Helo

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Dugmaghord - The Pit
Interactions: Random Orc
Mentions: Pâsh@Alivefalling, Slick @FunnyGuy, Rosaria @Potter, Aurora @Mole
Weapon: Glaive with Unbreaking and Returning Charms
Armor: Just the clothes on his back
Equipment: Lockpicking kit, a small knife, 4 large red potions (1 used in post), and a pouch of amas.

Purchases During Time Skip

-Cobalt Glaive -200 amas
-Charms; Returning and Unbreaking -200 amas and -600 amas
-Lockpicking Kit -70 amas? (idk how much this should be)
-Small Knife -6 amas
-4 Large Red Potions -6 amas each
Total deduction: -1,100 amas

---

Drip.

Drip.

The gash above the young catman’s head continued to drop blood into his eyes and even though it stung, amongst all the other pain in his body, it barely registered. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

No time to think, he dove away from the swing of the mighty war hammer.

Leaf on the Wind was swift on his feet, his energy often had few limitations, and he could outrun an orc, under normal circumstances, any day. Most orcs were slow, predictable, but ruthlessly brutal. It had only taken a couple of good hits from the orc to turn the feline into a bloody mess.

Several quick blinks tried in vain to clear the blood from his vision but his grip on the glaive remained tight. His tail flicked with anticipation as he caught the next movement of the orc that towered over him.

The orc swung the war hammer again with all his might.

Leaf’s ears pinned back and his mouth grinned in a way that showed his blood-coated teeth. Leaf ducked down, rolled forward towards the orc, missing the hammer, and he ended up parallel to the orc just to his left. The glaive that felt like a part of him shot forth, slashing through the back of the orc’s calf just above the foot. The trusty glaive slashed through flesh, the faint and satisfying sound of a pop reached Leaf’s ears, and a small bit of bone was flung loose as a tendon was snapped and severed.

More blood mixed with the sand. The orc’s blood. Leaf’s blood. All of it soaked into the sand as the sun beat down upon the two sparing warriors.

The orc let out a primal cry of pain and rage, that echoed through the pit and whipped the crowd into a frenzy as the spectators let out a deafening roar at the sight of more bloodshed.

The orc swung the injured leg and Leaf went to move but his glaive was now stuck firmly in orc flesh. The orc’s foot collided with his ribcage and Leaf heard and felt the cracking of several ribs as he was kicked to the side. His glaive remained within the orc.

The orc’s weight now rested mainly on his other leg, the injured leg toe-touching the ground, and the war hammer was briefly used as a cane to keep the large creature from falling over.

Leaf struggled back to his feet, knowing another hit from the orc and it was lights out for the catman. His ears were ringing so loud he couldn’t hear anything else, and blood continued to drop into his eyes making his already blurred vision even more useless.

Leaf had learned many things over the last few months. He’d learned that you couldn’t always trust what a pixie’s said and Aurora did not have some form of highly contagious blindness and was, without a doubt, the most genuine and kind creature he’d ever met. He’d learned that sometimes you really could trust orders from some folks and Rosaria wasn’t out here to use people up and toss them aside. He learned that men like Slick, who could lie as easy as breathing could make the most trustworthy of companions. The world was growing darker by the day but those with him here kept the light burning.

Most importantly to his current situation, he’d learned that when you fought an orc you didn’t even have to see them, cause you could always smell them clear as day. Especially in the desert.

The orc’s scent got stronger, the creature was against the light blow of wind. Leaf spun towards the wind and away from the orc, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the sand as he did so.

“Meliora!” He shouted the name he’d chosen for the glaive, his every breath already stung, the effort of shouting was almost enough to leave him doubled over but Leaf would not allow it. Not in the pit, not in front of the other orcs. He had to do better, had to be stronger.

Thhwwwaaapppp.The returning charm did its trick and the glaive ripped itself free from orc flesh with a wet sound and returned itself to Leaf’s outstretched hand. There was no cry from the orc, only angry grunts and snarls as it lumbered about.

Orcs were massive creatures, it was hard to miss the feel of heavy thumps their footsteps made against the sand of the pit. In a feat of pure strength, Leaf would never best one, even the smallest of orcs had fists like anvils.

So Leaf had to be better, had to use every advantage he had. They were going to war, people would be counting on him and he couldn’t let them down. If Pâsh could go out there and kill a hygora shrimp, and Leaf had damn well heard that story from just about every orc here, then Leaf could finish this fight and he had to do it quickly before the orc knocked him out.

Now Pâsh was scary, even without the added shrimp powers, and Leaf would rather chew off his own tail than disappoint the orc chieftain who he knew was bound to be watching the pit fights. Maybe that was all part of Leaf’s problem, when he was around an impressive figure he wanted to be impressive too, and the hard to please the harder Leaf tried.

He had to try harder. He had to win this one. He was so close he could taste the victory.

As the orc’s footsteps sent clumsy vibrations through the ground, Leaf’s feet dug into the sand, claws outstretched, weight shifting forwards. The massive blurry shape swung again, this time lifting the hammer upwards as the orc was forced to use it as both weapon and crutch. A swift jump out of reach, his feet slid against the sand. Then the glaive shot forwards, driving into the orc’s forearm as the orc swung the hammer back downwards again.

A guttural sound that was a mix of a warcry, shock, and pain, burst forth from the orc and broke through the ringing in Leaf’s ears. Leaf opened his mouth and emitted a similar sound, blood and spit spraying from his mouth as well. He ripped the glaive free.

More blood splattered the sand. The war hammer fell to the ground as well.

Leaf lept forward, the glaive now held between both hands with the staff hitting against the orc's throat. The big guy tumbled backward, hitting the ground with a loud thud with Leaf still atop him and the staff of the glaive still pressing down against the orc's throat.

Wide orc eyes stared up at him with fury, bulging almost out of their sockets, as the big guy struggled for air.

Some orcs would take the opportunity to kill the weaker, and straggle the air from enemy lungs. Some might also offer a swifter death, Leaf still had the glaive, in a quick second, he could burry the spear tip into the enemy's throat.

But the pits were not the war and Leaf was not an orc.

“Yield?” Leaf asked through gritted teeth. The orc whose color was darkening from the lack of oxygen sputtered a muffled reply. Leaf shifted his weight from the orc’s throat to better hear the reply only to find himself being knocked off the orc. The orc attempted to get back on his feet.

Leaf was knocked backward but true to his nature he landed atop his feet with feline grace, spun the glaive, and thrust it towards the orc and where his neck should be. The tip pressed against the orc’s flesh and Leaf held it there.

“Yield or die!” Leaf did not ask this time.

“Yield.” The defeated orc said before collapsing back into the sand with a sigh. Leaf let out a sigh of relief, and sunk down to the bloody sand. The adrenalin began to wane, and the pain of every hit took its place.

Four months of training with the fiercest race in Avalia. Several weeks of being constantly exhausted trying to keep up with them. Three months of being knocked out by orc fists in pit fights. Countless days earning respect for being able to take hit after hit and bounce back up again. Time and time again every pit fight he’d stepped into had ended in bloody defeat, only for him to try again as soon as he was able. Four months of him learning how to fight in ways he never had before. Today it paid off, today Leaf on the Wind was the victor. The roar of approval from the crowd made it even sweeter.

Large red potions were offered to the fighters after they had left the pits to make room for the next fight. With a bit of time the orc would be fine, his pride seemed to have taken the worst injury. As for Leaf, the potion headed up the gash to his head, his vision slowly cleared up, and the overall pain lessened a great deal. His ribs, his well just about everything, still hurt but he’d heal fine, and in time all trace of the beating would be gone. What he had now was well worth it, he’d beaten an orc, something didn’t think he could do four months ago, and that feeling wasn’t going anywhere.

His glaive was still held firmly in his hand because just like teeth and claws meant survival in the wilderness, his weapon meant survival both here and in war. He kept it close at all times, always ready, never forgetting the terrible sight he’d seen in the sky of demons and what they could do. They would not get him, they would not get his friends. Once he could move a bit more comfortably, he cleaned the orc blood from it and inspected his glaive for any sign of damage but the unbreaking charm kept it safe. After his glaive was tended to, Leaf cleaned the blood from his fur.

Now he could relax, Leaf looked forward to watching more pit fights, studying the way the more seasoned orc’s fought one another. The gurgle deep in his stomach, however, demanded lunch before he could truly relax and enjoy the day's festivities. He groaned with disappointment, getting lunch meant he had to move from where he sat, and right now moving sounded very unrelaxing.

Avalia

Time: Afternoon
Location: The Nest
Interactions:
Mentions: Cap’n Lizzie; The Oceanblessed and Goddess of the Seas
Equipment: A cutlass, 2 knives, 1 dagger, a spyglass, a wayfinder, a pouch of amas, and various jewelry.

---

“Any’un heard from Bamvur?” A shifty-looking demifox approached the bar, asking those he seemed familiar with.

“Been at least a day or so since he was in ‘ere.” The bartender offered with a sad shrug.

“Saw the ol’ bastard yesterday, went and got himself hung up with the rest o’ the fools. Ain’t no sense in it. Can hardly explain that to an orc though can ya?” An elf near them pipped up, shaking his head. Roshmi was plagued by public executions, bodies were left rotten in public view as a warning.

“Fools? Hardly call having a bit of courage left in ya foolish. Damn sure it’s what we all outta be -” The foxman was cut off when the bartender slammed a fist against the bar.

“Ain’t gonna allow no talk like that in here. You don’t know whose ears are about.” The barman was stern in his warning.

“Gonna have to agree with the lad, if ya can’t live free best to die free.” Nym spoke up.

“An’ so what brings a pirate into Roshmi?” The bartender eyed Nym with a bit of suspicion.

Roshmi was now a bleak place full of suspicion, folks turning on each other to keep themselves safe from Dark Elf vengeance. Now as far as Nym was concerned this was an elf war and he wasn’t keen on getting too caught up with either side. There were some dark elves he liked and some he hated. The same could be said of light elves. He had no ties to any nation; his nation was the The Harem and his people its crew, simple as that. But the environment that the dark elf occupation in Roshmi had created was a ripe one for the story he planned to tell to catch and spread.

“Anyone ever tell you the tale of Cap’n Lizzie the Oceanblessed?" Nym offered instead of a real explanation. Those around him gave a shake of their heads or shrug of the shoulders.

“Aye finest cap’n I ever sailed with; a voice more compelling than a siren’s song, hair like the cannon’s blast, and eyes that held the sea within ‘em. I tell you this, ain’t never met a creature more born for the sea than this force of a woman. They say she was the daughter of the goddess Cari herself, raised deep within the sea’s trenches, gifted by the Leviathan with a piece of the beast’s own soul. Cap’n Lizzie, aye she was no ordinary creature, she bent the seas and all their powers to her whims.” He began the tale before one of the men interrupted.

“Hogwash. Them celestials ain’t havin’ no kids. Ain’t even sure they’re real anyways.” The foxman spoke up.

“You callin’ me a lair lad? I seen it with me own eye and I’m tellin’ ya, Cap’n Lizzie could summon the mightiest gale in a blink, could sink a Man'o'war with a single thought, and call for the creatures from the depths of the ocean to swallow its sailors whole.” Nym spoke with absolute confidence in his tale, eyeing the foxman until the lad broke and shook his head, indicating that he wouldn’t dare call Nym a liar.

“You sure this wasn’t a human?” The elf asked.

“Aye, now humans ain’t nothin’ more than old elven fairy tales, and even in them ol’ tales no mere human could do what The Oceanblessed could. Now I know ya got a whole mess going on here but things ain’t all that different on the seas. A tyrant sails the oceans, fella named Ardyn himself the Pirate King, but ya see the sea, she holds no love fer a tyrant, and neither did the sea’s daughter, Cap’n Lizzie.” Nym continued on, unbothered by the interruptions, knowing that they only meant he was piquing their interest. He made the parallels simple enough and tweaked his story into something that would want to believe in, something that they would want to tell others.

“And if this cap’n is all ya say how come we ain’t heard of her?” The foxman asked, but his tone was more excited than doubting.

“Dead men tell no tales, and them what crossed Cap’n Lizzie all lay at the bottom of the seas or in the belly of a beast.” Nym offered, and the fox lad grinned at that.

“And where’s your captain now?” The elf asked, he still held doubts and Nym didn’t mind a challenge.

“The tragedy of sailin’ with a creature not entirely of the mortal world is they ain’t destined to stay. An’ Cap’n Lizzie, aye she was more akin to a goddess than a mortal. Them celestials, they never leave us, they watch down from the stars, eyes always looking into the darkest parts o’ this world. They watched as the seas, the one place on this world with infinite freedom, was being strangled by some self-declared Pirate King prick. So they sent us the Oceanblessed, a gift to teach us to free ourselves from tyranny. An’ that’s what she did. Took a stand far off in the seas against Ardyn the Tyrant, had we not had the power of a goddess with us the whole crew of The Harem would’ve fallen that fateful day.”

Nym continued his tale, one he’d spun through every port they’d stopped at along the way to Roshmi, the story of Captain Lizzie’s last stand against the tyrant Pirate King. In Nym’s version, the Oceanblessed took on a small fleet with a single ship and skeleton crew, there was a great sea monster with many heads that rose from the deep and fell under Lizzie's command. There was a typhoon in the sky powerful enough to fling sailors from their ships, a maelstrom that swallowed ships whole, and a use of mana so powerful that it lead the goddess he called the Oceanblessed to make the most final sacrifice and return to the seas. He painted Lizzie as a martyr for freedom, spoke of how her soul left her body in the form of a wave and returned to the seas, and claimed to have seen her mortal body dissolve into foam before them.

“And the Pirate Tyrant? What happened to him?” Asked the elf, eyes sparking as he spoke.

“Aye, now there’s the rub of it. Ardyn proved to be nothin’ more than a chickenhearted coward, there in hologram alone, too gutless to face his fate in person, he only sent his men to die in his place.” Nym spat onto the floor as he spoke of Ardyn, and the foxman watched and did the same. He went on to explain that he and his crew were in the process of recruiting before tracking down the cowardly Pirate King once and for all.

The Nest proved to be an ideal spot to find future pirates, the overall crowd was both tough and rowdy and folks with lax morals and a thirst for freedom were plentiful here. Those interested in a life of piracy were sent to the docks for further assessment.

The Harem had been restocked, ready for the next excursion, recruitment was going well enough, and he was keeping his promise to ensure tales of the fallen Cap’n Lizzie reached every corner of Avalia. Nym was keeping himself occupied because their other goal, a rescue mission for a pair of Helio’s friends was proving fruitless. Nym was about ready to just find himself a few random fae folks looking for an adventure and tell Helio to forget about his missing pals and make some new ones. Based on what he’d seen in Roshmi so far it seemed more than likely that they were already dead anyhow. Course he knew enough to know about how well that would go over with the lad but they couldn’t continue to lounge around Roshmi for the rest of their days either.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: 420 Wicker St; The Pit of Pandemonium
Interaction: Callum

Leo had achieved the ideal state; drunk enough that everything blended into perfection, and the delightful blue cocktail had only added an undeniable sense of euphoria. At some point in the last hour, he’d lost his shirt but the warehouse was ridiculously hot even for summertime. Even minus the shirt, he was absolutely drenched in sweat, his jaw hurt from the constant teeth grinding, and the rest of his face hurt from his constant grin. Still, none of that bothered him, there was dancing and drinking and he had met so many people tonight.

He cared about nothing other than the dancing, and at some point, he’d separated from the others he’d come here with and found himself surrounded by new faces. Leo was all for it, ever new face, a new friend, even if he didn’t exactly remember a single name. The lights around the warehouse had him transfixed, he kept watching them as he danced, and the trace-inducing music overtook any possible thoughts. All he wanted was for this moment, this feeling, to last forever.

One moment everything was perfection and the next he felt as if everything inside him had been gutted out until he was hollow. His dancing slowed, fumbling to keep up with the music’s tempo. Even the lights around him seemed dimmer, their luster faded. Why was it gone? He was still drunk, that was indisputable, but the pure bliss, the ecstasy, it had just vanished. He stumbled from the dance floor, his head shaking, sweat filing from his hair, as he tried to snap himself out of it.

That hollow feeling was bringing him down, he had to get rid of it.

The last time he had felt this bad, was after his father had gone missing. It hadn’t been when he’d first gotten the news, that had only felt like a minor concern. Not because he didn’t care but because his father, the Duke of Stravy, was no ordinary man. Duke Feralt was larger than life, he was a presence that filled a room, someone who always held the answers and never second-guessed himself. His father was invincible, nothing bad could touch a man like that.

The worst of it had come later, staring at the pitiful scraps of evidence that had been collected. Then looking it all over countless times until he had it memorized only to finally realized there was no illuminating connection he could find there. He had no leads to follow, no great theories to work through, and no answers. It was like a rug had been violently ripped from beneath him and he was falling backward and never landing. His father was supposed to be invincible, and then he was just gone. Gone, and Leo couldn’t cry or grieve because he didn’t know, he was trapped in the shock of it.

And then Leo had to do things that he didn’t even know how to; he had to lead his family, look for answers, and try and fill the void his father left behind. God knows his mother wasn’t doing it, she went around acting like his greatest tragedy was the prelude to her fairy tale ending. It only got worse when everyone else just moved on, the search for his father went stagnant, and almost no one else seemed to care. There was just him, and Thea, who still cared, and he could not let Thea down.

So he could fill that hollowness with anger at everyone who moved on so easily, and for a while, that was enough to carry on. Then came danger, any sudden rush that made him feel alive again. And he kept going, kept trying, searching, and he thought he was doing well because he hadn’t felt this empty in so long. But now, even as he ran through every thought that could once ignite something in him, he felt nothing.

Despite the lingering sadness that became a baseline, there were still no tears and no grieving, no way to move on without an answer, and once again there wasn’t even the will to try.

And what if he’s dead? What if some shit-stained peasant slaughtered him for the money in his pockets and got away with it all on random dumb luck? Nothing. That thought should make his blood boil and he felt nothing.

If I had been there, maybe none of this would’ve happened. But even as this thought crossed Leo’s mind the guilt sickness didn’t follow the way it usually did. Nothing came to fill the void.

It could’ve all been an accident, what if he had simply died injured and alone. He could even picture his father lying dead, rotting into the earth as scavengers picked his bones clean. That should make a person sad, what normal person wouldn’t find despair in such a thought? Leo still felt cold and hollow, but not a single tear came to him.

Maybe he lives still, a head injury, and he’s just out there, somewhere, waiting for his memories to return. That used to give him some hope, a slim but bright possibility, but now Leo found no light in the thought.

What if she had him killed? My own mother, she’s cold enough. A fever chill ran through him, and he wanted the thought to make him weep, wanted to be able to feel something real again. Nothing.

He tried to pull from every strong emotional well he could think of; rage, guilt, despair, hope, and even the most frustratingly, maddening, conspiracy he could think of, one wrought with betrayal and he felt nothing. Every emotion that used to spark a fire was now dowsed, leaving not even a single ember to burn.

Leo felt everything he was collapsing into the hollow void, falling and spiraling downwards with his feet never hitting solid ground. He wanted his father, the man with all the strength and all the answers, even if it was just for a single minute. Even if it was just to look upon sun-bleached bones or a bloated corpse and finally have a small bit of closure but after so long he doubted any answers would be found. He wanted the hollowness to fill with grief and let tears fall until they were gone again. But there was only numbness.

He had no desire for more alcohol or food, his grin had vanished some time ago, and all the festivities around him required energy he no longer had. He shuffled around the warehouse, not sure what he was looking for but needing to do something to keep himself going. Eventually, he came across a passed-out Callum. Oh fuck, is he dead?

Leo gave the passed-out prince a couple of kicks to the ribs, but there was no weight behind it, and the slight jostling caused Callum to stir. Well, guess he’s not dead.

“Cal?” The only reply Leo got was a slight mumble from the prince.

“Callum!” He shouted over the music and this time Cal moved his hand from his face and barely opened his eyes.

“Who?” Callum’s response was still mumbled and confused.

“How much did you drink?” Leo asked.

“Don’no’. Enough?” Cal’s speech slurred slightly, words difficult to form.

“Where is everyone?” Leo asked looking around.

“Who?” Cal grunted out the response, his eye’s tried to close again.

“Ana, the Alidasht, everyone we came here with.” Leo continued, more confused than anything, but slowly the half-asses responses from Callum were beginning to grate on his nerves.

“Who?” Cal asked again. The young prince barely knew what was going on, where he was, who this guy was, or why he was being asked so many damn questions.

Why was he always like this? Leo thought, the frustration beginning to set in. Cal was giving him a headache, but at least it was something, he could deal with frustration over complete numbness. “Your sister and her friends Cal, focus, where’d they go.” Leo asked slowly.

“Don’no’. Where am?” Cal said, he tried sitting up only to slide back down, exhausted.

“On the floor.” Leo answered.

“Oh. why?” Cal tried and failed again to pull himself off the floor.

“Fuck if I know.” Leo said with a shrug before kneeling and throwing one of Cal’s arms over his shoulders. Leo pulled the prince up to his feet and Cal struggled even with the help to keep himself upright.

“Ew, someone puke.” Cal gestured to the floor near where he’d passed out. Leo said nothing but had a good idea of who that someone might’ve been.

“Yeah someone did, let’s get you away from that mess.” Leo said leading Cal around, letting the prince lean most of his weight against him. There was so much still wrong, so much he knew wasn’t going to get better, but Cal’s current problem, one of being too drunk to move, was something he could fix. Leo led Cal over to one of the sets of triangular tables and sat him on one of the chairs. Cal immediately laid his head down on the table and that was when the waterworks started. He could see the prince’s shoulder shake as Cal wept but if any part of his breakdown was audible it went unheard over the rest of the noise in the warehouse.

Then all chaos broke out.

The strange blond guy went absolutely crazy. Not only did this man now look like he’d crawled half-dead from a gutter, but he was spitting blood, muttering to himself, and crawling all over the floor. Definitly nuts. Leo’s earlier assumption about Chavez during, what he would now think of as the very mild, cupcake tantrum, proved to be true. No way am I riding back with that guy.

And where the fuck was everyone? Leo could’ve dealt with the one drunken Callum, but the rest of this chaos was too much. There was Chavez quickly becoming more and more unhinged, there was having no idea where the rest of their group was, and all he wanted to do was go crawl into a bed and not wake up for a week. Why do I have to deal with this, I got my own shit, and I can’t even deal with that. The entire situation only looked hopeless.

More chaos, the sound of something hitting crashing against a wall, and voices that rose to be heard over the music. The weird baker was attacking Anastasia and in a fight with Munir. The empty nothing feeling was just replaced with confusion more than anything. Things devolved further into a bizarre hostage situation and he was quickly regretting leaving Ana and Munir earlier. He knew he should do something, almost even wanted to, but there wasn’t much he could think of to do without making things worse. The thinking was only made more difficult as his mind spiraled again, reminding him of all the wrong choices he had already made, how different choices could’ve made this not happen, what a mistake this whole party had been, and he’d almost brought Thea here. What was clear, the one thought that stuck in his mind was, father would be so disappointed. None of this is what a future Duke should be involved in. So, maybe he just left, so he wouldn’t have to watch what a disappointment I’d be.

Avalia

Time: Night
Location: River Fairy Kingdom -The Pretty Flower
Interactions: A couple of locals
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch of amas, transmission bracelet

---

Orias moved through The Pretty Flower, slowly taking it all in. It was a lively place, packed full of fairies who danced, drank, and laughed with ease. Yuka’s explanation, that fairies enjoyed an escape from reality held true. Who could blame them? Who wanted to face the reality they were all heading towards.

Orias certainly didn’t, he found soon himself at the bar with a glass of mead in front of him. Just need to loosen up a bit, he told himself. He was lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces and he clung to his glass as if it were his last lifeline.

He could understand the fae mentality, he’d take another reality over his own right about now. Maybe another night away from being Prince Orias, from having to think about war and all that came with it. A break from worrying about family he hadn’t seen in decades, from wondering if he ever would see them again. He finished a glass of the sweet-tasting mead faster than he’d intended. His cup was quickly filled to the brim by a smiling fairy.

He thought of how he should've stayed in Roshmi, kept his fake name and fake life, searching for ways to make the dark elf occupation just a little more complicated. He wouldn’t have to be responsible for a human boy lost in a world he did not belong to, wouldn’t be negotiating with allies on behalf of a kingdom and family he’d left behind. Another was glass emptied only to be refilled.

No one asked for his help, certainly not his own family. They wouldn’t want to see him, wouldn’t want him meddling in anything important. The Biren name had remained scandal-free since he left, they were all better off believing him dead. Another glass was emptied and refilled.

This was selfish. What did he think he could fix? Who was he to think he could go around playing hero when he was anything but one.

And it was too late to stop. He’d already thrown his name out, and already made deals with Augus. It was all happening too fast, too much responsibility. He glanced around for his companions, two familiar faces that, really, he barely knew anyway. They both seemed distracted, both would get along so much easier with the free-spirited fae. His eyes moved towards the door, an easy path out of all this. But what then? Orias finished another glass, he looked around again.

It took a long while before Orias left the bar to make his attempts at mingling. It took some awkward walks around the room before he found a group he felt comfortable enough to approach.

“...so there I was right, out on fishing by the stream, when I see the biggest Owlbear I’ve ever seen lunging on towards me. Teeth all snapping and sharper than any I’ve seen.” At a table two fairies sat, one, a lanky looking with a boyish face, telling a story.

“No way you fought an Owlbear, you’re full of shit.” The other fae said. This man was more muscular with harsher features.

“Let me finish. On my life, this happened just the other day. So there I was, deep in the forest, and it’s getting late and I can barely see enough to fly off without hitting a tree or something. I’m thinking, how do I get out of here, I’m a fast one but no way am I outrunning this thing and I can’t risk hitting some big ol’ branch and knocking myself out.”

“Now look whatcha done, drawin’ in a crowd with them damn fishin’ stories.” The brawny fairy shook his head as he looked at Orias. “You look like you’ve seen an owlbear or two in your day tell this twiggy bastard he’s full of it.”

“I kind of want to hear the story.” Orias said.

“Hey now, that’s the attitude I wanna see. Sit down bud.” The skinny kid slapped the table and scooted over to make room for Orias.

“So as I was sayin’, I see this owlbear lunging straight at me, and hand to Xylia I heard this owlbear scream a single word at me,” The skinny kid paused for dramatic effect. “Leave.” The fairy screamed the word with a guttural voice, imitating the sound he had heard from the alleged owlbear.

“You can’t talk to owlbears, you can’t barely talk to that cat o’ yours.” The second fairy interjected again.

“Swear on my life. No more interruptions, you’re disturbing the guest. He likes my story.” Orias just nodded and so the fairy continued his tale.

“Anyways, I hear that and somehow I just know what this creature’s all about, and boy am I in trouble. So summon up every branch, root, and vine I can muster to hold this big o’ beastie back, and it’s braking through them like it’s all nothing. But it bought me time, so while that owlbear’s all tangled up I turn to run outta there and damn near trip over another owlbear right near me. A little ol’ baby cub, cute as a button it was, and damn sure I was right about the first one, just an angry mama. Lucky for me I’m quick with the ol’ wings and I hop right over the little guy and use that boost to get my ass outta sight just as I hear the last bunch of vines, roots, and branches snapping like crazy. Pissed myself I was so scared.” The first fairy finally got to the end of his story.

“Now that last part I’d believe.” The second one said with a chuckle.

“Now you shut your big gob, I know what I saw and I’m tellin’ you something out there’s got the critters acting all sorts of crazy. I ain’t never seen nothing like that so close to the kingdom. World’s gone all topsy turvy.”

“That is most certainly true.” Orias voiced his agreement.

“This guy gets it. You come down from the Sun Elf lands pal?” The first fairy asked.

“Got a name?” The second fairy added.

“Course he’s got a name, everybody’s got one. Silly question. Name’s Gil.”

“Alvaro.”

“Orias. Came over from Roshmi.”

“Roshmi, now that place’s gone to shit. They just handed right over to those dark elf bastards, not a bit of fight in that damn king.” Gil’s eyes widened at the mention of Roshmi, and he spoke with the same excitement as he had when he told his owlbear story.

“That they did.” Alvaro agreed, clearly more troubled by the subject than Gil.

“A real shame, but your sort’s got a handle on it huh?” Gil asked.

“We hope so, can’t do it alone though.” Orias admitted.

“Right, makes sense. I’d like to see those bastards get what's coming, after what they did.” Alvaro spoke with fire in his words. Orias nodded, A good sign, there were at least a few fairies more than ready to go to war.

“Aye, poor Echo.” Gil said speaking softly for the first time since Orias had sat down. A sad smile crossed the face of the youthful fae.

“To a fine prince.” Alvaro said raising his glass, the other two did the same before drinking.

“The finest. You know, I went fishin’ with that lad once, let me tell you he reeled him in a fish bigger than I ever seen.” Gil moved his hands as far apart from one another indicating that this alleged fish was much larger than even the average dwarf.

“You ain’t never went fishin' with Prince Echo.” Alvaro said with a grin and shake of his head.

“On my life I did. Anyway, he was a real good kid.” Gil took another drink and tried to lift the sad smile back up.

“I’m just waiting for the orders, nothin’ would bring me more joy than to join up with your lot and make them bastards pay.” Alvaro said with a stern nod.

“Don’t know what’s taking so long, we shoulda be marching right after we saw that damn broadcast.” Gil muttered.

“They’re just grieving is all. One son gone, one gone rotten.” Alvaro replied, and Gil flinched slightly at the mention of the one gone wrong.

“So what brings you to River Kingdom?” Gil asked.

“Hoping to convince your King that now is the time to act.” Orias saw no reason to lie.

“No shit? You one of them important elves?” Gil asked and they both seemed interested in his answer.

“Not really. Just got something important I’ve got to do.” Orias continued to talk to the two fairies who he learned were cousins and who were more than willing to share their thoughts on the war. Alvaro was a seasoned soldier of the River Kingdom and Gil was a musician who, after the broadcasted murder of Prince Echo, was planning to enlist.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: 420 Wicker St; Which layer of hell is this?
Interaction: His new best friend; the floor

The day had been an average lull, the evening’s ball had been more easily suffered through than expected, and the late hours of the night had done much to lift his spirits. Even as he found himself at another party as Anastasia’s tag a long brother he had not been alone. Her friends were rarely ever his friends, but at least they did not shun him. There had been drinks with Roman, there had been knowing that one of his rare friends was finding happiness even in a kingdom as rotten as Caesonia. That had made the night a little brighter.

Then there had been the Noble’s Venom, it contained a taste of what it was like to have been a carefree child and all the energy and joy that came with that. He should’ve known it would come with a price, everything good came with a price, but even as the effects of the drink started to wane he was sure the price was worth it. So he tried to keep dancing with both Anastasia, Munir, and others around them whose names he never heard over the music.

He expected the price to come in the morning, to suffer through a terrible hangover, a price he was comfortable with. But this was not the case, the dancing became increasingly difficult as the last bit of energy seemed to have left him, his mind barely registered Ana leaving as a heavy brain fog took hold. He didn’t even have the energy to form audible words, he only pointed in a direction as a way of explanation and stumbled away from the dance floor.

Callum desperately wanted to step outside, to breathe in air that didn’t smell like sweat, alcohol, and a foul mixture of colognes but his every limb felt like it was made of lead. The stairs out of the warehouse would be impossible, the other side of the room already felt like an uncrossable distance. He staggered towards the nearest wall and simply sank to the floor. He sat there with his knees pulled to his chest, head resting against his knees, his back against a wall, and there would be no moving from this spot anytime soon.

His mouth slowly filled with an ungodly amount of saliva and the room was spinning. A day of poor choices slowly caught up to him; ale, whiskey, dry red wine, and then the Noble's Venom, and it was that last one he knew had been the peak of his mistakes. Then there was more ale, shots with Leo, and far more running than could be considered wise. It all had collected in his stomach only to end up being mixed about as he, almost literally, bounced from wall to wall within the warehouse. It had only a matter of time before it all poured back out, and time was catching up on him as every sharp intake of air already tasted of bile.

Can’t hold my drink, and that was my only skill. The thought floated in and then back out with a defeated sigh. Cal knew a great many of his flaws, they were so helpfully pointed out to him rather frequently. Tonight and probably several more nights in his future, his undoing; how slow he was to learn from his own mistakes, would remain a problem. This was not the first night he’d drunk until he couldn’t stand and it was far from the last. Tonight’s only difference was how quickly he felt so terrible.

TW for vomiting. Summery: Callum vomits on the floor and then crawls about a foot away from it.

Maybe I’ve been poisoned. He thought with just a hint of glee because if he had maybe he wouldn’t have to suffer through the barrage of side effects. He almost chuckled at the thought but instead, he retched slightly just barely managing to choke back down the bile that rose in his throat.

He made a half-hearted attempt to lift his head, only to be overcome with dizziness. His heart thumped in a wild rhythm but the pounding in his head felt far worse. Gods, let me die now. If there was a single god with an ounce of mercy above or below they’d put him out of his misery this instant. But, as he expected, there were no benevolent gods who answered requests and Caesonia was not a place of mercy.

Something distant in the back of his mind nagged at him, there was something he was supposed to remember but he couldn’t quite reach it. Even as he tried all he found was a rising sense of dread and panic.

Then it finally hit him, not the thought he tried to reach, but a violent wave of nausea that caused him to lift his head up just enough to expel bits of the wretched concoction in his stomach onto the floor. He kept his eyes closed, and rested his head against the wall as he tried to catch his breath again. He made an effort to only breathe through his mouth, not wanting to take in the acrid scent of bile and alcohol. Another wave of sickness hit, and more puke hit the floor with a faint splatter.

The worst of it wasn’t the burn or the smell, no, somehow that damned cocktail retained the sickeningly sweet taste even as he threw it back up. Several moments of violent retching left him fairly sure there was nothing else left to vomit up and he leaned towards his other side and crawled himself away from the pile. Never again was he going to drink anything green, he was almost certain of that.

There was no leaving the floor, sitting back up even proved too much and he resigned himself to lying helpless on the floor until the room learned how to hold still. Callum retreated further into his own head. His own thoughts swirled with things spoken to him and things whispered about him until it all just became the same noise that played on a loop in his head. The words of others and his own thoughts echoed around in his head, slowly becoming indistinguishable. It was all true enough and he lacked the will or energy to question it.

Look at the boy, he’s not one of mine. Weak. You don’t belong anywhere. Witless little shit. I imagine his majesty is quite pissed, they’ve gone and named a tavern after the boy, a constant reminder of what a useless drunk he sired. Sorian’s greatest failure. Worthless. Good for nothing. They got ‘em a future king, a champion, a real beauty, and well, I guess everyone rolls a pair o’ snake eyes once in’a while even royals. Failure. Idiot. Can’t go five minutes without screwing something up. Spoiled. Useless. The entire palace has had quite enough of your dramatics. Self-righteous jackass. Ungrateful. Try and get through one night without causing a scene. Selfish brat. You’ll never learn, never be anything more. All I’m saying is if I’d been born with the name Danrose I’d’ve made something of my life by now. Spineless. Self-indulgent prick. Wonder why Edin ain't gotten rid of that one yet. Menace. You don’t deserve anything more, look around, see all the damage done by Danrose hand, nothing good comes from the rotten tree. Coward. The world would be better off with just one less Danrose. Just as bad as the rest of them. Entitled. Not just a fuck up, a royal fuck up. It’s no wonder you’re alone, who wants to be around such an empty pit?

The thoughts and voices overwhelmed him, drowned out the music and everyone around him. The majority of his thoughts began to fade away, as did any sense of who he was, even where he was. Callum kept his eyes closed to keep from watching everything spin as he continued to lay on his side one arm supporting his head and the other covering his face to help block out sounds and dancing lights. Weak. Cowardly. Useless. Rotten. Alone.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: 420 Wicker St, Party Capitol of Caesonia
Interaction: Munir @Infinite Cosmos, Anastasia @princess

Callum only gave Munir a look of confusion. “Majesty and dashing looks?” He echoed the Shahzade’s strange words back at him. “You must be very confused. I have not an ounce of majesty, maybe a dash of dashing,” Cal paused to chuckle a bit at that, he was going to ask what he’d meant by exotic but then Ana spoke and pretty much answered that question.

An exotic journey of love-making? Callum only paused as he thought about that, eyeing up Munir for a bit, and while the other man was strikingly handsome, Cal didn’t feel anything for him. Well, at least not anything resembling attraction, if anything, standing so close to one of the Alidasht royals felt intimidating. It took him a second to realize why, Munir seemed friendly enough and he wasn’t a physically imposing figure, especially when compared to Roman. But every rumor he’d ever heard, every sliver of information he’d read about Alidasht began to spin through his head. Then Callum’s mind drifted off further and his eyes looked around for something exciting to do, standing and talking were quickly losing interest. His hands fidgeted and he bounced subtly on his feet.

But he did catch some of what his sister said, and it only confused him more. Best Caesonia has to offer? Hardly, why is she lying? His eyes darted between the two of them trying to figure out what was really going on. This is a joke, they’re both messing with me. Callum nodded slowly as he figured out what was going on. He forced a smile and a quick chuckle.

“Right, right, everyone’s favorite prince, as long as your interests are drinking and pissing off Caesonia’s king, I’m your guy, but sadly, probably not your guy,” He said, mostly to Munir, not wanting to pull any sort of deception on the other royal about his interests or his standing in Caesonia. “Hey I had drank that one! Like lightning in a bottle.” He added then slapped his hands together to accentuate his point. He wanted to run again, or climb something, or maybe dance. His thoughts felt loud and he wondered if they could hear them as easily as he could. “So who wants to have a race? Or dance? I bet I could I could climb that railing!” He continued speaking as he eyed the stairs out of the warehouse as if it was a piece of playground equipment.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: 420 Wicker St; Center of Chaos
Interaction: Anastasia @princess, Munir @Infinite Cosmos, Ezra @Potter

Callum failed to notice that no one else had joined his race, and it wouldn’t have mattered if he had noticed. The youngest prince of Caesonia had never felt this much vigor running through him; he was invincible, he was more alive than he had ever been, and he was speed. He skidded and pivoted around confused party-goers as he ran from one end of the warehouse to the other, slapping the wall before turning to head back in the direction of the bar.

It was then that he noticed neither Roman nor Mayet were neither ahead of him or behind him, they weren’t even running. He paused and saw they were both still at the bar. Well, that’s it, huh? Roman, lost to the lovesickness and now, once again, I’ll just party alone. That’s fine, absolutely fine, good for Roman, he deserves it. Cal bounced around for a bit, jumping along with the music. He’d never had this much energy before and he didn’t know what to do with it all, the only thing he did know was doing nothing would drive him absolutely crazy right now.

"Yooohoo Callum! Anastasia’s voice cut through the noise of the warehouse again, and he tilted his head to the side. He had no idea why Ana was shouting at him now, but he shrugged it off, saw her talking to a group of people and the last thing he wanted to do right now was get introduced to people. No, what Callum really wanted to do, right at that exact moment, was climb something just to see how high up he could get. Now that sounded like fun. "Callum! Are you gay? Are you gay, Callum!" At that, he stopped jumping around, and paused with momentary confusion.

What a weird question, why was Ana asking that? At least it wasn’t a boring question. Cal took maybe a half-second to reconsider and decided it was very unlikely Ana was calling him over for something boring. Ana is probably one of the least boring people I know. And, and maybe she’d race him, or help him find something to climb! Cal sprinted in her direction, narrowly avoiding a couple of people before his foot slid on a smashed cupcake. His foot flew in front of him, the rest of his body slid backward and Callum ended up on his ass in front of the group.

Why are there cupcakes all over the floor? Callum thought but he was now laughing too hard to ask.

“What? Why? What’s going on?” He asked, each word shouted through uncontrolled fits of laughter.

---

For a moment it seemed like nothing was going to stop Chavez, the unhinged man continued his attack on himself, not even cupcake throwing seemed able to distract him. For a moment Leo almost lost his grin, as a very angry Zarai stormed over to them, his thrown cupcake visible on her clothing.

Uh oh. Leo thought and as he prepared to slip away into the crowd and become lost amongst a sea of increasingly erratic party-goers, Zarai proceed to lay the blame on Chavez. Now Leo’s grin only widened as he wiped cupcake frosting off his hands and onto his pants to better hide any evidence of his involvement.

Sucess! Senior Chavez was no longer attacking himself and was soon led away by the very angry-looking Zarai. This was the best possible outcome, those two would blow off some steam in the boxing ring and hopefully return ready to have fun. Everything fell into place, the universe looked out for the noble’s, and gifted them success as often as possible because they really did deserve it. Leo realized this and it made the world seem a better brighter place because in his perfect state of euphoria he knew this as truth.

As quickly as the two rage-fueled individuals left the group, they were all graced by the addition of a half-dressed Shahzade. From the way Munir approached the princess, to the way he carried himself, Leo knew on instinct that this was a man who knew how to have a good time. Except, strangely enough, Munir was asking about the wet blanket of Caesonia, Callum Danrose. Leo took the opportunity to move in closer to Ezra and further poke at the permanent sourpuss.

“Ah, baker buddy, I think you’ve got some competition, and that one came ready to play.” He said watching Munir as Anastasia shouted for her brother. Leo couldn’t remember ever having seen Callum so lively but the prince came sprinting out of nowhere only to slip on the cupcake carnage that lay about the floor. He moved away from Ezra, who seemed like just about the only one here unable to give themselves over to the party. Leo grabbed a hold of Callum’s arm and pulled the prince back up to his feet.

“Callum! Look at you, only took a good twenty years but you’ve learned not to be boring! Congratulations.” Leo hugged the young prince and ruffled his hair.

“Boring? Ana am I boring?” Cal asked. Leo nodded his agreement with the statement.

“Absolutely, but we can fix that. But right now, I need a drink.” Leo added before heading off in the direction of the bar.

Avalia

Time: Night
Location: River Fairy Kingdom
Interactions: Yuka@princess, Aiko @CitrusArms Xavier @Potter
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch of amas, transmission bracelet

---

Orias took a deep breath as he tried to let go of his frustration. Aiko had given yet another response that sounded more like a riddle than an answer. Had he not given up his own secrets for the group's benefit? Had he not proven he was more than willing to work with just about anyone so long as they were all on the same side? He’d been willing to accept a dark elf back in Roshmi, one of his people’s sworn enemies, it should not be a stretch to think he’d accept a demon as well. But it seemed as if Aiko was still unwilling to extend trust, and the elf was at loss for how to earn it.

And with Yuka, gone was the same demihuman who spoke with such passion atop a rooftop in Roshmi, had that all been an act, another game? It was so hard to tell, what, if anything, other than fun, even mattered to the lioness. You’re not trying hard enough, he thought, and he knew it to be true. It was difficult to accept that spending what remained of the night drinking and mingling with the fae was an acceptable use of his time. Yuka continued to joke around and he barely listened, his mind focused on the long list of challenges that lie before him. But as of now, there was little to be done about these problems, his mind finally settled on the wisdom in what Aiko had said of engaging with the locals here. Connect with the locals, connect with his own companions, that would be a better use of his time than sleep at least.

He nodded at Yuka and headed inside The Pretty Flower, it remained just as rowdy as he’d remembered it. Live music echoed through the bar, and so many fae drank and danced as if they had not a care in the world. “We can get a feel for how the fairies here view the war and why the Millinia’s have remained silent and neutral thus far. Hopefully, learn something to shed some light on how to proceed tomorrow. This is a very good idea, I would not have thought of this.” Orias said, nodding, as he looked around the tavern. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was either of their intents but looking at it as a mission made him feel a lot less guilty about it.

---

Time: Night
Location: Inn by the Sea
Interactions: Rue @Potter, Raven @Tae, Kharne @Kazemitsu, Ismael @Th3King0fChaos
Equipment: 1 hunting knife, a flask of alcohol, a backpack, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs; skaula (8 grams) and zemak (a bit less than an ounce), rolling papers, and a pouch of amas.

“Well despite how they likely see it, elves do not have the monopoly on magic. Bunch of one-trick ponies if you ask me.” Bowyn said, eyes rolling as Kharne mentioned needed Annya to supervise the human's magic training.
“Now fairies, not only have we got variety, but magic is pretty inseparable from our way of life. Plus, when your human’s inevitably hurt themselves learning, ol’ Rue here can heal them up in a blink.” Bowyn spoke casually, finding himself more at ease with this group even despite his annoyance at having to wait around with little clue as to what they were going to do. It seemed insane to him that none of the humans had received the slightest bit of training on their magic. Summon a bunch of humans, let them wander about with catastrophic levels of power and the emotional control of children. Yeah, sounds like elven wisdom right there. It was a damn miracle that there weren’t more instances like the beach.

“Sounds like you’ve got more of a plan than our princess, who it seems, left us all to drink herself into oblivion with the other elves around here. Not very inspiring.” He continued, he’d gone out with Eris and Kaleb last night, he knew how those two partied, there was no way he was buying that Annya was having just a casual drink with them. Sure, his answer to most problems was an abundance of alcohol, but in this case, getting out of River Port as quickly as possible, or at least putting some effort into instructing these humans would’ve been much better. At least having Kharne around was a good sign; the big guy was practical and honest, Bowyn decided right then he liked having the dragonborn around.

“Say big guy you smoke?” He asked as he twirled the freshly rolled joint between his fingers. “I’d say we all earned a bit of zemak to unwind.” He offered to the rest of the group as he stood up from his spot on the floor and lightly cracked a window inside the room. Bowyn didn’t wait for any objections as he fished a pack of matches from his pockets and lit up the joint between his fingers.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: 420 Wicker St
Interaction: Roman @ReusableSword Mayet @13org

Cal’s face slipped into a brief expression of confusion, Is it not Emberrock? Coulda swore, well Roman would know, unless he’s messing with me, who knows. Emberstone huh, I was close enough I guess. Though it could easily look like Callum was paying little attention to Roman as he spoke, he caught every word even as he stared at and examined the drinks placed in front of him. It was a skill practiced for so long and so often that it became his nature, to simply listen and absorb every word and inflection as he placed his visual attention upon something else entirely.

The cocktail that was placed in front of him was a glass that contained a mostly green liquid though at the bottom of the glass inky black tendrils gathered and snaked about. Despite both the name and appearance of the drink, which seemed to speak of danger, the smell it gave off was sweet and inviting. To his side, Roman spoke of summer festivals taking place in a cold mountain town that likely held more warmth than all of Sorian even at the peak of summer. Cal thought that sounded better than being in Sorian all summer.

“Violet Damien…I do like that one I’ve never met someone that could bring me out of my shell like Violet.”

Roman continued to talk about Violet, and Cal continued to listen as he watched the black tendrils moving against the green liquid of the strange cocktail. It had been a few years but he could not recall Roman speaking so seriously about any woman. Stuck down by lovesickness, are we? He thought, and it made sense, Roman was older surely feeling the pressures of finding a wife, and continuing the family name. At least his family was a good one, he could see Roman continuing the dying tradition of raising nobles truly who fit the title.

He wondered if he should offer a warning, that the name Damien came attached to the deadliest viper that nested in Sorian. Like the drink in front of him, the patriarch of the Damien family was a dark tendril that lurked about, buried in inviting sweetness that hid something dangerous, venomous. Would Roman even heed such a warning?

“You and Violent huh? You’d make a striking pair, and she’s certainly got more depth than she lets on but-” Before he had the chance to bring up the subject of Calbert another had joined the conversation; a fast-talking man who called himself Senor Chavez. Cal offered a forced smile and a nod as he glanced at him. He left as quickly as he’d appeared, and Roman turned the conversation towards Mayet. The woman with the tiger. Hadn’t Wulfy also taken a shine to that one? Roman needed no warning there, for despite Wulfrics crueler qualities he didn’t see his brother making an issue of competition when it came to courting. It also seemed just as likely that Wulfric's interest in the woman was the chance to watch her tiger tear apart its prey.

Roman then spoke just as highly of Mayet, comparing her to a fire and it only spiked further curiosity about the guest from Alidasht. Callum listened, eventually taking a sip from the strange cocktail in front of him. He found its taste cloying, something so unnaturally sweet that it was almost difficult to drink. Cal drank it anyway, not wanting to let the alcohol go to waste but leaving behind the thought of drinking it slowly and downing its contents. It left his stomach on edge, whether that was from the sweetness of it, or from its mixing with the dry wine that he’d had at the ball was difficult to tell. He followed the cocktail with a long drink of the dark beer, washing the sweetness from his mouth with the bitter liquid. His stomach felt worse but the sweet taste was now gone. Callum was almost certainly throwing up later, he was just going to have to be sure he did so outside.

“What of you friend? What new adventures or fair maidens have you gotten a bit too far into lately?”

“Fair maidens? I doubt the women at the brothels on Lover’s Lane hear that one often but I’m sure it would give them quite the chuckle. As for adventures I make do, tonight should be quite the outing.” Callum gave a causally flippant reply before drinking more of the dark beer. “Just, tread carefully around the Damiens, Calbert is more dangerous than he seems, maybe more so than any at court, and he keeps Edin and so many others wrapped tightly around his finger and has many eyes set upon his daughters.” He added, a sense of gravity in his tone. He knew Roman was likely accustomed to danger, that a warning would be shrugged off, but Roman deserved to at least know what he was getting into.

“And I did run into Crystal this evening, or rather, she ran into me, and it was a pleasant surprise. She is very much unlike most of the nobility here. If things were different, someone that overwhelmingly positive, well it’d probably be a good influence on me, but things remain as they are. Count Damien seeks to further dig his claws into my family and to allow that to happen would only harm Caesonia and the people here who need no more harm done to them.” Callum, relaxed from the drinking and the company of someone who did not need lies or partial truths, spoke freely. Strangely, while he still felt calm his heart began to race as the cocktail worked its way through his system.

Edin would always put himself and his latest whims first, there was no question about that. Most of his family would put the family first, or the wealth of Caesonia, and they’d protect the interests of the noble class no matter the detriment to the people of their nation. Callum knew this, just as he knew he had little power to change it, but he could at the very least not add to it. He could make sure he was not a pawn that strengthened bonds between cruel and powerful nobles, he could limit their influence on him, and prevent himself from fully being one of them. These long-held ideals and anxieties raced through his mind; everything in Caesonia was so wrong, so rotten, and what could he even do about it that would matter?

Then Callum spoke again, adding on to the sentiment he felt but no longer speaking with a calm and defeated tone. There was a frantic edge to his words, he began saying things he normally kept in his head or only to those he trusted fully. “I’m not going to get married, Roman, nor will I start a family. It’s a fine life for someone, like yourself, whose lands are ruled by good people, who will continue to lead it in the right direction. But it is not like that here, and I cannot be happy while my people suffer.” His hand smacked against the bar, he felt more determined in his beliefs.

"CALLUM! ADORABLE LITTLE BROTHER THAT I LOVE! LOOK WHO IT IS! It's fucking Alden Plannington!" The voice of his sister cut across the entirety of the warehouse. They just got here, how much had she had to drink already? With one hand he rubbed at his temple, a quiet return to the palace, as he’d promised Riona, seemed like an impossible task now. I should’ve promised nothing. He thought but he gave his sister a wave and scanned the faces of those around her. Alden Plannington, one of his mother’s pets, was indeed among them.

He barely had time to wonder what exactly Alden was doing here because the scene around Alden and his sister erupted into absolute chaos caused by the rather odd Senor Chavez. Nope. Callum turned back around, his attention returning to Roman and Mayet who had also joined them. Without the necessary audience, that sort of chaos held no interest for him, whatever Ana and her wild friends were up to was their business right now.

“Mayet! Surely your ears must be burning for Roman was just singing your praises. An honor to meet you! Didn’t bring the tiger along eh? Probably best could you imagine a drunk tiger?!” Callum wore a wild grin and burst into laughter at the thought it.

Callum couldn’t stop laughing, even while knowing Roman was trying to flirt with Mayet and how this was certainly not helpful. He was bet over, his stomach still in a knot and one hand covering his mouth trying to make sure he didn’t vomit from the unwise mixing of drinks and fervent laughter.

Drinks! More beer! Cal remembered the rest of the beer that sat in front of him and between gasps for air and stifled laughter he forced himself to calm enough to finish the glass before slamming it face down on the bar.

“Roman! Mayet! Why are we just standing around?” Callum was shouting now, he didn’t realize it, but excess enthusiasm had leaked into his voice. “I know, let’s have a race!” He added eyes wide with excitement at the thought of running through the warehouse. He slammed his hands against the bar along with the thumping music that played, now bouncing around on his feet and unable to hold still.

“Right now! Let’s race! I’ll win!” He continued, not even the least bit aware that he was still shouting. He had to move, needed to run or something before he vibrated right out of his own skin. He was pretty sure that was possible and that it was bound to happen if he didn’t do something soon. His heart beat furiously within his chest, outpacing the beat of the music. He looked through the crowded warehouse, plotting out the best path to run from one side to the other with minimal interference from the crowds of people. Then with little warning, Callum merely shouted “Go!” and took off without bothering to check if the other two were joining.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: 420 Wicker Street; Den of Chaos
Interactions: Anastasia @princess, Ezra @Potter, Chavez @samreaper

Leo let out an easy laugh as the cowlicked blond who referred to himself as Senor Chavez spoke with frantic energy. Savor and partake, yes, exactly!Leo bobbed his head with both agreement and excitement, he was absolutely right about this guy’s vibe; Chavez knew how to have a good time.

His attention shot back to Anastasia who complimented his hair and Leo grinned. “A dance party! Yes, absolutely! And you, you ‘Stas are a ray of fucking sunshine and I love it.” Leo proclaimed, throwing a fist into the air and bouncing on his feet as he spoke. Shots! Shots and dancing, that was exactly what they needed. Leo thought but then Ezra went and mentioned Thea and his grin dropped.

“Yeah? What do you know about my sister?” He asked, a clear rhetorical question by his tone. “Nothin’ and you can keep it that way.” Leo spoke, hostility clear in his tone, and a small smirk on his face as he talked to the baker. Then, Anastasia went ahead and answered Ezra's question which only caused his head to whip back in her direction with a look of confusion. Thea’s sad? And she’d told Anastasia all about it and not me?

“Why’s Thea sad?” He asked, no longer shouting, and he wasn’t sure she could even hear him over the music. And Leo knew it wasn’t just their missing father, it had been a year and she’d been at plenty of parties since then. Then some guy named Alden was there with them but Leo wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around him. He focused on what he knew for sure, and that was that if Thea had come to the party she wouldn’t have been sad anymore because he was pretty certain no one could be sad at this party. Everything was amazing; the drinks, the music, the lights, and -

Wait? Why was Senor Chavez yelling about cupcakes and ants?” Leo had zoned out and suddenly everything snapped back into focus and Chavez had thrown cupcakes all over the floor. I was big wrong, he’s crazy. Leo thought and he vaguely remembered he’d been thinking about something else, something more important but now he was thinking about shots again. He’d really only had the one drink and he definitely needed more and then he needed more dancing after that.

Chavez was now in a fight with himself, which only made Leo wonder how anyone could tell who was winning such a fight. The one-man fight seemed to greatly upset Anastasia and it was really creating weird energy around them. One thing was certain, Leo's most important duty right now was to keep this party fun, and that meant snapping crazy Chavez out of this. “Senor Chavez, take a breath my man, let’s go some shots, have a good time. You knock yourself out now you’re going to miss one hell of a party.” He kept his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music but didn’t quite shout. Then, Leo had what he thought must be his best idea ever; a fight was exactly what this party needed, but not a boxing match, not whatever Chavez was doing right now, but a significantly more fun fight. Leo scooped up one of the bits of fallen cupcakes that lie scattered about the floor, picked a direction at random, and threw it. “No worries Chavez, the cupcakes are fine, and this is way more fun than eating them!” Leo immediately erupted into laughter, this was perfect, he’d always wanted a food fight as a child and now no one could stop him.