LadyRunic

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

@Eviledd1984 Oh geez! I understand the feeling all too well. If you need to withdraw that's fine. Though feel free to come back when you feel up for it. I'm always able to work in new players into the Rp!

Ω Heroes of Olympus: The Next Age of Heroes Ω

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Athanasia Theroux

Location Camp Half-Blood, Dining Pavilion, Zues's Table

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Athanasia frowned slightly in thought. So nectar and ambrosia were the food of the gods? Then why did the gods enjoy the smell of burnt food?Chalking the question up to one of life's great mysteries, the young girl listened to Kristin as she talked about the wars that had happened. It seemed there were a good few of them, which didn't sit well with Athanasia. There had been two wars in recent years, and before these two older girls had come to Camp Half-Blood. "Why hadn't we heard about these wars? How do you cover up one? Aren't they rather big?" It was a fair question, after all a siege of a Roman Army would surely have been noticed and on the news. Heck, it might have made the news less boring!

Giving a raised brow to Arthur as the teams were announced, Athanasia decided it would be best to join the fray. After all, sitting on the sidelines seemed so utterly boring. This way she could see the forest and what exactly with 'Capture the Flag' stuff was about upfront and personal. Her only issue with the teams was the fact that Andy would not be with her and Arthur which was entirely counterintuitive to her plan of making a friend! Grinning at the fellow Big Three kid anyways, 'Ash' winked slyly at Andy. "Promise, I will go easy on you. That Crystal Rivers Prison, I mean School, didn't let me take my parisol!" Shaking her head in mock dismay, she bounced eagerly in her seat as she switched her attention back to Kristen and Alannah. "Shouldn't we get to this armory?" She urged, unable to hide her interest and curiousity.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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Faeril Ashkevron

Approx. 10:10
Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @Slim Shady @eclecticwitch @SilverPaw

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Jassen looked cross as Fatima stood up in her disguise and moved towards the two newcomers at the bar. It was not without reason, Jandar would notice. The female Eyrien had shown she was respected, but when the newcomer who stood with the authority and moved with the grace of a trained fighter that screamed more than just battle the crowd had silenced as he had passed. Now a steady trickle was leaving the building, and more than a few glances were cast at the Eyrien Warlord Prince. If Jean were to pry, he would notice that this male was the strongest in the building wearing a jewel of rank that was at least the Grey if not darker.

Hearing the larger Eyrien sit down next to her, Faeril sighed as the rustling of people standing and exiting the tavern reached her ears. This was developing into problem after problem. Randalvar appeared to agree as he huffed an annoyed grumble. "I see you're both back together..." The grizzled old warrior eyed the pair, and Faeril met his look with a matching glare that bespoke that his ale would not be safe from her poison. Hastily backpedaling from his misstep, the barkeep shrugged as though it was nothing but a polite query. "And don't worry about that lot leaving. No one wants to get between the Reaper and a Queen." He voice was undertoned and cut off sharply as Fatima approached the bar. Allowing the said Queen to catch her caste and nothing more. Taking the wine glass, he wiped it out and poured another draught of the mixture into it, before sliding it back to the Hyallian Queen.

Faeril pinched the bridge of her nose and spoke in Eyrien. "Do nothing foolish. If this is as I think, I must test this lady and I will fight you if I must to keep my people safe." The Black Widow warned Xandar. Randalvar took his cue and slipped into the back with a quick mutter about Faeril's supplies. Turning her icy gaze, the Black Widow studied the small Queen and stood. Her leathery wings flaring slightly. "What is the Queen's pleasure?" Faeril stated with an underlying challenge in her voice as the last of the Eyriens left. A Blood Opal shield enclosing the exits and entrances of the main taproom of the tavern. A probing touch of Blood Opal power probing at Fatima's mind as Faeril looked for an opening.

Jassen standing suddenly with a snarl, "What are you doing to my Queen?" Jandar would also feel the Blood Opal power as Faeril sought against Fatima's shields, as would the Queen herself. The probing power weaker than her own but relentless in its search. Rushing the Eyrien woman, Jassen unsheathed a knife with the intent of using it to protect the Grey Jeweled Queen.

Ahkevron Residence, Aven, Askavi Terreille
@13org @Zoey White
Both brothers attitude shifted as Mikhail revealed he was Dea Al Mon. "Your kind don't leave the forests of your territory often from what I've heard." Denvar noted with a wary tone of respect in his voice. It was one thing for the twin Warlord Princes to know that the man was a warrior of some sort, it was quite another to hear he was from the warrior race of Kaeleer. Though they had never met any of the Dea Al Mon, the Children of the Forest were secretive and didn't often stray form their homes, Denvar had heard enough to know they claimed to be the equals of Eyrien warriors.

"And never do you stray into Terreille." Bellinar noted with a touch of admiration to his voice, though his stance spoke of the same wariness. "Honestly, I haven't really heard mention of them since the Queens started becoming corrupt." The newcomer admitted as he moved to perch on the couch, a hand awkwardly patting Dareen's shoulder. "Don't worry lass, Faeril isn't unkind."

"She's not unkind, just..." Denvar agreed with some reservations. He was not given to hope without reason and if Dareen had angered Faeril enough, there was little enough of that. "Stubborn? Relentless? Sharp?" Shaking his head as he brother glared at him, the male turned back Mikhai. "Wonder how well you fight now. Rumor had it that your kind were warriors, of a sort."

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

@Eviledd1984 I'm going to advise against a Satyr as they wouldn't work well with the current situation. The twisted Queens would probably try to stuff you for amusements if you were a satyr. As for an assassin, that would work absolutely fine.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

@Eviledd1984 Well we are open, but this isn't your typical Royal Court RP. Court jesters really aren't a thing Queens would have, though I suspect I could fit one into one of the Twisted Queen's lower circles. It would depend, on how you plan on setting this character up and such. Also, it'd be a fair point to keep in mind that I'm going to be drawing all characters over to Fatima (eclecticwitch)'s court eventually. So I'd also have to think out how you'd join up with the rest. Just some things to keep in mind, but please! Go ham at it, and submit a CS that I'll be glad to look over and hash out with you!

Ω Heroes of Olympus: The Next Age of Heroes Ω

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Athanasia Theroux

Location Camp Half-Blood

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Athanasia shot an 'all-too-sweet' smile at Arthur as he joined, a slight brow raised as she wondered what had kept him up. Shrugging off her curious question, the daughter of Hades turned her attention back to Alannah. So no one got killed? But that didn't sound right when in comparison with what Chiron had said. Though she suspected it was a rarity, an oddity. An idea that was confirmed by the admittance of healers within the camp. "But what do ambrosia and nectar have to do with healing?" She wondered aloud after Andy's question, which also pricked her interest. She remembered her mothering saying something ambrosia but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Nectar, however, was a form of honey. How would that help?

"Has the camp been attacked before?" Athanasia added as an afterthought that was meant more towards herself. Giving a sideways look to Arthur as she did. This was something they would need to look into. Might be and could be and had been were very different things in her young mind. Glancing back towards Andy, Athanasia raised a brow and smiled. "Perhaps we should see this armory! I mean, Arthur doesn't need to since he's got a dagger to prick his fingers with." Ash chirped the suggestion as she nudged her cabin mate with a small elbow. It was all in good cheer.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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Faeril Ashkevron

Approx. 10:10
Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @Slim Shady @eclecticwitch @SilverPaw

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"I am quite capable of taking care of myself." Snipped Faeril mostly to herself as she brushed aside the door to the tavern where Eyriens were shifting restlessly. A scene of tense discussion taking up one corner, as Jassen watched the room and ready to spring into action against a room full of enemies. Though at the appearance of the Ice Healer the regenade Eyriens withdrew to leave a line between the hostilities in the room much to the grizzled Randalvar's amusement. Spreading her wings slightly, the Healer forced the warriors back a bit more. Pointedly ignoring the sense of dread she felt from the corner of the room. Fatima and Jandar could see the Blood Opal the woman wore, though Jean would sense something deeper to it. As if it was not her Jewel of Rank, the one she had gained from her Offering to the Darkness. "Randalvar. My guest are eating me out of house and home. I do hope you have my supplies?" Anyone who opposed the Queen could find a healing from Faeril and thus her reputation was a fearsome one with a temper that would make a Eyrien warrior pause when pitted against a Healer's instructions.

"Got them, right in the back. But first, can I tempt you for a drink?" Randalvar offered, having returned to the bar from delievering mugs of ale to the men and a decent wine to the Queen. All of which Jassen was thoroughly and openly checking for poison. "If I was goin' to poison it, you wouldn't be able to sense it!" Snapped the barkeep at the aforementioned man.

A set of blue eyes turned to glance at the trio of strangers and widened in something akin to shock. Turning back to late for Jean to not notice, Faeril closed her eyes and sat at the bar while considering her options. "I shall take drink for now, Randalvar." A Queen and a Dhemlan man, both of who were wrapped with strings of a dream. Gripping the shot placed before her, Faeril downed the drink and placed her hand over the top lest the old man try to get her drunk which was less likely than the sun rising in the west. "You are a fool Randalvar." She hissed with venom as she struggled with what exactly to do and the risks that could arise. Especially if the great lout she had healed and flown down here with decided to heed this Queen's call.

The general store was organized and the tottering older witch was more than happy to see to it that Xandar got what he needed, and at a steal of a price. Which, if he had been wise, he would not have contested. "As if I would charge extra when you are doing such good work getting rid of those nasty folk, dearie. Now, you just keep on doing what you're doing and stop complaining. I'm quite able to put food on my table and when I can't I just go down the road and bully old Randalvar. The man's as soft as a kitten for little old ladies." A hint that told more than most would have liked. But he found himself with enough cigarettes to keep him for a long while and a good stock of coffee aside from that. Not to mention whatever else he had bought. "Now you take care dearie, and don't let our Healer slice you to ribbons. She's all bark." The old woman had assured the Reaper. A young, wingless lad sweeping the shop had muttered just loud enough for both to hear, 'The bites poisonous', before the elderly woman reminded the lad that it had been the Healer who had helped him not two weeks past when he had twisted his ankle!

"And then she told me the next time I tried to show off by being a fool, she'd cut it off!" Complained the lad. His lack of wings not the cruelty of a Queen, but rathr one of the few throwbacks to when Eyriens had offspring with the other races, and branding of the life of an outcast. "I was just trying to Craft some wings on myself!" The old woman merely rolled her eyes and shooed Xandar from her shop with his supplies.

Winged Boar, Aven, Askavi Terreille
@13org @Zoey White
The warrior paused in his sorting of books to raise a brow up at Dareen. "The law..." He mused with a chuckle as though she was jesting. A chuckle that faded as he realized she was not. "Sorry, witchling. I don't know if you hit your head or were raised with Landens." The Warlord Prince named those that worked the land without the Blood's connection to it. Queer folk who had relied on the Blood for a good harvest as it was the Queens who had the connection the strongest. It had been the Queens duty to walk the land and renew the power in the earth. A duty that lay forgotten as it was inconvient. "The law is what the Queen's say. We could drag you there for a trial, but that would mean Faeril's death. I can't see Lady Ashkevron kneeling to some twisted bitch." Shaking his head the man continued his sorting of the books. "The law here is what Faeril says. Though she's not Queen she's stepped up to keep our heads on our shoulders. Done a good job of it too."

Turning his gaze on Mikhail, the newest come Eyrien bristled slightly before Denvar appeared in the archway. A glad cry on his lips as the two mirror images embraced with much back-thumping and suggests of beer. Still grinning Denvar gesture to their two guests then to his twin. "If I may introduce Bellinar, my twin and all mouth."

"And you're nothing but ears. Mother always says we balance each other out." Quipped Bellinar as he punched at his brother's head. Missing with good humor.

"Never said she was wrong." Denvar protested as he continued with the introductions. "Mikhail, a patient of Faeril's and Dareen of Pruul. Faeril has something of an issue with her."

"Faeril has issues with her mirror when the mood is on her." Complained Bellinar as he studied Mikhail with a look of slight confusion. "I've seen a lot of people in my time but none that got pointy ears. Something of Faeril's doing?"

Ω Heroes of Olympus: The Next Age of Heroes Ω

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Athanasia Theroux

Location Camp Half-Blood

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Giving a victorious smile to Arthur, the pale girl slipped from the seat across from him. Noticing a rather bushy haired girl moving to the table for the child of Zeus. No doubt her brother would follow, he said he would and if anything they were partners. Partners according to Ash meant keeping your word to one another. It was trust and well-placed trust at that. Approaching the table she perched in a seat next to Andy with a grin. "Hope you don't mind? You seemed lonely!" Her voice only loud enough to be clearly heard by both girls and Arthur if he were to follow. Her attention switching to the older bushy haired Alannah. "Athanasia. Ash for short. A pleasure to meet you!" She grinned, turning her head quickly to Chiron when the centaur began speaking with a quirked brow.

This place had an armory? Ash's brows shot up slightly as she frowned at the word. Armory... Armory? She remembered her mother mentioning something like it in connection to warriors. "What's in the armory?" She turned her gaze back to Alannah with a slight frown. "And what did he mean, no killing? People get killed playing Capture the Flag?" It was a sobering and very serious thought when you had nearly been a cyclops's breakfast that morning. Though Ash had played various versions of Capture the Flag and King of the Hill this didn't seem quite the same with a camp full of the children of one godly parent.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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Faeril Ashkevron

10;00
Residence in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @Slim Shady @13org @Zoey White

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"You look as though you just woke up to seeing Faeril in one of her rages." Drawled an Eyrien as the front door opened and closed for the second time that morning, long minutes after Xandar had flown from the front garden. The man looked very similar to Denvar if it weren't for his shaven head and an old burn scar wrapping across his side. His jacket and shirt hung over one of the armchairs, drenched in what was hopefully water and absently soaking into the once pristine furniture. Crashing down on the couch next to Dareen the Eyrien raised a brow and grinned in a smile that was far from comforting. "So what is a little Pruulish witch doing sitting on my sister's couch like her execution is nigh? I can promise you it most likely isn't. Fae's bark is worse than her bite." He mimed telling the small witch a 'secret'. "The bite is poisonous." Laughing at his own joke the Eyrien Warlord Prince, summoned a small chest and began to unloading it of books which he sorted into different piles. His Tiger-Eyed Jewel swinging absently.

Faeril who had been dozing woke with a start when the bench beneath her groaned as a Warlord Prince of a different Jewel sat down upon it. Her icy eyes glowering at the giant. "Smokes? Cigars you mean?" Rustling her wings the Healer roused and peered over her shoulder back at the kitchen where the larder she had brought out was indeed empty. There was food in the pantry but with the number of mouths to feed, it wouldn't hurt going down to Aren. While she wasn't one for stopping by the shops, Randalvar always kept a fair larder he could just hand off her 'brothers' for a bit of extra coin. "You should be resting and not flying about." She noted with a disapproving look even as she raised a hand to silence the Grey Jeweled male. "You are an Eyrien warrior. I already know the answer, just as I know if you call me 'Mistress of this fair home' so early again, I will enjoy reexamining your wound." Giving Xandar a pointed look, she yawned behind a hand before pushing herself to her feet. [color=SlateBlue]"I have need to speak to Randalvar, so I might as go with you to show you. Lest you fly into a mountain admiring yourself."[/colro] She snipped spreading her wings with a weary slowness as she walked through the garden to the fence boarding the edge of the cliff. "There is a store just down the street from the Winged Boar. You can find smokes there, and despite his temper, Randalvar would give you a meal that tastes better than Gen's coffee." Directed the Black Widow as she cast a downstroke with her wings that drove her into the air. Giving a nod to Mikhail who seemed to be touring her more functional gardens, the witch swooped about the eyrie before riding the eddies of wind in an easy glide towards the small village of Aren.

It was a mere fifteen minutes by air, and with a little extra speed granted by favorable winds. Lighting lightly on the ground, she dusted her gown free of the debris of the air to hide the slight stumble and gestured with a pointed finger towards a sign that read 'General Store'. "They won't have anything of real quality, though you might want to stock up." There was a queer note in her voice as she mentioned stocking up. Xandar would be fairly certain that either Faeril had plans or had seen something. Just as he would notice the jewel the witch was wearing was the Blood Opal and not the Red. Turning towards the tavern, Faeril paused to shift her wings. She would need to rest soon, but it was not the time for that. Not yet.

Winged Boar, Aven, Askavi Terreille
@eclecticwitch @SilverPaw
While Jassen was slow to back down as he harrumphed and took a step back, letting the Queen he served access to the grizzled old warrior, he was keenly aware of the rest of the Eyriens stirring and eyes watching. Randalvar on the other hand, gave the Queen an annoyed look though there was a glimmer of interest in his golden eyes at Fatima's earlier words. "Our land? You aren't an Eyrien, lass. Best remember that." He advised the woman with a deep chuckle. "Terreille isn't one land no more. It's scattered and broken."

"For the Queen's pleasure." Mocked one of the prior night's patrons.

Snorting at the quip, the old Eyrien shrugged his shoulders. "You want a tapestry? Go make some Landens make a gift of it. You want a story, demand one from some poor male." Eyeing Jassen and Jean with a weathered gaze as he considered the threat the two posed. "Though if you are looking for an interesting story to tell. Go to the eyrie high up the side of the mountain." Readjusting his grip on his bladed stick, Randalvar considered if the Black Widow would gut him for this intrusion. But if they could snip away a Queen who was trying to hide being a Queen? Was the risk worth it? If it wasn't, she would come back with no memory of the Ashkevron residence. Or not come back at all. "And go alone, unless you want to coat this mountain in blood." He rumbled deeply, the patrons about him rousing slightly. Jassen glared and moved to step in front of Fatima again.

"We'll keep the lads entertained." Noted one of the patrons with a bit of amusement and sadistic glee.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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Winged Boar, Aven, Askavi Terreille
@eclecticwitch
It was dawn the next day, and the sun was well over the horizon when Jassen opened the creaking door into the interior of the Winged Boar. As ever the place had a unique charm that the Eyrien race had honed over the centuries. Posts chipped from various minor, or the odd major, bar fight bore a cleaver wedged into the wood from where some young strapping youth had annoyed old Randalvar past the point of wisdom the night prior. Passed out about the tables were the odd Warlord or Prince who were either too drunk to find their way home or too poor in manners or coin to tempt for a roof over their head. These were those who were fleeing the harsh treatments of Queens and many bore disfigurements they were careful to hide. They were Eyriens warriors, and they did not need pity.

Nor was what Randalvar offer them pity. In return for a place to rest their head and a warm meal in their bellies and sour ale to dull the ache of pride and heart, the males passed on news and advice. They kept their silence and moved on without a word when morning roused them. Even now, one who appeared almost as grizzled as the old barkeep staggered up and out the door past the Queen and her two male escorts. Her golden eyes narrowing at the woman, but he kept his tongue from saying anything. Not that he could since he had not the tongue to speak with.

That morning Jandar, Fatima and Jassen would have found it quite easy to slip from the inn with the crowd of people eager to do the same. Jandar would have noted a smaller, ragged figure watching him among the mass of people rushing to reach their destination, the rare few loitering about the inn for pleasure. The storm had been a nasty one, and had turned the roads to a soup of mud and brought the odd tree down. Several men were already out in the predawn clearing away the roads for the more mundane travel. While most preferred the Winds, there was the odd folk who would take the roads for their own reasons. The thief lad had slipped away before another look could be taken of their appearance.

Jassen had been less than thrilled with the new addition to their small group. His job was to protect Fatima, and failing that, to protect his own skin and that of the Court. The hard truth but one none the less. Jandar's appearance made that difficult especially with how odd the man was. The Dhemlan people of Terreille were nervous and often destitute due to the cruelty of Hyall. This man tried to mimic that, but it was a mimic. Jassen hadn't been born yesterday and had spent years watching for such signs to keep his Queen and now Fatima safe. Gazing about the inn, he grumbled to himself. "This is walking into a den of viper rats, Lady." Which he wasn't wrong about. The Eyrien race was a dangerous warrior race and they were not the easiest to deal with on a good day. Hungover and with a potential enemy Queen in their midst? It would be trouble.

Randalvar thumped out of the back room, his arms across his chest as he gripped a long bladed stick, an Eyrien weapon. His eyes narrowed at the new comers as he braced for a potential fight, his wings arching behind him. The membrane punched with small holes and a variety of scars. "What brought a Dhemlan, a Hyall guard and Hyall 'Lady'," He spat the word 'Lady' for what it was. A potential enemy Queen and he was not in the mood for games with the Court politics. Not with two trapezing fools coming through after one deadly looking youth. Was he running a tavern or an inn?! "And don't waste my time." He snarled as Jassen stepped forward with an equal temper rising. "I'd put you on yer back, lad. Only you wouldn't be getting up from it."

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Faeril Ashkevron

9;45 am in the Morning
Location - Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @Slim Shady @13org @Zoey White

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Dareen had been given a room between the brothers two. In truth, it was their own brother Belinar's room but the Warlord=Prince was currently out and they planned to scrub it down before the twin of Denvar returned. It was not so much for the security of their Black Widow and Healer, so much as to stop Dareen from doing anything stupid or Faeril from doing anything stupid to Dareen. The Pruulish witch would be judged, Faeril had decreed, but not by her. So would it be, til Faeril forgot her own wordings when her temper took her. Gen and Denvar sought to make sure such a thing would have a reason to happen. Xandar had been dumped into the Healer's workroom with its great bed and various shelves of potions and tools for Faeril's trade. Mikhail had been granted Gen's own room, the Warlord grinning and pointing out with a too reasonable tone that he was probably the only male in the building who would get a bed with a woman in it.

Nevermind, that the woman and he would be sleeping and nothing else. Despite his slight jest, Gen was more keen on the more masculine of the two sides of a coin. Which was well enough according to Faeril, as she rose earlier than the others. Gen's snores rasping about the room while she prepared for the day. A quick breakfast of bread and cheese, and mindful to leave a platter out for those who would rise well before her two guardians, the Healer slipped from the kitchen to her own place of thought. Yawning and sitting absently on a bench in the garden where she grew herbs for the healing and breaking of minds and bodies, Faeril studied the fog that had most burnt off of Aven. The eyrie had been built into a spear of the cliff that effectively separated the front garden from the back and limited the back. Several trees grew offering shade about the winding paths where wormwood and nettle, among other herbs, grew offering their shade.

It was comfortable enough, wrapped in a shawl of knitted wool and a dress that would not be ruined form a bit of grubbing about in the dirt as was evident by the stains of brown earth damp from the night's rain on her keens and in the nail bed of her hand. Brushing away the annoyance with a half-hearted attempt. Faeril considered their situation and found it aggravating. Mikhail and Xandar were drawn into her web and she could well see the reason why! Though she still felt the weariness of stretching herself too thin for too long Faeril would have pushed herself further if it was necessary to confirm so. That both had been so willing was worrying as well, but she wasn't of the mind to complain quite yet. Patting down the braid of black hair that hung over her shoulder the Eyrien woman sighed. It was Doreen, the Pruulish witch, she couldn't place. More than that, the woman was a killer of her, Faeril's own, caste! If she could just place what to do with the woman, place what she was supposed to do with everything that was falling into her lap then maybe she could figure out something! Closing her eyes against the headache that was forming, Faeril unintentionally drifted off.