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starting off 2022 with COVID LESSGOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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Whoever says "the customer is always right" has not worked with atual customers.
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The Dezert - Kalahari
The Lotus Palace -

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Zoraid Omorose was not having a good day.

The sun dipped into the sands, streaming the sky with golds and coppers. The warmth of the day was already withdrawing, the night chill slowly seeping into the city. This didn’t quite discourage the king, though his current entourage was less than thrilled. He had ordered some linens to be draped around the gazebo to act as curtains against the incoming cold, sequestering the trio. Golden butterflies fluttered at the top, glowing faintly. A grand chaise was where King Nasim had draped himself, though he paid no attention to the magic nor the notes of the lyre being played.

Instead, his eyes were on the fair Soraya. While her own gaze was on the task at hand, she was the image of an ethereal beauty. Blonde waves cascaded down her back, looking striking against the sea blue dress she wore. Her expression was one of serenity and a hint of amusement. But it was not the king’s gaze that had her amused. No, it was her brother’s thinly veiled irritation.

Zoraid had better things to do than to play third wheel to the king’s whims. The only reason he was present was because of the letter from Aethelguard. Unfortunately, the king felt that he should waste Zoraid’s time with his not-very-hidden crush on one of his mages. Were any to see the king fawning over a mage, it would be a scandal. Yet the fear waned once the king decided to circumvent any chance of rumors by subjecting Zoraid to his presence anytime he wanted to see Soraya with a pretext.

The king finally tore his gaze away long enough to look at Zoraid, eyes briefly flickering to the envelope before rolling them. “I thought you better than a messenger,” He chuckled.

Zoraid gave the king a tight-lipped smile. “The Queen of Aethelguard has sent a summons, Your Majesty,” He decided to get right to the point. “A royal representative and their mage. Tonight.”

“Tonight. Demanding is the hand with power,” King Nasim mused, propping his hand on the palm of his chin lazily. “Though it would do you good to see the lands outside of the Dezert, Zoraid. I suppose I should think of who to send with you.”

Soraya looked up from her lyre in surprise, her hands stilling and settling silence in the gazebo. “Do you not think I should accompany my brother?” She asked.

“And rob me of Kalahari’s resplendent desert rose?” He replied, his free hand reaching out and twirling a lock of her blonde hair around his finger. “Why see the rest of the world when I can provide you with everything here?”

The irony was so painful that Zoraid was shocked he managed to keep a straight face. He was no stranger to the king’s favoritism, but it was usually more subtle than this. Still, the idea of leaving Soraya behind was unacceptable. Aside from the practical reasons, he wasn’t a fan of Soraya having to fend off the king's advances alone.

“If it is the queen’s summons, I am certain she will be expecting us both,” Zoraid replied with a small smile on his face. “It wouldn’t do to make assumptions to the contrary, now would it?”

Soraya set the lyre aside, turning towards the king. “He does have a point, Your Majesty,” She said softly.

The king didn’t seem entirely convinced, his gaze more focused on the lock of Soraya’s hair between his fingers. Zoraid bit back a sigh, catching Soraya’s eye and gesturing to the king, silently urging her to say something else.

“...and we also represent Kalahari,” Soraya added after a moment. “I would hate for anyone to think poorly of you.”

The king made a noise that was impossible to decipher, but he did release Soraya’s hair at long last. Soraya gave the king a warm smile, reaching out and lightly running her fingers over his shoulder. “I’m going to help Zoraid with his outfit for tonight, since you were so generous to dress me already,” Soraya said cheerfully as she stood; it was only then that Zoraid realized he had somehow managed to miss the new diamonds around her neck. “By your leave, my king.”

Zoraid resisted what must have been the third time he wanted to roll his eyes before following Soraya out of the gazebo and back into the palace. He was a little surprised she was leading him back to his room, but he wasn’t looking forward to her usual attempt at getting him to dress up.

Instead, he decided to address the elephant in the room once they were alone. “I don’t understand why you indulge him so,” Zoraid stated pointedly as he searched through his wardrobe.

Soraya gracefully took her seat at the edge of the bed as she watched her brother, giving him a weary look. “You’re the one who told me I need to,” She muttered. “I never wanted such…intense affection.”

“Unfortunately for you, the king is not attracted to men, so the job falls on you,” He said as he pulled out a black shirt and pants, snapping his fingers to clean them. “The only reason it’s intense is because you’re forbidden fruit for him. His council would never allow him to have a mage for a wife, so relax.”

Soraya’s shoulders slumped as she childishly kicked out her leg. She knew he was right–she must have heard this a dozen times by now–but it didn’t change how she felt. It didn’t change how uncomfortable things got sometimes, how she never knew how to feel about having false affection from a man who could so easily get rid of them if he wanted to.

“It gets tiring,” She admitted quietly. “Must I pretend for the rest of my life?”

At the sound of her dejected tone, Zoraid bit back another sigh as he closed the wardrobe. He decided to take pity on his sister, setting aside his outfit and kneeling in front of Soraya.

“No,” He told her gently, taking her hand and making sure he caught her eye. “I know. I know it kills you, I just…need you to hang in there a little longer.”

Soraya put her hand over Zoraid’s, giving him a small smile. “I will,” She said quietly. “For you.”

“For us,” He corrected her as he stood. “Now, I know you’re dying for the chance to dress me, so for once, I’ll indulge you.”

Her eyes sparkled at his words, and she immediately leapt to her feet. “You’ll regret that,” She sang as she ushered him back to his wardrobe.

He wouldn’t. Not when she smiled like that.


The flashing lights chased after the Scions, though once the last arrived, the doors once again were shut. Scions and Templars were temporarily led to a side room while the masses gathered into the cathedral. Commander Fyodor awaited the group within, though his only acknowledgment was a nod. After a few minutes, he walked to the double doors. Within ten seconds, they opened, revealing a pair of church knights accompanying a tall, white haired woman. Every Templar present would immediately recognize her as Dame Irina Albakova, one of the senior Templars in charge of training inexperienced recruits. She held a small, open box housing ten crystals, each one colored in accordance to their element.

“Good evening Holy Ones, esteemed Templars,” she greeted the gathered audience in a palpable Rodian accent, offering a reverent dip of the head. “I thank you for your patience. The Brothers and Sisters of the Cathedra Incepta have blessed your armor crystals; Templars, please form a line to receive them. They will be worn on the chest as we proceed into the main chapel.” Although she spoke with great deference, the commanding presence of her voice left no room for discussion, a familiar sound to those who trained under her.

As each Templar took their crystal, Irina gave them a nod and a blessing: “May the Mother be your buckler and spear.”

Once each Templar had retrieved their crystal and donned it, Irina addressed the assembly again. “Holy Ones, you will proceed into the main chapel in a line; Templars, you will each follow immediately behind your charge. Please line up now.” She took up her position and gestured behind her, ensuring there was no confusion. “Once ready, I will lead you in, and Commander Fyodor will take up the rear. Thank you.”

The Scions were lead through a path that took them from their previous chamber back to the entrance without going through the main hall. They stopped in front of a pair of double doors that lead into the main chapel. Once everyone had arrived, Commander Fyodor walked to the doors, turning back to address the Templars. “Arm yourselves,” He ordered.

After one minute, the double doors opened, and Fyodor walked in with the group following behind. The people stood and turned to look at the group walking down the aisle in quiet awe. The few permitted cameras followed them eagerly, and a few whispers followed suit. A closer look at the audience showed that those in attendance were those from high places, an assortment of dukes and wealthy folks who had connections. In front sat several of the Estoran Federation’s leaders, surrounded by an assortment of security.

The first the group would see was President Bruno Esposito, whose clothes were much more modest in comparison to the other leaders, but his smile was warmer as he gave the group a modest bow. After him was Prime Minister Pierre Dumont, a lanky, older gentleman who needed to be prodded to pay attention, though he bowed all the same. Tsar Aleksander Kresnik was next, and he was much like Fyodor in that he was much more imposing and gruffer than others. He gave the group a shallow bow, but it seemed more out of difficulty moving as opposed to disrespect. Queen Merecedes Callidora would be the next leader, looking particularly young for her age, but keen eyes would spot her age lines just starting to form. She gave the group a curtsy, a dazzling smile following as she raised her head.

High King Nathaniel stood in all his arguable splendor, with his son and pregnant daughter-in-law, Lucas Estora and Erica Bachmeier, on either side of him. At Erica's side was her and Noah's younger sister, Rosemary, who seemed to have little decorum as she eagerly waved at the Scions, eyes bright. The group bowed their heads in unison.

Prince Rowan stood close tall, watching his son with the utmost pride, though his gaze seemed a touch weary. He dipped his head in respect as well.

Commander Fyodor led the Scions up onto the grand dais and took his spot next to Elijah. Once the Scions were lined up, the bishop of the church approached the podium, beckoning for the crowd to sit. The bishop resembled Prince Rowan greatly, complete with matching brown hair and blue eyes that shone as he looked towards everyone.

“Good evening, my brothers and sisters,” He spoke. “On this auspicious day we gather to celebrate a momentous occasion–the millennial anniversary of the divine blessing bestowed on us by the gracious goddess Incepta. When William Bachmeier gave out his prayer, Incepta answered, and we were given the holy Scions to carry out Her will. Today’s ceremony will be heralded by High Cardinal Margaret. Please give her a warm welcome!”

The audience broke into applause as the high cardinal took to the dais, now dressed in holy garments passed down through generations of cardinals. She placed her hand on the bishop’s shoulder as he walked past her and down towards the front seats, where a multitude of church mages stood carrying what looked like bowls of glowing water.

Margaret herself approached the podium. “Thank you, Brother Bachmeier, and to all for a warm welcome. It is with hearts full of gratitude and reverence that we come together today to reflect upon a thousand years of Her benevolence,” Margaret stated, unfettered by her audience or the cameras all pointed in her direction as everyone waited on her every word. “I would like to take this opportunity to formally introduce our newest Scion–blessed is he with the power of Storm, arbiter of the future who inherits the Sight like those before him. Our Goddess has determined that the best candidate for this position is His Holiness Sorrel Gran.”

There was a round of polite applause, but people immediately broke into murmurs.

“In the celestial dance of time, more than a thousand years ago, our beloved Mother once walked the world with us. When she departed, she asked us not to feel sorrow, for she would always walk with us,” Margaret continued, the crowd silencing itself to listen. “We see this every day in our Scions, the living proof of Incepta’s blessings. In the tapestry of history, the Scions of the past were like a radiant dawn and brought light into the darkest corners. As we stand on the shoulders of a thousand years, let us remember the genesis of these sacred blessings and the power they have had on our lives.”

The water began to glow at the end of her words as the mages channeled mana into them. She lifted her arm, revealing a bejeweled bangle, and the mana followed suit. Closing her hand, the mana dispersed, giving the air a glittering effect.

“With our hearts open wide, let us offer our deepest gratitude to Incepta, and may our actions reflect the abundance of her love. Let our hearts be filled with joy, that we may see another millennium be graced with even greater wonders, and may we continue to walk in the light of her blessings evermore.”


The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch, and the congregation scattered once it was over. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the sky slowly glittering with the twinkling of stars as everyone left the Cathedral Incepta. The Scions and Templars temporarily went their separate ways but gathered once again at the Gile Manor. Said manor stood on a hill, its ivy-covered walls and towering spires giving it an air of timeless elegance. The cobblestone path leading up to the entrance was lit through mana-powered lanterns and a light dusting of snow adorned the manicured gardens.

Within the main ballroom were high vaulted ceilings and crystal chandeliers, a massive fireplace roaring with fire gave the room warmth. The walls were draped in rich fabrics colored burgundy and gold. In one corner sat an ensemble of musicians gently playing music to accompany the chatter littering the air.

Duke Boetius Gile was more than ecstatic to host the New Year’s Eve celebration and played his part well, greeting everyone that came through the doors with much enthusiasm. The majority of servants were dressed in black, walking around and offering drinks and food to the guests. Anything that was asked for was given, with a set of tables showcasing a variety of dishes and sparkling champagne flutes for those who wanted to get things themselves. A majority of Gaia’s royalty and nobility was in attendance, wearing resplendent gowns and tailored suits, mingling with one another and exchanging pleasantries as well as their thoughts on the ceremony. The one thing on most people's mind was the new Scion of Storm, and many comparisons to his predecessor were being made.

"Theodore was a kind soul, bless him, but I don't know much about Gran' charitable work."

"From a gentle man to a Rodion brute. That makes two Rodion Scions, doesn't it?"

"Strange times will be ahead, but only She knows why he was chosen."

"I'm more interested in why a Kaudus brute is in attendance."

Belle herself paid little mind to the whispers. That was all they were, albeit her experience with Sorrel was limited to the memories she had from years ago. What occupied her more was the headache that refused to leave. By the time they got to the manor, she looked paler than she did at the church. She took a champagne flute offered to her but didn't drink, holding it loftily as she watched the host speak to a redheaded man.

"The Duke is currently speaking to Valentino Bachmeier," She said, frowning. "And that other man...he must be the emissary of peace from Kaudus. Andres Colton, I believe."

Colton seemed interested in the conversation between the older men, though his eyes did seem to wander. Like many, he seemed to admire the Scions and their Templars, though returned to the conversation when he was addressed.
@Byte@Ducksworth@SilverPaw@Obscene Symphony@Mr Irony II

Alright, friends! The time has come for us to begin this story. Had some incredible submissions but I’m so happy with the roster. Thanks for your time so far!

I’m going to be drafting the first IC post in the next day or so…

For now, I thought I’d use “Chapters” to structure this RP. You can find them in the zeroth post IC. I’ll update them as we go, of course. Open to suggestions, too!

We’re free to explore each Chapter as deeply as we’d like. Be free. Be creative. Craft your own story. But let’s follow the general template outlined in the Chapters.

If I think the direction of the story needs to move on to the next “Chapter” in order to progress, I’ll make an announcement to wrap up your posts and ready yourselves for the next plot. I like momentum and development.

I’ve decided against a Posting Order to start. Let’s try and flow freely. But if I feel like any of us are getting left behind or if things get clunky, I’ll put a posting order in place.

I’ve roped in my lovely Co-GM to help me manage any lil story-related workload bits. We’re quite a big group so I’ll appreciate the help on maintaining this RP so it can live a long life.

Hope this all sounds good to you! Let me know via PMs if you have any ideas you’ve got cooking. Cast your eyes over the Chapters and please… Have fun! <3


@Hero You just lurking, voyeur? There’s room for you to dip your toe in if you’re up for testing the waters ^^


definitely interested, just need to brainstorm something :D


The room was, in a word, chaos. Organized chaos, granted, but still chaos. And within the eye of the storm stood Belle, barely watching the half-dozen ladies fuss over her. This would not be the first or last grand event, though she knew that the Millennium Festival was a touch above the rest. It wasn't often that her mother insisted on certain family jewels to be worn–after Miss Perfect Maribel had her choice, of course–but Belle hadn't expected Scion Rosaria's tiara to be in the mix. It was a humble thing, made of silver and emeralds, yet beautiful all the same. It stared at her from its pillow, glinting quietly. She almost felt it was judging her for some reason. The emerald gown she wore was made for this day; it was a tulip sleeved gown made from a material that shimmered like silk with every movement she made. Her makeup highlighted her green eyes, with the exception of her red lips. There were an assortment of buds on the dress and in her blonde braid, though she would leave them as-is until her arrival.

As the maids put their finishing touches, Belle stepped down from the small platform and walked. She half listened to her lady-in-waiting, Lady Joanna, as the woman rattled off the evening's program. A sermon and then the gathering at Duke Giles' manor. The latter was interesting, to say the least. The duke had been quite pleased to host and was eager to rub elbows. From what she heard, the duke was trying to marry off his daughter to the crown prince of Veradis. Perhaps he hoped he could achieve this through socialization? The security detail must have been a nightmare with the many royals and nobles and those of import gathering all in one place.

Belle had let her mind wander, keeping quiet for the car ride. If she was honest, she felt a little tired. She had hoped to recover some energy as the day passed, but she felt drained for some reason. She chalked it up to the excitement of the day, but this was the first time in a long time that she wished she could have snuck in a nap at some point. Alas, it was not meant to be, and as the car came to a stop, she knew it was time to face the public.

She gave Guy a quiet 'thank you' as he offered his hand, taking it as she stepped out of the car. As she stood, she exhaled a touch, letting her mana blossom each of the buds on her dress and hair. The variety of flowers made for a fun spectacle, the photography flashes increasing as she walked. Belle closed her eyes for a moment, figuring that was enough to please the masses, only to open her eyes to a microphone in front of her.

"Your Highness! Is it true that you lost out on the Belle Rêve Beauty Line to Scion Maya Desrosiers?!"

Ugh.

Belle's perfectly manicured smile didn't flinch. "It is, yes," She replied softly, widening her smile before carrying on, leaving the reporter bewildered at the lack of an explanation.

The sight of a golden sky stretched across a blue sea. The waves glittered as they touched the sand, dampening the sand before returning to the ocean. A woman garbed in white stepped onto the sand, her cloak fluttering around her as the wind gently tousled the material.

“You who reads this seek my memory with the power which She bestowed upon you.”

The sky darkened considerably, cloaking the area in darkness. Only the moonlight illuminated her as she turned towards the light. Her face is largely hidden by her hood, her lips parting as she lifts her hand.

“The truth is only hidden to those who do not seek it.”



The princess woke peacefully, her eyes fluttering open. The light around her head faded–her sigil had glowed, had it? She slowly sat up, shivering in the chill or early morning. The sun had scarcely risen above the horizon, the memory of her dream fighting to remain in her mind despite drowsiness.

Belle slowly sat up, watching the blue sky outside. That golden sky made for quite the striking image. She had no memory of ever seeing one in person, but it seemed so clear in that dream.

“Highness, are you awake?” She heard her lady-in-waiting call from the other side of her door. “There is much to be done to prepare you for the Millenium Festival. It won’t do to sleep in!”

Belle didn’t respond, returning her gaze to the sky outside once again. There was something stirring in the air, a feeling she couldn’t quite shrug off. An omen? No, surely it was a dream caused by the stress of this anticipated day. The princess finally rose from her bed, ready to greet the dawn.


The sun was just starting to dip into the horizon, painting the numerous white and bronze buildings vermillion. The people came from all over, some from their homes, others from transport, but they walked with a purpose, and they were all walking towards the Cathedra Incepta of Juniperus. The church knights stood at the ready, watching the populace, and the knights within the church donned their traditional armor. Sunbeams filtered through stained glass windows depicting the Goddess and the original Scions, their colors dancing across the floors. The air carried a scent of juniper and sacred incense, giving a sense of peace and reverence underneath the buzz of excitement. Statues of the Scions, carved with exquisite detail, watched all who entered.

What was once considered a holy walk into the Cathedra Incepta was more modernized these days. A grand red carpet was set down from the cobbled street to the grand doors. The path was lined up with an assortment of Templars and church knights, a mixed horde of paparazzi and excited faithfuls who couldn’t enter hoping to catch a glimpse of Incepta’s chosen. The moment the first car came to a stop, the flashes from the photographers began.

The only person on the carpet was a well-dressed man holding a microphone. He stood alone in front of a large news camera with an earpiece and a dazzling smile.

“Coming to you live from Juniperus, we’re here to witness the entrance of the Goddess’ esteemed children,” He boasted, eyes sparkling as he took half a step back and gestured to the crowd. “This evening marks the one thousand year old celebration of Her chosen–her Scions. Accompanied by their Templars, they are the last to appear, and once they’re in, the sermon will be given by Father Bachmeier. Stay tuned for an exclusive first look!”


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