Little Bill

Black Fall Character Deposit

Lenny Boggs

Name: Leonard S. Boggs
Nickname/Alias/Etc: Lenny
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Home District: Courtwall Harbor

Appearance
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Blue
Ethnicity: Caucasian (His ancestry is a mix of several European countries)

Physical Appearance: At a glance, Lenny can be mistaken for a mop. A pale, lanky youth of 16, Lenny is only recognizable in crowds for his bright red hair -- Other than that, he's very easy to miss. He slouches, smells like stale sweat, and hides most of his thin frame under layers of hoodies and baggy shirts.

Underneath those layers of clothes, however, is a lithe and limber young man. He holds very little fat, and has a body fit for a gymnast or swimmer. His pubescent limbs seem awkwardly too long for his body with thin, narrow fingers and toes. His face is most noticeably affected by this overall thinness, with a jaw that pokes out visibly, accentuated by his pointed cheekbones and thin lips. He holds something of a delicate face, despite his intensely vacant eyes.

He generally dislikes having his picture taken.

Personality: Unfortunately for Lenny, the only thing simple about him are his tastes. He enjoys breakfast food, scifi, 90's rock, and pretty brunettes. His brother's reputation makes him an outcast in most circles, which he claims to enjoy, preferring his own company to that of others. However, having the brother he has isn't the only thing keeping him from having many friends. Lenny's lack of social skills and readiness to fight do that well enough on their own. Because of this combination, Lenny spends most of his time on his own, watching movies or cartoons, getting drunk, flipping through comics, or taking walks through the city or wilderness. Lenny is something of a loner, needless to say.

He secretly pines for a genuine friendship, rather than the few acquaintances he has. His experiences have thickened his skin a fair deal, causing him to toughen up at an early age -- From a psychological viewpoint, having to grow up quickly has caused Lenny to crave the childhood he feels he missed out on, which he experiences through the countless fantasy-based movies, shows, graphic novels, and action figures he has.

Aside from Lenny's escapism and loneliness, the final major aspect of his personality is his short fuse. Living with his abusive older brother, Lenny has found that the best defense is a good offense, and while he is generally down to earth and easygoing, Lenny lashes out under the right circumstances. He has poor control over his emotions, and has frequently been put into detention for fighting.

Although he is blunt, awkward, and quick to a fight, he is secretly a gentle soul who craves friendship above all else.

Hobbies/Interests: As mentioned above, Lenny spends his time alone, for the most part. He is an avid comic fan, reading everything from Golden-Age superhero comics, to gritty detective noir stories. His favorite genre is fantasy, or generally "Everything that has swords". He is a fan of Star-Trek, although he dislikes Star Wars. Aside from other geeky interests like shows and online roleplaying, he enjoys long walks through the city, or the woods surrounding Black Falls. Above all, however, Lenny enjoys using his metahuman abilities, although it is strictly in private. He rarely fires his energy off, as it draws unwanted attention, preferring to simply redirect it in ways that amuse him, usually making the Christmas lights in his room "dance".

Skills/Talents: Aside from honing his energy absorption, Lenny is a skilled mountain-biker, using his bike to traverse the city as well as the craggy forests and hills. Other than those two, Lenny is self-admittedly talentless, which he has few qualms with.

Prized Possession: Lenny places little value on physical things. However, as his bike is the most expensive thing he owns, it would probably be that.

History/Bio: Leonard Skynyrd Boggs was born at home, in a small apartment in Courtwall Harbor. Although his parents were proud of not being poor enough to live in Dead End, their apartment building was built from the same design as the Leonard Housing Developments, which were only about five blocks away, on the border of Courtwall Harbor and The Dead End, so it made little difference. Lenny was born on the right side of the tracks, technically, but not far enough from the tracks for it to matter.

His parents were blue collar folk from Georgia, who had few problems with their son's illiteracy, and more with the ethnicities of his classmates. Although fearful of Lenny's metahuman abilities that he had displayed since infancy, they registered him with NEST and were generally supportive. They died in a car accident shortly after his sixth birthday, leaving Lenny and his brother Creed in the custody of his grandmother.

With his grandmother a doddering old woman, most of Lenny's upbringing, or lack thereof, was from Creed. Creed shared his metahuman status with Lenny, as he was able to perform "suggestion", forcing his will on others in a telepathic form of mild hypnosis. This ability kept unwanted social worker visits away from the Boggs home, and made sure his status as a metahuman was unregistered. A known violent skinhead, Creed would use his abilities to quickly rise through the ranks of the "Iron Eagles", a small gang that operated in The Dead End.

Although generally kind to Lenny, he tends to have fits of violent rage, frequently lashing out at his younger brother. He is persistent in his belief that Lenny should join the Iron Eagles, as his metahuman abilities would be a valuable asset. Needless to say, Lenny has always avoided the group like the plague -- After all, those who know of them usually know of their leader, and those who know him have usually heard of his younger brother, Lenny. Because of this, Lenny is avoided by many of his peers out of fear and distrust.

Family:
Grandmother - Susan Boggs
Brother - Creed Boggs

Relationships

Creedence C. Boggs | Fears | Brother | "For a Nazi, Creed is decent. At best. Nobody knows what he can do but me. He's a scary guy, and I wouldn't cross him." |

Susan Boggs | Pities | Grandmother | "My mema's gettin' there in age. She doesn't talk much, and when she does, she rambles. Poor old girl." |

Abilities

Power Class & Rating: Elemental 8
Power: Lenny can absorb, redirect, and expel energy. This pertains to all types of energy, although Lenny sticks to mainly three: Kinetic, thermal, and electric. When absorbing energy, Lenny can either siphon it slowly from a distance, or more quickly with direct physical contact.

When expelling it, the combination of whatever he's absorbed takes the form of a blue plasmoid, either as a blast, beam, or wave, dealing concussive force. Redirecting energy is a combination of both, absorbing through one arm and firing it from the other, making himself a conductor. This is usually reserved for large amounts of energy he can't safely absorb.

Aside from this plasma energy, Lenny can also use the energy in its natural form, using electric energy to fuel or short out devices, thermal energy to warm himself, or kinetic energy to speed up a baseball.

Weaknesses/Drawbacks: Most notably, Lenny cannot move and absorb energy simultaneously. Doing so by being pushed or on his own accord would cause him to lose focus, and react to the energy he's absorbed the same as any normal human -- Electric energy would shock him, thermal energy would burn him, and kinetic energy would continue at an unhampered speed.

Additionally, Lenny can't absorb a large amount of energy without immediately burning it off or redirecting it, or he will risk ashing. Putting out a large fire, stopping a speeding train, or absorbing other large amounts all put him at risk of "overdosing".

Lastly, Lenny's plasma bolts can injure him with the recoil they present. As he's only able to fire them from his hands, a beam too large, or from redirecting too much energy at once, could potentially break his arms, or blow them off.

Other: Lenny is named after Lynyrd Skynyrd, while his brother is named after Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Sample Post: "How have things been in classes, Len?" Mr. James said in a soft, cool voice. Mr. James was Lenny's counselor at school, who was assigned to students with behavioral problems, which were usually either cutting school, or fighting. Lenny was guilty of both. "Alright, I guess." He lied. Lenny didn't like Mr. James's attitude. He tried so desperately to seem cool and relatable, even though it was only to get kids like him to fess up about what they'd done. He peppered his conversation with modern slang, and insisted that students call him Mr. James, and not Mr. Grekowski.

"If you're so chill, why do we call you Mr. James, and not just James?" Lenny thought to himself. He squirmed uncomfortably in the seat. He hated these interrogations.

"I hear from one of your teachers, thaaaat, you haven't been coming to class every day," Mr. James said, leaning back into his chair. "What's up with that, Len?"

Lenny practically winced at the nickname, and then shrugged. "Sometimes I'm late, or whatever. I live far."

Mr. James nodded, jotting Lenny's words into a notepad on his desk. "That bro of yours been waking you up to leave on time?"

"Yep." Lenny lied again. Creed hadn't woken him up to go to school in months, and Lenny didn't have a problem with that at all. "Can I go now?" Lenny asked, practically praying that his counselor would let him.

"Only if you promise me you'll be getting right back into class next period, broski." Mr. James said, holding his fist out for a pound. Lenny sheepishly tapped his knuckles to his, and nodded.

Lenny grabbed his bag, and left the office, right on time for the bell to ring. He glided through the crowded halls to his locker, opened it, and took his bag out. Leaving it unlocked, he quickly waded through the mass of people in the halls, before leaving through the front door. There was always a crowd there, after all. Some people had different schedules and got out earlier, so Lenny avoided suspicion by leaving with them. He took a breath of fresh air, and pulled a bent cigarette out of his bag.

Fiddling through his pocket, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Shit. He had left his lighter at home, and it'd be a long walk home without his usual nicotine break. He kept walking from the school, until he was a safe two blocks away, before scouting out his target. It was a car at a red light. A blue Prius, specifically. Lenny put the unlit cigarette in his mouth, and began walking across the street. As he passed the car's rear end, he took his hand out of his pocket, touching the door, as if he were wiping dirt off it. The car's headlights dimmed for a split second, and continued as bright as ever afterwards.

"A victimless crime." Lenny thought to himself. After all, it'd amount to, what? Three bucks worth of car-battery juice that he had taken? He pinched the end of the cigarette for a moment, before quickly waving his singed fingers in the air. A satisfying plume of smoke came out of the end of his cigarette, and Lenny smiled to himself.

"Gonna be a good day, yessir."

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

"You goin' to Santa-Fest?" Creed asked, sitting on the hood of his car. It was a black 90's acura, with one dark grey door. There were spots of rust near the hubcaps, some of which were sloppily spraypainted black. He wore a tight black skullcap over his shaved head, a black windbreaker, and a black scarf. Nearly everything he wore was black, save for his jeans, which were dark blue, and the laces of his shiny black boots. They were white.

Lenny shrugged, zipping up his green parka. "Maybe, iunno. Looks expensive." He looked the opposite of his tall, muscular brother. He had a green jacket, brown chinos, grey boots, and an orange hunting cap. Creed's politics were less than agreeable, but at least he knew his way around color coordination. Lenny, on the other hand, looked like a homeless person.

"It's called a job, Lenny. I could getcha one if you want." Lenny began putting on his mittens, pretending he hadn't heard his brother. He knew full well what he was trying to do. "My boy Erik, you know Erik, right?" Creed said snapping his fingers, trying to think of whether or not Lenny and Erik had met. "Anyway, Erik's dad owns a sandwich shop or something, said he could use a dishwasher." Creed hopped off the car hood, letting it bounce gently for a moment. "And you know how I feel about honest American jobs being taken by honest Americans like us, Lenny-Boy."

Lenny swallowed the knot in his throat, nodding. "I'll think about it." Creed chuckled, and patted Lenny on the back all-too roughly.

"That's what I like to hear, killer." Creed smiled his nearly trademarked smirk, somewhere between self-assured and menacing. "Say, you should give your dear old brother's car a jump before you leave." Creed popped the hood, and nodded towards the engine expectantly. "Just go steal some juice from the stove."

Lenny sighed silently to himself, and obediently trotted into the house. He pulled off one mitten, stuffing it into his pocket. He made his way to the kitchen, cursing the mountains of trash he had to walk over. It made the house all the more cramped. Still, it was a house. Creed acquired it for them a few months ago, and on such a low rent. An impossibly low rent. All because he told the landlord to do it. It made Lenny shudder thinking about Creed's powers, and so, he didn't. It was on the opposite edge of Courtwall, further from the ships and factories, and closer to other actual people. And it meant his grandma wouldn't be confined to one room, so, it was all for the best.

Lenny turned on the stove, listening to the low hiss of the fire for a moment, before putting his hand over it. He watched the tiny orange flame dissipate into his hand, spinning upwards into his palm like one of the tiny tornadoes you'd get from spinning a half-empty water bottle. It didn't burn him. It was warm, but definitely not burning. After a few moments of this, he turned the stove off, and walked back outside. Creed was already in his car, impatiently rapping his knuckles against the open door. The hood was still popped, and so, Lenny carefully examined the inside. He placed his hands on the battery, and exhaled. A loud electric popping was heard, and the engine revved to life. Accomplished, Lenny closed the hood, and flashed a thumbs-up to Creed. "Can I get a ride to the coffee place?" He asked, putting his other mitten on.

Creed nodded, and Lenny climbed into the car, riding shotgun as always. He buckled his seatbelt, and the two brothers took off.

---

Lenny opened the doors of Mean Bean Machine, and swiftly walked in, hoping to get out of the cold as quickly as possible. He took off his pink mittens, stuffing them back into his pockets. He stepped in line, watching himself on the security camera display.

Meeeeean Beeeean Machiiine. He said to himself. He was easily amused, and the name seemed to roll off the tongue. Mean Bean Machine, it's always so clean and pristine, like nothing you've ever seen. It's where teens get caffeine, into their blood-stream. Lenny continued quietly muttering to himself, trying to think of something else that rhymed with machine.

"Sir?" The barista asked, raising an eyebrow. Lenny was at the front of the line. Startled, Lenny stammered out "Small coffee". The barista nodded, tapping keys on the register with her long fingernails. "That'll be two dollars and twenty eight sense." Lenny reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of change.

"Ten, twenty, thirty, fifty-five, sixty-five, seventy..." Lenny continued counting, as the impatient line behind him stared holes into the back of his head. "Dollar eighty, dollar ninety, ninety two, ninety three," Lenny's face clearly became more and more nervous, as he dumped the rest of his change on the counter. "One sec, I think I've got some more somewhere." The barista sucked her teeth, and began counting the change, as Lenny looked hopeful that she'd count more than him.

"You're still short, sir."

Lenny cursed under his breath, desperately trying to find more change, as the guy behind him began tapping his foot. "Um, uh, shit, hold on, I have it somewhere."

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

Name: Leonard S. Boggs
Nickname/Alias/Etc: Lenny
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Home District: Courtwall Harbor

Appearance
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Blue
Ethnicity: Caucasian (His ancestry is a mix of several European countries)

Physical Appearance: At a glance, Lenny can be mistaken for a mop. A pale, lanky youth of 16, Lenny is only recognizable in crowds for his bright red hair -- Other than that, he's very easy to miss. He slouches, smells like stale sweat, and hides most of his thin frame under layers of hoodies and baggie shirts.

Underneath those layers of clothes, however, is a lithe and limber young man. He holds very little fat, and has a body fit for a gymnast or swimmer. His pubescent limbs seem awkwardly too long for his body with thin, narrow fingers and toes. His face is most noticably affected by this overall thinness, with a jaw that pokes out visibly, accentuated by his pointed cheekbones and thin lips. He holds something of a delicate face, despite his intensely vacant eyes.

He generally dislikes having his picture taken.

Personality: Unfortunately for Lenny, the only thing simple about him are his tastes. He enjoys breakfast food, scifi, 90's rock, and pretty brunettes. His brother's reputation makes him an outcast in most circles, which he claims to enjoy, preferring his own company to that of others. However, having the brother he has isn't the only thing keeping him from having many friends. Lenny's lack of social skills and readiness to fight do that well enough on their own. Because of this combination, Lenny spends most of his time on his own, watching movies or cartoons, getting drunk, flipping through comics, or taking walks through the city or wilderness. Lenny is something of a loner, needless to say.

He secretly pines for a genuine friendship, rather than the few acquaintances he has. His experiences have thickened his skin a fair deal, causing him to toughen up at an early age -- From a psychological viewpoint, having to grow up quickly has caused Lenny to crave the childhood he feels he missed out on, which he experiences through the countless fantasy-based movies, shows, graphic novels, and action figures he has.

Aside from Lenny's escapism and loneliness, the final major aspect of his personality is his short fuse. Living with his abusive older brother, Lenny has found that the best defense is a good offense, and while he is generally down to earth and easygoing, Lenny lashes out under the right circumstances. He has poor control over his emotions, and has frequently been put into detention for fighting.

Although he is blunt, awkward, and quick to a fight, he is secretly a gentle soul who craves friendship above all else.

Hobbies/Interests: As mentioned above, Lenny spends his time alone, for the most part. He is an avid comic fan, reading everything from Golden-Age superhero comics, to gritty detective noir stories. His favorite genre is fantasy, or generally "Everything that has swords". He is a fan of Star-Trek, although he dislikes Star Wars. Aside from other geeky interests like shows and online roleplaying, he enjoys long walks through the city, or the woods surrounding Black Falls. Above all, however, Lenny enjoys using his metahuman abilities, although it is strictly in private. He rarely fires his energy off, as it draws unwanted attention, preffering to simply redirect it in ways that amuse him, usually making the christmas lights in his room "dance".

Skills/Talents: Aside from honing his energy absorption, Lenny is a skilled mountain-biker, using his bike to traverse the city as well as the craggy forests and hills. Other than those two, Lenny is self-admittantly talentless, which he has few qualms with.

Prized Possession: Lenny places little value on physical things. However, as his bike is the most expensive thing he owns, it would probably be that.

History/Bio: Leonard Skynyrd Boggs was born at home, in a small apartment in Courtwall Harbor. Although his parents were proud of not being poor enough to live in Dead End, their apartment building was built from the same design as the Leonard Housing Developments, which were only about five blocks away, on the border of Courtwall Harbor and The Dead End, so it made little difference. Lenny was born on the right side of the tracks, technically, but not far enough from the tracks for it to matter.

His parents were blue collar folk from Georgia, who had few problems with their son's illiteracy, and more with the ethnicities of his classmates. Although fearful of Lenny's metahuman abilities that he had displayed since infancy, they registered him with NEST and were generally supportive. They died in a car accident shortly after his sixth birthday, leaving Lenny and his brother Creed in the custody of his grandmother.

With his grandmother a dottering old woman, most of Lenny's upbringing, or lack thereof, was from Creed. Creed shared his metahuman status with Lenny, as he was able to perform "suggestion", forcing his will on others in a telepathic form of mild hypnosis. This ability kept unwanted social worker visits away from the Boggs home, and made sure his status as a metahuman was unregistered. A known violent skinhead, Creed would use his abilities to quickly rise through the ranks of the "Iron Eagles", a small gang that operated in The Dead End.

Although generally kind to Lenny, he tends to have fits of violent rage, frequently lashing out at his younger brother. He is persistent in his belief that Lenny should join the Iron Eagles, as his metahuman abilities would be a valuable asset. Needless to say, Lenny has always avoided the group like the plague -- After all, those who know of them usually know of their leader, and those who know him have usually heard of his younger brother, Lenny. Because of this, Lenny is avoided by many of his peers out of fear and distrust.

Family: Grandmother - Susan Boggs
Brother - Creed Boggs

Relationships

Creedence C. Boggs | Fears | Brother| "For a terrifying nazi, Creed is decent. At best. Nobody knows what he can do but me. He's a scary guy, and I woudn't cross him if I got paid to." |

Susan Boggs | Pities | Grandmother | "My mema's gettin' there in age. She doesn't talk much, and when she does, she mostly rambles. Poor old girl." |

Abilities

Power Class & Rating: Elemental 8
Power: Lenny can absorb, redirect, and expel energy. This pertains to all types of energy, although Lenny sticks to mainly three: Kinetic, thermal, and electric. When absorbing energy, Lenny can either siphon it slowly from a distance, or more quickly with direct physical contact.

When expelling it, the combination of whatever he's absorbed takes the form of a blue plasmoid, either as a blast, beam, or wave, dealing concussive force. Redirecting energy is a combination of both, absorbing through one arm and firing it from the other, making himself a conductor. This is usually reserved for large amounts of energy he can't safely absorb.

Aside from this plasma energy, Lenny can also use the energy in its natural form, using electric energy to fuel or short out devices, thermal energy to warm himself, or kinetic energy to speed up a baseball.

Weaknesses/Drawbacks: Most notably, Lenny cannot move and absorb energy simultaneously. Doing so by being pushed or on his own accord would cause him to lose focus, and react to the energy he's absorbed the same as any normal human -- Electric energy would shock him, thermal energy would burn him, and kinetic energy would continue at an undampered speed.

Additionally, Lenny can't absorb a large amount of energy without immediately burning it off or redirecting it, or he will risk ashing. Putting out a large fire, stopping a speeding train, or absorbing other large amounts all put him at risk of "overdosing".

Lastly, Lenny's plasma bolts can injure him with the recoil they present. As he's only able to fire them from his hands, a beam too large, or from redirecting too much energy at once, could potentially break his arms, or blow them off.

Other: Lenny is named after Lynyrd Skynyrd, while his brother is named after Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Sample Post

"How have things been in classes, Len?" Mr. James said in a soft, cool voice. Mr. James was Lenny's counselor at school, who was assigned to students with behavorial problems, which were usually either cutting school, or fighting. Lenny was guilty of both. "Alright, I guess." He lied. Lenny didn't like Mr. James's attitude. He tried so desperately to seem cool and relatable, even though it was only to get kids like him to fess up about what they'd done. He peppered his conversation with modern slang, and insisted that students call him Mr. James, and not Mr. Grekowski.

"If you're so chill, why do we call you Mr. James, and not just James?" Lenny thought to himself. He squirmed uncomfortably in the seat. He hated these interrogations.

"I hear from one of your teachers, thaaaat, you haven't been coming to class every day," Mr. James said, leaning back into his chair. "What's up with that, Len?"

Lenny practically winced at the nickname, and then shrugged. "Sometimes I'm late, or whatever. I live far."

Mr James nodded, jotting Lenny's words into a notepad on his desk. "That bro of yours been waking you up to leave on time?"

"Yep." Lenny lied again. Creed hadn't woken him up to go to school in months, and Lenny didn't have a problem with that at all. "Can I go now?" Lenny asked, practically praying that his counselor would let him.

"Only if you promise me you'll be getting right back into class next period, broski." Mr. James said, holding his fist out for a pound. Lenny sheepishly tapped his knuckles to his, and nodded.

Lenny grabbed his bag, and left the office, right on time for the bell to ring. He glided through the crowded halls to his locker, opened it, and took his bag out. Leaving it unlocked, he quickly waded through the mass of people in the halls, before leaving through the front door. There was always a crowd there, after all. Some people had different schedules and got out earlier, so Lenny avoided suspicion by leaving with them. He took a breath of fresh air, and pulled a bent cigarette out of his bag.

Fiddling through his pocket, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Shit. He had left his lighter at home, and it'd be a long walk home without his usual nicotine break. He kept walking from the school, until he was a safe two blocks away, before scouting out his target. It was a car at a red light. A blue Prius, specifically. Lenny put the unlit cigarette in his mouth, and began walking across the street. As he passed the car's rear end, he took his hand out of his pocket, touching the door, as if he were wiping dirt off it. The car's headlights dimmed for a split second, and continued as bright as ever afterwards.

"A victimless crime." Lenny thought to himself. After all, it'd amount to, what? Three bucks worth of car-battery juice that he had taken? He pinched the end of the cigarette for a moment, before quickly waving them in the air. A satisfying plume of smoke came out of the end, and Lenny smiled to himself.

"Gonna be a good day, yessir."

La Vie Boheme (RENT inspired, sandbox)

Would RPing as several people who are almost always together be acceptable?

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

Waiting for the reboot along with Kata.

Animorphs

"I gotta idea." Clay whispered, quiet enough that his mouth opening was louder than his words. He nodded to his group, holding his breath in the darkness. He held a crouched position, as if years of Assassin's Creed prepared him for this moment, and picked up a chunk of a brick from the floor. He was the first of the group to move, skirting along the edges of the shadows, quickly moving to hiding spots behind any empty crates, pallets of wood, or overturned barrels he could find. Scanning the ground, he eventually found his next projectile; An empty beer bottle.

Although a brick and a bottle were hardly the most sophisticated of distractions, Clay wasn't the most sophisticated of the bunch. He stepped back for a moment, before pitching the brick with all his might. It flew threw the air with a whizz, before skirting off into the dirt, about twenty yards away. It made a few meager bounces, before hitting the edge of a stack of steel piping with a loud, echoing clang.

The lizard-like aliens cocked their heads in unison, and tore off towards the source of the noise -- In the opposite direction of Clay and his group. He snuck more quickly, signaling with his hand for the group to follow him. Although he didn't look back to see who it was, he heard a few footsteps, and continued his lurking, slowly making more and more space between himself and the extraterrestrials. Satisfied with his sneaking, he took another few steps before readying his bottle. He squinted for a moment, sticking his tongue out. He wasn't a big fan of football, but he had seen the tongue-maneuver in a movie, and thought it might help his throw.

Fortunately, it did. He took a heaving toss with the lighter bottle, and sent it spinning through the air like a football. It flew further than the brick, going out of Clay's line of sight over a rusting stack of steel support beams. It landed with two sounds -- The smash of the glass breaking, and the Hork Bajir's cries of confusion as they turned ninety degrees, creating more distance with the group. With their exit in sight, Clay's lumbering crouch became a lumbering run, and he quickly made it to the fence, waiting for his companions before he could scale it.

"Hurry up!" He hissed, trying to not make any noise, and still be heard by his friends.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

Elle slowly walked through the halls of Stonereach, interested in exploring her new guest quarters, she found the whole place rather odd. So far up in the mountains. She had only ever lived on ground level. It was a curious building at that, with winding halls, stairs that went up and down, and occasional deadends and spiral staircases.

She wasn't eager to go around opening random doors, but she slowly grew frustrated with the winding chaos, and resolved to open the next door she saw, turning a corner. As luck would have it, it was a tall, tan door of sanded wood.

She opened the door, and found herself in a small study. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with newer novels, and ancient tomes alike. There were scrolls strewn about on a nearby table, and papers scattered on chairs. The floor was surprisingly clear of any papers, although it was hard to see in the dim lamplight.

Elle began to walk slowly around the room, her soft steps making little sound as she browsed the books on the shelf. She wondered how hard it would be to collect them, the trck up the mountain would be hard for a carriage carrying so many books, or maybe the collection had grown over time. The books adding one by one from the far off lands, she even spotted a few Odeshian authors. Most where of craftsmanship or about elephants, they where the most popular outside of Odesh after all.

"The halls are simple once you memorize them." A voice from the corner spoke, breaking the silence and causing Elle to jump. It was Reliwen Cragmore. She was no longer dressed in her regal gown, but a brown tunic and and green pants, tucked into black boots. Like a boy. Her hair was tied into a loose ponytail, and to her side hung a sword. Her face was a bit reddened in the dim light, with beads of sweat clinging to strands of her hair.

"Full of shortcuts here and there, including the shortcut from our training grounds to the study." She slowly walked toward Elle, staring at her peculiarly, like a lion might stalk their prey. "If not for the shortcuts then what, pray tell, brings you here, Elle of Odesh?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Elle looked at the woman oddly, she had looked so elegant before, like a proper royal lady, but now, she looked much more like a fighter, a sword on her belt and a look in her eye that made it seem like she could kill a man with her stare alone. Elle liked this girl a lot better now.

"I got lost." Elle admitted "But if the end result has led me to a conversation with you, I would say that it has not been a fruitless journey" She smiled as her hand rested on the crossbow on her hip. The girl looked as if she would strike her down.

"Don't feel too ashamed that you were lost," Reliwen said, slowly smiling. "Originally, Stonereach was the main hall we ate in, connected to a long mineshaft. When it was emptied out, the halls and stairways were simply built into the mine itself."

With a grunt, she sat into a chair, slouching back. "Only those familiar to it won't get lost."
She picked a book up off of the table, survied it for a moment, and dropped it back down to the table.

"So, what brings a pretty young lady like yourself into the company of Kenten and James?" She asked, leaning forward a bit.

"I was invited... Well, my father was invited... But he was busy." Elle dragged over a wooden chair and sat down infront of Reliwen. "Official diplomatic buisness," She continued "Not really my forte personally, I prefer the rush of lunging with a sword, or scoring a heart shot on a prancing deer." Elle smiled, "I am guessing that sword isn't just for show?" She teased looking to the blade.

Reliwen smiled, unsheathing her sword. It wasn't the usual shortsword that The Gullish so proudly paired with their shields, famous to their region, but a bastard sword. She admired it, holding it with one hand, and giving it a twirl. It was a silvery steel, with a black handle, and runes etched into the blade itself.

"I wouldn't say it's for show either, but I've never slain a man, if that's what you were asking. Stormgully sees few wars." She stood up, letting the sword shine in the lamplight. "Swordplay's mostly reserved for boys in Stormgully, and in the rest of Elyden, frankly. I suppose it's one of the few things I have to boast of, that I've a skill few other women possess." She smiled, turning to Elle. "And you too, it may seem."

"Well I wouldnt say I was a professional, but I know which end I'm supposed to thrust with." Elle said admiring the blade in front of her. "Odesh sees few wars as well, some would say we are lucky. I feel otherwise at times." Elle thought about the possible upcoming battles "Do you shoot crossbows in Stormgully?" Elle asked as she slipped her own from her belt.

The crossbow was small in size, crafted by the greatest crossbow maker in Amplefort. The mans signature "Sam Hill" engraved on the side. He wasn't an extravagant man, he barely even made crossbows anymore due to his age. But one could be ordered from him, if you had the money. The grip was made of ivory, one of the rarest comodities in Elyden, and the bolts were made to cause as much damage to a human as possible. Barbed and made to be painful and deadly to remove.

"We don't have crossbows in Stormgully," Reliwen commented, examining the contraption. "It's the nicest one I've ever seen. The first, but certainly the nicest as well." She said, smiling warmly at Elle. "I like the way of the sword plenty, but there's certainly a lot to be said for marksmanship."

"You get stabbed a lot less." Elle joked as she holstered the weapon once again. "So, why a warrior? Why not a profound lady, possibly a Queen if you had the right connections?" Elle asked wondering why someone would choose a harder life than the easy wealthy path of luxury.

Reliwen paused for a long moment, almost suspiciously so, before saying "There are events in life that meld you into what you need to be, and what I needed to be was a warrior."

She looked quite pleased with her answer, nodding to herself. "As it turns out, I'm good at being one, so it all worked out in the end. Still, I'm not completely immersed in fighting. I know my only ticket out of here is getting a husband, and since we Gullish aren't the prettiest choices, I've at least learned to sing."

She sheathed her sword, giggling to herself. "What about you, do you have any hobbies outside of marksmanship?"

"I read here and there" Elle responded, looking around the room "This is quite the study," She smiled. "I also make wooden carvings, usually of animals like birds." Elle thought back to how her father taught her how to carve wood, how to always cut away and keep a firm grip on the handle of the knife. He was a nice man, but Elle believes a ruler shouldnt be.

Reliwen nodded, and asked her more of her hobbies, and in turn, so did Elle. They spoke for the better part of two hours, and when they only stopped, it was because the lantern had burned the last of its wick. They wished each other a good evening in the end, and went off to their seperate quarters, satisfied that they had made a new friend.

---

Stonereach's halls were kept warm by their fireplaces, candles, lanterns, and near endless supplies of pelts. If that was not enough, there were still rooms filled with teas and hot ciders, sure to warm anyone within their halls. It was one of the most pleasantly cozy places one could hope to find themselves in, and so, every resident and guest alike slept easily each night.

Every resident, but one. Reliwen Cragmore tossed and turned in her sleep, clutching her eyes tightly. The rain was calm and subsiding outside, but in her quarters, there was a storm. The same words she heard earlier now echoed in her mind, rattling around her nightmares.

"So, why a warrior?"

In her dreams, she was not the tall, singing swordswoman she was today. She was a young girl of ten, who could neither hold a sword or a note. She was holding a handful of flowers, as she had been nearly eight years ago, when she was still not but a child.

"Melvy, I got you some flowers." She said, skirting into her brother's room. Her hair was long, and pulled into a braid that nearly reached her ankles. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes still shone with the innocence of a child.

Melvan lay in his bed, sitting up against his pillows, with his blankets pulled up to his waist. He was pale and sickly looking, struggling to keep a glass of water to his lips. Placing the glass on his bedside table, he smiled weakly at Reliwen.

"Thank you, sister." He said, watching her fit them into a vase. She knew he was only rarely well enough to go outside, and occasionally brought him things from the outside world. Namely, flowers. They were light yellow, with slightly wilted leaves -- The type of bouqet a child would pick out, after all.

"How are you feeling today?" She asked, sitting at his side.

"Better everyday." He lied, coughing into his blanket. He knew she worried for him, and hoped to ease her fears.

"I'm happy, then." She crawled across the blanket, and kissed him on the cheek. She crawled over him, and plopped on to the floor. "You read anything ni-"
She stopped mid-sentence, hearing the loud footsteps thundering down the hallway. Immediately, almost instinctively, she ducked under the blankets with Melvan, curling up next to him.

"Don't worry sister. I'll keep you safe." Melvan said, somewhere between cooing and promising.

The thundering footsteps were that of Kenten Cragmore. He was younger, sporting a long moustache in lieu of the beard he had since grown. His face was cleaner, and his eyes fuller. But his face was certainly redder -- Much redder. He was completely red in the face, staggering down the hallways, occasionally pausing to adjust his balance. He was slobberingly drunk, bellowing his words out with a strong slur.

"Reliwen!" He shouted, looking around the hallways. "Reliwen, I saw you before. Bring yourself to me." His voice was somewhere between crying and roaring, in a deranged drunken sort of way. "Don't hide from me, little lamb." He begged out.

She stayed hidden underneath the barrier of blankets, protected by her jaundiced knight. She shook with fear, but did not whimper or cry. Melvan held her tightly, silently praying to his dear Kammeth.

There was a loud knock on the door, threatening to shake the very door off it's hinges. It went on for a long while, shaking the door violently. It continued, growing louder, and louder, and then, nothing.

The knocking had subsided for a moment. Even the silence was a welcomed peace, like the calm in the eye of the storm. The hairs that stood on the back of Melvan's neck slowly went down, and Reliwen slowly stopped shivering. Moments passed, and nearly a minute went by. And then, as the eye of a storm always does, the silence ended.

The door was thrown open, and Kenten stood in the doorway. He was a hulking brute of a man, holding an empty bottle of cider in one hand, and propping himself against the doorway with the other. He started at Melvan, and then the shivering bulge in the blankets next to him.

He silently stumbled over to the bed, and grabbed her by an exposed arm. He dragged her out, much to her protest, and slammed the door behind him. "You should know better," He paused, stopping himself from drunkenly vomiting, "Than to hide from me,"

He began to take her down the hallway, before pausing to catch his balance again. He knelt down to her level, looking at her face as she tried to look away, clenching her eyes.

"You look so much like your mother, little lamb."
He smiled sinisterly, dragging the back of his hand over her trembling face. "And you grow with each passing day." He stepped back to examine her, from top to bottom, practically staring through her.

"Come with me, little lamb. Let's find someplace else." He tightly grabbed her wrist, and began to pull her down the hall once more.

Before he could step even a foot, a soft voice raised up from behind him.

"Papa, stop this!" Melvan said, slowly walking down the hall. He had no limp, but his legs shook with every step, threatening to send him careening to the floor.

"Stop this now, please!" He urged, continuing to walk towards his drunken father.

"Melvan, you're too sick to be up. Get back to bed." Kenten grumbled, loosening his grip on Reliwen and extending his arm towards him. Reliwen took her opportunity, and broke free, tearing away from his grip and running down the halls with a scream.

Kenten was far too inebriated to respond quickly, and turned to watch her flee in terror. Slowly, he turned his head back to Melvan. His face was redder than before, and his teeth clenched in anger.

"You little sh-shit," He growled, stuttering with anger. "Think you can make a fool of me?" He hissed. Even as Melvan shook his head in fear and began to back up, his father took a single step back, and kicked at Melvan's leg.

It was no push -- Kenten was a large man, and had kicked with every last bit of strength in him. The boy's leg snapped backwards, in a hideous contortion, accompanied with a crack that echoed in the stoney halls.

Melvan did not scream. His eyes welled up with tears, and he opened his mouth to scream, but only a squeaking gargle emerged. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and the boy fainted, collapsing from the pain.

A few moments passed, with Kenten only seething in his anger. A guard, responding to Reliwen's scream, emerged from around a corner. "M'lord?" He said meekly, examining the scene before him.

"My son's infection has spread to his leg, send for a doctor." Kenten said in an almost-whispering tone. He lifted his head, and stared at the servant. "If the doctor, or anyone else hears otherwise, I'll have your head sent to your family."

"Yes, M'lord. Understood, M'lord." He said, silently nodding.

Animorphs

I agree on Iikka.
Furthermore, I'm gonna try to get a post up today or tomorrow, to try and get the ball rolling once more.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

Stonereach
Days 72 &73 of Zieliah, Year 698 AU

It was the morning that Opal Marrow was set to arrive, and Benjamin stood waiting in his father's bedroom. He sat on the foot of his bed, reading and rereading the parchment in his hands. Eventually, he walked over to his father's desk, and selected a sealing wax. He folded the parchment twice, slipped it into an envelope, and sealed it shut in black wax. Stepping outside of the room, he handed it to the servant who stood posted at the door.

"Attach this note to the cider shipment we're sending the Suttbrays. I expect it to leave at first light, tomorrow."

"Yes, my lord. Anything else?" The servant asked.

"Opal Marrow should be arriving soon, send for some harpists." Benjamin added nonchalantly, as he began to walk down the hall.

Upon their arrival, the massive doors of Stonereach were opened by chains, pulled by five servants on either side. They were made entirely from steel and stone, emblazoned with half of an iron diregoat's head on the doors, coming together when they were closed. Their eyes were carved from lapis lazuli, appropriately mined from their own Stormgully mountains, and in Cragmore's signature dark blue. As the servants heaved and pulled, the ten men slowly forced Stonereach's doors open, stopping with a slowed, metallic screech.

The group entered briskly, hoping to shield themselves from the drizzle that had began moments earlier. The interior was much less stark than the outside, much to the relief of the Alabasti guests. The walls were dark stones, mounted not with extravagant paintings, but simple tapestries, shields, and torches.

"We welcome, Princess Opal Marrow of Alabast." The leader of the guards at the door announced. Immediately, the servants that were lined up in the room began to bow. There were guards, knights, advisors, servants, squires and more, and one by one, they each bowed their heads to their new guests. On that cue, the harpists began to play a delicate melody, while the last of the entourage made their way in.

The air was thick with clouds of incense, giving everything in the hall a feint smell of cloves and cinnamon, while iron chandeliers illuminated the hall along with the torches on the wall, as Stonereach lacked windows. There was a long firepit in the center, big enough to roast entire cows at a time. On either side of the firepit were long empty tables -- Although reserved for guests, they were usually used by the guards, advisors, and other higher servants of House Cragmore.

Beyond the pit, there was a throne made of stone. The seat itself was padded with a diregoat's pelt, that had been worn down until it was as grey as the throne it lay upon. The headrest was jagged and came to a foul point, as if it was a hunk of the mountain itself.
Above the throne, a diregoat's skull made of hammered copper hung off the wall. In small patches, it had grown oxidised, and had sections of light green rust.

Stonereach was foreboding in some ways -- The lack of windows made it seem somewhat dungeon-like, the copper skull above the throne caught the light from all the different light sources, and sounds seemed to reverberate more loudly than they should. But still, the lack of windows kept the castle dry, and the torches, candles, and fire, all kept Stonereach warm. Even the echoes were only the sounds of the group that was entering, and the soft harps playing. It was foreboding in some respects, yes, but it was warm, and dry, and comfortable. Everything Stormgully wasn't.

One of the party walked over to a bench by the pit and sat facing it. The figure wore a woollen tan cloak which had turned almost black in the rain with a hood that concealed their face. Guardsmen from the East followed suit, forming in a ring around the table, all clad in the ornate bone armour of the Skeleton Guard of Alabast. Their black and white warpaint had smudged in the downpour, contorting the skull patterns into menacing inhuman shapes.

The hooded person leant forward as if watching phantom flames rise from the ashes. They removed their hood.

Princess Opal was a pretty young girl, looking mismatched in her cumbersome travelling garb and against the horror of the Skeleton Guard. Her petite frame was dwarfed by the cloak and together with her prominent bone structure she appeared delicate, almost brittle. Long mahogany hair cascaded from her head down her shoulders against an almond complexion. Her nose was small and petite and her eyes a vibrant shade of yellow, like dandelions in a summer meadow.

She waited looking at the charcoal and ashes of the last fire as the rest of the group gathered themselves in the hall.

"Welcome, Honored Guests," a voice called out, from one of the long hallways of Stonereach. It was none other than Benjamin Cragmore, the eldest son of Kenten. He smiled at the group as he walked in, and dismissed all servants but the harpists with a wave. He inherited the better genes from his father -- He was broad of chest, with a coy smile and sea-green eyes being the only defining feautres in his otherwise plain face, framed by sandy brown curls. His hand rested lazily on the pommel of his sheathed sword, and his family's Makitherin shield, Rainclad, was strapped over his back. Kingliness seemed to be draped over his shoulders like a shawl, and it showed.

"An honor to finally meet my brother's bride-to-be, Princess Opal." He took her hand and bowed to her. "I take it your travels were uninterrupted?"

"Thank you, Lord Benjamin," she looked into his eyes, blushing. He was very handsome and had a great presence about him. Her eyes conveyed a unparalleled warmth and inner beauty, pure as spring water from the heart of the mountains. "And may I say how delightful it is to finally meet you too. The journey was most pleasant and your men were most hospitable, thank you." She waved her hand to the Gullish cohorts who had escorted the Alabasti to Stonereach, smiling at them each in turn. "If it please my lord, may we, your honoured guests, change out of our wet garments? I loathe to see my men sodden so."

Benjamin nodded, and snapped his fingers. As the loud sound echoed through the halls of Stonereach, two servants arrived, a man and a woman.

"Peter will show your men to their quarters, where they'll find fresh clothes, and a warm hearth," The servant bowed, extending his hand towards the hall, as the men followed him.

"And Lucy will show you to yours." He said, smiling warmly. "You'll find the same, but with a chance for a rest while I fetch my younger brother." Lucy smiled warmly, unlike the dour servant escorting the guards. She was elderly, but still young enough for her straw-blonde hair to be visible in the strands of white.

The princess smiled at the older servant woman, who curtsied. Two Skeleton Guard glided over either side of Opal and held out their hands to assist her. She placed her hands on theirs and rose with sublime elegance.

Lucy beckoned for Opal to follow her, and she obliged. "This way, my lady."

The halls changed in some spots, from being narrow and with low ceilings, to spacious halls with enough space to pass five men abreast in, which only added to Stonereach's cavern-like aura. They twisted and turned, breaking off into several different paths, with doors of differing sizes and shapes. Once they had reached a certain point in their confusing maze, Lucy opened a thin wooden door, decorated with a golden knocker.

The room itself was surprisingly large. There was a featherbed big enough for two, guarded by silvery flowing curtains. There was a wardrobe, a desk, and a pair of potted plants that somehow survived with no source of natural light, as the room itself was well-lit with a small chandelier. There were a few chairs, a large diregoat pelt for a rug, and lastly, a tapestry of the Cragmore sigil above the bed.

Lucy eagerly trodded over to the wardrobe, and began looking through the warm, dry dresses. She pulled out several of them, looked at them all, shook her head, and stuffed them back in.

"Will this do, my lady?" She said, pulling a dress out from the back. It was unlike the usual dresses of Alabast that Opal was accustomed to. It was a lavender blue, with a black bodice, and decorated in thin white lace. It seemed to be her size, albeit fitted for the stouter women of Stormgully.

Opal regarded the dress. She'd never worn the colour or type of dress before and the novelty intrigued her. "Yes, it will do nicely, Lucy," she responded with a smile. The princess unfastened her cloak and placed it neatly on the bed. Underneath she wore a modest white tunic and a tan undertunic. She held out her arms so Lucy could undo her girdle and remove her top tunic. "If you would be so kind." When that was done, the Stormgully dress was put on.

"Tell me, Lucy," Opal began as the servant girl fastened the dress' lace behind her back, "What is your impression of Lord Melvan? You may tell me truthfully; you have my word that it will not leave this room."

"Ah, you'd like to hear about your future husband?" The woman smiled, tightening the dress. "Well, you're in luck. I've been raising the Cragmore boys since they were swaddled." She said wistfully, "Melvan was always a bit of an odd duck for a Cragmore." She sighed, smiling, and sat down at the foot of the bed for a moment, carefully inspecting the dress.

"See, the Cragmores always prided themselves on their indomitable wills, and their hardiness. They built themselves an impregnable castle and stitched their words on their sigil to prove it, y'see?" She giggled, pointing to the banner over the bed. "Excuse me if I sound a bit boastful for a house that's not even mine. I've been in their employ since I was just a girl of your age or so, so I feel like it's my house at times."

The princess was taken aback by the forwardness of the servant. She had never been talked to by a stranger without formality and etiquette. It was so refreshing and made her feel free from the shackles of class and duty.

Opal smiled warmly to Lucy. She liked her immediately.

Lucy's voice beamed with a sense of pride, as Opal sat next to her, smiling as well.

"So, the Cragmores pride themselves on being tenacious, like I said. But Melvan, he's not like that at all. Spends his time helping us servants with the chores, or tending to little plants and animals he keeps around."

She paused for a moment, thinking of the right wording for a delicate topic. "He was born a bit... Sickly, and even his mother, rest her soul, didn't think he'd..." She paused again, holding her tongue. "Live, as long as he has, eh? In a way, I suppose that's the one way Melvy is a true Cragmore. Refused to die, after all." She chuckled a bit.

"I suppose he figured life was a blessing from then on, and began to study Kammeth. Fancies himself a follower of the old sun god, and prays every day. I'd suppose he's the only Cragmore child who doesn't despise Lord Cragmore himself. Doesn't hate anyone, come to think of it."

"He got over his sickness when he was a wee lad, but it didn't exactly leave him robust. Since he spent most of his childhood indoors, he read everything he could. History, Science, Fables. The boy's as smart as a whip, even if he's a bit quiet and frail. But he'd make a fine husband, that one. Never met someone so virtuous and wise at his age."

Princess Opal's heart fluttered in her chest. The mixture of excited, nervous and curious feelings she felt when thinking about meeting her fiance was almost nauseating. It was exhilarating enough as it was to be out of Alabast for the first time in her life and see parts of the world she had only read and dreamed about. The culture, weather, landscape and peoples of Stormgully were completely alien to the small world of the princess. It was all so overwhelming she could hardly breathe. Kammeth, let me live forever in this dream. My bones, let this be real.

She began to blush and turned away from Lucy, giggling into her hand. She turned back after a minute, sat down, and took the woman's hands in her own. She looked into her eyes with fervent ecstasy. "Oh Lucy, I can hardly take this waiting! I worry I will repulse Lord Melvan. He may not wish to take me for his bride once he sights me." Opal stood up once more and paced the room, chewing on her lip. "How does the dress suit me?"

Lucy clasped her hands together giddily, grinning from ear to ear. "You look lovely, dearie. An absolute gem." The young princess reminded her of herself at that age, nervous about boys and clothes alike. At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

"You may enter." Opal said courteously.

Benjamin entered the room, now without his sword and shield, wearing a simple tunic with a white diregoat's pelt for a cape. His brown curly hair had been combed through a bit, and he wore distinct rings on either ring finger -- Crimson rubies, set in thin bands of white silver. Thankfully, unlike his father's tastes, he wasn't overly garish or gawdy. He walked with the swaggering gait of a Southern Lord, and even smelled of their coffees and tobacco.

"I beg your pardon for the intrusion, Princess Opal. If it might please you, my brother Melvan is ready to meet you."

Opal rose and curtsied. Her heart thumped like a war drum. "And I him. Please lead on, my lord."

"Excellent." Benjamin said cheerfully. Benjamin led Opal and Lucy swiftly through the halls of Stonereach, up to a large set of double doors. Ben nodded to Opal, admiring the girl in her new dress.

"You look lovely, if I may say so, Princess Opal. I'm sure you'll both take a liking to each other." He said, trying to sound as assuring as possible. He could sense the girl's nervousness, and hoped to calm her. He shot her a smiling glance once more, and opened the door.

"Brother, there's someone here to see you." He announced. "Princess Opal."

The doors opened to the main hall they had previously been in, albeit to the side. The torches and firepit had all been extinguished, leaving only the chandeliers, lighting the room in a dim, warm amber. It was completely empty, devoid of any harpists or servants, and near the throne stood not but a single person.

Melvan Cragmore stood slightly taller than his brother, with a mop of red hair, and a ruddy face full of freckles. He had brown eyes like his father, but slightly lighter, accredited to the purity of his soul by servants and subjects alike. He wore a dark blue surcoat with white sleeves, tied with a black and silver belt of fabric around his waist. Most notably, he held a cane in his right hand. It was a black polished oak, with a silver ram's head at the top.

He met eyes with her for only a moment, and shakily bent down to one knee, with the help of his cane. "My lady,"

He struggled for a moment more to stand, pulling himself up by his cane, smiling warmly. "I'll have my men apologize as soon as I can." He said, advancing forward with a noticable limp. "When I asked them about you, they compared you to the sunset they've seen over the mountains, and I now see they were wrong, for Stormgully has few sights as beautiful." He smiled sweetly once more, satisfied with his phrasing.

The princess blushed at the compliment. Her betrothed had not been what she expected but she didn't really know what she was expecting. She saw in his eyes a kind and pure soul and he wasn't uncomely as Lucy's words had led her to believe. He was lame, that was clear to see, but she did not see it as an issue. Opal smiled shyly. "You flatter me, my lord. I am but a girl and Stormgully is a most wondrous realm. I have never seen such colourful scenery, or tasted such pure raindrops on my tongue. I am overcome with joy to be here, to meet you, my lord."

Melvan grinned at her reaction. He had only been offered for marriage once before, and was rejected, being seen as too weak and too fragile. To see Opal completely looking past his hobbling was a welcome change of pace.

"I've never heard my lands described so kindly, and I doubt I ever will again." He said, chuckling to himself. He offered her his spare arm, and pointed to the doors with his cane. "If you'd like, my lady, I can give you a tour of the lands. It's a dreadful hike on foot, but I'm sure my brother would allow us the use of his diregoat."

He turned to Benjamin, who nodded. "I'll send for Peter to put on the saddle for two."

The princess had seen the famed diregoats on the journey over. They had filled her with great awe. "Oh, how delightful! I do hope this lovely dress does not get soiled." She took Melvan's arm and the two of them walked out of the hall into the light of day. The rain had ceased for now.

The following morning, Benjamin sat on the Cragmore throne, watching in amusement as his servants uneasily helped Opal's fearsome Skeleton-Guards packing rations and gifts for the long voyage home. Aside from the usual supplies for the journey, they packed goods native to Stormgully. Namely, a barrel of their incense, two barrels of Stormgully Cider, and a crate of tea.

Along with those gifts, there was one specifically made for Osmodeus; A diregoat's skull, with intricate designs carved into the bone. It had taken a month to prepare, for even after the carving was done, molten gold from their mines had been poured into the lines that had been etched.

In the midst of the packing, Benjamin spotted Opal enter the room. With a stretch, he got up from his throne, and sauntered over to her. "I'm glad you enjoyed your stay here at Stormgully. I look forward to the marriage of my brother and yourself. However, before you leave, there's something I'd like to ask of you."

The princess curtsied. "Thank you, my lord. As do I, and hopefully I shall see you again soon, the sands permit. Now, what would you have of me?"

"I believe it would be of a great benefit to the both of us if Melvan were to come with you to Alabast. It would do him good to learn more of your people's culture and ways, especially since he's never gone so far as to leave the City of Stonereach,"

"And furthermore, that would allow you some more time with your betrothed." He smiled at his last addition.

Opal blinked, surprised. This was an astonishing change of plans. "Certainly, my lord. Though may I ask you to send this news to my lord father in Skyhaven?"

"Excellent, I'll inform him at once." Benjamin said, with an almost Southern smile. "I wish you both the safest of journeys to Castle Marrow." He took her hand, and bowed deeply.

As she left to attend to her servants, so too did he leave to attend to Melvan, and inform him of the news.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

Their first day of riding was fairly calm, which was a pleasant break from the torrents of Stormgully. Kenten and James rode side by side, one on a diregoat, and one on a horse. They were accompanied from the front and back by half of James' and Kenten's guards, who also had an odd juxtaposition of horses and goats. They road through the countryside with only two banners. One of the black goat, and one of the gold shark. They were not looking for attention, being the leaders of two small houses with only a small entourage to guard them, but they were by no means afraid of the untamed countryside.

James had full confidence that his guards could handle any bandit, and Kenten had full confidence of knowing that the bandits were paid by him

"How long is the ride?" James asked, riding alongside Kenten.

"To Stormgully, three days. To Stonereach?" He pointed to James' horse with one hand, holding the reins of his Diregoat with the other. "Forever. Or, no time at all. Depends on your religion." He snorted with a laugh, while Conrad forced a meager chuckle. Sensing that the joke was lost on his companion, Kenten quickly explained.

"Stonereach can't be reached by horses. Mountain's too steep, too slippery, too jagged. Horses are topheavy, and they tend to get spooked by the thunder and lightning we at Stormgully are so accustomed to." He said. "But the diregoats?" He patted the neck of his goat briskly, and with a sense of pride. "They can reach the peak of a mountain quicker than a falcon can."

Conrad nodded, as Kenten added to his statement. "Don't worry, my men will provide you one by the time we get there. Probably the one my son's taken a liking to." He took a swig from his canteen, which he had filled with Stormgully Ale. "Git spends his time training his own goat. Nevermind looking for a bride, or attending a tourney, or anything normal a young lord should do."

"That's such a shame. From what I hear, he should be a right fine bachelor." James gave a small chuckle. Though he didn't particularly like the Cragmores, let alone trust Kenten, he'd need them, or at least their lands. While he didn't truly understand why Kenten would let his kingdom go to ruin, Kenten made up for it with a rather large amount of rocks, gems, and metals. "You seem rather happy. But I suppose you ought to be, with you getting a sword back. Lord Kenten, if I may ask, how do you feel about the Suttbrays, Marrows, Ashtoken, and the boy king?" James said with a deep look into his eyes.

"Suttbrays?" Kenten shrugged, holding tightly to his reins. "We've been allies for centuries. They know the only reason they still stand is because of Stormgully's metals, and how we guard them from the north. There's even a song about it." He boasted.

He paused for a moment, trying to remember how it went. "Goat fends off hounds while Fox kills him hens, Goat eats his fill, and guards Fox's den," he muttered in a singsong voice, trailing off.

"Anyway, you asked me what I think of Suttbray. My answer is that I don't." He laughed loudly again, slapping his goat on the back. "Pretentious pipe-smoking Southerners, the lot of 'em. They feed us, aye, but I don't see need for 'em besides that."

"Marrow?" He scoffed, smirking and chuckling to himself. "If I was wise enough to understand those skull-fucking Easterners, do you think I'd be talking to you?" He laughed to himself once more. "I'd be sitting on a throne somewhere. Because I'd be the wisest man there is." He drank again, taking deep, loud gulps.

"They asked for my weak, crippled son for marriage. I wondered why they didn't at least want the fighter, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?" He laughed a bit more. "Like I said. The day I understand 'em, I'm the smartest man in all of Elyden."

"As for Ashtoken, I feel a mix of the two." He smirked, as if he knew a secret no one else knew. "Do I understand them? No. Do I think about them? No."

He laughed, taking a drink. "I s'pose their desert sun fried their brain. Explains the mud."

"The Boy-King, eh?" He rubbed his chin with one hand for a moment, feigning a moment of genuine thought. "The Boy King, aye. I prefer 'The Wrongful King'. When I was his age, I was killin' squirrels in the forest and pullin' my pud. Wouldn't know a thing about ruling a country if it bit me in the arse. I think Asura, the bastard, is better to rule."

James gave a chuckle at Kenten's responses. He agreed with him about the Marrows and Ashtoken, but the Suttbrays, Kenten seems to underestimate. "Kenten, if there is one thing I can count on you for, it's being honest. Aye, the desert folk are too mysterious for my liking and now that they are on the high council, makes me even more nervous. As for the boy king, I agree. Asura should really be leading, but what about that pretender? He has my attention though I'm not too sure if I'd side with him." James looked to see Kenten's reaction about his suggestion before carrying on.

"I'd take Asura any day. Lad spoke with me, knows more about running a kingdom than the rest of those High Lords. I hope he thinks of something soon. As for Ealstain?" He scoffed. "Eel-Stain, more like. Wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

"Anyway Kenten, I always wanted to ask you something a bit personal, and now seems a good time since we're in private. Would you mind?" Kenten shrugged, taking a large swig from his canteen. "Your rule has been known for Stormgully having a less-than profitable run. I'm sure you know that, but, why haven't you tried to change your lands?"

"My lands?" He laughed. "You, and every other high lord knows, I don't care about them one way or the other." He paused, as Lord Conrad showed no emotion. "Aye, I know what's said about me. It would hurt, if I gave a speck of shit about Stormgully." He roared with laughter, heartily slapping his goat on the neck some more.

"Y'see, I've a theory about Stormgully that I'll tell you for two reasons. The first is that I know 'ye wouldn't tell anyone about it. The second's that even if you did, I don't suppose any of those high lord bastards would trust you anymore." He laughed a bit.

"When I killed my brother, it was because I wanted to be Lord. Didn't feel bad for it for a moment." He leaned in to James, looking him intensely in the eyes. "When I was in that forest, looking down at my own kin, beaten to death, I knew it was for the greater good. Cragmore was always ran by unexceptional men, and I'd be the first." He leaned back to where he was on his goat, as if he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.

"So, as I was saying, I've a theory about Stormgully, and that story about my rise wasn't just to spook 'ye, James." He smiled sinisterly, looking at Lord Conrad. "Cragmore was always ruled by cunts. Unexceptional cunts. Cunts who didn't go down in history for anything but goat-breeding. Same went for Stormgully. Unexceptional land known for metal and rain."

He nodded, smiling to himself. "Now it's known for bandits, thieves, and smugglers. And all their kingpins answer to me. Y'know why that is?" He said, taking a swig from his canteen.

"The reason is that if I hadn't stepped in, Stormgully would've been bought up or conquered sooner or later. It would've been an unexceptional land, ruled by unexceptional men. Y'know what it is now?" He paused, waiting for an answer he knew he wouldn't receive. "The hub for criminals of Elyden.Smugglers, Thieves, Bandits. And I'm their king." He inhaled sharply, smiling. "The Bandit King."

He laughed lightly to himself, with an almost concerning amount of clarity for the drunken lord. "We might be the bottom of the barrel, but at least we're known, and no one will ever try and conquer us for it. And besides," He said, taking a generous swig from his canteen.

"If history's taught me anything, it's that things clean themselves up. Eventually, Stormgully will be cleaned up one way or another, and go back to being an unexceptional land, with an unexceptional history." He laughed again, emptying the canteen down his throat. "Unexceptional history, except for the ten chapters on The Bandit King."

"Anyway, I've told you a secret. Now you. What's your plan, Sea-Born? Why did 'ye vote for Shamgar? Or spend all that for running? Or give me the sword?" He slurred, gripping tightly to his reins.

James smiled and nodded "Thank you for that interesting history lesson. As for me, Kenten, somewhat like you, I want to go down in history. Though my ambitions are far greater. I want it all." James said in a hushed tone and looked into Kenten's eyes "As for me giving you the sword, you'll need it for our coming war. Against who, I have an idea. We can speak more of that privately inside your own castle." James said in a normal tone.

"The voting is to make me seem like a dim witted fool and that I should be paid no attention to. It seems to have worked as well. I have all the pieces in place, and soon they will be used. Now, Kenten, we should hurry. The sooner we get to Stonereach, the sooner you'll get your sword and I, a friend." James then leaned upright and said "Kenten we're very similar, and you should stick with me. Together we'll go down in histroy." James gave a small chuckle and waited to hear Kenten's concerns.

"Makes sense, now that you mention it, and what you say about the future is certainly interesting." He smirked, looking ahead at the path. "And as for us going down in history? Rightfully so, mate." He laughed once again, slapping his empty canteen on his goat, who had been growing more and more irate. "We'll discuss it more at Stonereach."