Legion02

Legacy - Warhammer Fantasy-inspired War NRP

@Legion02No, but I'd really want one since we're Elves/Dwarves. Common rivals and what not

@POOHEAD189

Totally up for it! Where can I find your NS (if you posted it already) Would be very fun to read and see what I'm up against!

Legacy - Warhammer Fantasy-inspired War NRP

@Legion02Might wanna update the map just in case :D

Also, I'm wondering why we'd have a rivalry (I'm Dwarfs)

@POOHEAD189

Wait, I have a rivalry with you already? Did I put it up there? o.O I'm sorry, I wrote the NC quite a while ago. If you're not okay with it I'll change it! (If can find it)

@Legion02Looks good, still have some qualms about the mostly human army but I can wrap my head around it now. Definatly feels like "evil elves". Me lieky.

Feel free to move it over to Chars and get cracking on IC.

@ClocktowerEchos

I'm not entirely sure what you were expecting. I tried to be very clear that these were not dark elves. They're just very power hungry and as elves have a very low reproduction rate there are very few of the Fallen Ones. So yeah, for everything war-related they pretty much use and abuse the locals. I'm sorry if that's not what you were expecting :/ But thanks for accepting me none the less! ^^

EDIT: OH WAIT! Where are the High Elves!? Damn, okay if I get time, I'll rewrite the history.

Legacy - Warhammer Fantasy-inspired War NRP

@RisenDead @ClocktowerEchos
Finalized Fallen Elves. Might add some heroes but then I'll let you guys pass judgement on them first.

Kingdom of Elysweir

Kingdom of Elysweir

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Overview

The Fallen Elves were once High elves. But cast out due to their standing on magical research and their position in the world. They believed that no path of magic should be hidden away out of fear or danger. Even Dark Magic exists for a reason, and the Fallen Elves believe that it has its place in this world. Fallen Elves also believe that they should rule the world. Even nature herself should bend for their awesome powers. When they were cast out they travelled from west to east until they found the wild lands of Elysweir. The people here were far away from modern cities or civilization the Elves were used to. While the Elves had but a small force, it was powerful, dangerous and substantial. The chieftain of the many human tribes one by one laid down arms in the face of their armored foes.

Now the elves rule supreme in the strange land that is Elysweir. Delving deeper in all kinds of magic. They are power hungry and beyond redemption. If you want the trust of the Fallen Elves, grant them power beyond belief.

Geography

Map Claim

The dark blue part

In the far east, you'll find the Sunrise coast and the infinite ocean. From here, inland you'll find the Great Flats. Plains stretching far and wide. Upon which humans farm and wild horses run for days on end. Recently, along the coast the Elves have set up a few cities. But generally, the coastline is dominated by long, beautiful beaches with the occasional fisher's community. In the north is the cold sea. Still favorable for fishing, but the coast here are generally cliffs with some rough beaches here and there. The cold sea is abundant of fish thus human fishers still live here. But the elves avoid this area. To the south is the Sunsoaked coast and the Midsea. Leading deeper inland. The Sunsoaked coast is also filled with beaches, but you'll find far less fishermen here. As there are far less fishes in the Midsea. Never the less the Sunsoaked coast is a favorite location of solitary Fallen Elf Lords. Whom build their mansion near the warm sands. In the middle of the land you'll find thick forests with the occassional small clearing. Some clearings are filled with hunter communities that have lived here for generations. Elves like to walk through the forest, so every now and then you'll find a cabin. Further west you find the natural barrier between the people of Elysweir and those beyond. The Dragonspine Mountains. There are a few passages. The most notable one now is Asreyan's Pass. Through which the elves past. Here Asreyans Ascension lays, a city in the mountains at the end of the pass. The main hold of the elves. Humans now flock around the cities and start mining the ores from the Dragonspine. Though sometimes this invokes the wrath of the dragons.

History

The Fallen Elves were named so when they were cast out from the High Elves homeland. But instead of taking shame in the name, they began to bear it proudly. For many years they trekked through the world, under the guidance of the all powerful Asreyan. Eventually they found the wild, untamed lands of Elysweir. Upon getting through the pass, the elves made a settlement and began to conquer the neighboring tribes. Some tried to fight, but the combination of the already conquered tribes and the pure might of the elves destroyed any army that dared oppose them. Once Elysweir was united, an age of peace began. Several generations of humans passed, and eventually they came to accept their Elven Lords. Who firmly established their dominion. Now they turned their gaze back west from which they came. Bent on conquering more as insult towards the High Elves.

Government

The Kingdom is ruled by a king, obviously. But still the first one. King Asuryan I. Ruler of the Fallen Elves and Humans of Elysweir.

Race Description

Years of power hunger have consumed the Fallen ones. Their eyes burn with every burning power but they are addicted to it. Fallen Ones keep their hair long in fashion of the High Elves. Their skin is paler than most other elves, and their hair tends to become black. Some, who practice the Dark Arts, look ever paler than they should be.

A major part of the Fallen Ones' culture is the act of ancestral worship. They believe that no god looked over them after they were cast out. But their dead ones keep vigil over them. Each Fallen Elf has a shrine to his or her ancestors and pray at it every night. Though at day they march with the dignity of a power hungry war mogul. For this is where they believe their powers are truely put to the test. In war.

Culture

The beasts have always served the Fallen Elves once they learned how to break their minds. Now these creatures of nature are loyal to their dead. Elves keep entire flocks and packs as pets, but have no quarrel with sending them out to ambush the enemy. These beasts of war are there for one of the most dangerous foes an Fallen Elf Lord may send upon rebels. As nothing will fend off these rows of hungry animals. Instilled with a bloodlust only rivaled by blood crazed predators.

Humans don't generally suffer under their rule as long as they do what they are told without too much complaining. Upon coming of age, each man is conscripted into the army. While often ill-trained, the elves allow the practice of bards within the army and Elysweir as a whole. So many younglings want to prove their ability in battle so one day a bard may sing a song about them. Of course, more veteran conscripts just want to come back alive. A special group of humans exist named the Elvensworn. They are elite among the humans and receive training from their Elven masters. Elvensworn are generally feared and a little bith loathed. But never the less their blind loyalty towards the Elves make them dangerously fanatic.

Elves will seldom march into battle themselves. But once they do, they are a vicious wind of power. Be it they wield bow, lance or sword, a Fallen Elf on the battlefield is dangerous beyond measure. As they have lived their early lives under the scruteny of their brethern. Only to be cast out and forced to survive an agonising trek across the world. Even in their peaceful times Fallen Elves often come together to duel and fight. Keeping their already formidable skills on edge. Much like humans, Fallen Elves belief there is glory in war.

Economy/Industry

Humans continue to lumber on with their day to day lives. The only difference now is that their taxes go to the Fallen Elf overlords. Whom in return abuse the taxes raised for their unending war. The main force driving their war and also their own power at Bloodwells. Corrupted Moonwells that drain the world of arcane energy and allow Fallen Elves to feed from it.

Magic

Lore of Fire

Name: Fireball
Lore: Lore of Fire
Type: Offensive, Single Target
Short Description: The master of fire channels the energy and launches a terrible fire of flames, homing in on the caster's desired target.

Name: Firestorm
Lore: Lore of fire
Type: Offensive AoE
Short Description: A large pillar of fire errupts from the ground up, burning everything in its path. Causing a terrible amount of damage.

Name: Sword of Ruin
Lore: Lore of fire
Type: Support buff
Short Description: The caster chooses an ally unit and coats their arms in magical fire. Letting them cut and inflict superior damage.

Lore of the Bloodwells

Name: Blood Leech
Lore: Lore of the Bloodwells
Type: Offensive, single unit
Short Description: The caster starts consuming the very life force of his target. Draining the enemy from their energy. No matter the mental fortitude of a person, this spell damages all. But the caster has a much harder time draining several troops than should he just focus on one.

Name: Curse of the red moon
Lore: Lore of the Bloodwells
Type: Offensive, single unit
Short Description: The caster chooses his victims and calls for the draining powers of the Bloodwell. The bloodwell's grip gets tight around the enemy soldiers, draining them from life and will. Exhausting them until their very bodies can no longer sustain them. Takes a lot of mana not only to mark the and curse the enemy but being able to fend of the drain of the Bloodwell on the caster himself. Should the caster be reckless, he will feel the pain as equal.

Name: Blood knight's blessing
Lore: Lore of the Bloodwell
Type: Support buff
Short Description: The caster commands the Bloodwell to invigorate a unit. They are surrounded by a red hue and turn savage for blood, slaughter and destruction. While at the same time instilling fear upon the enemies who witness these units suddenly chop off entire limbs.

Military

+ Strong elite infantry (Tier 3 and 4)
+ Access to powerful magic
+ Very strong flying unit
- Low tier troops have very low moral (Tier 1 and 2)
- Deep chasm between high and low tier units (between Tier 2 and 3)
- Very few legendary elite infantry (Tier 4)

Beasts

Dragonhawk bloodhunt

Name: Dragonhawk bloodhunt
Type: Light - Flying
Short Description: In the country of Elysweir the dragonhawks were the native apex predator. When the Fallen Elves arrived they bound dragonhawks to do their bidding. Mostly during hunts. They were surprisingly easy to dominate and quickly became the favorite creatures of any Fallen Elf Lord. Though, it was when they discovered the pure, unsateble bloodlust of the dragonhawks that the Elf Lords began to breed them for war. Larger dragonhawks were kept, while smaller ones were killed. Through magic they turned the solitary hunters into pack animals. Eventually the dragonhawks got as big as a child. Flying in large groups named bloodhunts over the battle field and their master. They were particularly effective against large groups of undefended and unarmored people. But in the air they make a prime target for archers.
Tier: 1

Shadowpack

Name: Shadowpack
Type: Light
Short Description: A shadowpack is a group of bloodthirsty shade wolves. These ancient predators mostly stay in the forests, but are not afraid to go after entire human caravans when hungry. They are inherently larger than their normal brethren. However, they are not mere stupid animals. They hunt in pack but lay ambushes and surprise their prey. Cornering it before it even knew it was in danger. Particular well dominated and trained Shadowpacks are able to clear half an enemy encampment in the cover of night. Though, as their name suggests, they are far less effective in daylight.
Tier: 1

Humans

Conscript Militia (Sword & shield)

Name: Conscript Militia (Sword & shield)
Type: Medium
Short Description: When the Fallen Elves first entered Elysweir, locals were united in small hovel communities. Often with only a few families that have lived forever together. They stood no chance against the experienced, strong, professional might of the Fallen Elves. So they were quickly subjugated. Yet, the War Council saw that the brave and often foolish hearts of youngling humans could be bend towards better purpose than hating their occupier. Conscripts are sent into battle when Lords don’t want to waste money and good elves yet still want a more substantial army than Shadowpacks and Bloodhawks. It was found that those who had seen battle and lived to tell about it realized that rising up against their oppressors would become a bloody business. So many dare not to pick up arms. Families get the armor from their rulers though often it is expected that you inherit the armor of your father.
Tier: 1

Eastmen horse riders

Name: Eastmen horseriders
Type: Light
Short Description: In the east part of Elysweir plains stretch far and wide. An excellent place for breeding horses. The Eastmen of Elysweir pride themselves that they can break and tame any wild horse they come across. Though the Fallen Elves sees this “taming” as barbaric. Still the eastmen are both formidable riders as well as hardened men of the sea. They are far more proficient in fighting, as they have a long tradition of dueling. Eastmen cavalry is by far not the strongest out there. But it’s a start and a good one at that. Though for some reason they refuse to hold anything longer than their horse, like a lance or spear. They wield swords and shields and will never wear more than a few hides to protect themselves. They are, however, quite savage in battle.
Tier: 2

Hunters

Name: Hunters
Type: Light
Short Description: In the midlands of Elysweir large forests stretch far and wide. Filled with lethal predators as well as an abundance of prey. The humans living here since long mastered the art of the hunt. Capable of chasing deer unnoticed and more importantly: shoot an arrow accurately. Hunters are therefore often called on to as skirmishing units. Worth little in melee, these men and women of the forest know how to hit their mark. With their short bows they can shoot rather fast but the range is far shorter than the traditional elven longbow. Much like the Eastmen they refuse to wear anything but hides, but explained it better. As heavier armor would slow them down.
Tier: 2

Elvensworn bowmasters

Name: Elvensworn bowmasters Elvensworn bowmasters
Type: Medium
Short Description: Hunters and others showing exceptional skill are often taken in by the Elvensworn order. They are put through rigorous tests of emotional, mental and physical difficulties. Bowmasters, above all, are expected to keep a cool head. Upon reaching the actual rank of Elvensworn Bowmasters, they receive the Mooncurve bow. The bow is made from the Lunia tree. A remarkable tree species, the once great elven bowmaster Heirodaen took several saplings with him on his exile. The bows have superior drawstrenght, and among the humans only Elvensworn are trained so harsh that they can fully pull back the strick. Knocking the Silvershard arrow, a Bowmaster can deliver an aimed arrow up to 1km away.
Tier 3

Elvensworn horsemasters

Name: Elvensworn horsemasters
Type: Heavy
Short Description: Horsemasters are valiant humans that pledged their loyalty to the Fallen Elves with lance and horse. While they do not have access to the Windstrider horses of the elves, they were gifted by the Bloodrunner breed. Who mixed well with the Elsweir native horses. These horses are now as vicious as their master. Fearing little as they charge towards the enemy lines. Horsemasters clash themselves straight into the enemy and fully expect to cut through their enemy like a hot knife through butter. To hone their skills, Horsemasters often participate in tourneys.
Tier: 3

Elvensworn guardians

Name: Elvensworn guardians
Type: Heavy
Short Description: Guardians are heroic warriors among the Elvensworn. They are the only branch of the Elvensworn that swears an oath. The Oath of the Bloody Shield. In which they swear to lay down their sword, shield and their very life in service of the Fallen Elves protection. The zealous Guardians take this oath very serious. Guardians tasked to protect their lord and fail commit suicide after the battle. None have refused so far. The Guardian’s skill in combat is sharpened by Elven Bladelords themselves. Every swing becomes like a cut form the wind. With their shields they stand strong like the earth. Guardians are the most dangerous people among the humans.
Tier: 3

Elven

Shadow walkers

Name: Shadow walkers
Type: Medium
Short Description: Everywhere there is shadow. Temporary darkness. A hiding spot for those trained well enough to vanish in the dark. Shadow walkers were an elite caste of High Elven archers who disliked the traditional fighting style. Instead, Shadow walkers keep away from the main line of combat. Preferring to either lay ambushes or infiltrate fortresses in the cover of night. They are lethal archers and fair swordfighters. But as they are Fallen Elves, few in number and dislike to be in a battle they may lose. Shadow walkers are often accompanied by at least one Shadowpack.
Tier: 4

Fallen Elf coven

Name: Fallen Elf coven
Type: Light
Short Description: For centuries the Arch-mages have gathered knowledge from tomes and books. They researched magic and its many ways. Recording every finding they could. But some disliked the strict rules set by the High Elves. Some verbally rebelled in their opinions and were cast out. The Fallen Elves their Arch-mages now rule the lands. Viciously proud and powerful, they corrupt Moonwells with their own blood. Thus instead of preserving a balance, they attempt to suck the wells empty for their own gain. A coven is a band of mages that banded together around an Arch-mage. They are commonly with only 7 in a coven at most. Covens use their magical ability to launch bolts of pure magical energy, much unlike the high lords' use of lores. Still, they are fearsome magical artillery. More so, if a Bloodwell is near.
Tier: 4

Phoenix Lord

Name: Phoenix Lords
Type: Large - Flying
Short Description: From the Dragonspine mountains often phoenixes flew down to hunt. Humans feared these mighty creatures, but the magical attuned elves managed to gracefully tame these creatures. Now they are their mighty steeds. Riding forward into the sky to rain fire and hell upon the enemy. A Phoenix Lord seated upon his phoenix is a terrible thing to behold. Elvensworn claim that whenever the sunset is burning bright red, a phoenix lord will aid them in battle. Less fanatic people refuse to believe this. But they cannot deny the claim that Phoenixes make for terrifying mounts.
Tier: 4

Monsters

Treeheart Walker

Name: Treeheart Walker
Type: Large - Monsterous - Heavy
Description: The Treeheart Walker is the ultimate insult towards the Fallen Elves original brethren. They took the spirits of the forest and forced it in a physical vessel, binding it to their will. The Treeheart Walker is a terribly slow but dangerously powerful and large creature with skin like bark. It lumbers and walks and follows every command of it’s lord. The spirits agonizing within the mortal vessel. With every step they suffer. The Treeheart Walker is truest sign of Fallen Elves’ dominion over nature.
Tier: 4

Heroes & Lords

Lord Asuryan, the Dragon Mage

Name: Lord Asuryan, the Dragon Mage. King of Elysweir.
Position: King
Powers: Asuryan’s mastership over fire and flames is almost unrivaled. He casts fires and spells with expert chants. His knowledge of the arcane is near unrivaled. Empowered by nearby Bloodwells, his spells can lay waste to entire groups of units. Riding the great red dragon Numeïron, he descends upon the enemy ready to slaughter those who refuse his might.
Short Bio/Personality: Asuryan was once a great mage among the High Elves. Even then, his knowledge about the Arcane was unrivaled. He saw a great many powers around him untapped, and believed that the existent Moonwells could be “modified” to drain upon these other forces to. His first experiment gained him a great many followers. But most High Elves were wary. Eventually he was banished. Forced to move out beyond the borders of the High Elven realm. His friends and followers came along, and they made a great trek around the known world.

Until they found Elysweir. The gifted lands. Only “barbaric” humans lived here, who were quickly subjugated by the Fallen Elves, as they called themselves. Once again, Asuryan began to alter the Moonwells. Feeding the hunger for power of himself and his people. For that is what he is beyond anything: greedy. Power hungry. His descend has only begun, but nobody denies that he is becoming one of the greatest mages of all times.

The Harbingers (High Casual Fantasy Villain RP)

Aborath

Aborath remained silent through the entire speech of the god of Evil. His offer was certainly tempting. The world free from the tyranny of the sun. With his children unafraid of their own cattle. The Vampiric Kingdom, but then everywhere. His children worshipped as gods and free to choose from their cattle. Without having to cling to the shadows or hunt their pathetic prey. If Kil’threx would have offered anything less, Aborath would have left. But the promised rewards were plenty. For sure, the one who actually managed to free the Dark Lord would receive the favor of their new Master. Maybe even a boon. Bloody greed filled Aborath. If he was going to join in on this insane task, he would be the one freeing the God of Evil.

But then Vortigern, the former human mage and now apparition of shadows spoke. With truth, if one would ask Aborath. The only way they’d fail was when they’d get in each other’s way. And how, with the nine of them, could that not happen? He watched the many heads within the room. So much wickedness, but obviously greed too. He saw it in their eyes, the hunger for power like he hungered for blood. If anything, he knew many of them would deliberately sabotage one another just so they could get a shot at freeing Kil’threx. He couldn’t allow some other fool to stand in his way.

“Truth. We should set up a battle plan. We are with nine, so I’d suggest we split up in groups of 2 each and attack from a direction on the compass. One would be left to support whatever side would require it.” Aborath stretched out his hand over the central table. Blood pulled up from the ground and crawled up on the legs of the table. Once on the table, it began to make a crude map of Melaron. There it remained, the blood getting pumped around as if the lines were veins. With the central keep and palace as the heart. “So gentlemen. I suggest we get to work.” Aborath had, in fact, no desire what so ever to join up with any of the individuals sitting at the table. He’d send out word this very night yet. His main army of vampires would start marching. Covens spread throughout the world heed his call. But most importantly, the Mistwalkers of Lake Hysrine would arrive earlier. In four days at the most. The Mistwalkers were a dreaded coven of vampires specialized in deception and stealth. Since their creation, many elven cities had fallen in old Lothorian. They’d infiltrate the city under the cover of night. When the siege would start, they’d plunge whole districts in a confusing thick mist and commence their search for the dungeon entrance. Yes, Aborath would be the first to march down and shatter the statue. This he vowed. All under the guise of looking ready to cooperate with the ramble that stood before him.

The Harbingers (High Casual Fantasy Villain RP)

Aborath

Mist crawled through the dark forest. It was the kind of fog wise men evaded and fools ran into with swords drawn. A bad omen in a time of darkness on the horizon. It was unnaturally thick and seemed unaffected by the small gusts of wind. Slowly it creeped up the cottage. Surrounding it completely. From the sky a few bats came down and hung themselves upside down on the branches of a few trees. These bats, however, were nothing like their smaller cousins. A fellbat could grow half the size of a man, and had a taste for blood. To see them in the human kingdom was incredibly rare. For long ago they were deemed dangerous enough to kill all of them. But some had survived. Under the dark protection of the Vampire King.

Now they were his slaves. His spies. In the dark of night they flew out and on their hunt they fed their master with visions of patrols, villages and people. Even now they had spot those who came and had already entered the shack. With no screams or the clashing sound of blades, Aborath assumed that the others kept to peace for now. How dull. From the mist, he materialized. Dressed in his simple black robes, trimmed with scarlet. The only thing that could indicate to anything remarkable about him was the small circlet on his head. With the delicacy of an elf he entered the small place. Giving himself a moment to take it all in. Oh yeah, either something great would happen soon. Or they’d all lose patience and draw blades. For a moment he kept silent, trying to decide what was more likely. This ‘God of Evil’ actually appearing, or this strange band going at each other's throat. For a moment he had his doubts. But he dismissed them swiftly enough. Should they start attacking one another, he could simply pull back into the fog still surrounding the place.

He observed the faceless… thing. What an ugly mass. And did that thing’s servant really all just call them insects? Aborath had heard the creature talk from outside. “I can assure you, I am not an insect.” The Vampire King said. While he himself may look the least intimidating of the brood, he liked to keep that façade just so enemies would underestimate him. But when this petty thing called him an insect too, he let the invisible façade of magic surrounding him drop. Revealing his true aura. Drenched in the blood of the innocent and surrounded by the agonizing souls of the forsaken. Before covering it all up in a glamour. “You’d do well to remember that you’re in the company of mighty creatures. So hold that tongue before I take it from you.” All threats were only aimed at Nyarlith’s servant. After which Aborath looked up at the faceless thing, touched his forehead with two fingers and then lifted them off slightly. As a manner of greeting he picked up from an old culture far down south. With the exchange done, he took his own seat at the table.

The Harbingers (High Casual Fantasy Villain RP)

Aborath, the Bloody King

Name: Aborath
Title: The Bloody King, The Legacy of Cain, Dread from the South, The Grave Knight

Three-word description: Elder Vampire King
Appearance: Aborath will rarely reveal his physical form. But he does have one. He stands a respectable 1.80m off the ground. His skin is pale like alabaster, but with long black hair adorning his head. Many, upon first meeting Aborath, often assume he is a horrible monster. While in reality, he looks quite stunning. With alluring red eyes. Aborath's common attire is a simple black robe trimmed with red. Though he still wears a simple, black-iron crown. Showing that he is still royalty.

"Go, my brave son. But know that I will prepare your funeral the moment you pass my threshold. Know that your mother will start weeping, that I start grieving and your sibblings start missing. Go and face your quest. Only a grave awaits you here." - Last words of Turhael to his oldest son, Ysavor. Slain by the Grave Knight.

Aborath's form of a fighter is very much unlike him as he usually is. He wields two swords, fearing no wound or harm. His black armor does not hamper his movement, yet protects him fully. It is adorned with complex motives serving no more purpose other than to show that he can spent money on decorating an armor of battle. From his back, four leathered wings can spread. With talons at the joints and tips. Allowing Aborath to kill even faster than with just two swords.

Magic/Skills/Abilities:
Vampire Elder - The legacy of Cain. From him, all the vampire clans have spawned. Each of his "child" was gifted with a unique set of abilities. But that means that Aborath had those abilities in the first place. As vampire elder AND heir to Cain's power himself, he can use all the Vampiric arts. These powers range from shapeshifting into a dire wolf pack or fellbat cloud, mistwalking, flying (leather wings) and blood magic. Which is one of the foulest forms of magic. Corrupting the enemy's very flesh and blood. Poisoning them from within. Blood magic often leaves one tainted or crippled for the rest of their lives if not treated with immediate care.

Soul magic - Nobody's soul is safe from Aborath. With an outstretched arm he can grasp forth towards your very being and rip it asunder. Of course, those stronger of will are harder to destroy than those who are simple of mind and idea. Death magic can also grip the heart of any creature capable of fearing. He can enhance his own allies with a terrible glow of dread, instilling terror on the nearby enemies. With Death Magic, you either die while you feel the very life force drawn from you or you flee shitting your breeches.

Immortal bladestorm - There is little doubt. Aborath has lived for many centuries. Maybe even millennia! All the while he has had different, mortal, masters. Each teaching him their unique way of how to wield a blade. The result of years of training and whole decades or refining every technique is Aborath's unrivaled skill with the blade. Humans stand no chance and even the oldest of Elven swordmasters must concede defeat at the hands of the Elder Vampire.

Inventory and holdings
Grave Knight Armor - Armor crafted in the soul forge of a thousand screaming mortals. Their pain burns in the fires, their screams bellow the flames. Their eternal torment was forged in the black armor of the Grave Knight. Metal tempered in the blood of a thousand innocent victims. Aborath's armor is a manifestation of how far he's willing to go for power. Normal blades often shatter apart on it, dwarven expert forging simply bounces off. A hail of arrows feels like but drops of rain. Even magically enhanced elven swords cannot penetrate the armor. It is bloodbound to the Grave Knight. In this case, that is Aborath.

Ysavor & Saren - The Dread King acknowledges those with great skill in both magic and the sword. When he has beaten them, he drains their bodies of their souls. With their souls infused in the metal, he orders his elven and dwarven slaves to forge a new weapon. Ysavor was an elven prince daring to stand before Aborath. He put up a good fight. In fact, Aborath hadn't felt such a thrill for decades! When the battle was finally over he forged Ysavor's soul into a blade. Ysavor now hungers for souls. He prefers elven souls, though human souls may sate his appetite for a moment too. The more souls the blade consumes in a battle, the bright its runes burn and the more dangerous a wound from it comes. To the point that but if the blade so much as scratches you, the enchantment will tear open the wound into a bloody mess.

Saren was an exceptionally brave, human mage. He had a talent for light and fire magic. He too dared challenge the Grave Knight. But in a magical duel. The balls of fire thrown by Saren destroyed great parts of the palace complex. His light pierced the dark clouds over the Southern Realm and burned many vampires to their dead. Still, he was beaten down after a whole day of fighting. Now fused in his second blade, Saren's soul hungers for magical power. It seeks for mages and the forces they wield. Drawing it from the very air around him. Those who have cast spells before and get hit by Saren the very mystical energies you harness will start burning you dow. The souls of these mages, upon death by Saren, are converted in pure magical power to be utilized by Aborath. Sealed within the magebane blade.

Heidan - A once mighty dragon descended upon Aborath during his travels. After a week long of fighting, the dragon finally fell to one of the many blades of the Grave Knight. For the first and only time, Aborath was exhausted. And had no time to draw the soul from the dragon's husk. When he had regained enough power, the dragon's soul was gone. But it left a nest in its wake. Aborath took an egg and corrupted it with his Soul Magic. The dragon that spawned was black as the night. It couldn't breathe flames and still can't. Yet some say that, if you stand too close to it, the dragon's rage begins to pull at your very soul. Making you sluggish and tired and consuming it should your perish. Heidan is now the mount of Aborath. Who often rides his Black Dragon into battle.

Vierna - The city of Vierna is the capital of the vampire kingdom (or, alternatively named, the Southern Realm). Vierna is a complex and big city. Entirely self-sufficient. It was once an elven city at the edge of their great forest. But has long since been corrupted by Aborath. Vierna is the home of the Dark Court. Vierna, the city of Death is a large city with snake-like streets, large towers and gigantic estates. It is the only city protected by forces drawn from every Coven, under the command of the Dread King himself. The Dark Court is simply a council of the many different covens of Aborath. Whom all swear fealty to him. Each coven has a speciality tied to their bloodline. Within Vierna's Courtroom there are 11 different thrones. One is the black throne of Aborath. Though this one is even less used than the throne room one. Then there are 2 empty ones. Yet still stained with blood. Two ancient covens once tried to rebel against Aborath. They were swiftly put to the sword.

Sons of Aborath - Children specifically chosen by Aborath. While they aren't Coven grandmasters, the Sons of Aborath are among the strongest vampires in existence. Each possessing one gift or another. The sons of Aborath are an elite fighting force capable of cutting down even the most trained human fighters and weathered elven rangers. Often centuries old, sons of Aborath are chosen from among the living that show exceptional talent, loyalty and hunger for power. The sons of Aborath often ride to battle on bloodied steeds with black and red armor. Their blades can sometimes be heard screaming for blood.

Myth They say that long ago there was a great darkness. Cain, a young, foolish warrior, desired immortality so he could feel the heat of battle forever. The god of Death had witnessed his pleas so often while he took away the souls from the battlefield, that upon a very faithful day he gave Cain his wish. But at the same time he cooled his sense for battle. Suddenly it did not matter if he was fighting an honorable battle or slaughtering an entire village of women and children. The only thing that gave him any sense was the cold touch of death. So he caused as much of it as possible. Aborath was a great and noble warrior of the Order of the Sun. He rode out alone to stand against Cain. Some say that Cain defeated him, but with a bite and thus created his first and only child. Others say that Aborath and Cain struck a deal. A few would even claim that Aborath IS in fact Cain. No-one knows.

Cain had vanished. In his place now stood Aborath. Who was not as consumed with death as his master, but still felt the need to cause it greatly. He learned that the cry for murdered hid the hunger for souls. So he began to develop a form of magic that drew out the hunger for souls and manifested it in spells. Some say that during his research into Soul Magic he met the god of the death. Others say that the death god simply granted him a boon for his long travels through the known and unknown world. Whatever it was, Aborath came back from his research with both Void Magic and Soul Magic. He entered a southern kingdom of elven and began to corrupt them. Battle after battle, night after night the covens of Aborath took over more ground from the elven kingdom. Every day more joined the immortal's ranks. Either out of fear or hunger for power. Disloyalty was punished harsh and painful, while loyalty within the army was greatly rewarded. The elven, realizing that they were fighting a losing battle, began an attempt to cast a barrier to contain such evil. They already assumed that their kingdom would inevitably fail. So they were going to bind the vampires to the land. Should they dare corss the borders the barrier would kill them. Accounts are rather difficult to retrace from here. Some say that they used a drop of Aborath's blood. Others say they used one of his children. Directly linked to him. Whatever it was, it was a mistake. When Aborath sensed the spell being cast, he sped up his efforts. His army marched towards the elven capital of Vierna. The siege itself was, by all accounts, one of the bloodiest battles in the south. When the mages neared the end of their incantations Aborath managed to breach their room. Half the elven mages were killed on sight. Their blood devoured by the sons of Aborath. The other half tried to fight back, but to no avail. They were captured, and Aborath finished what they started. But instead of making the vampiric blood the mark of those who could not leave, he made it the key of the barrier. Only those with vampire blood within them could ever leave the Southern Kingdom. Thuse he chained the surviving population to his will.

Since his victory over the elven kingdom, Aborath had remained there. Watching over his kingdom from anywhere but his throne room. But should a worthy warrior or mage dare enter his throne room and challenge the empty throne, he will appear on it in a moment's notice. Holding Saren & Ysavor.

Personality: Aborath hates everything except for his own children. The vampires. Killing one, and you will suffer the wrath of the Grave Knight. He sees humans and elves as life-stock. Cattle that should be kept in pens and fed every now and then so they can continue to feed the vampires. It is their only reason to live, so he sees elven and human kingdoms as stupid little squablers who sitll resist their fate.

But then what is the fate of the vampire? To fight and cause as much death as possible. Maybe a genocide. But there must always be death. You cannot go and kill the entire city because then nobody would die after you pretty much killed everyone. So why not chain them? Hold them and every year you sacrifice a hundred of their children. The souls and blood over the years heap up and up. Over a hundred years you've caused more death than any genocide could achieve. This is what he believes in. Those who succeed to both conquer with great slaughter but govern with a steady flow of souls and corpses earn the favor Aborath. Those who resist their fate and destiny in any way are sure to have angered him. He has no use for material wealth, as for a thousands-years-old vampire he has had it all, lost it all and had it again.

Ysavor's duel

"I come for you! I have come, King of blood! Show yourself!" the cocky elven prince yelled as he threw open the great, oaken doors of the empty throne room. At the other side stood Aborath's throne. A vile chair adorned with screaming visages and skulls. "Show yourself, demon!" the enraged prince yelled. It drew the members of the Dark Court from their slumber, as they began to walk the corridors. Like blood traveling in veins around a beating heart so did the Dark Court travel towards the heart of all corridors: the balcony within the throne room. Another fool had called out their master. It had been so long since one worthy tried to summon him. But this elven prince held promise. With red, peering eyes they gazed down at the unafraid prince.

With an explosion of smoke, Aborath appeared on his throne. Holding Saren in his right hand. "What... do you want." he asked. He wasn't wearing his Grave Knight armor yet. Those of the Court knew he would summon the second he deemed the elven prince worthy. "I have come to challenge evil itself!" the noble elven prince raised his sword, pointing at Aborath. "You, vile thing! I heard stories that will fight anyone who dares challenge you. I challenge you!" Aborath rose from his throne. With every step the black armor began to form around him. Out of thin air apparently. He went from a simple king, dressed in robes to a might dreadknight ready for battle. "You... are worthy."

The battle was long yet not a moment passed when the Court was not amused. Servants were passed along, getting bitten to drain them from their blood. While below a champion of good clashed with the powers of evil. The elf had come prepared. With an enchanted sword, several spells and potions. His wounds healed instantly with every touch from Saren. Despite the Grave Knight's enchantment upon his blade, he could not burn away the magical power of the elf. But eventually, after long hours, Saren found Ysavor's heart. With a gasp the elven prince let out his final breath and perished. The bloody red blade's promise to devour Ysavor's soul was stopped by Aborath. Who, instead, pulled a crystal phylactery and let it drain the soul of Ysavor. Thuse his second blade was to be formed.

Meeting evil

Days passed in the undead their kingdom. It has been a few years now, since last Ysavor entered the dread palace of Vierna. The throne room hasn’t echoed with blades clashing for a while now, and the Dark Court had entered a slumber. Days, weeks, months. For immortals, time could go so slow sometimes. With no haste or time running out, daily things became either a ritual, but far more often a boring obligation. Until the heave, black-oaken doors cracked open again. The sudden surge of power woke up even those deepest in their torpor. A figure in black robes, hooded and holding a gnarled staff in his right hand marched within the throne room. Once more like blood the Dark Court poured into the balcony. Such power, they were intrigued, they hungered for it. But at the same time, it instilled their hearts with a once distant sensation: fear. What could harness such power!? Even worse, would it be capable of striking down their lord?

“I summon the King of Blood.” The hooded figured said. Before the black, empty throne. Once more did Aborath appeared. Dressed in his royal robes and circlet-crown. But without his blades at his side. “A power marches into my hall. State your business, wraith.” The words were cautious, but not disrespectful. “I am but a messenger, Grave Knight.” The creature said, with a hoarse throat. He pulled a scroll from his robes and held it out. From the high up canopy of the hall a fellbat swooped down and grabbed the scroll. Flying straight at its master with it and handing it over before it flew up again. Back to its stupor. Silently Aborath read the message. It was written in a language Aborath barely even remembered. The letters were written in a tongue even ancient back in his human days. But he could read it, and the use of that language added to the legitimacy of the scroll’s acclaimed writer. When he was done, he walked up to a nearby hearth and threw the scroll in it. Making sure it burned all the way down to ashes. He then turned to the strange messenger. “Tell your master I will attend his meeting.”

The Harbingers (High Casual Fantasy Villain RP)

@TheWizardLizard I'll write the description of the Southern kingdom tomorrow! For now, just know that it's so far south that it borders the Elven kingdom by its northern border and down south you'll find mostly dessert (I'll keep east and west open for whoever wants to be my neighbor!)

The Harbingers (High Casual Fantasy Villain RP)

@TheWizardLizard First try at a CS here!

Aborath, the Bloody King

Name: Aborath
Title: The Bloody King, The Legacy of Cain, Dread from the South, The Grave Knight

Three-word description: Elder Vampire King
Appearance: Aborath will rarely reveal his physical form. But he does have one. He stands a respectable 1.80m off the ground. His skin is pale like alabaster, but with long black hair adorning his head. Many, upon first meeting Aborath, often assume he is a horrible monster. While in reality, he looks quite stunning. With alluring red eyes. Aborath's common attire is a simple black robe trimmed with red. Though he still wears a simple, black-iron crown. Showing that he is still royalty.

"Go, my brave son. But know that I will prepare your funeral the moment you pass my threshold. Know that your mother will start weeping, that I start grieving and your sibblings start missing. Go and face your quest. Only a grave awaits you here." - Last words of Turhael to his oldest son, Ysavor. Slain by the Grave Knight.

Aborath's form of a fighter is very much unlike him as he usually is. He wields two swords, fearing no wound or harm. His black armor does not hamper his movement, yet protects him fully. It is adorned with complex motives serving no more purpose other than to show that he can spent money on decorating an armor of battle. From his back, four leathered wings can spread. With talons at the joints and tips. Allowing Aborath to kill even faster than with just two swords.

Magic/Skills/Abilities:
Vampire Elder - The legacy of Cain. From him, all the vampire clans have spawned. Each of his "child" was gifted with a unique set of abilities. But that means that Aborath had those abilities in the first place. As vampire elder AND heir to Cain's power himself, he can use all the Vampiric arts. These powers range from shapeshifting into a dire wolf pack or fellbat cloud, mistwalking, flying (leather wings) and blood magic. Which is one of the foulest forms of magic. Corrupting the enemy's very flesh and blood. Poisoning them from within. Blood magic often leaves one tainted or crippled for the rest of their lives if not treated with immediate care.

Soul magic - Nobody's soul is safe from Aborath. With an outstretched arm he can grasp forth towards your very being and rip it asunder. Of course, those stronger of will are harder to destroy than those who are simple of mind and idea. Death magic can also grip the heart of any creature capable of fearing. He can enhance his own allies with a terrible glow of dread, instilling terror on the nearby enemies. With Death Magic, you either die while you feel the very life force drawn from you or you flee shitting your breeches.

Immortal bladestorm - There is little doubt. Aborath has lived for many centuries. Maybe even millennia! All the while he has had different, mortal, masters. Each teaching him their unique way of how to wield a blade. The result of years of training and whole decades or refining every technique is Aborath's unrivaled skill with the blade. Humans stand no chance and even the oldest of Elven swordmasters must concede defeat at the hands of the Elder Vampire.

Inventory and holdings
Grave Knight Armor - Armor crafted in the soul forge of a thousand screaming mortals. Their pain burns in the fires, their screams bellow the flames. Their eternal torment was forged in the black armor of the Grave Knight. Metal tempered in the blood of a thousand innocent victims. Aborath's armor is a manifestation of how far he's willing to go for power. Normal blades often shatter apart on it, dwarven expert forging simply bounces off. A hail of arrows feels like but drops of rain. Even magically enhanced elven swords cannot penetrate the armor. It is bloodbound to the Grave Knight. In this case, that is Aborath.

Ysavor & Saren - The Dread King acknowledges those with great skill in both magic and the sword. When he has beaten them, he drains their bodies of their souls. With their souls infused in the metal, he orders his elven and dwarven slaves to forge a new weapon. Ysavor was an elven prince daring to stand before Aborath. He put up a good fight. In fact, Aborath hadn't felt such a thrill for decades! When the battle was finally over he forged Ysavor's soul into a blade. Ysavor now hungers for souls. He prefers elven souls, though human souls may sate his appetite for a moment too. The more souls the blade consumes in a battle, the bright its runes burn and the more dangerous a wound from it comes. To the point that but if the blade so much as scratches you, the enchantment will tear open the wound into a bloody mess.

Saren was an exceptionally brave, human mage. He had a talent for light and fire magic. He too dared challenge the Grave Knight. But in a magical duel. The balls of fire thrown by Saren destroyed great parts of the palace complex. His light pierced the dark clouds over the Southern Realm and burned many vampires to their dead. Still, he was beaten down after a whole day of fighting. Now fused in his second blade, Saren's soul hungers for magical power. It seeks for mages and the forces they wield. Drawing it from the very air around him. Those who have cast spells before and get hit by Saren the very mystical energies you harness will start burning you dow. The souls of these mages, upon death by Saren, are converted in pure magical power to be utilized by Aborath. Sealed within the magebane blade.

Heidan - A once mighty dragon descended upon Aborath during his travels. After a week long of fighting, the dragon finally fell to one of the many blades of the Grave Knight. For the first and only time, Aborath was exhausted. And had no time to draw the soul from the dragon's husk. When he had regained enough power, the dragon's soul was gone. But it left a nest in its wake. Aborath took an egg and corrupted it with his Soul Magic. The dragon that spawned was black as the night. It couldn't breathe flames and still can't. Yet some say that, if you stand too close to it, the dragon's rage begins to pull at your very soul. Making you sluggish and tired and consuming it should your perish. Heidan is now the mount of Aborath. Who often rides his Black Dragon into battle.

Vierna - The city of Vierna is the capital of the vampire kingdom (or, alternatively named, the Southern Realm). Vierna is a complex and big city. Entirely self-sufficient. It was once an elven city at the edge of their great forest. But has long since been corrupted by Aborath. Vierna is the home of the Dark Court. Vierna, the city of Death is a large city with snake-like streets, large towers and gigantic estates. It is the only city protected by forces drawn from every Coven, under the command of the Dread King himself. The Dark Court is simply a council of the many different covens of Aborath. Whom all swear fealty to him. Each coven has a speciality tied to their bloodline. Within Vierna's Courtroom there are 11 different thrones. One is the black throne of Aborath. Though this one is even less used than the throne room one. Then there are 2 empty ones. Yet still stained with blood. Two ancient covens once tried to rebel against Aborath. They were swiftly put to the sword.

Sons of Aborath - Children specifically chosen by Aborath. While they aren't Coven grandmasters, the Sons of Aborath are among the strongest vampires in existence. Each possessing one gift or another. The sons of Aborath are an elite fighting force capable of cutting down even the most trained human fighters and weathered elven rangers. Often centuries old, sons of Aborath are chosen from among the living that show exceptional talent, loyalty and hunger for power. The sons of Aborath often ride to battle on bloodied steeds with black and red armor. Their blades can sometimes be heard screaming for blood.

Myth They say that long ago there was a great darkness. Cain, a young, foolish warrior, desired immortality so he could feel the heat of battle forever. The god of Death had witnessed his pleas so often while he took away the souls from the battlefield, that upon a very faithful day he gave Cain his wish. But at the same time he cooled his sense for battle. Suddenly it did not matter if he was fighting an honorable battle or slaughtering an entire village of women and children. The only thing that gave him any sense was the cold touch of death. So he caused as much of it as possible. Aborath was a great and noble warrior of the Order of the Sun. He rode out alone to stand against Cain. Some say that Cain defeated him, but with a bite and thus created his first and only child. Others say that Aborath and Cain struck a deal. A few would even claim that Aborath IS in fact Cain. No-one knows.

Cain had vanished. In his place now stood Aborath. Who was not as consumed with death as his master, but still felt the need to cause it greatly. He learned that the cry for murdered hid the hunger for souls. So he began to develop a form of magic that drew out the hunger for souls and manifested it in spells. Some say that during his research into Soul Magic he met the god of the death. Others say that the death god simply granted him a boon for his long travels through the known and unknown world. Whatever it was, Aborath came back from his research with both Void Magic and Soul Magic. He entered a southern kingdom of elven and began to corrupt them. Battle after battle, night after night the covens of Aborath took over more ground from the elven kingdom. Every day more joined the immortal's ranks. Either out of fear or hunger for power. Disloyalty was punished harsh and painful, while loyalty within the army was greatly rewarded. The elven, realizing that they were fighting a losing battle, began an attempt to cast a barrier to contain such evil. They already assumed that their kingdom would inevitably fail. So they were going to bind the vampires to the land. Should they dare corss the borders the barrier would kill them. Accounts are rather difficult to retrace from here. Some say that they used a drop of Aborath's blood. Others say they used one of his children. Directly linked to him. Whatever it was, it was a mistake. When Aborath sensed the spell being cast, he sped up his efforts. His army marched towards the elven capital of Vierna. The siege itself was, by all accounts, one of the bloodiest battles in the south. When the mages neared the end of their incantations Aborath managed to breach their room. Half the elven mages were killed on sight. Their blood devoured by the sons of Aborath. The other half tried to fight back, but to no avail. They were captured, and Aborath finished what they started. But instead of making the vampiric blood the mark of those who could not leave, he made it the key of the barrier. Only those with vampire blood within them could ever leave the Southern Kingdom. Thuse he chained the surviving population to his will.

Since his victory over the elven kingdom, Aborath had remained there. Watching over his kingdom from anywhere but his throne room. But should a worthy warrior or mage dare enter his throne room and challenge the empty throne, he will appear on it in a moment's notice. Holding Saren & Ysavor.

Personality: Aborath hates everything except for his own children. The vampires. Killing one, and you will suffer the wrath of the Grave Knight. He sees humans and elves as life-stock. Cattle that should be kept in pens and fed every now and then so they can continue to feed the vampires. It is their only reason to live, so he sees elven and human kingdoms as stupid little squablers who sitll resist their fate.

But then what is the fate of the vampire? To fight and cause as much death as possible. Maybe a genocide. But there must always be death. You cannot go and kill the entire city because then nobody would die after you pretty much killed everyone. So why not chain them? Hold them and every year you sacrifice a hundred of their children. The souls and blood over the years heap up and up. Over a hundred years you've caused more death than any genocide could achieve. This is what he believes in. Those who succeed to both conquer with great slaughter but govern with a steady flow of souls and corpses earn the favor Aborath. Those who resist their fate and destiny in any way are sure to have angered him. He has no use for material wealth, as for a thousands-years-old vampire he has had it all, lost it all and had it again.

Ysavor's duel

"I come for you! I have come, King of blood! Show yourself!" the cocky elven prince yelled as he threw open the great, oaken doors of the empty throne room. At the other side stood Aborath's throne. A vile chair adorned with screaming visages and skulls. "Show yourself, demon!" the enraged prince yelled. It drew the members of the Dark Court from their slumber, as they began to walk the corridors. Like blood traveling in veins around a beating heart so did the Dark Court travel towards the heart of all corridors: the balcony within the throne room. Another fool had called out their master. It had been so long since one worthy tried to summon him. But this elven prince held promise. With red, peering eyes they gazed down at the unafraid prince.

With an explosion of smoke, Aborath appeared on his throne. Holding Saren in his right hand. "What... do you want." he asked. He wasn't wearing his Grave Knight armor yet. Those of the Court knew he would summon the second he deemed the elven prince worthy. "I have come to challenge evil itself!" the noble elven prince raised his sword, pointing at Aborath. "You, vile thing! I heard stories that will fight anyone who dares challenge you. I challenge you!" Aborath rose from his throne. With every step the black armor began to form around him. Out of thin air apparently. He went from a simple king, dressed in robes to a might dreadknight ready for battle. "You... are worthy."

The battle was long yet not a moment passed when the Court was not amused. Servants were passed along, getting bitten to drain them from their blood. While below a champion of good clashed with the powers of evil. The elf had come prepared. With an enchanted sword, several spells and potions. His wounds healed instantly with every touch from Saren. Despite the Grave Knight's enchantment upon his blade, he could not burn away the magical power of the elf. But eventually, after long hours, Saren found Ysavor's heart. With a gasp the elven prince let out his final breath and perished. The bloody red blade's promise to devour Ysavor's soul was stopped by Aborath. Who, instead, pulled a crystal phylactery and let it drain the soul of Ysavor. Thuse his second blade was to be formed.

Meeting evil

Days passed in the undead their kingdom. It has been a few years now, since last Ysavor entered the dread palace of Vierna. The throne room hasn’t echoed with blades clashing for a while now, and the Dark Court had entered a slumber. Days, weeks, months. For immortals, time could go so slow sometimes. With no haste or time running out, daily things became either a ritual, but far more often a boring obligation. Until the heave, black-oaken doors cracked open again. The sudden surge of power woke up even those deepest in their torpor. A figure in black robes, hooded and holding a gnarled staff in his right hand marched within the throne room. Once more like blood the Dark Court poured into the balcony. Such power, they were intrigued, they hungered for it. But at the same time, it instilled their hearts with a once distant sensation: fear. What could harness such power!? Even worse, would it be capable of striking down their lord?

“I summon the King of Blood.” The hooded figured said. Before the black, empty throne. Once more did Aborath appeared. Dressed in his royal robes and circlet-crown. But without his blades at his side. “A power marches into my hall. State your business, wraith.” The words were cautious, but not disrespectful. “I am but a messenger, Grave Knight.” The creature said, with a hoarse throat. He pulled a scroll from his robes and held it out. From the high up canopy of the hall a fellbat swooped down and grabbed the scroll. Flying straight at its master with it and handing it over before it flew up again. Back to its stupor. Silently Aborath read the message. It was written in a language Aborath barely even remembered. The letters were written in a tongue even ancient back in his human days. But he could read it, and the use of that language added to the legitimacy of the scroll’s acclaimed writer. When he was done, he walked up to a nearby hearth and threw the scroll in it. Making sure it burned all the way down to ashes. He then turned to the strange messenger. “Tell your master I will attend his meeting.”

The Harbingers (High Casual Fantasy Villain RP)

Definitely interested.

Olympus Academy: The School For the Demigods [High-Casual, Slice-of-Life Roleplay]

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A magical night

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Location; At the banquet → Outside
Interacting With; Eachother

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The grand Baquet. Alex loathed it every year. Since his second year, he had done everything within his power to evade the inevitable. Dancing. Methods had ranged from not showing up (his mother had scolded him for that one) to trying to fly away on the back of a giant eagle, like last year. Sadly the enlargement spell on the eagle wasn’t very successful as the poor animal only grew a few inches. It would have been impossible to fly on its back. So once again he had been forced to go. Today, however, he had a different plan. One less magically charged. Sticking to the shadows. Pretend as if he already danced. Deception wasn’t his strongest suit, though. For the entire night, he had been nervously fiddling the small, golden ring around his left pinky.

“I’m fantastic!” he beamed back at Tess, as his heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t expecting to find Tess. Or rather, he wasn’t really expecting Tess to find him. “How have you been? How was your challenge?” Horrible, probably. Considering the disqualification.

Tess grinned at Alex as he replied to her. He was a nice guy, and she knew just as well as anyone else that genuinely nice people are rare. Plus, he was always up for a hike throughout the forest, where as Webster was more keen to read a stupid book, or work on a project. And she very much enjoyed her hikes.

"It could have gone better I guess. Zeus' Bitch over there fights dirty, but your girl here doesn't give up easy," she said, winking at him, and shooting another glare in Cecily's direction. She debated tipping Alex into her whole situation with Abe, but decided against it. She wasn't here to discuss the Kiss That Never Was.

"So I hear you and Webby are roomies this year. Should be fun for you," she said with a smirk, flagging down one of the servers and grabbing a glass of champagne for both herself and Alex. The rules on drinking were rather lax at the banquet, especially considering a good portion of the school was bordering on alcoholic anyway, considering their father. Handing Alex his glass, she waited for a response, taking a sip from her own drink. She knew that both Webster and Alex couldn't stand the other, and it amused her to no end, though she figured it made pretty good sense. Alex dealt with the illogical, and Webster dealt with the complete opposite. Still, she couldn't help but entertaint their little feud.

Alex never thought of Cecily fighting dirty. If anything, she looked like a genuinely good girl. But then again, she was an erratic one. As if she couldn’t keep her emotions in check. Maybe it had to do something with her brother? Sibling rivalry seemed to be a rather prominent thing. Still, he couldn’t know. There were some worrying whispers, though. Apparently, something that shared his blood had entered the school. Another child of Zeus maybe? Their presence always seemed to screw over certain flows. Alex decided not to care too much. The powers surrounding the school would settle down soon enough.

Then she dropped the name Webby. “That guy will have to watch out! He’s playing with fire! I mean, the idiot would tell me to put grounded ox horn in my polymorph potion, if he saw it. Ox horn!” he exclaimed passionately. Before realizing that the daughter of Artemis probably had no idea what he was talking about. “I mean… Ugh. He thinks he god damn knows it all but he doesn’t! He’s like a little boy telling a grown up how to prepare its food! I already hexed my door so he can’t enter. He has to look out though. I’ll send gremlins over!” he threatened. Again, nobody was entirely sure if he could send over gremlins. But everyone knew that there was a distinct possibility.

Having calmed down a little from his rant, but continuing to fiddle his pink ring he asked: “So how’s your roomie? As awful as mine?”

Tess giggled at Alex's reaction to her mention of Webster. She couldn't help it. The fact that her two closest guy friends couldn't stand eachother was completely hilarious and the fact that now they were roommates? Well that was just a reality tv show waiting to happen. Her cheery expression shifted completely into a more wistful one as Alex inquired about her own roommate situation.

"Oh, it's not that bad," she said, smiling sightly as she cast a look over at Abe, who was currently serving drinks. Snapping back to reality, she looked back over at Alex. "But I didn't come here to discuss roomies! I came to dance! Now come on!" she exclaimed, tossing her head back and finishing off her glass of champagne, before dragging Alex onto the dance floor, and forcefully placing one of his hands on her hip, while she grabbed the other one, laughing as she began to lead them around the dance floor, graceful as ever.

Alex never saw the glance towards Abe. He was far too nervously fiddling with his ring. He didn’t have time to even take a sip (being a bit of a lightweight) before Tess grabbed him to dance. The girl was always far wilder than he could ever be. “No! No! No!” he tried to protest. But there was really no way he could help it. When she forced one of his hands on her hip the blood rushed towards his face. Having rarely been close to a woman, it all came far too sudden for him. Especially because it was Tess. While the girl gracefully danced, Alex tried (and failed) not to stand on her toes. Every time he did hit them, he muttered an apology. For several agonizing minutes, they danced, Alex getting a little less clumsy. But he used the small period of time between songs to slither away from Tess back to his glass he put on his table.

And then a ghost appeared. Only he could see ghosts, for as far as he knew. And he knew this one. Angelique. A French girl. She never said where she came from, or why she was a ghost. But she followed Alex around, calling him a good anchor. He wasn’t sure if that was good but he didn’t seem to have much say in it. “Oh hi, Angi! How’s it going?” he asked while taking his first ever sip of the champagne of the evening.

“I… You don’t know yet?” the ghost girl asked surprised? To outsiders, Alex would look like a total idiot now. Talking to thin air as if there was an actual person there. With facial expressions and all.

“Know what?” asked a confused and little worried Alex. Usually, he knew exactly what people meant. Mostly because he caused whatever knowing entailed. Or at least, he witnessed it. Alex had always been an observer as well as the causer of very odd phenomenon. Sometimes he didn’t even know how they happened.

“It’s… It’s not my place to tell you. But –euhm- keep your eyes open, okay?” Those were the last words of Angi before she vanished in thin air. As ghosts often did. Alex got used to it.

Tess came off of the dance floor, grinning and laughing. She returned to where she'd set down her drink, and gave Alex a playful punch on the shoulder. "Who were you talking to?" Tess had seen her friend chatting with someone, but she hadn't been able to make out who, and by the time she'd arrived, they'd disappeared into the crowd.

However, it seemed an answer would have to wait, because just as quickly as the words had left her lips, the behemoth that was Atticus Caesar was going on a rampage. Her eyes struggled to follow the chaos and just as soon as it had begun, it was over, with the teachers stepping in and herding the other students outside.

Standing outside, the breeze played with the auburn strands of hair that fell onto Tess' shoulders, and the moonlight gave her a scarily beautiful appearance. Perks of being the daughter of the goddess of the moon. Turning to face Alex, she shot him a grin, one that showed that she was having the time of her life. "Well that was exciting!" she shouted over the babbling of other students. "So, who were you talkin' to in there?"

Usually, Alex wouldn’t pay the brute of Atticus any mind. The big bully was nothing but what he appeared: simple minded. A lot of muscles and no brain. With a mass of wealth around him and a clear temper problem. Alex wouldn’t even utter a word to him should the bull stand ready to charge. He was far too predictable to Alex. However, the chaos he caused was a welcome relief of the ball. He silently whispered a prayer to his mother, thanking her that the party was over and with it, any chance to have to dance again. He kept silent as he walked outside with Tess.

The girl knew that he could see ghosts. But Angelique, like many other ghosts, seemed to hate the idea that any other mortal knew them by name. She seemed to dislike the daughter of Artemis especially though Alex never got to hear why. “Oh, just euhm. You know, some ghosts with their cryptic messages.” He looked around, feeling the colder breeze. Everyone was dressed for a ball, not for standing outside for long. “People will get cold.” He thought out loud. He didn’t really like that.

With his hand cupped, he whispered: “P'Arakh B'Nuoroa D'Yoheb Okhuomaa”. The ring on his pinky finger, a small golden band that didn’t look so significant, was ,in fact, a Focus. When he cast the spell, it pulled energy from the Igni-flow, as Alex called it. Several small but warm wisps of red glow appeared from his cupped hands. Flying up and above everyone. Their warmth radiated strongly but the heat wasn’t unbearable. It was meant to comfort and keep people from shivering. Exhausted, Alex slowly sat on the ground. “Sorry… That spell asked a little more than I thought it would.” He said with a smile to Tess. Though in fact, he felt drained because the invocation was faulty. “So tell me, what are the wild plans for this year? Moonlit midnight hunt in the woods?” he joked, trying to get the subject of the night off him and back to her.

Tess smiled and looked down at her friend, thinking about the rave Dusty had mentioned earlier. "Well, there's this rave that Dusty told me about earlier today. I think it's gonna be a lot of fun, and it would be even cooler if you came," she said with a grin, and a pleading look on her face.

She knew that a rave wasn't necessarily Alex's scene, but she figured it couldn't hurt for him to break out of his shell, maybe even meet a nice daugter of Aphrodite or something. The possibilities were endless for what they could get up to, especially with Dusty there.

"Not to mention, a rave would be way more fun than sitting in your dorm and sleeping. I mean, we're demigods, we've got to go big or go home,"

Alex just chuckled. Him, at a rave. Alex felt like there were many places he could call home. But a rave was not one of them. Maybe an old library? Or some ancient temple! He loved to learn how all sorts of people around the world actually worshiped his mother. Still, a rave. It had a certain pull. He realized that a lot of energies would be summoned up at such a party. If he could gauge those energies... Maybe harness them. "A rave? Really? Sure, I'll come." He said with a smile. He wasn't entirely sure why Tess asked him. Maybe she felt bad for him. She knew him all too well, he would have stayed in his room for the entire night if she didn't tell him. "Thanks for telling me." Sometimes people didn't realize how much a simple invitation meant. But Alex knew, so the thanks was sincere.

He then realized why they were all herded outside. Someone had gotten hurt. "Hey, Tess, who actually got hurt inside? I knew it was some new victim of the big, bad gorilla but who was it this time. Some freshman that pissed him off?" he asked, curious.

Tess thought back to the catastrophe that seemed to be wrapping itself up inside the banquet hall. She'd recognized the girl Atticus had picked up, seeing as how they'd been on the same team for the race. "She's a first year, I know that. Her name was...Francis. No. Felicia? No, no, it was Felicity! Felicity Underwood. Daughter of..."

Tess knew the strange feeling of finding out you had a half-sibling, especially if you didn't know about them. She remembered finding out about Hunter, way back when she had just begun school at OA, and she wasn't sure how Alex would take the news. Still, it wasn't her place to keep that from him.

"Alex, that was your sister. She's a daughter of Hecate," Tess said, biting her lip nervously, silently praying to her mother that Alex would take it a bit better than she had, when she'd found out about her siblings.

So many things went through Alex's mind. Never in his life did he ever thought he'd meet someone like him. Someone that could understand him. Sure, some tried. Some did pretty well at it. But who could understand what he went through? Seeing ghosts when he was so young, be able to play with candles. Suddenly being expected by his real mother to learn so much in such a short period of time. He wasn't complaining, but it wasn't easy. There were barriers to overcome and the constant learning and understanding left him pretty lonely. But now that he realized he had someone who could share all that, only one thing went through his mind.

He shot up, looking anxiously around as if he could find her with his eyes. But he she was gone. He turned his gaze back to Tess. He looked intense, with a fire she probably wouldn't have seen quite often in such an odd kid as Alex. "I'm sorry. I have to go." he tried to stay polite, but horribly failing as he then suddenly vanished among the crowd.

"Spiritu vocat Angelique ante me. Appare nuntius." he whispered, as he cleaved his way through the crowd in particularly uncaring fashion. Angelique appeared before him, saying: "You know I hate it when you summon me like that." Alex didn't care, though: "Find me my sister." For a second shock went over Angelique's face. She wanted to say something but realized that whatever she'd say or ask, it would have to wait. She vanished in thin air again.