LadyRunic

The Prince's Royal Guard

Horses had a sense abiut them of when to be quiet. When foals were born,for one example, or when catastrophe was close at hand. Though if it was the latter, surely it was for this man. Zatana almost wanted to have some mercy on the man as the wicked mare fought the assassin for his cloak. Trained to fight along with her own disposition, the mare was a fiend and for this very reason had yet to be stolen. The last thug who had tried on the road to the Empire of Man had found himself nursing a broken arm and some bruises. The bit in the mare's mouth stalling off her bite, but her hooves were just as efficient.

Stepping forward she sent her blade at the man's bad leg again. He could not fight with one leg, and she truly did not expect the long blade to hit. Drawing another from the back of her neck, Zatana adjusted her grip and lunged forward. Smiling as the man cut through his own cloak to engage her and escape the mare. While the cloak was a burden he was now free of, it was also a disguise. He was shedding one defense after the other and Zatana found herself wanting to lay his soul bear and garner his secrets.

Fainting toward his wounded side, she pulled the move at the last second. Her knife both moving toward new and different targets. One towards his good leg, the other to intercept his likely block via his hand. If successful, she would be grinning in cruel delight as her daggers struck his inner thigh and sliced deeply into the hand holding one of his daggers.

Jumping back to avoid locking blades, Zatana cursed silently as her feet slipped in the straw. The mare screaming a insult as she half reared and bucmed within her stall. The wood rattling as the mare longed for battle. Righting herself, the drow darted toward toward uninjured side again, this time seeking seeking lock blades. Injured from her first attack or no, her foot would snake about and jerk the injured knee to throw her opponent off balance. One hand dropping her own knife to punch the man in his groin and then work up his soft stomach before she retreated again her eyes quickly darting about to read the situation.

To Claim a Starting World

@Blizz It's alright. This Rp is a slow one and more reliant on the players actions than be making the decisions as to telling you what to do. It's not for everyone.

And a post will be up in a day.

The Prince's Royal Guard

As the man fell to the floor and the other was furthered lamed, Zatana felt a distinct sense of pride. Her job, her task, was one she had trained in since she could hold a knife and there were few who could match her. Perhaps such hubris made the appearance of the small black ball such a sour note in her night, or perhaps it was the stinging smoke that made her eyes water. Small favors to the cloth over her mouth and nose, disguises against her dark elf origins, though she still wheezed and gasped more than she thought reasonable. Twisting, she gripped the edge of the desk. Listening for the assassin or the wizard in the haze. As it cleared though, she snarled several curses in her native tongue seeing the blood trail leading to the window. The door was a small favor, and though he went out the window he was blamed.

Inclining her head to the wizard, her body sketched an ever so slight bow even as she broke into movement. "Aye, Lord." Her tone was slightly off, her eyes filled with dark fury as she slipped the sharp blade she held between her teeth. Her balance though was not as she swung out over the window sill and began to descend with drops and grabs onto handholds that made her shoulders ache and her toe throb as she felt them ram into the stone. Finally, she felt the solid flagstones and sprung after the trail of blood. He would not escape her!

Releasing her blade, she caught it and spat out blood from where the sharp edge had slightly sliced her tongue. It would hurt for a time, but the wound would heal. The trail was obvious, two wounds to a single leg would leave the fight weak and a weak assassin would try to hide Zatana reasoned. 'Or I would.' The assassin who lived could try again, the assassin who was captured? No, death only would await for them. But with a trail so obvious where could he-?

Her reckless run had brought her around the corner of the stable, escape by horseback would not be possible if the gates were down, but he could gain distance and lose her in the city. Perhaps that had been his plan, but as she swung about the corner Zatana flung herself back as a pitchfork launched like a javelin towards her torso. As it was her armor took a deep tear across the chest and the dark elf gritted her teeth against the foolish mistake. "Trying for a horse? The entire city will be crawling with the Duke and Prince's men!" Privately she hoped the assassin would try to hop aboard the wicked mare that Zatana called her own. The man would surely prefer the dungeon after that. "Or would you rather deal with a dark elf's version of recompense? This particular city distinctly dislikes it, a shame." She crooned as she darted around the corner, rolling into the gloom within the dark stables. Listening for any movement that was not a horse. A second long knife in her hand as she put the wall at her back.

To Claim a Starting World

Oskar looked guilty as he shook his head. His knuckles were white as he gripped his bow. "No, not at first." He mumbled and gave Arn and Gwendolyn a pleading expression. "It wasn't me! I swear I've not seen him- that- before! It was Wersk and Skal, they decided to go hunting and were going to a rabbit's warren." The boy swallowed hard. Betraying his cousins would earn their wrath, but someone had gotten seriously hurt and it was not the creature as Wersk had thought, or was it? Shrugging helplessly, Oskar continued to spill his tale hoping Gwendolyn would let him disappear and concoct some story that did not involve him.

"Well, they saw him. The creature and Wersk decided to ambush him-it? It was Wersk who shot him. Skal had a spear he took from Kettil's hearth and, well, chased him off." The man on Arn's shoulder shifted and groaned weakly. "Please, please, don't tell Wersk? He went after Durin when Durin screamed Wersk had killed someone. Broke his finger." The boy was sweating and realizing he spoke far too freely Oskar clammed up. Looking pleadingly at Gwendolyn as he considered if slipping into the brush and disappearing would be of any use.

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.