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To everyone waiting on replies. They most likely will be out tomorrow or Saterday. I need to get a part for my computer!
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Hello! I'm LadyRunic! But you knew that...

I love most types of Role Play, but by far my favorites are those that are well thought out and worked with. Especially when you can find a group you can work well with. I love books- So many books. It's a running bet that I will become buried under a pile of said objects one day... I'm a tad busy, and when an Rp really catches my interest I'm inpatient for posts. It's like reading a good book and getting stuck on a cliff hanger.

You can generally expect posts regularly once a week if not more.

I've RP'd for the better part of fourteen years, so I can honestly say I have some experience and I've developed the understanding of what I expect of a partner in a one-on-one or a group. I'm also the sort who will speak up and point out something if it looks off or forms a problem to me. I spent most of a year once stuck in a Voice Chat Rp that was hell on Earth, so I'm straight forward when I need to say something. I expect this in return from my Rpers and DMs. I want to improve my writing and love constructive criticism.

Most Recent Posts

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Bellinar skipped over Jandar's question as the Kaeleer man noted that he had scared the poor lad to death. Shrugging his large shoulders, the Saroth brother gave a non-commental grunt and was about to reply when the far sweeter voice of Fatima interrupted him. The rebellious Queen appearing in the shadows of what had once been a lush forest. Already Bellinar could see the slight hint of light in the sky. Dawn was coming and with the dawn their departure. Though what would they do with a boy and a Kindred-dog who knew too much? "A boy and a talking dog who know too much and were stealing from what I gather." The Eyrien informed the bedraggled queen with a slight bow. Those his words turned to address Jandar once more. "Though honestly I saw we just wipe their minds- permentantly- and be done with it. We can't risk leaving a trail especially if the Sadist met the Queen." There was a worried look on the Eyrien's face as he gave a great yawn. The man had been up all night and most of the day. Now low on sleep he was feeling the effects of his folly.

The lad, on the other hand, was anything but reassured especially when Fatima appeared. It was one thing for Mikhail to not be a fan of Queens, and yet another thing when he appeared to be a fan of one in particular. Thom wasn't a fool, he knew there could be a draw that a man of the Blood would feel towards a Queen. One that could drive a good man to justify doing very bad things in the name of the Queen. He had seen it before and had fallen victim to it. "You said you didn't trust Queens! None o' them are different, their all the same. Desiring and wanting for their own ends!" Hissed Thom as he shook in positive terror as wide blue eyes stared at Fatima. His pale blonde hair of his Glacian parent hanging limpy around a mask of horror as he gripped Mikhail's sleeve. Dunny taking up a defensive stance between his friend and the Queen growled lowly in warning, his lips drawing back from an impressive set of teeth. Though oddly enough for anyone who had been around the Sceltie for any length of time, Dunny remained silent. His tail tucked tightly between his legs. "We'll give it all back, I swear. Just let us go, Lady." Pleaded Thom, his feminine voice soaring to new heights in his fear.

Meanwhile, Faeril heard the distant noise of a group of voices. Didn't anyone know to keep their tones down? They were fugitives in hiding. Rebels who were being hunted, though not in earnest. Not yet. Opening her blue eyes weakly, the Black Widow-Healer could feel the weariness of using her Craft and the ache of the breaking of her illusion. Sitting up, the Eyrien woman covered her mouth with a yawn as she listened to the not so distant and loud snores of Gen and Denvar. The two brothers still sound asleep so long as she didn't try to leave through the room where they slept, and so long as no one tried to enter. Staggering on legs that didn't quite have the strength to hold her. Faeril limped along up the old and creaking stairs, the wood threatening to rot as she appeared on the balcony where the largest of her race lay. Snoring if she had any thought. Sitting on the hearth of a fireplace tucked just inside the door to the balcony where Xandar slept, she gave the large Warlord Prince a soft jab with a slippered foot. "Prince. There seems to be a racket." She whispered, her voice hoarse.
Adaahna Vanil & Mor'gann Arnhar

Location: Mandalore, Keldabe city, Alley

Was everyone on this planet some shade of some colour that could be found? Mor’gann’s yellow eyes narrowed on the red haired and skinned woman who was stalking down the alley talking about how they were wanted somewhere. [color=Olive][i]”Trouble, it seems, follows us this day.”/i][/color] The Dxun muttered in her native language, shifting to take a more balanced stance. The silver hilt of something that looked like the relic of her village was troubling to the young woman. One hand strayed towards her hip, her words sharper as she called towards the woman, hoping the Togruta wouldn’t be foolish. She knew that weapon was far more dangerous than it appeared. That the boy behind the woman was staying a fair bit back was a relief. ”What business?” Though quite there was an iron tone that demanded answers. ”You a relic?” Were there many of those things out in this wide maze of stars and dark night? Torn between wary cautious and curious need to know where that relic had come from she bared her teeth in a less than welcoming smile due to the scar. ”Answer I, answer you.” She offered with an incline of her head.”Well, trouble seems interesting.”

With a low hiss, the Togruta tilted her spear defensively to partially shield her new friend from the oncoming jedi. ”Be wary, force witches are said to be able to curse your mind.” She whispered to her comrade before calling out to the advancing woman. ”why should we come with you, we’ve done no wrong.”

Mor'gann raised a dark brow. "Je'di…" The rolled off her tongue as she tested it in her heavy accent. Studying the relic wielding woman, Mor'gann frowned in displeasure. She was not fond of being unable to understand the language of these people fluently, it was becoming very problematic. "What Je'di? Force vitch?" The words were stilted as Mor'gann felt her way around the pronunciation. "Shaman?" The younger of the two asked wiggled her fingers in a gesture at Adaahna.

With a quick nod Adaahna flashed a half smirk at her comrade as she tries her best to hold herself back. ”exactly, like shaman.” her gaze quickly returning to the potential prize in the advancing woman's hands.

Well wasn’t this surprising? How did a relic of Dxun of such importance come to be on this planet and in this woman’s hands? There were questions that Mor’gann desired answered, but they were hardly going to be answered if a fight were to break out. Not that she had any real idea on how to stop that from happening. She could barely converse with one of these people. Nevermind trying to be diplomatic! ”Shaman.” She tested the word several times. ”Shaman. Shaman.” Satisfied with the word being close enough- she hoped- to her own, the Shaman of Dxun nodded in agreement. For now, she would let Adaahna O’Shilis do the talking. Perhaps by listening, as was her usual go-to in unknown situations, she would learn more. Taking a step back, not to flee but to distance herself from any possible fight, Mor’gann looked past the woman’s shoulder at the ‘boy’. A tall fellow who seemed slick. Not in the sense of personality, but literally. The man seemed slicked over wit stains from the ships that she noted many of the smugglers and those about the docks had. People who seemed to work on things within the starships. The corner of her frown that was unmarred twitched upwards slightly in amusement. At least someone looked normal around here.

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

The boy's eyes widened as Bellinar trapped him under an imposing hand. Yet as a third showed up Thom's eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at Jandar in wary annoyance for reasons that were not readily understandable to poor Dunny who was trying his darnest to warn the Eyrien Warlord Prince off his friend. Without much success. Bellinar meanwhile just looked annoyed at Mikhail and Jandar. The Eyrien didn't want to release the boy or the mutt. Especially not if they were going to race off to tell tales. "Think perhaps it would be best to let the Queen decide that?" At the mention of a Queen, Thom paled the stark white most Glaciens were naturally. His golden eyes wide with fear. Dunny snarled all the louder. *I do not like him or Queens!* The dusty fellow declared to all four humans about him.

Bellinar stared at the dog with a furious glint of malice in his golden eyes. His wings spreading slightly. "What trick is this?" He snapped at Mikhail and Jandar. It seemed the Eyrien was on the border of arguing about the lad, but as Jandar asked where he had been and what he had been doing, he glared at Mikhail. "Do yourself and us a favor and wait for Faeril to wipe use from their minds. We don't need to borrow more trouble." Shoving the lad at the Dea Al Mon he turned to Jandar with a jerk of his head. Walking a bit away from boy and assassin. "I was taking a look about, I'm the fastest flier here, and women find me charming to talk to." He answered in a gruff voice, his wings tucking onto his back. "I would have been back sooner, but there was a bit of an issue over when I should leave." He gave Jandar a cocky smirk that was so typical of the males of his race.

Thom, however, was anything but full of himself as he shook with utter terror. It was one thing to run into a group of people. It was another thing when those people included a Queen. "Look, we'll give the stuff back. Won't tell no one yer out here. Just don't give Dunny to the Queen." Thom pleaded, his voice rising higher in terror. Dunny had been dropped from the lad's arm as he stumbled. Now the Sceltie danced about Thom's feet whining in worry and slight fear at Thom's reaction. "I swear I- We didn't mean any harm. Was just hungry." He gripped Mikhail's sleeve desperately. Outright pleading with the man. *Thom? Are you hurt? Do we need to run?* Dunny's dark eyes peered up at his friend and the Dea Al Mon. "No, you stupid mutt. We're should have run, but you had to be chatty!" Snapped the boy to the dog, the latter taking a few steps back looking shocked and hurt.

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Seeing the food, Dunny sent up a joyous bout of barking as his tail stirred the dust that covered the ruined village into a impressive cloud. Scarfing down the meat while Mikhail talked, Dunny was thoughtful enough to vanish half. His friend would probably be all puffed up and annoyed that Dunny had trusted this pointed-eared fellow so easily, yet how could he not? This one smelled of blood to be sure, but he was being nice and didn't have the stink of 'evil', as his friend called it, about him. Evil was a silly word according to the Kindred Sceltie. There were plenty of acts and things that might not be good, but evil was... Too focused? It closed out the other aspects of life. If you called one human of the Blood evil, then why were they not all evil just because of the Jewels they wore and the status they held? It was an old argument between the two.

Studying Mikhail as he ran his hands over the strange pointed ears that this human Blood had, Dunny nodded with a gleeful yap. *You are Dea Al Mon. Dea Al Mon have pointed ears! They are from Kaeleer!* Which stood to reason what Kaeleer was and where it was. Dunny stored that particular question away as the Dea Al Mon asked another question that had the tail drooping slightly. *I can't tell why...* Dunny huffed, looking a bit guilty before there was a slight feeling of Craft from the edge of the village where the woods was starting to encroach on the once pristine lawns. Whoever was there was hidden in the deep shadows from the leafless branches as moon was setting and the sun was slow to rise- the sky not yet holding a hit of the light that was going to come and soon. *Oh! My friend is here! I will show you again sometime!* Turning to go the Sceltie paused and gave a goofy dog-smile to Mikhail. *Thank you for food!* There was a slight crackle as leaves snapped underfoot off in the dying forest. *Impatient.* Came the amused Sending from Dunny as he trotted towards the figure. *He had good food!* The figure within the deep shadows appeared average height, broad of shoulder and there was a certain sense of 'male' to the figure, if Mikhail were to probe the weaker Jewel- a lighter Jewel.

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

The dark of the early morning hours caused the hours to stretch and bend in a haunting way, not that the furry little sceltie noticed as the pointed eared man looked for scraps. The tail thawcking the ground with a rapid delight at the thought of food. His friend had warned him that food freely given was not something to be trusted, but surely that was only for the human Blood that smelled wrong. This one didn't smell like that, funny perhaps but not wrong. Hearing the laughter, Dunny (as his name was) sat and tilted a head with an almost shocked look on his furry face. *You can hear! You can hear and I didn't even train you!* There was a slight nervousness in the sceltie's motions as he whined softly. Looking a bit bashful and worried for all his features were canine and covered with the dusty tan fur. *I'm not supposed to talk to you. My friend said talking to humans will lead to trouble.* Popping up on his paws again, Dunny danced about nervously. Circling in tight little circles away from Mikhail before revolving back towards the Dea Al Mon. *But you have food. You don't smell bad.*

Whining nervously, Dunny was horridly torn. He wanted to get food which would be an excellent find between his friend and himself, but he had been warned not to trust people. Even if they smelled nice. But this pointy-eared fellow had seen him snatching a few things and wasn't raising a fuss! So maybe he actually was nice? The tail dropped and then wagged, only to still again as Dunny pranced about nervously. *Bad humans take Kindred because they want them and hurt them. My friend says to stay away from humans because even nice smelling people can be bad humans.* Flopping in the dirt, Dunny gave a mournful look at Mikhail. *Humans have very confusing ways, and you have pointed ears.* Mikhail could find the food easily enough, not far from where it was earlier in the night. Someone, most likely Gen, had stored away what hadn't been eaten and shielded the box with a very basic shield that would not block out people but insects and any rats who got the bright idea to test it.

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Pleased with the selection the small dog vanished the items, much as a human would. His friend would be very please! Now he needed to find some food too, no one was awake yet so there was plenty of time! Wagging his tail with enthusiam at how well things were going, the dusty fellow gave a startled yelp as a hand patted his head. Half-ways jumping out of the storage chest where Faeril had packed clothing, a sewing kit along with several blankets (most of which were in use). Tripping over the ledge the furry creature tumbled head over paws before perking up as wide brown eyes full of innocence stared up at Mikhail, ears perked with interest.

There was a person, and he was awake! The banner-like tail drooped as he considered the trouble he might be in. It wouldn't do to lead that trouble to his friend. It was one of their agreed upon rules. They could hardly afford it after all. Yet the trouble the fellow thought might come never did as the strange paler fellow with pointed ears and strange smells gestured that he should follow? There had been the mention of 'eat' and 'hungry'. Giving happy bark, he trotted after Mikhail. *Food! Food! Food!* Bouncing and dancing about the fellow. It seemed safe enough since this man didn't smell like the 'bad people'. He just smelled like dark things and blood and not with the undercurrent of cruelty that was often following bad people.

Absently Mikhail would hear a voice muffled as if someone was trying to speak through a wall. Leaving a slight trail that pulled at Mikhail's mind towards a 'gap'. If the Dea Al Mon followed the tugging sense, he'd hear the remarkable sound of a decidedly happy Sceltie. *Food! The human will give me food! Good food? Meat food? Green food is good and cheese is really good! But cheese makes my nose feel full. I smell bread and meat and meat and bread! Food! Food! Food! A human who is nice is giving me food! I shall have to tell my friend about pointy ears! I've never seen a human with pointy ears!* The voice was decidedly younger and excitable as the dusty dog bounced and barked happily.

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

They chatted softly for a while longer, Faeril oddly enough being the first to turn in for the night. Though to be fair, Gen had been anything but accommodating to the Black Widow. The Green Jeweled Warlord hated seeing his friend so weakened, especially when she got hit with the recoil from a spell she had patterned onto their last hope to combat the poison that was spreading through the Realm. The mistrust that was the seed and the watering of dark amusements from those in the Aristo caste. Tempted with what they could get away with. Denvar had followed after the Healer-Black Widow to the house they had set up for sleeping. Briefly stopping by Gennar to inform the eldest of the brothers three that Bellinar was not back from his scouting yet.

"Do you think something happened? We should have felt something I would think." Denvar noted as the two of them walked towards the house. The darkness sending a chill across the ruined town.

"He probably went further. Hunting game." Usually Bellinar would return long enough to tell them he had spotted game he was going after. They were always keeping close and keeping an eye on each other, but Bellinar was going on longer outings alone and coming back with goods and gear they needed. Gen didn't want to question his brother, but there was something going on. Had been going on for months now. Nothing ill had come from it, but it worried the Warlord.

Denvar was not a fool, he could sense that worry in the dismissing words. "Gen-"

"We can't afford to worry about it. Bellinar is our brother, and if he's going off on his own..."

"Then he has a reason." Denvar supplied, relieving the worry from his brother's shoulders. "He wouldn't do anything foolish. Dangerous, of course. He is Eyrien. But nothing to risk us or Ashke." Watching Gen nod in mute agreement, Denvar held the door to the small first floor dwelling they had choosen. It was intact enough to offer some decent shelter. A decent pile of blankets from on of the many trunks and the bed was passible. Just a door down was Faeril. While they would rather be in the same room as the witch, they suspected their long time friend wanted her space for the time being. With all the excitement Faeril needed a solid sleep, and their coming and goings would only disturb her. "He probably just has some intelligence in the area and refuses to share it. Some old gran he's been smooching up to."

There was a grunt from Gen as the larger of the two gave his brother a tired look of exasperation. "He does have a way with charming the old folks doesn't he?"

The night wore on with the general shift of watchers through the night. The first up was Xandar, who witnessed little and heard even less. The odd rat scrabbling through the ruins. The odd owl swooping through the ruins before deciding a better meal could be had elsewhere, bats swarmed in and out of their dark dens high up in those buildings that still stood, their squeaks a soft counterpart to the sharp noises of foxes off in the distance. Common noises and movements. Nothing that would cause alarm. Reluctant as the Warlord Prince might be, his watch was taken over by Mikhail as the wee hours began with the moon dipping towards the horizon and there still being no hint of sun. The bats were returning for the night and the odd herd of deer was skittering through the land. Their groups were far smaller than they should be. A hint of the overhunting by those too poor to pay for the food on their table.

A shadow that did not belong, however, slipped through the ruins. Eyeing the box-thing that was called a 'Coach' the tiny creature was not at all large but was very certain what it was looking for was in the boxes that held things that were needed by people and thus he needed them too. Or rather his person needed them. Carefully looking about to make certain the coast was clear and no one was going to be watching, the small dog trotted up to one of the storage-boxes. He was a dusty looking fellow with tan fun and grey specks splattered across him. Noticing it wasn't locked, the sneaky fellow was relieved. One less worry! Not that he was overly worried, his friend has asked him to follow the humans-who-were-in-a-hurry from the town. It had been easy enough with the trail they made! The dusty dog was a bit miffed at the thought it was supposed to be hard!

Nosing the latch up as his friend had taught him, the small dog studied the lid with an almost perplexed look in his eyes. If he used Craft that would be noticed if the humans were looking for Craft to be used, but if he nosed it up he'd make noise. It was not a light lid, after all. Nosing his nose under the lid, he tried to heave the large storage-box's lid up. To no avail. Taking a quick look around, he hesitated slightly. There had been several large-winged humans in the camp and his friend had told him they were very dangerous. Especially the males. Especially the Warlord Princes, but then Warlord Princes were always dangerous. Males were always dangerous. Except for him, because he was a friend and his human-friend needed him. So, with a bit of a worried whine, the small dog set about lifting the lid with Craft. A simple enough thing since he was very good at lifting things with his Craft. Pleased within himself and the fact, he hadn't been noticed as far as he could tell, the small dog hopped into the trunk and began searching through the hodge-podge of items. There were plenty of stuff for his friend to use, but what would be most useful? This would require a bit of thinking, but that was okay! Because no one would be up for some time! The small Sceltie was so very proud with himself as his tail wagged furiously. Every now and then, poking his head out to drop something outside the storage-box that wasn't on his list of useful and was in the way. Happily vanishing a few of the human-metal-teeth he found, he was trying to decide if a delicate and tiny net would be useful on one of the human head-fur pins. He had never seen humans have nets on their head-fur pins. Growling slightly, he hopped up to toss it out, then paused as if in second thought. What if his friend needed it? But he was wasn't supposed to take too much... Taking too much was bad and caused trouble.

Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Faeril looked into the low dancing flames of the fire as Xandar fed it, her thoughts turning about the vision she had seen in her tangled webs. Those long nights she had spent weaving and casting her web out to draw a Court that could stem the flood of the corrupting influence by Hayll. A Court would form around and worthy Queen who could hold it, that had been given. Yet she had no way in telling what would happen when that Queen came across the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince. A figure there were as many rumors about that fathoming his reasoning would be akin to staring into the Twisted Kingdom of madness. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, the Black Widow wanted to slam her fury into the Kaeleer Dhemlan native for antagonizing one of the most powerful men in all the Realms.

As much as she wanted to give the orders, to direct their path as would be best in line with her visions, Faeril could not. Those choices belonged to Fatima now, their Grey Jeweled Queen. One of the darkest to come out of Hayll intact in centuries. Sipping from the cup, she made a strict point of not looking towards Xandar and a form that witches would fawn over. Which she for certain wouldn't! Drawing her wings tightly against her back, the Black Widow sighed in annoyance of their situation. What had they come to? "My reserves of power are lower than I would like." Faeril began, looking extremely disgusted at the fact.

"Oh, really? We didn't notice when you fell on your ass. Again." Snapped Gennar out of character for the Warlord, but not unreasonable for someone whose guard was making sure the Healer didn't overdo it. Especially when that Healer was also a Black Widow and stubbornly set in her ways. Faeril falling after that feedback from her spell had hit her had scared the man shitless. He didn't like seeing his old friend so wounded, and even less when he could do little to help. The idiot woman kept pushing herself past what was reasonable. "Ashke, isn't doing shit. She's exhausted herself twice over within a week."

"I can make my own decisions, thank you Gennar." The Widow's voice was as cold as her eyes as she glowered at Gen."We may not have a choice but to rely on my powers. I do mean to rest for that time, and I do not squander my Craft as you so imply."

"Healing the mind over a series of treatments, one infected wound, nearly getting your wings and snake-tooth cut off... Want me to continue? Oh, and casting an illusion for this little outing which fed back and slapped you down by the one who broke it." Gen snarled in reply, thoroughly annoyed by Faeril's stunts as of late. "Can we get back to the matter at hand of what the Queen wishes to do, so Faeril can sleep." There was a noise of offended dignity as Faeril looked about ready to throw her cup at Gen's head.
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