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Farim

Location: Deep within the Forest by Lover's Lake
Time: Evening
Mentions: Torvi@Tae and Roman @Reusablesword

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Farim raised an eyebrow at this mysterious woman referring to her as a "boy". But if anything that simply showed him how despite her vitality - she may have some years to back up her wisdom. Just as their exchange ended a cold stare like the visage of death came from Roman. It was as if a warning was being sent straight into his very being - to the core of his soul. For a brief moment he felt that shocking chill run along his back, before a wild fire burned behind his eyes. As if he dared this amalgamation to be the thing that would kill Farim Kadir.

Then the two mighty warriors clashed in the clearing - Farim's little distraction had done just as much as he had hoped. With dexterous reflexes Farim broke into a full on sprint to follow the duo as Roman moved to smash the woman onto a nearby tree. "Believe me mysterious woman..." He shouted as he moved to catch up to the pair. Farim's goal here was to wait for that crucial moment that Roman shifted his body weight into the slamming motion against the tree - that is when he would strike. A simple leg sweep at one of the man's legs would do. Anything to shift the weight of his charge so he would stumble or fall and not slam this mysterious assailant against the harsh bark.

Farim ducked and rolled, placing himself below the pair as he kicked his leg out in a swift kick to the back of Roman's calf. "I count on this man's strength!" He chuckled as he would make the connecting hit - and immediately push backwards to gain some distance regardless of its success. Standing up, rope still in hand, Farim smirked. "Because back home the biggest ones always fell the hardest."

Farim

Location: Edge of Lover's Lake -> Deep within the Forest
Time: Evening
Mentions: Ariella[@tpartywithzombie], Anastasia@princess, Munir[@InfiniteCosmos], Mina/Torvi@Tae and Roman @Reusablesword

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Farim felt the progression of events speed along in his perception. First this supposed kidnapping, then the rampaging of Roman, and now the guards were being demanded to take off their shoes by his newly made friends. Sorian was certainly an interesting place, with interesting events and even more interesting customs Farim began to surmise mentally. The lingering effects of his "fancy potion" began to fade away as the adrenaline began to course through his body at the realization of his cousin chasing off after such a ferocious beast. Sure he might handle himself but Munir was already distracted with this Lady Mina individual - plus they both seemed to be going through interesting visions with morbid implications.

The thoughts ran amok in Farim's mental before he shook his head. He walked up to Anastasia and placed his hand on her back, his palm pushing lightly on the back of his shirt with his fingers resting just along the base of her neck. He spoke calmly and firmly as he continued looking at the gaping hole in the treeline where Roman had just ran through. "Annie. I need to go make sure my cousin does not go get himself killed. If I am not back soon - please look after Thara for me!" Farim turned his head to look at the princess and meet her eyesight if she would do the same, and offer a pleasant smile.

Then he dashed madly across the field, feet bounding along the dirt and grass as he attempted to make up the distance the group had already traveled. On his way out, Farim saw and reached for a spool of rope that happened to be among some random objects, feeling that it might be of use for what he had in mind to hopefully stop the rampaging wildsman.

As the minutes passed, Farim would switch between running, jogging, and sprinting just to make up for any lost time. His mind raced with thoughts of what to expect and who to look out for. Firstly, his cousin, who seemed just about as reckless as he was in this moment. Secondly, this Mina person that his cousin fawned over so dearly. Thirdly, Roman, his frequent business partner that he would prefer to see alive and well. And finally the mysterious woman who orchestrated this entire little getaway. His concern mainly lied with her, but if she had wanted to do harm he felt that she would have simply snatched Mina in the chaos rather than taunt the party-goers. Farim reasoned he could simply subdue first, ask questions later. For now, his query was rapidly approaching.

The man broke through the treeline, beads of sweat falling off his forehead as he panted wildly. The only thing really keeping him going at this point was raw endorphines from the heat of the action - something Farim found rather addicting. He put two fingers together and whistled sharply; attempting to draw the attention of the pair that seemed to be approaching in the clearing. "You there! I do not know where my cousin and his friend may be - but I wish to make sure they are alright. But first, I hope you do not mind if I help secure this big fellow here!" He shouted to Torvi.

Farim then paced his steps, making sure to thud them firmly into the ground before stomping twice in place as if to declare this area "his territory". It was all mainly a show - perhaps to get Roman to charge at him hopefully. He then slid the rope off his shoulder, wrapping it around his hand a few times and tightening it with a satisfying crack "As for you big guy. How about you try and show me just how wild these spirits of yours get, eh?"
In Avalia 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Saltrunner VS The Silver Eyes


With the lighting of ammunition from Arlen, the sea-faring vessels became locked in a deadly back and forth bout. For what felt like hours, the two crews traded glancing blows of cannonballs and failed attempts at boarding one another's decks. Tanithil's magic helped stop the Saltunner's main body from sustaining damage - as well as the damage control from Sirena who diligently looked after both ship and crew member. Arlen served as the primary source of "firepower" when it came to magical feats - having known his magic far longer than their other powerhouse, Ismael. But the two served to be a deadly combo together, proving that the human and elf duo would do more than simply "beat" the enemy. No, they would make sure to blind, sear, and blow them away with raw magical power.

Tanithil, with his never-ending bag of shadowy tricks, was able to keep the ranged threats at bay - blocking cannonballs and forcing boarding parties to slip and fall into the treacherous waters below. Those who slipped through the cracks had to deal with a fierce gang of scrappers led by Amisra - who was pissed to be bothered during her wounded state but also elated that she wouldn't need to be babysat by her friend. The group of physical fighters dealt with any on board threats swiftly - albeit with some minor casualties to some of the poor deckhands who weren't quite up to par on their swordsmanship.

As the fight waged on, there was a clear sign that the enemy would not let up, and Tanithil felt his magical reserves begin to run low as multiple strafing runs kept slamming into the side of the ship. The thin veil of shadow magic he was using to shield their boat began to crack - and there was a slowly turning tide in the favor of the Silver Eyes in this battle. But this is where the wild card of the group came to play ball. Ismael, the ever daring man, decided to join one of the Saltrunner's raiding parties against Tanithil's better judgement - and began to showcase just how destructive his element really was. In mere moments the enemy's ship began to go up in a blaze that could only be described as a miniaturized sun cascading down on the poor wooden frame of what was once a sea-worthy vessel. The raw power of the human showcasing his elemental magic became so intense that the raiding crew he was with had to bail early to avoid being scorched.

From the deck of their own ship, the crew had slowed their battle stations to a near halt as they watched the Silver Eyes frantically swarm to take care of this new urgent threat - but everything they threw at the man proved to be useless. Ranged attacks simply incinerated at the simplest flick of Ismael's wrist, and any close-combat fighters were swiftly dealt with thanks to the mans real world military expertise. It was a fine combination of tact, combat instinct, and magical power that impressed the Saltunner vapidly. And as the ship began to go down in literal flames the crew began to cheer and sing praises for Ismael who stood at the stern of the sinking ship ready to make his journey back to the Saltunner. Tanithil steered the ship towards the wreckage in an effort to meet the human partway. But his notions would soon be all for naught.

Once the dust began to settle, and the only noise that came from the Silver Eyes ship was crackling wood and the fizzing of flames hitting the water, Tanithil spied a single shadow moving from the flames. His eyes widened and his voice rang out in an attempt to warn the man of the unseen assailant, but to no avail. The shadow quickly revealed himself to be the burned, worn, and dying captain of the ship Ismael had almost single-handedly sank. A shimmer of light began to form in the mans hand as he slowly approached Ismael, seemingly too caught up in the moment to notice - until it was too late. A sudden realization from the man prompted Ismael to spin on his foot and fire one last blast of heat from his palm into the mans torso, but the sight the crew saw brought them all to an anguished chorus of screams and shouts. A blade of light coming right from the Captain's hand had pierced through Ismael's chest, stabbing through his heart.

The Captain stood with a smirk, having taken care of the ferocious thorn in his side. But Ismael was not one to go out so simply - he chuckled at the man while feeling a roaring inferno build within the very heart that stood skewered by the magical blade the enemy captain held. If Ismael was to fall here - it would be on his own terms. He made a gesture that few caught - ushering his newly found friends to back off. Tanithil, with regret in his heart, swiftly steered the ship away. As the others began to berate and shout their disagreements, an intense barrage of crackling pops filled their ears. It was as if an entire crate of fireworks began to go off all at once - as Ismael took every once of magical energy he had within him and localized it right into the very spot the sword had stabbed him. A raging inferno of fire unlike any the Saltrunner had ever seen shot up into the air and consumed Ismael, the Captain, and what remained of the enemy ship.

There was no body to recover, no loot to be plundered, no victory shanties to be sung. There was only the dreadful silence that followed for hours after the fight had ended. Tanithil let someone else steer the ship for awhile, and walked shelter himself in the Captain's Quarters for the remainder of the trip. As the days passed - more terrifying news of the death of the water human Zorra had reached the crew on its transponder. Another bit of sad news for the rebellion had driven the crew to a new low of morale - and the ship sailed its course until they finally found a small fishing village on the edge of the desert, where the ship had docked and sat patiently while Tanithil gathered his thoughts and planned for what exactly they would do next.

Rest in Peace, Ismael - You were a blazing beacon of hope that we so desperately needed. We hope your brightness can bring some security to those in another life. But for now...rest soldier, you've earned it.





A full day had passed since the ship had docked - the eerie silence from the stand-in Captain had begun to put the crew on edge. Within the confines of his quarters, Tanithil had been self-reflecting - and dealing with emotional toll and responsibility of losing such an important person not only to himself, but to the entire fate of Avalia. His home depended on these chosen few to make it to their destination, and he had failed in his task. But it would seem that his role in the war was not over - a signal from King Vaeril himself had informed Tanithil of his new charge - a human with attunement to the element of wind by the name of Jun and his beast-kin companion Zion.

It would seem that his failure, while taxing to the cause, was not enough to dissuade the King from entrusting the Saltrunner once more. The dark elf sighed and took a moment to compose himself before nodding at the transmission - signaling his accepting of the request. Avali was still his home, and there was still a fight to win.

Tanithil changed his clothes, washed his face, and came out of the doors with a slight squint in his eyes as the natural sun temporarily blinded him. He quickly strode to the helm of the ship and turned to face his likely concerned crew.

"Look, I know some of ya may be worried 'bout me health and how ... recent events may impact our journey. I am here to say that we won't be jus' throwin' in the towel after we get our arses kicked one time. We all know we are much too stubborn to give out after one failure. So I ask ye to have faith in me and to stick with me through this dark time. We's all gots a place to fight in this war - and I hope we can all do our part in securing the future of the country - or perhaps whatever loot we can find along the way if that is yer fancy." Tanithil delivered his last line with a smirk.

"But! For now we will be taking on a new charge by the name of Jun - and his dear lion friend Zion. Jun is one of the "chosen few" we all 'ave heard so much about - and his proper talent is wind. See to it his initiation is smooth and make 'im feel at home. I hear he's a twitchy fella so don't try to scare him too much - ya hear?" His eyes glanced at some of the more playful bunch of the crew.

"I'll 'ave a chat with the dockmaster and figure out our situation for keepin' the ship at port. Once that is settled then we our gonna have ourselves a treasure hunt! We came all the way out here to this fuckin' sandbox, we may as well finish what we started..." Tanithil sighed and began to step down towards the plank that led from the ship to the docks below. As he approached the two figures at the docks matching the description he was given - he smiled and put out a hand towards the pair in a form of a proper greeting.

"Well well! Look who we have 'ere. Fancy to meet yas - Zion and Jun I presume?"

Farim

Location:Edge of Lover's Lake
Time: Evening
Mentions: Anastasia @princess, and Munir @Infinite Cosmos

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Farim wore a grin as Munir took to his usual notice of what company he kept. "Perhaps it would be fair to visit our home after we finish visiting theirs. But that is for later, for now, let us make sure we make through the courting season with these interesting sights and events we keep finding ourselves in." A light chuckle came from the man, but it was cut short from Munir's words.

The revelation Farim got from Munir's words sent another pit through his stomach. Unless this was some form of morbid coincidence, it would seem some folks really were in tune with the spirits of those that passed. His hand wavered, but ultimately found purchase on Munir's shoulder as he locked eyes with the man. A grim expression on his face for a moment before becoming more relaxed, perhaps even tired. "You are not alone, cousin. I saw someone too. Someone who...I wish I had not." He sighed for a moment as he struggled to find the words. "If these visions are to be believed...then it would seem...my Om has passed on. Joined the others in the dunes beyond. I think it was-"

Just as he continued sharing his experience, the guards shouted out looking for the presence of some "Violet Damien". Farim was a little confused and wondered if there was someone who matched that name around here. Thinking on it, he never really looked to see if someone matching their description was among the party goers. He turned back to his cousin and spoke "Perhaps now is not the time, we can talk later if you desire." The man then motioned towards Anastasia, grasping her hand and giving it a slight tug.

"Do you know this person? And should we be concerned?"

Farim

Location:Edge of Lover's Lake
Time: Evening
Mentions: Anastasia @princess, and Munir @Infinite Cosmos

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The change of tone was something Farim needed to clear his mind. The feeling of dancing his worries away was somewhat helping the edging anxiety at the edge of his thoughts - but the raging colors and views he began to experience after his sighting with ghosts dwarfed his negative emotions for the time being. His hand reflexively grabbed at Ana's sleeves as she held onto him - the both of them likely staring off at whatever object, person, or thing they found to be the most colorful at the time.

"I will not say I hate it. I have mixed feelings with how this experience has been but if the rest of the night stays like this - perhaps it will be a truly enlightening time for me." He chuckled before turning to glance at his cousin. As soon as she mentioned him, Farim felt a sense of urgency run up the back of his mind. Oh not you too...

With his hands now gripped in hers, he couldn't help but admire the softness of them. His emotional state overall seemed to swing rapidly to various corners of his mind. "Perhaps we should...Also has anyone told you your hands are so soft? Oh we are going now!" He followed her and noticed the look on Munir's face, and stepped closer to greet his dear cousin.

"Aben am (Cousin), are you doing okay? You are much livelier in moments like these." He leaned in closer and whispered to the man. "Are you seeing the spirits of the dead too?"

In Avalia 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Time: Evening
Location: Riverbloom
Interactions: Barrock @Conscripts, Aurora @Mole, Rowan, and Zora
Mentions: None
Equipment: A greataxe with Shockwave and Ethereal enchantment, Leather armor with Absorption enchantment, and Magic Nullification shackles



As Veric's battle-high faded in the split-second before he would follow through with the punch, his expression changed. The quick draw of the blade steadily approaching his mid-section proved to be enough of a deterrent to soften his blow. He was cocky, perhaps even foolish, but he wasn't idiotic enough to take sharpened steel head on. He quickly rolled himself away from the blow, opting instead for a backhanded punch against Barrock's arm to push the blade further away from him. However the bait proved to be very effective, and the orc landed a partial blow on Veric's side. The cut was shallow, but fresh blood still dripped from the slash as Veric lunged further behind the orc. The follow-up blow was close, but this time he opted to use the literal meat shield that still housed his axe to soften the blow. With a twisted grin he shifted Zora's corpse between the sword and his body, and let Barrock decide. Either he could continue the strike and possibly land a blow at the risk of further ruining his dead comrade's corpse, or he could forsake the idea give Veric some distance.

No matter the result, Veric would backpedal several steps and pull his weapon from Zora with a horrific SHLUNK and place it onto his back. The elf reached down to grab the small iron ball that had proven to be far less than useful in this combat and then addressed the party.

"You little ones are awfully luck I don't got the time to be laying you all six feet under. But if you follow me, I could bring the General some more battle trophies. Makes no difference to me. Savor the fact you lived to fight me - even put a few scratches on me. But don't push your luck!"

Just as quickly as he rushed in, the man turned and began huffing the corpse, his gear, and his muscle-bound self into the tree line. Veric was burdened but by no means crippled, and the weight of the woman he just killed was not much to his carrying capabilities. Using the still-fresh confusion in the air he figured it would give him just enough time to put some space between him and the group.

Interesting playthings you've given me, General. Very interesting indeed. He thought to himself with a wicked smile.

With that, the party stood in the clearing, the only remaining evidence of their friend being the splattered red stain on the grass beneath their feet, and the dreadful feeling of a lost companion.
In Avalia 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Bardulf


Time: Evening
Location: Aboard the Righteous Tern
Interaction: Masako @dreamingflowers


The springing to life set Bardulf on edge, as he noted the fingers that had made their way to his forehead before he could even react. He found the notion terrifying, but once his nerves settled he couldn't help but feel curious at the way the creature moved. It was very gentle to the touch, and the brushing of his hair solicited Bardulf to step back and tilt his head, almost like a confused animal.

Was she...checking my temperature? The man thought to himself for a brief moment. He certainly didn't feel ill but surmised that perhaps his flighty nature made the warforged think he was not feeling well. Rather than scurrying off like he normally would, Bardulf flexed the muscles in his feet as if to forcefully plant himself on the wooden deck of the ship and face his social quirks head on.

"Nothing in particular...Just a little stir-crazy with being on a ship for the first time. I like solid ground." With about as abrupt and straight-forward delivery as he could, Masako's question was still only partially answered. Bardulf truthfully had a lot on his mind but he knew divulging every little detail on his inner thoughts could spell disaster in a number of ways, so he opted for the surface level thoughts and complaints instead. Looking around, he gathered a brief bit of intel on where the others were standing on the ship before asking Masako another question. "This your first time too?"
Wulfric & Drake




If nothing else, Drake’s penchant for theatricality drew out a smirk from him. “Good evening, Drake,” he greeted. “Or should I greet you as the Musician?” he joked lightly. “Your visage is recognizable despite the mask, you do realize?” he pointed out, entertained by the lord’s actions. Wulfric then moved onto the next immediate point he was curious about. “Was Princess Sadie unable to come?” he inquired, genuinely intrigued. He had seen them together this morning, and suspected Drake had been waiting for her. Possibly, the lord was now sans a date. All things considered, it was a decent opportunity to draw the man into a (preferably private) conversation.

With a light tap of his cane, Drake humored the man’s deduction. ”Is the costume so easily taken apart? Or are you perhaps far too good of a detective, Sir Danrose?” He lightheartedly joked. He would sound more chipper than usual to those who know him in passing. If he was to play a character, why not exaggerate his social quirks and make some fun out of it?

”Well, you may call me whatever pleases you most, Sir Raven.” He yet again poked fun at the costumes they both wore. ”I like to keep a smidgen of mystique to the identity. Like a good mystery novel, leaving just enough clues for the reader to piece them together.” He chuckled softly.

”As for Miss Camilia….” He paused for a moment, a slight dip in his voice as he softly lamented at the lost chance of a date with his crush. But it was quickly brushed off as he continued. ”She is unable to make it this evening. So I am but a lone bachelor this fine evening. I take it you share a similar fate as my own? Perhaps we could make the night a little less lonely for one another? At least for a spell.” A friendly smile found its way on Drake’s face, a picture perfect show of perfectly innocent intentions.

“A pinch of detecting, a dash of the obvious,” Wulfric returned, playing along. He’d met Drake enough times, and realized the man was enjoying the event. And why not? “What is a masquerade without some mystique?” he agreed. It was one of the reasons he had decided on a full costume.

“That is unfortunate, but I am certain the two of you will meet again. From what I could see, you got along very well.” Thinking of the potential couple, Wulfric felt a hint of playfulness, and indulged it. “Only take care not to get headhunted by Varian, hm? If I were to find myself without one of my future dukes, I would face a conundrum indeed,” he commented slyly.

He chuckled at Drake’s invitation. It was a tad suggestive in ways the man may or may not have intended. Wulfric didn’t mention that, however. “The night is still young! Do not mourn it yet for a lack of company.” The prince appeared to be in a good mood - or perhaps, in a theatrical one. “But yes, let us catch up.” He did want to exchange more than a few words in passing with the man. “How have you been?”

Drake smiled at the prince’s humor, and felt it falter slightly thinking about his missing date. It was true he was concerned, but he also had to realize in the world of politics people often led busy lives. To be caught up over one missed evening would be rather uncouth of him, and it was here that his general mood about the situation turned around.

With a playful shrug, he merely noted, “Well, they can try to headhunt me if they wish, but my country is still my priority, I’ll have you know.” He snickered at the thought. “Princess Camilia does not strike me as the ‘steal a duke’ type, if I’m being frank. But I shall keep my head on a swivel, lest a certain prince grow jealous of my absence.” Drake added another friendly quip with the slightest hint of sass in his voice. He now found himself wondering just how much Wulfric may have missed about the young man since they last talked.

“You know - I truthfully can’t recall the last time we’ve gotten the chance to chat like this. It’s been too long, Wulfric.” Drake thinks for a moment on just what it is he’s been up to - more or less the same in all honesty, but he couldn’t just throw a boring old answer like that in front of Prince Danrose like that. He walked along with the man across the gala - partaking briefly in the sights and sounds of the party but mostly giving Wulfric his full attention.

“I’m sure you are fully aware of the various practices and paperwork behind becoming a Prince, let alone a Duke. I keep up with the growing mountain of duties as well as my personal hobbies. I keep the shooting arm well kept, and I’ve been keeping after the Hareluck Tolmes series if you are familiar. That ace detective is quite the fellow - and his deduction is unmatched. I’ve grown quite fond of the character if I do say so myself. Ah, but I’m rambling - how have you fared, friend?”

“That is good to know,” Wulfric remarked, audibly pleased. A self-proclaimed romantic like Drake could very well get drawn into another country if it was for love. “Oh, I am sure Princess Sadie would do no such thing intentionally,” he commented dryly. The following jealousy comment prompted a small scoff. “Save the coquetry for someone who will appreciate it,” he dismissed, but Drake would realize the prince hadn’t even been moved to exasperation. Wulfric knew it was only a jest on the lord’s part, and this was far from the likes of sleazy, insulting remarks Cassius had thrown around.

He sighed as Drake pointed out that it had been too long since they’ve last had a proper talk. “It has,” he agreed. He considered the man a good colleague, even a friend, but their respective duties left a slim chance for casual chats, let alone for profound discussions that weren’t work related. The two traversed the ballroom, and Wulfric casually observed the proceedings, though at the moment, nothing in particular drew his attention.

“Yes, at times it feels as if the more I do, the more there still remains to attend to,” Wulfric chuckled. However, he sounded far from upset or even tired at the prospect. Drake had long since pegged him as a ‘workaholic’. Of course, the prince, whenever he heard such a descriptor, countered with the fact that he took daily breaks – he would risk going stir-crazy otherwise. “We should go on a hunt sometime,” Wulfric mused. Perhaps, they could invite some others too, and make it into a group outing.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded, recognizing the series Drake mentioned. “‘It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data,’” he quoted one of his favourite lines. “If only life were as neatly ordered as a detective novel…” The unsolvable mysteries of life did have their own wondrous allure, which he could appreciate. Yet, for his concrete problems, he fervently wished for answers. “Recently…” he began, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

“I have had many concerns lately.” Wulfric then went on to summarize some recent happenings, noting what he considered the key issues; the Alidasht guests’ displeasure and the need to better their diplomatic relations, Duke Lorenzo’s mishaps and his unsuitability for public appearances, that damned party and the guests’ missing memories, the perplexing murder investigation, the shooting at Calbert’s house, and even his younger siblings’ penchant for getting into trouble. The latter, of course, wasn’t out of the ordinary, but they ever did find new ways for it.

“Ah, but excuse me,” he caught himself after a while. “I have slipped entirely into business matters.”

Drake steered the two towards a quiet little pocket in the ballroom. Through some mild observations and deduction, he surmised little foot traffic came through this area. Once the two parked, he continued their conversation. “You know, I do believe you, and the logic is sound. But I am the romantic type, so I can’t help but always have that fleeting feeling for the what-ifs.” He smiled at that statement, and began to absorb the strife of the prince as Wulfric listed his concerns.

As Wulfric finished, Drake nodded in agreement. “Quite the turmoil you find yourself in, Wulfric. But with a kingdom like this I guess high society seldom sleeps.” He took a slight pause to think of a form of response. “Duke Lorenzo is a sort of variable that not even the gods can predict. So trying to worry much over him might do you more harm than good. Or maybe he simply needs something to misdirect all of that latent…energy of his? Something like a party or some form of project to keep him on his feet and out of your hair perhaps? Merely conjecture of course.”

As a nearby waiter carried fancy glasses of champagne around, Drake hailed them down to procure two glasses for the pair. He handed one to Wulfric and continued. “Everything else seems to almost be happening in unison with one another. Almost like they all share a common affinity to give people like you more sleepless nights. As someone who is among the lesser to middle levels of nobility, I assure you the chatter has been all gossip and no brass. People are merely excited to have something interesting to muck over at tea parties but in the public eye things aren’t any worse than usual.” The ‘than usual’ was the key word choice there. Obviously the public was upset over many things, but to chalk it up to solely recent events would be folly. The mischief surrounding the guests and missing memories and murder mysteries were only part of the whole picture when it came to civil unrest in Drake’s mind.

“Ah, and how great minds function similarly. Here I am counseling you as if I had authority to do so. Forgive my boldness. You were talking about a hunt, yes? I would actually rather enjoy that. Maybe even a good horseback ride through the countryside. Gives us both a reason to leave the office perhaps?”

“Because there is no rest for the wicked?” Wulfric quipped. There was an innate irony to commenting on high society’s lack of sleep in the middle of a party, whether Drake had meant it or not. At the segue to his least favourite duke, the prince felt his lips curl in reflexive distaste. Even so, he had to reluctantly admit, “It isn’t as if his management of Veirmont is lacking. Which was the closest he would come to giving Lorenzo a

Fcompliment. “However, it is as if someone has excised the parts of the man’s mind required for comprehending the subtleties of politics. If you were fanciful, I suppose you might say he was cursed.” Despite his harsh words, he had some ideas on how to handle Duke Vikena, but kept them to himself.

And truthfully, the unfortunate duke, as haphazard as he was, wasn’t even the priority concern. “There is rarely only one problem to deal with at a time,” he noted, an amused scoff escaping him. However, his entertainment was as fleeting as a stray blossom blasted by a sudden gust of wind - and just as violently replaced by a sourer mood. “I hope you do not believe me to be primarily concerned by idle gossip.” He did not miss what Drake was alluding to. “If none of this is ‘worse than the usual’, then ‘the usual’ is much more dire than I realized.”

He frowned when the lord seemingly backed down. Yes, he was displeased, but not with Drake - merely with the situation at hand. “Drake,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I appreciate your counsel; in fact, I prefer to have it. I would much rather openly discuss any and all issues rather than have you attempt to spare my feelings.”

He let that sink in, giving Drake a long moment to fully take it in. Then, he addressed Drake’s offer to hunt or to ride together. “But to answer your last question: yes, I would enjoy that as well.”

Drake placed his chin between his thumb and index finger, a resting point for him as he reflectively spoke aloud. “I fancy myself a man of fanciful persuasion. Cursed is an apt description for such a man. No offense to the guy, he seems to mean well but sometimes his actions either land short or cause horrendous consequences.”

It was here the Prince seemed to put on an air of dissatisfaction with the implications of Drake’s words. But Drake couldn’t help but notice the compliment Wulfric paid him just before. To have someone of Prince Danrose’s prestige consider Drake’s opinion to be a worthwhile one, well Drake couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the thought. But he straightened his composure all the same and addressed the slight concern.

“Not to say things are more dire than before, but it could very well lead that way. It definitely feels like some things may be stirring beneath the surface. Call me paranoid but I can’t help but think this recent chaos is but the tip of the iceberg.” He stopped for a moment to enjoy his beverage, and let loose a relaxed breath. “But with people like you at the helm it’s this country's only shot at pushing back any ill-wishing third parties. So to that I offer my utmost support at any time.” Drake raises his glass in a form of toast to Wulfric.

Wulfric huffed. “Yes, I am not surprised such a descriptor for Lorenzo strikes your fancy.” He nodded at Drake’s following words. “That has been my impression as well. And I do not like the feeling of what might be underlying.” He raised his own glass, and with a delicate motion, lightly knocked it against the lord’s. “To destroying the country’s enemies, and to bringing order and prosperity to our citizens,” he toasted. “I appreciate your support, Drake. That said, are there any specific concerns or information you would like to bring to my attention?”

Drake clanked his glass against Wulfric’s, enjoying the toast and nodding in agreement. Then as he posed his question he thought on what exactly he knew would be relevant for the man. “About the country’s enemies? Sadly nothing much, yet. I might have to dust off the old trenchcoat and try out some investigative work like our favorite novel detective.” He chuckled at the idea, but his tone definitely contained a slightly serious tone. “I suppose there is one concern of mine. I sadly came across some tabloids, really should avoid the damned things. But a headline about Callum being beaten in an alley made me worry for his health. But obviously that’s not the only thing…”

Drake hesitated for a moment, and added an addendum to his original thought. “Just know I hope this part doesn’t stir any grand reaction. I merely tell you out of respect - not distaste or malcontent. But it would appear that your brother fancies my sister - or more aptly - she fancies him. Still working out the details myself. But this is all rather new - so please take it with a grain of salt.”

Wulfric nodded at Drake’s reply. “If you come across something, let me know.” He issued a grumbling noise at the mention of Callum. “He is fine - or so he claims,” his tone of voice said it all for him. He didn’t believe for a second that his brother was ‘fine’. At times, he suspected his addiction had already begun rotting his brain. By the Gods, it better hadn’t. “Apparently, he’d been out picking a fight for some reason,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I do not know why; I wish I understood him better.” Or rather, he wished Callum wouldn’t act in such a bizarre manner. He had but faint hope that his brother’s involvement in a charity project would help in that regard.

Even though Drake was exceedingly cautious in relaying his next piece of information, Wulfric merely nodded. “Yes, I have noticed them get along at the Princes’ Court, and have heard some rumours after the Tea Party. By how some people describe it, those two might as well already be in a relationship,” he drawled, subtly mocking how easily the public jumped to conclusions. “Personally, I do not mind even if they do begin to court. I am unsure about my parents, but I suspect your mother at least would view Callum as a corruptive influence on Ariella.” He tilted his head, studying Drake for a beat. “However, I would caution that if that is your concern too, your sister most likely knows what kind of man my brother is already, and still wishes to get closer.” He believed the young lord would get the point; Ariella was surely no naive lady being led astray.

The man nodded. “Well, firstly, I am glad he is okay. I was merely making sure one of the three princes of the throne wasn’t casually beaten to death in all honesty. But you make a point - sometimes he does seem to simply incur the wrath of passersby.” Drake frowned, wondering just what it might be that drives the man to find himself in such scenarios. At the mention of his mother, even Drake had to throw a side glance in an awkward direction. As if he was avoiding the idea of thinking about her. “Unfortunately, you are not far off the mark. I don’t think he would be a corrupting influence per se. I just…” He sighed. “My sister, as you say, is very capable. She has handled our mother’s scrutiny for her entire life. I would love to support her, to give her everything I can to make her have a great life and all - it just seems as of late that my words mean very little to her.”

Drake paused to take a drink, reflecting back to the argument they had earlier in the evening. “Frankly, I do not particularly care who she courts so long as they treat her right and fairly. But if a man is not even worried about his own well being then how can I even begin to think he’ll take care of others in his life, such as my sister?” His words, albeit pointed, were the real concern behind this entire topic. He raised his hand and closed his eyes for a moment, as if to calm his nerves slightly. “Apologies. That was rather direct of me to say. Perhaps I am overthinking the whole debacle. What say you, Wulfric? Yours is a counsel I could probably use, in all honesty.”

Wulfric listened to the man as he said his piece. “No…it is a valid concern. I doubt Callum is aware how his reckless and nonchalant attitude could have consequences for someone else.” The prince grew thoughtful as he considered how Callum had been concerned for Anastasia, and even for Fletcher after the whole party debacle. However, after the initial shock had worn off, had his brother brushed off the event? He was uncertain. “I will say that if given the chance, Callum would do what he could to protect someone close to him.” Now, whether his youngest sibling was able to protect someone else was another matter entirely. Wulfric didn’t fault Drake for having his doubts.

He huffed and took a sip of his drink as the lord asked for counself. “Well, I can say that trying to parent your siblings doesn’t work. Believe me, I have tried for years,” he drawled. He issued a prolonged exhale. “Auguste is very good with them, you know?” Wulfric offered. “From what I’ve observed, it is a combination of exceeding patience, a wealth of empathy, and very gentle, kind expressions of concern that rarely make the other party defensive.” He shrugged, swirling the drink within his glass. “If nothing else, suggest she takes up self-defense. She might appreciate learning such a thing ‘in secret’, and it is a good skill to have.”

“Speaking of your sister, is she attending Lord Ravenwood’s event?”

Drake gave the prince a smirk at his suggestion. “You know what, that isn’t a bad idea. Might just have to suggest that to her in passing. She is the type to keep her little secrets.” He crossed his arms in mild contemplation as he thought of just what kind of self defense she might try to learn, given her history of charms, trinkets, and potions. But once Wulfric posed his second question Drake took no hesitation in providing a vague yet hopefully satisfactory answer.

“Oh, as much as she would love to, I believe she is somewhere around here. Likely not in the gown mother picked for her and even more likely hiding away until she feels she has paid her pittance in ‘time wasted’ at such an event. She begged me not to hound her tonight so I am letting her have her space as such.” Although only a white lie, it still did not feel great coming from Drake’s mouth in order to keep his sister’s whereabouts covered. The young duke figured this would be the perfect test for Prince Callum to prove he is capable of looking after his dear sister, if anything.

“Is it safe to assume Prince Callum is there or is he off on his own adventure this evening?”

“You do that.” For a moment, Wulfric wondered how the suggestion would be met by Ariella, but dismissed it as none of his business. Drake’s explanation on his sister’s whereabouts received a hum of faux interest. The prince thought it likely that Ariella was at the other event - or perhaps, might escape to it later on. However, at least for now, it wasn’t his problem. If all went well, it wouldn’t become one in the future.

“Oh, yes, I am certain Callum is at Ravenwood’s gathering,” he replied casually. “It is…his kind of thing, so to say. Thankfully, I know Varians generally take good care of their guests.” Naturally, he expected there to be intoxication. Northern Varians had strange herbs they smoked - or was it herbal infusions they drunk? Either way, it should be nothing like Delronzo’s party. Of course, his siblings were prone to finding their own sources of trouble. With a silent sigh, Wulfric took another sip of alcohol to alleviate the tension he could feel creeping up on him.

Noticing the tension in the man’s composure, Drake’s expression softened and tinked his glass onto Wulfric’s in a mock toast of sorts. The Duke-to-be took his mask off, and looked at the Prince with a genuine grin as he spoke. ”Whatever troubles find us in the eve, may they be lesser in the morrow.” He raised his glass once more, only fragments of the original drink even left at this point. ”To the future of this country, and to the good health of those we care about.”

Drake clinked glasses with Wulfric and continued their idle chit-chat until something would pry one away from the other. He felt a sense of ease from having spoken to the man, and was grateful for the opportunity for the night to not be a complete wash in terms of social interaction. As for what the rest of the night had in store, well, that was yet to be seen.
In Avalia 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Time: Evening
Location: Riverbloom
Interactions: Barrock @Conscripts, Aurora @Mole, Rowan, and Zora
Mentions: None
Equipment: A greataxe with Shockwave and Ethereal enchantment, Leather armor with Absorption enchantment, and Magic Nullification shackles


The shockwave from his axe rang out into the ground, barely missing the light elf and human with their evasive maneuvers. The iron ball he threw earlier bounced off of Aurora's staff protecting Zora, and landed uselessly into the grass behind them. Veric took note of the orc taunting him into striking, and with a smirk on his face he decided to speak to the man before making his next move. "Nah!" The elf swung his axe up just as quickly as it had come down, and the perceptive among the group would notice three runes emblazed upon the shaft of the weapon. One such rune began to glow bright with magical energy as he swung it down towards Zorra.

Just as the axe would have made contact with the staff, the blade and hilt became translucent and passed through it. The axe had become ethereal for just a brief moment in his swing, allowing the weapon to easily pass through the staff and continue towards the human's torso. Just as blade came close to flesh, its form became solid once more as he shouted out. "You aren't worthy even worthy enough of being my target, green boy! HAHAHAHA!" The rune on his weapon fizzled out, with two more remaining dimly lit as the chorus of unholy sounds would curse the party's ears.

First came the sickening squelch of steel against flesh as the blade continued its course through the human's neck. Then came the abhorrent split-second crunch of bone as the great axe effortlessly sundered the very spine that support Zora's upper body. Finally, the unsettling silence that followed as the axe remained stuck in her sundered body. What was once a jovial smile became a look of disgust on the woman's face. She was likely about to abhor and insult the dark elf for approaching her so casually, but in that moment of casual banter that filled her mind - Veric chose to violently and swiftly take his prey.

With the light fading from her eyes rapidly, and his weapon now stuck inside his "trophy", Veric shot towards Barrock in a fit of euphoric rage and cockiness. He decided to grab her body and shift it towards his fallen shackles in an attempt to escape now that his mission was complete. His hand shot out to grab his new "trophy" by hair, as the other balled into a fist aimed at Barrock's mid-section. "But I suppose I could indulge the little grunt for lettin' have my kill!"
In Avalia 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Bardulf



Time: Evening
Location: Aboard the Righteous Tern
Interaction: Masako @dreamingflowers


Bardulf observed the moving machination with both curiosity and caution. It was like he expected them to spring out at him at any moment until they announced their intentions. "Elven family, huh? Seems...important." Bardulf calmed himself and corrected any erratic posture he had preceeding this moment. Normally the man would likely nod and walk off from the interaction to avoid draining any of his delicate social battery. But here he opted to relax himself and engage further with the warforged.

"You say you're protecting your kids, huh? I hope you find them soon. Where do you think they are? And why do you think they are gone from home?" There was a brief pause before he thought of something else to say to Masako. "I, uh, hope that isn't too many question."

It wasn't groundbreaking by any means but Bardulf felt a slight relief on his shoulders being able to converse as easily as this with someone else while rocking on the boat of a ship in a completely foreign land. There was certainly alot for him to digest but Bardulf would do his best to survive and adapt to his surroundings.
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