LadyRunic

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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Location: Winton

Mikhail's sudden appearance was a stunned shock as the Dea Al Mon man was not prone to outbursts. Though his news was a shock to the group. Mikhail would see Gennar's face grow dark with fury. Denvar was not far behind his brother's fury and the Eyrien Warlord Prince was walking the killing edge as he snarled something that could only be a string of curses in his native language. The two sprung towards the door, more than intent on tearing the city apart to find their missing Black Widow and friend. It was Fatima's raised hand that stopped them however as the Hyaellian Queen spoke. Fatima had been shaken by the news, and not in the least for the slight guilt she felt knowing that Fatima most likely had been spirited away while getting herbs for the brew they had spoken on earlier.

"Wait, please. I know you are concerned but we must handle this carefully without bringing Lady Alice's guards down on us." Not without a way out at least. Inclining her head towards Jandar, she gave the Red Jeweled Warlord a steady look. "Lord Jandar, please see if Priestess Orlenna has finished her task at the candles yet. If not we will need another way to lay low in the nearby area until she is finished." The order was sensible and she nodded in agreement. "Thom and Dunny will go-" The Sceltie snarled with distaste interrupting the Queen. *I will remain with the Lady.*

Thom's lips were thin and the boy looked pale as she shrugged. "Lady, let Dunny stay with you. He's good in a fight, no one suspects him." Fatima seemed to considered it for a moment. She was hesitant to put the boy or the Kindred in harm's way but Thom had spoken true. The presence of Kindred was rare and most thought them stories. The Sceltie would be as good as a hidden dagger. "I will go with Mikhail, the brothers, and Dareen-?" She paused at the woman had rushed out into the garden. Gathering her skirts, Fatima followed. Saetan was a ghost in the dark shadows as he watched the group begin to act. Roused by the noise, the Warlord Prince had descended from the stairway. Still weary from the ordeal he had suffered thought he would be hard put to admit to it.

It was Denvar who answered Dareen's question. "He was bringing back items beyond his spending ability." Twin to the traitor, Denvar looked like a man torn between death and dealing it out. "He was never able to refuse a game of chance."

Gennar nodded, his face dark and his voice gravely. "We suspected he was in debt but this..." His wings were unfurled as he snarled something that almost tore a roar of frustration from his throat. "He would never have sold out Faeril." Yet, they all knew what Mikhail claimed and neither brother looked like they doubted it.

Fatima looked to the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince who stood in the eaves of the inn. "Prince Saetan. Will you accompany us?" The wording was formal, and she hated that she asked him to join them. She wanted to get as far away from this dangerous man as possible, but... That danger could prove useful. Faeril was a member of her court and one of hers. She was not about to permit the woman to be taken and who knew what to be done to her!

Dareen would find the trail leading over a fence, a small scuffle in the alley that led towards the poorer side of town. Dunny growled. *I smell bad men. Should I bite them?* He looked at Dareen as he danced on his paws and his tail waved as a furry banner behind him.

Faeril to her credit had struggled. As it was, her hands were tightly wrapped in rags to keep her snake tooth from poisoning any of the men. One of them, however, was looking a bit ill as a blotch of purple spread up his arm. As Ahmar raised the Black Widow's head Faeril gave a deep growl in the back of her throat and her eyes promised death upon the man. Seeing Bellinar behind the mercenary, the Black Widow eyes briefly flicked to the Eyrien's guilty face and then back to Ahmar. A shiver ran down her spine at the mention of the sad, forlorn flowers. This man was Dareen's old commander, the tattoos explained thus. A man who had killed countless innocents and others of the Hourglass coven. Faeril wanted to struggle and press her Red against the shield and rip these rabid dogs' minds apart but she was too weak. Her red was too far drained from her struggle and she had been relying on the Blood Opal. Cursing, Faeril remained limp. Refusing to fight til she had the perfect moment to rip out this particular bastard's throat.

To Claim a Starting World

Update is coming! Sorry it took me a hot week longer, I had thought I had replied to this!

The Prince's Royal Guard

The hallways were a maze of stone blocks and ornaments. Wooden tables, tapestries, coats of arms and retired weapons littered the place along with the even gleam of lighting so people would not stumble about making more racket than was necessary. The lights, Zatana thought, she could do without. Though her race was used to the shadows according to the children's tales spread throughout the city, the dark elf's own profession was more used to the shadows. The Cleric Drana had raised many questions in the mind of the watcher and meeting her guards had only raised more. Suspicious of the cleric's guards, she had to admit Gordon was a talented speaker and one she wished to speak to again. Yet, she would see what the Prince's oldest advisor thought and perhaps in seeking his thoughts on the matter and cementing that the Prince's safety was her priority, she would be able to worm her way a bit closer to the old warlock. As knowledgeable as he must be if Zatana could get into his notes and records... It would be a very big and fat goose to send back to the Dread Coast and her grandfather. Though if the warlock proved anything like the fearsome dark elf, it would be a feat that would put her on the radar as a potential danger to her grandfather and he had not lived so long by tolerating dangers near him. Her lips thinned in dislike of that thought, she had no interest in the politics of the drow courts, nor would she- a bastard, though a female one- be accepted among them. The only way to gain acceptance would be to make herself the last of one parent's blood relatives. Even then the direct need to increase offspring might not drive the targetted parent to accept her back into the fold. Shaking her head, Zatana paused as she heard a ruckus up the corridor in the direction of Balthazar's room.

Losing her daggers she drew one of the long knives, dousing the candle set in its smokey holder. If anyone entered the hall from that direction, she would be partly concealed. Moving swiftly towards the door, the dark elf praised the insight of her mentor that he had cultivated the natural quiet steps that had always put those around her on edge for now it would give her a chance to observe before she rushed in blindly. Rushing would do little and if you did rush it was best to be rushing to deliver death or to evade that final companion. There were several thumps and footfalls from people struggling in the old man's room. Considering her options, Zatana hesitated. To let Balthazar die would be an option if the assailants were attacking him and could pull it off, leaving the way open for her to secure the position for herself. Though, that would leave the network of spies without a master who was familiar with them and hamper her task of keeping the Royal Prince safe. Grimacing, she gently pushed the door ope with a booted toe and studied the scene quickly.

A Record Keeper was in the form of an adorable serpent and tangled about the feet of one man dress in black who seemed to be struggling with the paper creature. The other was suffering from an injured leg and was doing his best to attack the wizard who was trading blows of knife with magic. Two options ever were there always options. Never was there a simple choice. At last though, here was something she could excel in. A hunt, capture, and then questioning. Sliding into the room, she shut the door behind her. It would slow them if they tried to run and the door was closed. If they thought it locked? All the better. Aiming a kick at the head of the assassin tangling with the paper snake, she sought to knock him unconscious as she twisted and threw a small dagger drawn from her wrist with her free hand at the injured leg of the assailant tangled with Balthazar. The skill of the assassins was a mystery to her and she wanted to mock them. Challenge their abilities and draw them out to face her and test herself against their blades, but this was not the time. They were too close to the Prince even here and she, despite her desires, had her orders to follow. Zatana hated the youthful need for a challenge at times, it made doing her job so extremely hard.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

@SilverPaw @eclecticwitch @Zoey Boey @13org Post is up! Sorry for the delay the time change really wiped me out!

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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Location: Winton

Bellinar gritted his teeth, his large wings spreading slightly as he rose partway out of his chair. This entire 'bargain' had been doomed from the start, but his debts in gambling had made two options very clear to the Warlord Prince. Sell his service to one of the Twisted Queens or sell out his dear friend and ensure her safety with the action. Faeril, though stubborn and prideful, was not a fool. She would see the wisdom in heeding to a Queen's word. Did she not already with Lady Fatima? That thought jolted through the Warlord Prince as an icy dagger. The Lady Fatima was leading them on a dangerous path that could end with their deaths and it appeared he was the only one who saw it. She spoke pretty words but was flighty and given to her whims just as much as some of the other Queens. A true Eyrien Queen would not be like that. Eyries were far better than to give to such petty things.

"That was what I was offering." No, he had been greedy but Bellinar would never admit that. "Faeril is weakened and the group is leery and nervous with the presence of more potential threats and allies. At the first hard task they will shatter and she, Faeril, will be left defenseless. It will be easy enough to guide her to safety and allow you to take her to a proper Queen." Grimacing, the Eyrien shrugged as he saw no reason to mention that Saetan SaDiablo was in the midst of the Queen's little 'Court'. It would not do for these mercenaries to frighten and skitter away like mice. His debtors would slip a Band of Compliance on him, and then where would he be?!

The minutes would pass and an hour would stretch. The trowel Faeril had been using lay in the garden, the ground about her scuffled and plants broken from a short and silent struggle. Knocking on the door to the womens' rooms, Gendar cleared his throat. "Faeril?" Pushing open the door, he frowned seeing only Fatima. "Lady. Have you seen the Black Widow?" It was not like him to be unable to locate Faeril. She only really had two places to go, her room and the common room. Denvar and he had been patrolling the downstairs discussing 'family matters' in quiet tones. Thom, the boy, had scampered off. Most likely for sleep. As for Saetan? The man had taken Gen up on his offer, though he had been tense about it. 'Probably worried he would get jumped and sold out, reasonable fear.' Gen noted.

A giant List of Ideas and Potential Stories [High-Casual to Advance] [18+]

Looking for the Victorian Vampire and potentially Sith with Mor'gann.

To Claim a Starting World

@Califricus Since everyone is in a Northern village? Just have a reason to be there. The RP is pretty free-form and the world depends on your actions.

A giant List of Ideas and Potential Stories [High-Casual to Advance] [18+]

Bump

To Claim a Starting World

The two would find the man heavier than he appeared for one living in the wilds. Arn would know it for the muscles one built from having to fight every day. The hunter and the villager healer had been very lucky to come across the wolf-man so wounded and already weakened. Had he meant to attack them, then there would have been a serious fight. As it was, whatever had caused him to flee must have been a terrifying force. Gwendolyn would understand the wounds Lutter had suffered. If this was what had attacked the lay about then it would explain much. Though his face, as Arn had pulled the mask away, was lean. Showing harsh survival and the near-starvation that had chiseled lines into his brow and the corners of his eyes. Dark black hair spilled over his back in a tangle and there was oddly no sign of a beard. Odd as the man looked to be of the age to have one. His nose looked like it had been broken before and his teeth were perfect, strong and white. But all that was covered with dirt, blood and sweat.

As the two of them weaved through the forest, the sun would have risen in the sky. The warmth of the day seeping through a canopy of green. Birds fluttering about and warning of the two blundering humans that marched through the forest. The village was in their sight as they neared the edge of the forest, the sun shining closer to the highest point than it had been this morning. The villagers were moving about the fields tending to the crop and meager herds that sustained them. The ringing call of Hod's hammer as the smith banged out some tool or the other. Most likely something large from the noise that was being caused.

"Gwendolyn, what-" There was a rustle near them as Oskar, Dallen and Yvenna's oldest son, stepped from the trees with a pair of hares in one hand and a bow in another. "The beast-!" The lad yelped, tumbling back and fetching up against a tree as he stared at the unconscious stranger. "Wh- How?!" Curiosity warred with wariness and fright in the young lad. Though Gwendolyn would also see his shuffling feet and tucked chin. A boy growing into a man, yes. But one who harbored some guilty knowledge.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Zatana had just finished the lovely loaf of sweetbread, her head tucked against her chest with her hood shadowing her face as she sought the doze of someone who was in a hostile city. The chair was tilted back a bit onto the rear legs, and her knee was carefully set just so. To anyone else, the posture would be uncomfortable, but then again most probably never had to sleep in a sitting position for an extended period. Having done a stint as a hall boy, the sort who waits at a door all night so that important guests need not wait, and a messenger at the behest of gathering information, Zatana was more than used to the pose. It beat sleeping on a horse. There was uncomfortable! She was interrupted by the movement of people entering the war room. Something sat wrong with them being able to enter this interior shell of the keep, or so Zatana thought. Opening her dark eyes, she had one of her long knives in her hand before she spoke, though that hand was on the far side of the strangers.

Who it was surprised the dark elf. She had not been expecting the strange cleric and two knights who looked to be nothing like those who served the city or Duke. Two knights lacking the stains of battle on top of that when this woman they held in their arms was so covered in goblin gore and sewer muck? On top of that, the civilized elf grimaced privately at the thought of the woman going to sleep in a bed so soiled. Cleanliness was an underappreciated factor in her profession. Smells where there ought to be no such smell was something that could foul up an operation just as much as eating the wrong food or bringing the wrong tools. Standing from the circle of lizard man that was Merik she bowed as stately as any courtier. The knife hidden against her wrist. "Good evening, Sirs. Lady... Forgive me, I did not catch your name when last we met. Never fear, you merely disturbed my rest while I remain able to move to where His Highness Prince Leonidas of the Empire of Man requires me to be." Zatana felt her smile become somewhat sharper. She was revealing too much of her courtly graces, but these knights. They should have had some grime if they had not just thrown their cleric to the wolves- literally. Soldiers were loud as they exchanged the news.

"Though I can see the Cleric is weary and since I have no need of it as of current, I offer you my own quarters should they suffice. Though..." She gave a pause to emphasize what she was saying was no request at all. "I do suspect that the Sacred Order's Cleric of the Dead would enjoy a bath before the bed, Ser Knights." A small luxury the woman looked like she dearly needed. Plus the ulterior motive of trying to figure the woman and her two knights out, then again with her being a dark elf it was a given.