entering his room. She took some uneasy steps forward, feeling out of place. What is she doing?

Viktor’s room was mainly grey and black. The desk area was the most decorated area of the room, if you would classify the items on the wall opposite of the desk as decorations. There were posters of Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman lining one of the walls. In between the desk and the closet was a small couch, probably used for reading.

Daphne had planned what to say, but she honestly hadn’t expected to get this far.
“So uhm I got you your shirt back…”
It was the t-shirt Viktor gave her when she woke up from her coma. She had been holding onto it for longer than she intended. She placed the neatly folded shirt on his desk.

“Thanks…” He wouldn't have minded if she just kept it with how long he's gone without it. Thinking the shirt was the only reason for Daphne’s late night visit, Viktor started toward his bed.

Come on just ask him, the worst thing he can say is no.
And if he says no you’re just going to have to go back and suffer by yourself

“Actually…….is it okay if I sleep here for the rest of the night?”
She winced like the question itself was painful. Her back was still facing Viktor so she forced herself to turn around. She started to undo what was left of her braid and finger combed through it. Her tired eyes surveyed an equally sleepy Viktor. It was strange to see him like this. It was less rigid, more like a regular teen.

“Um? What?” Viktor didn't really understand what Daphne was asking. “Are you kicking me out of my room or are we switching beds?” Viktor sighed as he could only imagine this being yet another sociocultural thing that was flying way over his head.

If she wasn’t so tired she would have died of embarrassment right about now.
Daphne flopped down on the small grey couch. She fluffed up her pillow and set it down on one end.
“No, I'm not kicking you out of your room. I can just sleep here.”
She made herself comfortable and prayed Viktor would just go back to bed. Hopefully this would work as well as the t-shirt did. If it didn't, someone was going to have to knock her out.

“Perfect.” Viktor said, trudging back to his door, shutting it quietly. He gave one good look at Daphne, which was just the best look he could give at the time, and flipped off the light. The room went pitch black before a dim red light softly illuminated the room from a wall-mounted lamp. “Helps me sleep sometimes… when it's not so easy.” Viktor nearly mumbled to her before lying in bed.

”Thanks Viktor”
Daphne pulled the comforter up to her chin and let out a deep sigh. She was exhausted.
Slowly but surely her breathing settled. The soft glow that was barely visible through her eyelashes faded into darkness.

When she opened her eyes again she flinched at the bright light. A feeling of hope swelled in her chest. Did she finally sleep till morning? That feeling immediately turned into dread when she looked up to find the source of the light. They were the greenhouse growing lights shining down on her from the ceiling.

No no no….please no…

It didn’t work.

Viktor’s room was slowly disappearing around her. The desk transformed into glass and expanded around everything she could still see. The mission souvenirs turned into potted plants.

This isn’t real Daphne, you know this. Wake up!

The familiar cramp was already starting to spread. It always started at her feet then slowly paralyzed her entire body. Daphne frantically pushed the comforter away. Both her feet were fused together, like the clump of an uprooted plant. The transformation was creeping upwards. She couldn’t call for help or move.

From the corner of her eye she could see the red wall light of Viktor’s room, breaking through the nightmare.

Focus Daphne…

She fought to move towards the glimmer of reality and eventually managed to fall off the couch. The edges of the greenhouse started to melt, peeling away to reveal Viktor’s room. The only thing that remained the same was her transformed lower body.

Daphne broke out in a cold sweat.

“Daph!” Viktor quickly scooped her off the floor, his eyes looking over at her legs hardened over by bark. He didn't appear as tired as previous, mostly due to hearing Daphne fall quite hard from the couch. “Relax, Daph. Tell me what I need to do.” He carried her away from the couch and to his bed, while cradling her in his arms.

Daphne took some shuddering breaths after Viktor set her down on the edge of his bed.
”Give me a minute….

Viktor’s presence made it slightly easier to regain her composure. She looked at him and she could tell he was also stressed.
”If I go to sleep like this it’s just going to keep moving upwards.”
She pulled the fabric of her nightgown up to her ankles.

“...” Viktor parted his lips to demand more information but stopped himself as he noticed she was much more relaxed than initially.

“I think…..”

“Can you separate them?”

“... I can.” He answered, trusting her way of remedying the situation. He placed his hands on her ankles before making eye contact with her and shook his head. “I have a better idea. It worked before.” Viktor released Daphne's ankles and instead, lied beside her and pulled her in close to him. “Remember La Hoya? Our first mission together. First it got really bad but then it calmed down. If you're cold, you won't be. If you're afraid, then just trust me. Relax, Daph.”

“I…I don’t..thi” Daphne stammered. Her face grew hot and she was sure Viktor could feel her cheeks burning a hole through his shirt.
“Viktor….” She quietly adjusted herself, as much as her bound feet and Viktor’s hold allowed at least. It was difficult to tell if the tremble in her body came from the night terrors or…..or that she was laying in Viktor’s bed…..with Viktor. All the while, Viktor seemed so comfortable with this.

She let the last thing he said repeat over and over in her mind.

Just trust him…

“Perhaps talking will help?” Viktor was just experimenting at this point because he could still feel her tenseness. “It might be a good distraction… Any topics in mind?”

Daphne definitely preferred the stress of being close to Viktor to that of her night terrors. Though this situation left her equally unable to think normally. It felt like her feet were loosening up ever so slightly, but maybe she was just imagining that.

“What was your favorite thing to do growing up?”

Great question Daph………

“I grew up in two very different places. So I'll give you two answers if that suffices… Before HIVE, I enjoyed baseball. My father and I used to go to the Gotham Knights games whenever he was in town long enough to do so. I also played Little League for a time before… HIVE.” Viktor took a deep breath to relax himself but it was this very action that truly made him aware of the non-existent space between Daphne and himself.

“While I was with HIVE, I think my favorite thing was to simply go out on missions. It didn't matter what it was as long as I had the opportunity to leave and put my skills to work. I had more freedom and typically one or two objectives to keep in mind. Very unlike here… but that's for the better, I think.” Viktor took another deep breath but this time there was no reason behind it, or that is what he made himself believe. In truth, he surprisingly liked this moment he was sharing with Daphne but couldn't place the reason just yet. “Daph… can I admit something?”

Daphne’s eyelids were starting to feel heavy. When Viktor talked she could feel the tremors from his deep voice exit his chest and reverberate through her. It lulled her into a sense of safety and she was longing for sleep. She wrapped one arm around Viktor, her hand resting somewhere on his back and closed her eyes.

“I missed this…” Viktor started as drowsiness crept in. It wouldn't be long until he fell asleep but he wanted to finish what he had to say before it was lost in him.

“I missed it, a lot. When I would come and just speak to you when you had been… in your deepest of slumbers. Our talks were one sided and you say you don't quite remember them but, I believed that you could at the time… It's selfish to want something like that from you and I wouldn't even know what to call that but this… This feels just like it.” He shook his head. “I can't force it... I wouldn't… So I just have to take this moment and… hold on to it.”

While tethering on the edge of sleep Viktor’s confession, pulled her back in. She blinked a few times, thinking about what his words meant. Daphne looked up at his face, the movement causing the tip of her nose to touch the light stubble on his chin. His eyes were open and he had a look on his face that was difficult to describe. There was a flutter in her chest and she lowered her gaze, smiling to herself.

Stop it Daphne

“I think I remember more than I know, sometimes I just need something to trigger it. Like I remember you telling me you missed the sandwiches I pack for everyone when we go on missions.” She managed to get a light scoff out of him.

“Another admission.” Viktor grinned ever so slightly

“You’ve done more for me than you realize.” She paused and took a nervous breath.

“So I don’t think you’re being selfish.”

“Hmm… Or maybe you're just too selfless… I don't mean that in a negative way but… I don't believe I’ve ever seen you take something you wanted for yourself… It's a pleasant thing but sometimes I wonder if too much is harmful. To give and never take. It makes you… strong? Yes. But… even steel can break and bend under the right pressure.” He shook his head again. “And I don't want that… Perhaps, the next decision we have to make, you can choose it. Just take the opp-”

Viktor was cut off mid sentence when Daphne planted an unexpected kiss on his lips. It was a strange sensation. His lips were warm and soft, not at all like the rest of him. Even though this wasn’t exactly how she imagined her first kiss to be, it gave her all the feelings she thought she would have and more.

She felt his mouth move against hers when he mumbled the last of what he wanted to say. She could guess he was just as surprised as she was, and she was spot on. Before Viktor could really kiss her back, that is if he had wanted to, Daphne pulled back and buried her face in his chest. She was smiling and blushing like an idiot. If she could she would have squealed and smacked herself in the face ten times. Mostly out of excitement but also disbelief.

“OMG Daphne what did you just do!!

She left him wide-eyed and surprised but it wasn't just her actions that caught him off guard… It was how he felt when she kissed him and how he felt even now. He furrowed his brows, attempting to understand what had occurred until the essence of something Cyborg had told him surfaced within his thoughts.

You're smart, sure, but you think too hard about the simple things, Vik. Enjoy the moment! Not everything's a mission.

“Daphne.” He said her name in full before he drew her face up gently with his hand. “Why’d you stop?” He asked rhetorically with an eyebrow raised before he surprisingly kissed her back. What he thought he wanted from what he had done was confirmed at that moment. Viktor had seen things like this in television shows and movies, often wondering what the magic was behind what he thought to be a simple gesture.

Daphne gasped in surprise and the sound was muffled by Viktor’s kiss. With him initiating this time, it felt much more intense and she began seeing stars. Shivers ran through her starting from the crown of her head all the way down to her feet. She closed her eyes and slowly her left foot popped up, just like in the movies. With how the two started out… who might have imagined?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{Lorexander Deakena}

Time: 6 p.m.
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Alexander's suit and Lorenzo’s fit
Interaction: Callum “Clarence” Danrose, Wulfric “Royal Highness 🙄” Danrose, Alibeth Danrose, Edin Danrose, Mina Blackwood, Roman Ravenwood, Cassius Vael, Violet Damien, Calberto Damien, Sebastian Blackwood
Mention:

---

Alexander had continued to take humble bites of his meal, only pausing when he was addressed by Callum first, who took him slightly off guard with how he presented Wulfric first, whose words were sharp as ever, lightly reprimanding him in front of the other guests. A small part of him warned against snapping back at the crowned prince but it was such a small thing.

Yet, still, he took a controlled breath through his nose, knowing full well that patience would enable him to soon reap from the harvest growing beneath the thick tension. Like weeds, something would inevitably burst through the surface. So instead of replying to Wulfric, he gave the prince a slight shrug accompanied with a feigned smile of innocence before returning his attention to his plate.

There was some pushback to what he had said, but even in his current state, he was aware of what effect volatile words would have. The effect was all that mattered to him. He would endure the slight nicks and prods only to crush Roman under the weight of his accusation. And then there was King Edin, eating it up like the slop he deserved.

His eyes met Roman’s before he could speak, his eyes daring him to say something, anything. He wanted to witness the man destroy his own reputation.

Go on. This is the closest you'll get to bleeding out on this fucking table.

And then Roman spoke, surprisingly bringing a rise to Alexander's eyebrows during a few moments as he spoke. Alexander couldn't fight off the slight smile of amusement that played on their face if he tried his damnedest. Roman might as well have been slitting his own throat with glee as he shamelessly explained away, slapping Violet almost playfully.

Sure, he aimed daggers at the sanctity of marriage and the commitment to his wife but Alexander found no true threat in his words. The true threat was in his composure. In his act.

Most would call you foolish but you are proving to me just how dangerous you are, Roman Ravenwood.

Then almost instinctively, Alexander turned his face slightly to the left. As if on cue, Calbert spoke up, his expression screaming over the words he attempted to temper. As anyone might have expected, and as Wulfric called out, Calbert let his ire seeth through his teeth. Alexander only wished he knew what the father truly desired to do to Roman.

Still, he remained quiet. There was one more person he anticipated speaking to. Her voice in the matter was paramount. She could save or bury him but it was already apparent that Roman wanted this. He dug the six-foot hole himself and laid in it. It was barely enjoyable. Roman didn't squirm or scream. He didn't thrash or flee.

Violet was next, speaking in a manner that surprised even him. That darker side of her was definitely at the forefront, yet she remained quite leveled compared to their previous interactions. Was this still the woman he spoke to in his home? It shouldn't have mattered but she left a new impression on him as she tore herself away from Roman, completely this time.

And now she's mine. He wanted to laugh. Clap even but the show was far from over.

If Calbert's metaphor about Lord Ravenwood standing in a house he set fire to, then Cassius was an oil barrel that conveniently rolled right into the abode. A factor Alexander hadn’t even given thought to yet it fit so snuggly into place… Perhaps “snuggly” isn't the proper term as Cassius slang insults aimed at the royal family and openly threatened Roman. The fire was beautiful but raged too wildly now.

“Alright!” Alexander cut in energetically as if the group had just finished a productive meeting. He slightly raised his hands, wearing the warmest of smiles while looking at all within the vicinity. “I believe this has gotten way out of hand and now I feel guilty for even bringing something so sensitive up in the public light in such a way.” Alexander turned and looked up at Cassius, fire still in the young man's eyes. “Cassius Damien, right?” He feigned innocent ignorance as he reached out to place a gentle hand on his arm. For a moment, he stared intensely into his eyes, subtly performing his vampiric charm.

“I believe you've had too much to drink and that you should take a breather and calm down, Cassius. Some people might take threats like that rather seriously.” Removing his hand, he returned facing forward, his eyes naturally on Roman seated across from him. “You were right, Your Majesty, and I apologize for potentially ruining the experience… for every one of you. Perhaps I do require that vigorous and thorough training voiced by His Majesty.”

His hand found Violet’s shoulder now, his expression softened. “Especially you, Violet. I apologize for betraying the trust we have built so far… and for my king…” He faced King Edin with a mischievous smirk. “I won't apologize to you, as you seemed to have enjoyed every second of this.” He shook his head incredulously. “You should really-”

“ALEXANDER DEACON!” Lorenzo roared from across the length of the table before standing up and marching their way.

What now?

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Miris

Race: Changeling
Class: Part-Time Fighter
Location: Upper Viewing Lounge, Airship to Khorvaire
Interactions: Mentions: Menzai, Arya, Bastion, Gears, @samreaper, @Tae, @Oso, @potter

Equipment:

Equipment

⋆ Lots of Clothes
⋆ Arming sword
⋆ Battle-axe
⋆ Mace
⋆ Daggers
⋆ Bow & Arrows
⋆ Shortsword
⋆ Leather Armor
⋆ Half-plate Armor
⋆ Hide Armor
⋆ Toolkit
⋆ Camping Equipment
⋆ Locked chest filled with old trinkets that ARE NOT FOR SALE
⋆ Magnifying glass
⋆ Diary
⋆ Sketchbook
⋆ Pencils
⋆ Dried and Cured Meats
⋆ Nuts
⋆ Second Locked Chest with self-care products
⋆ Bag of holding

Attire: beige trousers, brown tunic, and worn brown boots
Gold Balance: 3 (on hand)
Injuries: None currently
Current Persona: Wendel

---

As much as Wendel wanted to continue his discussion with the wolf shifter, as he had been swiftly informed, life decided to throw him a- Calling this a curveball would be an insulting understatement! The dwarf was in the middle of chewing his food when he heard a short and sharp screech rip through the light ambiance of the bar. The sickly sound was merely the introduction to the boom that violently struck the ears of passengers, only prejudiced against those with the keenest of senses.

The entire airship reverberated from the force of the sudden explosion that occurred far beneath the top deck, sending panic into the hearts of many.

Wendel had swiftly clenched his teeth and covered his ears with his hands, dropping his fork and knife in the process. The bits of eggs and sausage in his mouth were pulverized in one powerful chomp. Wincing slightly, the old dwarf nearly cursed the moment, already sure his time for breakfast was over.

“Not now. Not today,” he muttered under his breath. He turned slightly to what he assumed was the origin of the explosion, wondering if the airship could even keep itself in the sky after something of such magnitude. However, what kept him silent was his mind at work, trying to identify the cause. He had more than half a mind to make his way toward the heart of the wreckage but fate had something else in mind for our dear friend.

Accompanied by coiling serpentine smoke trails and an eerie unnatural fog, eight menacing figures arrived on the top deck. Wendel tried to identify the newcomers but his recollection was failing him. The colors they adorned were strikingly similar to Karnath’s but that was not an important detail to Wendel at the moment. He turned himself from the bar allowing his eyes to absorb every pertinent detail as he remained silent, the gears in his head turning rapidly.

Explosion.No, not simply that. Explosives.Explosives used to disable.Explosives used to produce as many casualties as possible or spread wide panic.To disorganize us.Then the additional troops.Well-equipped.Well-armed.Faceless masks to induce further panic.Next they seek to take hostages or-

Just then, Wendel witnessed a man lose his life in an attempt to run. To run absolutely nowhere on a ship in the sky. Watching the poor soul collapse lifelessly was hard to watch but Wendel needed to see it. He needed to know just how dire his circumstances had become. His eyes instinctively found the journal lying open on the bar counter, as if subtly requesting a lifeline from one of the others. He thought of Malik, Minerva, Skar, and Miris. They were better suited for combat than he was due to his age dulling the skill he once had. Too much of a gamble. Inducing a change was too random, and like it or not, he was better suited for this than the likes of Vrexen, Darius, Nessa, and Eleanor.

With a disagreeable huff, Wendel grabbed the journal and quickly used his pen to mark two “X”s under his entry before dropping the book and his pen into his satchel.

“Those who can't fight need to find shelter behind the bar or under tables!” Wendel's voice boomed with authority he hadn't yet displayed while aboard the airship. He hopped off of his stool and faced in the direction of the group of eight.

Now what? Was he supposed to run? Hide with the others? Fight?

No fighting… No making a butt out of yourself…

No drinking…

The dwarf narrowed his eyes, hating himself for even being conflicted about this. By Moradin’s beard! People were dying and all he could do was think.

Luckily for many passengers, where Wendel lacked initiative, others made up for it with theirs. Bastion moved first, reminding everyone the Warforged were made for. Following in tow was Arya, surprisingly springing immediately into action, firing her bow with deadly precision. And if Wendel needed any more reason to take a step forth to fight, a necromancer came floating onto the deck, dispatching an assassin using shards of bone.

“Normally, I wouldn't be relieved to see a necromancer, but today's full of so many surprises,” Wendel commented, digging into the satchel. He fished his hand inside it for a moment before his eyes gleamed upon feeling the smooth steel of exactly what he needed. With a tug, he removed a sheathed shortsword that was obviously too long to have been inside of it. “So many surprises,” He repeated, his eyes locked onto his newfound foes while he removed sheath from blade. After tucking the sheath away, the dwarf gripped Malik’s sword hilt.

It was a fitting match. Aged finely, reliable, and they could never escape the fact they were forged for combat.

He dashed forth in the path of two assassins, the hilt of his sword tight in his grip. Something innate within guided his movements, urging him to perform a deadly attack but there was something wrong about it. It was too fast. Too agile.

Whether Wendel was far from the dwarf he used to be or due to resistance against unfamiliar instincts, he swung half-heartedly. The sloppy and slow spinning sword swing was easily parried by one of the assassins while the other took the opportunity to perform a high side kick straight into Wendel's face still stunned by his failed attempt at an attack. The kick was enough power behind it to send him flyinbackwardds, making him land with a loud thud onto his back.

Now he was on the ground, face flushed red, yet still gripping the sword. Most would think of their folly and how they could have performed bett,er but as he picked himself up from the flo,or he could only feel shame. He only wished the kick had hurt enough to give him an escape from such a feeling.

Sorry Miris… Nessa… Malik… all of you.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6p.m.
Location: Castle Dining Room
Attire: Twinning Banquet Fit!
Interaction: Charlotte, Fritz
Mention: Olivia, Kazumin, Alexander

Lorenzo returned his seat back to its position after Fritz declined his offer to sit at his cozy corner of the banquet. Other than a shrug, Lorenzo hadn't shown any contempt toward the man’s decision.

“What if we arrange to have dinner together sometime?”

“Something a bit less… structured than this.”

“I vote Royal Curd- Wait, wait, wait! The Pudding Palace! I haven't had the opportunity to return to that fine establishment since my arrival in Sorian.” Lorenzo stared off with a bright smile, remembering how delicious their tapioca was a year ago.

After a moment of pause, Lorenzo returned to the food on his plate, allowing the youth to talk amongst themselves about drawings of bugs. Fireflies of all things. He barely listened, so he barely judged. A mention of Charlotte, however, piqued his interest.

“Speaking of, did something happen to Lady Charlotte? She seemed upset.”

“I think she might have had a sour outing with Alexander Deacon…” Lorenzo casually pointed his fork across the table and to the man mentioned. “If I were being honest, and you didn't hear this from me… I think he may have denied her in some form or fashion. Trust me, I know that look all too well, Count Fritz. Rejection…” Lorenzo sighed and shook his head. “It’ll pass and she-” Lorenzo cut himself off as Charlotte quickly returned to her seat.

“It’ll pass, Count Fritz,” He said with a sincere smile before letting his eyes settle on his stepdaughter. She has it bad… She’s looking at her reflection in her wine and likely thinking, ‘What is wrong with me?’ or ‘Am I not pretty enough?’ He took another glance at Alexander Deacon and frowned. He'd surely have words with him if he was the source of Charlotte's gloom.

“Lottie, would you prefer white, instead?” Lorenzo asked to break her from her trance.