LadyRunic

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Rhys Asher

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Location: Esmeralda's shop

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"So his name is Fayard..." The Rogue Wizard mused as he studied the furious Witch. She was angry and rightfully so, but he couldn't help but be a bit irritated she wasn't answering his questions. Still gripping the palm reader's wrists fast the man growled deeply. "Reading of your thoughts, to find the boy I into my home I brought." If this didn't work then he'd get the answers he sought another way. His eyes were cold as the spell began it's work. Showing him facts he wished he could erase from his mind as he let the Disguise Spell end.

Fayard, Badger... The boy was his son. "My son. Esmerelda. You left my son with your good for nothing brother." The dangerous tone of his voice was a sharp hiss as he whispered into Esmerelda's ear. His other hand wrapping about her throat as they tightened. "Tell me he is alive so I can kill him myself." He snarled, shoving the woman off him and standing as he released Esmerelda's throat and shook her like a rag doll. Keeping her wrists in his grasp, the Wizard shoved his hand through his hair as he let out a too soft sigh. "Close your shop for the day. I'll take you to your son, stupid wench. Our son has the Sicknesse. Something I have been trying to cure." He hissed, his green eyes dark with fury, a clear warning the woman would be wise not to test him. Not after this.

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Skaoi Silverveil

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Location: Infirmity

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Skaoi gave Lyra a quick nod of her head. "Please, inform her. It would not do for this Sicknesse to continue to spread. Anything we can do to stem this horror." The woman quickly turned her attention back to her patient, concern fixed over her pale features. Pulling out a handkerchief she gently dabbed at the tears. "If it is any conciliation, it appeared to be fast and he didn't- It was quick. He did not linger." Death was never pleasent, never pretty. But the poor lad out in the hall had gone quickly and didn't waste away in an agony like so many about infirmary. Her thoughts were disrupted as Princess Luna came in and apologized.

"Princess this is an infirmary, I would request that you bath and change before you enter again." The Physik practically order with a tone of deference in her voice. She was correct as the infirmary was a place for sanitary, which vomit wasn't. As she watched the woman walk away she pressed the tea cup into Prince Tristan's hand and raised it to his lips. "Drink." The woman advised as she busied about brewing together a slight compress for shock. Talking almost absently to herself, if it wasn't for the fact her pale eyes were holding Tristan's fast. "That was not a request, Your Highness. I can work and make you better but only if you follow my routine. I can fix many things, but I cannot fix what truly hurts now." Laying a hand on his shoulder, Skaoi pressed a wet cloth to the lad's forehead. "Please rest, but do not encourage or use magyk."

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Grimspound

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Location: Aricie

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The waves rolled and lapped at the sides of the ship as the Aricie plowed through the waters, her sails snapping in a breeze that smelled of salt and brine. Perched on a barrel near the rail, a book in a slim fingered hand that would belong to an artist rather than a warrior a young man studied the contents of the pages. Or pretended to. The bits and snippets of gossip flittered past like the spray of the sea. It was hardly a appropriate place to read a book, but he had sent a spare back home to his mother's clan. Plus, it was a fairly common book written by a sub-par author. It was the mind of the author- the sheer stupidity of this man- he was trying to wrap his own about. All his other books, better reads by far!, were below in the hold within his trunk. Needless to say Grimspound was grateful for the cries of gulls and the relieved sigh of those who were not so at ease with sea voyage.

Looking out over the rail with his deep green eyes, he stretched his neck and listened to the bones pop in relief. His name was Jazen Grimspound Dyrki of the Dyrki Clan. A group of women- and those men who were born into the family- who lived in the Land of Long Nights. A land that was as harsh as their ancestors. His grandmother was still a creaking old woman who was far too fast with her cane in hand then she had right to be, according to his mischievous cousins. The matriarch of the clan, the old woman had been the midwife at his birth. Not to mention she had been the one to prod him to go to the 'Small Wet Country'. He ached to feel earth beneath his feet again and though that could be achieved quite easily, he didn't want to scare the other passengers. He was not like them.

He would never be like them.

His auburn hair had begun to darken years ago, as childhood left him, turning to black. It was not a uncommon thing, a few distant cousins and people he had met in his travels hair shifted darker during the winter months or with age. Amused with the thought, Grimspound considered what he would look like with silver hair for a minute. A old, stern man striking a formal and most definitely regal pose. Of course he wouldn't have one those ridiculously long beards. Though it was an entertaining thought. Snapping his attention back to the book, the man rubbed his hand and felt young skin and saw black hair still fall through his fingers. For all he had mastered shape-shifting, it was not wise to tempt fate. Yet a friendly, if slightly cocky smile graced his features as he stored the book in jacket pocket. Small enough to fit. Fit enough to burn- though he wouldn't. Such a thing would be utterly foolish.

Standing, the man peered at the approaching Port. "A port at last, and here I was thinking of growing fins and making a life amongst the fishes." His voice was a soothing jest that was spoken more to himself than anyone else as he studied the approaching land in earnest. What would await him. What knowledge could he obtain? Already his collect was quite extensive, yet he wasn't satisfied. He wanted to know more, see more. It was a urging he could not deny. Power? It was useless without knowledge. Knowledge would grant tenfold the power. Of course that was a scholar's point of view, but Grimspound was a scholar was scholar if nothing else. Letting an arm dangle over the railing, he yanked up a small palm of salt water through magyk inherited from his father. For all he was an adult, it still fascinated and amazed him. Slowly drops spilled away til he was left with one the size of a large marble and fixed it between two hands. Shaping it to mist, water, ice and back again. Swirling the streams about like needle work as he had done when he was younger during long winter months. Absently he let the water twisted and turn as he wandered the paths of his mind bits of light reflecting off the surface into small rainbows when the liquid caught it right. Listing off what all he had heard of the Small Wet Country, and was hearing from the conversations about him.

Darke Magyk - Concluded

Jazen Grimspound Dyrki

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Jazen Grimspound Dyrki

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Character Summary

Name: Jazen Grimspound Dyrki
Darke Name: Nezaj
Age: 24
Birthday: November 4
Birthplace: Land of Long Nights - The Dyrki Clan
Residence: Temporary Quarters on the Aricie
Gender: Male
Culture: The Land of Long Nights
Education: Self-taught Mage, Scholar
Position: Rogue Adventure
Alignment: Chaotic Good

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Appearance

Height: 6 foot 2 inches
Weight: 175~ pounds
Build: Lean and athletic
Eyes: Emerald Green
Hair: Dark Auburn that is turning black
Skin Tone: Slightly tanned
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: He has several scars from the missteps of his youth. Scratches and bites of various animals. A rather large burn wrapping around his side when he accidentally blew a hole in the side of his mother's home. This is covered by a array of tattoos. Depicting the various stages of his life in small pictures within the banner work. From his birth to his accomplishments. He can make it disappear at will, per his gifts from his father, but he makes the effort to keep it while in his actual form. Goodness knows what his cousin would do if she had to fix it again.
Personal Style: Lavish, yet practical. An odd combination for the Land of Long Night. In his youth he wore the leathers and furs similar to many of his people, yet as he travelled about mainly to different cities outside of the Land he took to the less fuzzy clothing. Sleeker and more respectable. Grimspound has a eye for comfort, but he will get down and dirty if he needs to and he expects those clothes he wears daily (and not for comfort) to be able to handle his traveling life style. Study boots, thight pants and a comfortable shirt under a vest and coat/cloak. He generally wears whatever color and isn't too picky. Though he had a love of silver, amber, crimson and greeen. Tending to stay away from brighter colors. If he's going to be in a possible fight he generally wears leathers. He does however have a thick cloak he wears sometimes, made of wolf and lynx fur.

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Psychology

Friendly * Presistent * Intelligent * Willfull * Cunning * Trickster

Sexuality: Polyamorous
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: What is there to say of Grimspound? He is a trickster through and through, though he is also a scholar at heart. Books fascinate him and he keeps collecting and shipping more back to his home among the women of the Dyrki clan. A restless wanderer, he seeks ground to slake his thirst for knowledge and the constant need to understand things. A lonely, loving traveler. He enjoys the company of others and the simple joys of life- as well as those incidents he happens to leave behind him. Nothing serious, things anyone would get a good laugh out of after a bit. After all, he does realize he is going to need to pass through again probably.

Cheerful and friendly, Grimspound is the sort to start fiddling and dancing on the table to get the folk laughing. But that is not to say he is without his temper. A cold and dangerous thing that can sleep for years only to stir awake in defense of his friends or kin. Rarely does it wake for Grimspound himself as he generally laughs off the curses life throws at him, choosing to work his way through them rather than complain. A lesson he learned from his mother's folk. But it is known among the Dyrki that his temper is honed by his intelligence. A cold mind that when made to turn to the machinations of the defender- or the attacker- he can be ruthless and brutal in his towering rage. It is then he acts without empathy or remorse. A dagger to defend his mother's people and his father's honor as he sees fit.

Habits: Playing about with his magic idly, catching cat-naps, and telling tall tales. He also enjoys spinning lies to confuse his name and his origins.
Hobbies: He enjoys reading, working out problems, hunting, fishing and wandering about listening to people gossip.
Fears:

• Not being able to return to the Dyrki
• Doing something unforgivable in one of his cold rages.
• Centipedes

Likes:

• Books and knowledge in general
• Hunting/fishing
• Eavesdropping
• Entertaining people
• Rainy days
• Good company

Dislikes:

• Those who dismiss knowledge
• Those who insult him
• Bugs in general
• Having to repeat himself
• Those who can't lighten up and smile.
• Being cheated (Though he enjoys cheating others)

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Cards On The Table

General Skills:

• Slight of Hand - User is skilled in fine motor skills when used by performing artists in different art forms to entertain or manipulate. It is closely associated with close-up magic, card magic, card flourishing and stealing.
• Charisma - User has compelling attractiveness or charm that can inspire devotion in others.
• Shapeshifting - Any gender and any form the size of a human.
• Translation - The ability to translate between various modern languages. Users are proficient in all languages commonly spoken at the Castle. This does not include more uncommon languages, such as Serbian.
• Sense Magyk - The ability to detect Magykal auras and See enchantments. This is a passive skill.
• Asgardian Magyk - The innate talent to utilize the Magyk of the Norse gods; best results come after practice and study yet the raw power is always there.
• Intuition - the ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning.

Cultural Skills:

• Country Knowledge (the Lands of Long Nights) - The knowledge of the general geography of the Lands of Long Nights. This includes the ability to find a path from one location to another, as well as a knowledge of the culture and customs of that country.
• New Nordic - The user has complete fluency, able to read, write, and communicate in the language of the Land of Long Nights. This skill can be used as a makeshift oral storytelling skill, as most of the traditions of the Land of Long Nights are told through stories.
• Olde Tongue - The user has complete fluency, able to read, write, and communicate in the Olde Tongue of the Land of Long Nights. This skill can be used as a makeshift mythos skill, as the user will be familiar with famous texts written in the Olde Tongue, such as the Prose Edda.

Occupational Skills:

• Persuasion - The ability to convince someone of something, whether it is true or false.
• Cartography - The study and practice of making maps. Users are proficient in communicating spatial information, as well as knowledgeable of minor restorative techniques for damaged maps.
• Rooftop running/climbing - Parkour! The user has proficiency in scaling vertical objects, as well as keeping footing on elevated and uneven terrain.
• Perception - The ability to notice things that others may overlook. This does not include items and beings of Magykal origin. For that, see Sense Magyk.
• Blend - The ability to blend into a large group of people and effectively disappear, becoming one of many.
• Climbing - The ability to scale a steep object without falling to an early death (most likely, anyways...)
• Sneaking - The ability to gain access to secure locations without detection.

What Is On Your Person:

• Bow
• A set of knives (Boot, wrist, waist)
• A small kit for first aid
• The book he's currently reading
• A journal and writing untensil
• A hidden pouch with money
• A fiddle

Residence:

• A large pack with various basic travelling equiptment
• A large crate of books ready to be shipped back to the Dyrki.
• Several maps
• A sword
• Several private journals about his travels
• Trinkets from his travels
• A trunk of clothing, lavish and furs and leathers.

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History

Your Path: This is the path his feet and heart too him. The wind calls and he beckons. Leaving his home was the only logical choice as he had learned all he could there. There was nothing else to keep him, so Grimspound left and set out on his own. Despite his very self-relying mother's worrying. Apparently it's not wise to point such out as he had to skip away from the irate woman.

General History: Born to Tersa Dyrki, Jazen Grimspound Dyrki was named and set in his mother's arms by his grandmother. The Dyrki were a matrilineal family, their name passed from mother to daughter and from mother to son. Or so that was claimed. His people were his many cousins and mother, aunts and grandmother. The latter being the matriarch of the small clan. Grimspound never knew his name as anything other than Grimspound, and no one called him otherwise. 'Grim' was his name and he accepted it. Just as the boy accepted the strange man who appeared every year for only one night before leaving. As he accepted his mother calling him Jazen. Odd little things that the boy paid no mind to as he studied the games of the other children and outwitted them. For he was a child and innocent in the matters of grown ups. He was four when he decided to decipher the book his mother read to him from. Needless to say, he managed it to his mother's shock.

From then on, he knew he was different. It wasn't obvious- yet- but he knew other children would have given up and gone to play. But not Grimspound. He was young and thirsting for this knowledge that others seemed to find boring. During the rainy days and winter months while he learned how to spin wool, he listened to his grandmother tell him tales and lessons on the world. He watched the smith work their forges and the fishers bring in their haul. Those fleeting days of being four and playing games behind him as he was five- then six- and learning to cast a line and hook a snare. The other children taunted and laughed, thought him odd. Yet Grimspound laughed with them and agreed. He was odd. He enjoyed this 'work'. There was so much around him and he could not grasp it all fast enough. Tersa watched with cunning eyes as her child grew and she took him into the wilds at seven. There she taught him how to hunt and kill, how to wield a knife and bow. He was young still but Grimspound strove to learn what he could. To master what was offered to him. The boy learned the words that would hurt someone and the words that would heal as he watched his kin go about their lives. The stranger- his father his mother told him- still came on that one day every year and Grimspound never pried past polite questions. Though there were dozens of questions brimming behind his green eyes, yet to speak wrong would hurt or make the man leave as he had seen others do in the village.

He did aim these questions to his mother and grandmother when nothing but an answer would sate him. They, to their credit, answered honestly. Why did the man not stay as other fathers did? Their answer was simple, where would he? He had no cabin and he was of the Dyrki. It was not that they would not have him, but like the other men this one would come and go. Was it truly so strange? Grimspound was puzzled but did see the sense of it. So the years passed, so the seasons turned. Grimspound grew from child to youth and magic and shapeshifting came to him. His relatives buried him with books, and whatever else could be of use. Eyes that had by passed him as 'Grimspound' now found interest in the lithe form of a boy that was becoming a man. Though few advances were made outside of playful flirtations. No, for Grimspound's nose was firmly in his book as he mastered his magick and shapeshifting. Relentlessly he practiced and studied, his friends and family nearly have to break down his door to get him to stop to enjoy the day in those early days. It was during of his experiences Grimspound found he needed to study near water as when he accidentally exploded his mother's wall and badly injured himself. He learned to be careful and he learned to relax for a miscalculation from lack of sleep had been the cause. Not that anyone let him forget that. He learned the sword from a cousin and how to play the fiddle from an aunt. From his older sister he learned to slip through shadows unseen and the art of sleight of hand.

He was sixteen, just having become a man, when he first felt that towering rage. He had gone with a group of aunts and cousins on a trip to another village for trade and they were attacked by bandits. The first arrows surprised them and his lost an aunt and two cousins. Another was cut down by a sword before Grimspound felt that towering rage of cold fury. Oh, it was just fine if they wanted to shoot him. But his family? The Dyrki? They would learn their mistake. Grimspound rose from the wagon and unleashed a slaughter along side the other fighters. He had learned to hunt as a shapeshifter and killing men hadn't been all that difficult with fangs or with magic. Albeit these men were badly equipt bandits. Forcing that cold rage back, Grimspound wanted to weep for what he had done, yet the fury for those who had died because of those men stopped his tears from falling. His mother and grandmother wrapped him in their love and acceptance and Grimspound learned over the course of a year to accept that power brought such horrors about- and that sometimes it was necessary. "When there is trouble, pound on Grim's door." So was the saying of his village and with good reason.

He was twenty when he took to the road, having learned everything he could from his family and friends. Having felt the need to wander. The pull to travel. He could not deny it and he did not. The years spent on the road honed his silver tongue and his sharp mind. Sword, bow, knife and magic were honed as well as Grimspound ruthlessly practiced. His purse filled and emptied as he fiddled for his supper and sang tales to the audience. As he bought books and shipped them home. As he studied the workings of the world and took pleasure in it.

Thoughts on Sickenesse: He's not sure what to think of it other than the fact that he does not care for it. It worries him, but he also understands it's a plague like any other. While he would normally avoid the town he is drawn to it. Hoping it will not be his doom. He does want to find a cure in case it pops up among his mother's folk.

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Extras

Character Quote: "My darling, and dashing gents. I am Grimspound. I am gifted to have met you."
Theme Song:
Anything Else: Gandalf : Posts
_{*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy. I acknowledge that I can and will be removed from the RP without warning if I break a rule or cause problems with my fellow Rpers or the GM.}

Relationships- Book Two

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The Scroll

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Jazen Grimspound Dyrki

"It is good to see that you are well, I hope."

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⟢ 🎆Respects ⟡ 🌓Neutral ⟡ 👋Acquaintance ⟡ 🙇It's Complicated ⟣
⟢ 💛Friend ⟡ 💙Good Friends ⟡ 💜Best Friends ⟡ ❣️Ex-Friends ⟡ 😈Frienemy ⟣
⟢ 💘Infatuation ⟡ 💓Loves ⟡ 💗Couple ⟡ 💕Basically Family ⟡ 💞Family ⟡ 💔Ex-Lovers ⟣
⟢ ♨️Tense ⟡ 💀Dislikes ⟡ 😡Hates ⟡ 👿Enemy ⟡ 👹Absolutely Loathes ⟣

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🌓Neutral Arya Rincewind 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Queen Valda 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Cuyler Eysteinsson 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Fluer La Malificurm 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Princess Luna 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Atkin Bowman 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Rhys Asher 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Myrus Marcellus Silvers 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Amarantha 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Sylvi the Bard 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral [color=F0OAE2]Myth the Muse[/color] 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Bruce Banner 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Marcellus Dumont 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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🌓Neutral Tristan Alvissen 🌓Neutral
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”

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Faeril Ashkevron

Location - Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

Faeril looked stunned as the Grey Jeweled Queen slipped past her out into the rain despite the sharp hiss of protest from the Black Widow-Healer. Watching as the Queen pulled the strange Eyriend Warlord Prince's face down to eye level with hers. She could not make out their eyes but a sudden surge of dislike towards the male ran through her. Perhaps that dislike did stem from the fact he was a handsome man and Fatima was the one looking like she found a lost puppy. But Faeril had seen enough Queens with that tone of voice in her youth to recognize what was playing out before her.

Will she or not, this was a member of Fatima's court that would form to stop the taint of Hayll. Folding her wings, the Eyrien woman stepped out to collect Andressa, keeping a close eye on the Queen and Warlord Prince. If he made the wrong move, she would strike and may the Darkness have mercy on him. "Lovely and all, but let us get in out of the rain. And no, Fatima. I am still going to conduct the same search on him I did on you. Else he can stay outside." Touching Andressa's hand the woman let some of her Healing Craft sooth the aches and bruises. Her voice much more gentle from the tartness it held before as she spoke to the woman. "Come. There is warmth and food, and your injuries will no longer ache." Faeril soothed.

@13org The barkeep took a step back, his wing stretching out slightly in an attempt to appear larger. With a snarl, the man cursed Mikhail soundly. But he did realize this wasn't a time to fight. Something warned him off, and that something was years of experience. Old he was, but he had a reason why he lived to get that way. "Ashkevron Residence, though I suggest you wait til morning. The woman is a grouchy bat, and she'll take your head off if you don't give her the proper respect." Though he hoped that the Black Widow would take this one's head off anyways. Lad damn well deserved it.

@nohbdies The man nodded in relief. "Ashkevron Residence, in Aren." He pressed two tankards of ale int Vaclav's hands. "On the house." The man turned away before the Dhemlan could ask more. Busying himself with other customers.

The woman patted Artemis's arm gently. "It is alright dear. The paths entwine to the tapestry."

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine

Location Cells

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Richard gave a dark chuckle at the OMEN member. His eyes near about dancing with delight. "Well if they expect us to fight and have a shield, perhaps we shouldn't disappoint them." He crooned to the man in a velvet covered his. He didn't relish having to fight his way out, but he had before and doubtless would again. Rubbing his jaw the Adder considered their options. He could go out guns blazing, slip out through a disguise possibly, or sit and wait for rescue or death. Well, he knew which of those options he fancied.

"First thing is first. How about opening up the cells of our friends?" Glancing to Ayita the older Laine nodded towards Dean. "Second thing. We don't want a fight. We don't want blood- despite what I said earlier. It's you lot who want nothing but to see us stripped of our arms and legs. Apologies, but I loose those often enough." The Adder commented with a sarcastic annoyance. [color-Olive]"Really, it gets so boring."[/color] He grinned slightly, in a crooked way that was hardly threatening, if it wasn't for his dark and dangerous eyes. "But actually... Why. Why do you work in a place like this and try to lock up us in little cells without a damn? What have we- us, not all the 'mutants' in the world but those specifically in front of you- done? Aside from shooting your buddies. Shame really, but fear for our lives and all that."

Ayita Dyrkin

Location Cells

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Ayita caught Richard's look and moved with a slow limp over to Dean. He was bleeding and badly. She didn't know much but she would do what she could. Dean, for all his foolish ways, was a member of the pack. A dysfunctional, irritating pack, but a pack none the less. Combing her dark locks from her face she studied the wound in the stomach before stripping off Richard's shirt to reveal horrifically scarred skin, marred over the years with bite and claw marks from various fights for survival. Her modesty kept by a tight black tank, not that Ayita would care about such a thing. Pressing it to Dean's stomach she leaned over and sniffed at him curiously. Amber eyes assessing his condition.

The wound appeared to be healing and from what she caught of the weak voice, he appeared to be urging something. So she did the only reasonably thing and peeled back a eyelid with one bloodied hand. "The blood is slowing, it appears there may be hope." The shifter reported softly. "Idiot hunter, you were rash and could have cost us." Ayita admonished with a soft growl, though her eyes were locked more on the wound as she sough to help it close. It wouldn't do to have a bullet in there, but pulling it out would be worse when she didn't know what she was doing.

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Rhys Asher

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Location: Esmeralda's shop

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Rhys froze as his eyes took on a sleepy look. Dangerous, that was one word to sum up the man's look. "Yes." With that he stood up and drew Esmeralda tight to his chest, whispering down to her in that silky croon. "They are both green now, since I plucked the boy from the mob that was hunting the Young Army." Rhys was not stupid, piecing together the age, the boy was rather close in years to his night of desire with the witch.

Tracing a hand down her cheek, Rhys did not allow the disguising spell to break. "Tell me who his father is... To toss such a child to that twisted organization." There was a deadly edge to the rogue's voice. "Or was it you? Did you get tired of him? Was it too much?" A finger hooked under Esmeralda's chin as he tilted her head up. His hand stopping her from looking away. "Tell me the tale, Esmeralda. You're son is in grave danger and I need every bit of information I can gather to save my apprentice."

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Skaoi Silverveil

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Location: Infirmity

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Fyror was dead. Skaoi's mouth tightened as she withdrew and studied the situation again. Who would poison these people? Who would have the knowledge and do it so well with Belladonna? Those were questions for another time however as she had patients to tend to. Patients who were dying from a more dangerous killer than the Sickenesse. Her head whipped around to eye Tristan and the woman- Lady Lyra- if she remembered correctly. "Belladonna." She informed Becky giving a pointed look to Amarantha as she gave the other Physik woman the quick run down of the woman's symptons.

Turning her full attention to Tristan and Lyra she gripped Tristan's hand and led him into the Physik's Infirmary. It was going to do him more good than seeing a dead body. Pushing his head between his knees the woman held a hand over it for a minute, "Breath." She stated softly, looking to Lyra. "Put a basin between his feet." Moving over to her work table the woman quickly began mixing up a brew of calming tea and a few sedatives that would dull his thoughts a bit. Heart pains, trouble breathing, a shock, stress. She needed him to calm first and foremost then she could do her job. After a bit she pulled Tristan up by his shouler and genlty placed the hot tea to his lips. "Drink, Your Highness. My apologies for your rough treatment, but we have not time for niceties." Looking to Lyra she toyed with her words, deciding someone needed to know. "Please inform the correct people we need to let it be known that those with the Sickenesse cannot have magik preformed on them, by them, or around them. It's nothing certain, but a precaution."

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine

Location Cells

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Well, he could have conserved his energy it was true. Richard resisted the urge to run a hand through his badly mused hair. He should have conserved their energy, but that was not going to help them at this moment. The fact was the guards were taking them somewhere. The Adder had to stop a grin from cracking across his face when the cell's doors opened. The fools. Those arrogant, pathetic fools. He had not had his powers in his youth, but he had enlisted in the army. Another past mistake, but one that aided him in the long run. Had he not the older Lain realized he could have been there, helped his sister and shelter her.

So when Dean sped towards the group and managed to get his hands on a gun, Richard gave an approving nod with his cold eyes locked onto a man who aimed his pistol at the boy. Firing and hitting the young speedster in the stomach as Richard grabbed him up from behind and flung him into the cell. Idealy he would have snatched the gun away for his own use, but he fumbled it. The gun went skittering across the ground as he grabbed for the other man's weapon only to miss as the guard skittered away. "Boy, if you don't stay awake I'll beat you within a inch of your life." The Adder threatened Dean, before deciding on another tatic. "Besides you need to explain Prom." Eyeing the one in the cell, he turned his back to none of the agents.

Ayita Dyrkin

Location Cells

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Pulling her wounded leg under her and twisting to present her whole arm to the threat, Ayita eyed the guards warily. Men, hunters, with guns. Her blood ran cold as she bared her teeth in a snarl, before two of them fell. Bullets from Dean's weapon in them, the foolish idiot threatening the others. The self-proclaimed Dyrkin was of the opinion he should just shoot them, but her brother would have a fit. 'Offer surrender, then shoot.' It was not the law of nature where the strong survived and the weak did not. There surrender did not exist, but for humans she could see why it was necessary. One life had she taken. One, and she could not sleep as she once did. Those words, that face haunting her. The taste of blood in her mouth.

Noting that Richard had disarmed one man and had thrown him into a cell, she wanted to join the fray. But what could she do? One leg was still aching and wounded limiting her mobility. One arm was a raging sense of pain, and damn her powers for it! Have your bones snapped and reforged, having thousands of feathers force their way through your skin. That was painful enough! But it was over in seconds, this was still persisting. Yet she couldn't complain. Did not some of her forms take a while to work when she first started with them? Turning her attention to Richard she noted his question and asked the one on her mind. "What is the big deal about this 'Prom' or whatever it is?" Oh, she had heard about it. But never understood it.

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

@eclecticwitch @Torack @nohbdies @13org Post is up!

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Blood's Jewels

“Terreille in Trouble”

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Faeril Ashkevron

Location - Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

Faeril smiled slightly as the young Grey Jeweled Queen gave a small laugh and compared the Black Widow to her Queen mother. The woman sipped from the tea, enjoying the flavor that eased the tension from her work. "If you were to ask Gen or his brothers they would say it is much the same with myself." There was a tone of exasperation in the woman's voice as she gave a roll of her pale blue eyes. "Snarly males." The woman huffed in amusement, even as she scowled at the three empty chairs. "Clans... We are not so primitive, Hayllian Queen." A brow raising in warning. There was a sudden knock that echoed from the front door, causing the Black Widow to pause as she gave the door a look. Confusion flickering over her features. "Now why would they be knocking?" The dark wings rustled as she strode towards the heavy front door.

@13org The grizzled barkeep gave the stranger a odd look, his eyes narrowing dangerously as the man gave his daughter a smile. Shifting his stance, the old Warlord moved to block that line of sight giving a deep growl in his chest at the intrusion. "This here is the Winged Boar tavern. Don't got beds, and none that you can share." His golden eyes narrowed at the strange pointed eared man as he growled deeply. There was, however, a thunk as a tankard was placed before the man along with a bowl of poorly made gruel. "You going to pay?" Gen looked over at the older warrior and narrowed his eyes, before turning back to the strange Eyrien and his... acquaintance? Leading them out of the tavern. The old barkeep was far from helpless and if something did happen. Well, then the man would get his wish and regret it.

@Torack The steady fall of rain drenched the three males who guided Lucivar and his assistant to the eyrie at the edge of the small village. While most of Aren was made up of Eyriens, the traffic of the town also came for the trade and infamous Healer- and Black Widow to those in the know. Leaving a small portion of the homes being built in the valley easily accessed by those without wings. Though the number of eyries carved into the mountain sides about the village of Aren was far more numerous. Eyries were homes built for those native to Askavi. Built into the mountain and cliffsides, something non-natives found unnerving. The steep and narrow stairs that led up the the Ashekevron home was one such example as it twisted back and forth on itself to open up into the blooming front gardens of the home. Soft light revealing life within the grey structure, as the three brothers landed. They had not bothered the shield, most likely to conserve strength just in precaution if it came to a fight.

"Try not to growl." Gen warned the male as he rapped on the heavy front door, wanting to give his old friend some warning. "She bites back." There was a slight grin, though whether the comment was in jest or not was anyone's guess. The two Rose Jeweled Warlord Princes moving to take up flanking positions on Lucivar and the battered Andressa. Though that might have been just to keep them out of the line of fire as the door was swiftly yanked open to reveal a tall Eyrien woman. Her eyes narrowed in agitation at the Green Jeweled Warlord before flickering over to Andressa and then paused on the Warlord Prince.

Red power surged and probed at the two with ruthless talons. Andressa would be driven to flinch away as Lucivar would feel the talon scrap down on his inner Ebon-Grey shields over his mind only to recoil quickly as the struck. The pale blue eyes studied Lucivar carefully as the woman arched a brow. "Well, I send you out with two. You return with two. Remind me to never ask you to deliver medicine for me." There was an exasperated and snarling quality to the voice as the Healer gave a irritated look at the group.

"Yes, because it would actually be a horrible thing if you relaxed." Denar quipped as he eased passed Lucivar and squeezed between the shorter woman and door frame with a careful maneuver of his wings to get into the warmth of that yellow light. "How is our dear-" His words were cut off by a yelp as one of the woman's wings snapped out to smack the Warlord Prince upside the head.

"See, bites." Gen snickered as the pale blue eyes were turned upon him. "Peace. We brought the woman to be healed, the Warlord Prince is just unfortunate baggage."

"He is hardly so unfortunate." There was a almost satisfied note and a wild relief to the woman's eyes as she stared at Lucivar. Internally Faeril was admiring the man and cursing her bad luck. He was stronger than her, and possibly a threat. With three battered guards, Faeril was not sure she would be able to stop him if he was a threat. What a shame that would be. It was going passed uncomfortable at this point to being rude. "There's stew on the fire. Yes, tend to that. I shall see to the witchling. But first Warlord Prince... Who holds your loyalty?" Lucivar would note there was a far away look in the Healer's eyes as if she was looking at him and something else. He might also note the wonderful smell coming from the smell of food that was being decently prepared despite a snarl of worry from his escort at the comment of 'stew'. He might sense a certain possessiveness over this strange scent coming still from within the eyrie, namely the kitchen. The two brothers slid past Faeril into the house and to rescue their supper. Yet the woman made no move to allow Lucivar by, despite her caste as a Healer and the fact he was being thoroughly drenched.

@nohbdies "Thirty silver marks." The husband stated, "Lower it to fifteen if you can take a message. Your Healer seems the good sort." He gruffly noted. Eyeing the old woman and Artemis for a second longer before switching over to Vaclav. Scratching his chin the man inclined his head to the man in a silent apology. "Ashkevron eyrie. If you don't mind, I need Grandmother- not mine, just what people called her- escorted there. Things are getting rough, and well we're getting some..." He looked about at the men in the tavern. "Rough company."

The old woman smiled softly at Artemis as she tsked her tongue. Artemis would know this woman's jewels were stripped from her. Broken. A broken witch with her mind tangled in the throes of madness. "The paths. She comes with her gentle hands and eyes and offers to show me. Not yet, it's nice here." She admitted softly as though sharing a dear secret. "My boys come, they smile and laugh. It makes them happy, so I will wander a while longer."

~Nyte Bloods~

Alice looked over with a bare flicker of recognition crossing her face as she raised her head from her hands. Opening her mouth to answer it she closed it when Liza waved her off. Staring at the sketch pad, Alice tried to smile. Knowing the watery smile was far from true. "No, their fine." Alice said with a world weary quietness that spoke volumes. The woman was a far cry from the happy woman as she had been before Enduro had come into her shop. How she hated that man!

"I just... Drawing is all well and good." She gave a small sigh as her eyes drooped as her head set back down onto her hand. "My passion is needle and cloth. Making people look their best and feeling it." She sighed and ran a slim hand through her dark hair. "I'm sorry, it's not that I don't appreciate all you've done. I'm just missing what I had." The tailor admitted softly.

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

@eclecticwitch @Torack @nohbdies @13org Since we are spread out please remember to put your location in your header some where!