princess

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6pm
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interaction: @FunnyGuy Alexander/Lorenzo
Mention: @Silverpaw Wulfric @Tae Thea @Lava Alckon Drake @PapaOso Cassius/Milo

---

Queen Alibeth turned her head ever so slightly, her expression composed, eyes cool and unreadable as they regarded Alexander with the faintest trace of a smile.“How flattering,” she said softly, voice smooth. As she cut into her steak, she added without raising her gaze. “Flattery is best served with subtlety.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward Edin, still devouring his meal with reckless abandon, then returned to Alexander. “But yes, the food is… palatable. If one has the appetite.” She raised her glass in the most restrained of toasts, then sipped without waiting for a reply.

As guests entered and time went on, the man Edin had chosen as his advisor spoke up once more, but to their son this time.

“Now that’s the kind of thinking I like to hear!” Edin declared with a broad, greasy grin, slamming his goblet down with approval. “A young man who knows how to serve and flatter in the same breath—delightful! Yes, yes, Wulfric could stand to pass a few things off. Keeps the face pretty for the ladies.” He chuckled, tossing a grape into his mouth. “You’ll make a fine little workhorse if you keep this up.”

Alibeth didn’t look nearly as charmed. Her fingers traced the rim of her wine glass, and her gaze slid to Alexander with cool precision.

“Offering to serve before proving you’re trustworthy is ambitious.” She tilted her head ever so slightly. “Still… Caesonia does favor initiative. If you wish to take on responsibility, I trust you won’t fumble it.” Her smile was polite—too polite. “We’ll see what you're truly capable of soon enough.”

Though many continued to enter, Milo St. Claire in particular stood out for a moment. Edin was enamored by his words and grinned, “Ah, now that’s the kind of praise I could frame!” Edin beamed, thumping a hand to his chest. “In fact—someone already has.” He chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Milo St. Claire is my go to for a painting." He glanced at Alibeth, “Said I radiated power, charisma… something about divine masculinity, I don’t know—wasn’t really listening after the word ‘divine.’”

Alibeth, meanwhile, was not as impressed. In fact, her brow had twitched as the artist's gaze had lingered on her and she went back to her meal with more intensity.

“Now,” Edin said, swirling his wine and leaning forward with a glint in his eye, “let’s talk about these pairings we have forming this season, shall we?” He smirked as if he were about to deliver royal decrees, not personal opinions soaked in wine and arrogance.

“I’ll admit, I like the look of that Gideon's boy with the Smithwood girl, Phea. He’s got presence—handsome, talented, charming enough to keep the dull ones entertained.” He shrugged, then added very softly. “Could’ve been a smart match, if she weren’t one of Varian’s many wandering whores.”

He chuckled, low and crude, as he whispered in Alibeth's ear. “The Varians—gods, they let their women run around like stray cats in heat and still expect us to call them noble. No class. No discipline.” He scoffed and took a long sip from his goblet. “All that snow and still no cold in their veins.”

His eyes trailed lazily across the room. “Not that I mind watching it unfold. There’s an art to watching pretty little messes try to pretend they're royalty.” He grinned, shamelessly.

Alibeth didn’t bother hiding her disdain. She glanced at him sidelong, fingers drumming softly against her armrest.

“Yes, how fortunate Caesonia has you to uphold all standards of grace and restraint,” she said with sarcasm.

Edin grinned wider, unbothered. “You’re welcome, darling.”

“Oh—and speaking of questionable pairings,” Edin drawled, not even bothering to whisper as much as he waved his goblet as if it were a scepter, “I hear our dear Damien bastard, has been sniffing around little Charlotte Vikena.”

He barked out a laugh, loud and theatrical. “Poor lad. Too new in town to realize what kind of lunatic family he’s getting himself tangled up with.” He leaned back in his chair, grin wicked. “Imagine wanting Lorenzo Vikena as a father-in-law. That alone should earn him a padded cell and a priest.” As if on cue, Lorenzo was heard hollering across the table to Hafiz.

Edin paused his chatter for a moment, staring down the table at Lorenzo for a long thirty seconds.

“...Still… politically? Not the worst idea. It ties the Damiens closer to the Vikena seat and keeps the big seat of the Duke with Caesonian noble blood... But could a bastard even handle being a Duke... ” He tapped his chin, “Where the hell did he bloody come from anyway? Where has he been all this time?"

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Duke Gideon Edwards & Duchess Victoria Edwards

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interaction: @Lava Alckon Drake @Tpartywithzombi Ariella

---

A hush of silk and whispered gasps followed in their wake as Duke Gideon Edwards and Duchess Victoria Edwards swept into the glittering banquet hall.

Gideon was the picture of dignified restraint, dressed in a deep maroon coat with subtle gold embroidery at the cuffs and collar, his stride confident and calm. With practiced ease, he approached the dais and offered a graceful bow first to King Edin, then Queen Alibeth.

“Your Majesties,” he greeted with smooth reverence, “What an honor to attend this magnificent evening. ” Though brief, his words carried warmth and diplomacy. He straightened and offered Prince Wulfric a courteous nod, his eyes lingering a moment longer on Queen Alibeth, always more attuned to her quiet scrutiny than Edin’s theatrical indulgence.

Behind him, the atmosphere shifted entirely.

Duchess Victoria Edwards arrived like a storm cloaked in opulence—her gown a sweeping cascade of crimson and gold, layered with embroidered tulle and shimmering stones that caught the chandelier light like a sea of stars. A fan of gilded lace snapped open in her manicured hand.

She did not bow.

“Your Majesties,” she purred instead, eyes sweeping over the room, taking in each lesser noble with barely concealed boredom. “What a vision this room is tonight. So many familiar faces... ” With Gideon’s quiet sigh beside her, the two turned toward their assigned seats.

Duke Gideon took his place at the head of the leftmost noble table, his seat exuding authority without the need for decoration. Victoria claimed the place beside him with a flourish, her skirts fanning dramatically as she sat, her fan twitching before her lips as she began eyeing the arrivals with critical delight.

Their children were expected to follow suit behind them, especially by their mother.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Location: Castle Dining Hall
Time: Evening
Mention: @PapaOso Cassius, Milo @Tpartywithzombi Violet

---

“Presenting the Lord of House Damien and Earl of Montauppe, Count Calbert Damien… His wife, the Countess Liliane Damien… their daughter, the Lady Crystal Damien… and the good Count’s son, Lord Cassius Damien.”

The herald’s voice rang clear through the grand ballroom, silencing conversations as all eyes turned to the great doors.

Count Calbert Damien stepped forward first, his silhouette striking beneath the golden glow of chandelier light. His coat, deep navy with subtle silver embroidery at the cuffs and collar, was cut to perfection, his posture as straight as the blade of a well-honed sword. In one gloved hand, he held a dark cane tipped in silver, and in the other, the gentle arm of his wife.

His expression was warm, dignified, and just the right amount of humble charm woven seamlessly with his every step. His eyes swept the room as if taking the measure of it with quiet confidence.

He stopped before the thrones and dipped into a flawless bow.

“Your Majesties,” Calbert began, his voice rich, composed, and carrying through the room with quiet dignity. “It is always an honor for House Damien to stand before the esteemed rulers of Caesonia. You have our enduring loyalty and unending support.”

As he rose, he offered King Edin a knowing smile—not smug, but bold, the kind a man gave only when he knew his worth in a room.

Countess Liliane Damien stepped forward beside him, her shimmering white gown catching the light like frost at dawn. The gown hugged her delicately, pearls adorning the sleeves and neckline in a way that whispered purity rather than flaunted wealth. She bowed gracefully her hands clasped sweetly in front of her, and her golden curls tucked into a soft, elegant chignon.

“Your Majesties,” she said gently, her voice soft and sweet like spring honey, “It is a gift to be in your company tonight. May your reign continue to bless this kingdom with peace and strength.”

There was a sincerity in her eyes, and her deference—so perfect, so practiced—only added to the impression that House Damien was, indeed, a loyal and well-bred family. She was exactly what the court expected a countess to be: lovely, composed, and devoted to her husband’s station.

Crystal followed, offering a curtsy as delicate as she was pale. She said nothing, letting her silence be read as graceful reserve.

And then, of course, Cassius. He bowed slightly, just enough, and offered nothing more than a passing glance to the king. There was power in that too—measured indifference. A man not raised by court, but one who could stand among them without flinching.

King Edin studied them with a scrutinizing eye, but his lips quirked at the corners as Calbert spoke again.

“If there is anything my house may offer to serve the crown during these difficult times, I hope Your Majesty knows he need only ask.”

The king gave a slight nod. “We are pleased by your presence, Count Damien. As always, your conduct reflects well on your house.”

A subtle victory, but a victory all the same.

As they stepped toward their seats, Liliane leaned into her husband’s side ever so slightly, speaking in a gentle whisper.

“You’ve charmed him yet again.”

“Of course I have,” Calbert murmured smoothly, offering a gallant smile as he nodded politely at a passing duke. “We don’t come to banquets merely to dine, my dear. We come to remind the realm who still moves the board.”

He reached to lift her hand gently to his lips, pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles.

“Shall we?”

Liliane smiled up at him like a blushing bride, and the two glided further into the ballroom—leaving behind the echo of a perfect entrance. He led his beloved wife gracefully toward the banquet tables, greeting each noble he passed with effortless charm.

Calbert’s gaze discreetly followed Cassius as he moved across the banquet hall, taking careful note of his son’s intense focus on a singular figure—Charlotte Vikena. His jaw tightened imperceptibly, the subtle signs of tension etched into his carefully controlled expression.

Liliane gently squeezed his arm, leaning close enough that her voice reached only his ears. Her tone was soft, soothing even, as if attempting to ease a wound before it could fully form.

“You know, my love,” she whispered gently, eyes lingering briefly on Cassius, “it might be a rather clever match, strategically speaking. Imagine Cassius as the Duke of Veirmont.”

Calbert exhaled slowly, still watching his son. He placed his hand reassuringly over Liliane’s, his tone quiet yet firm. “Perhaps it would be strategic, Lily,” he acknowledged softly. “But above all else, I value our children’s safety.” His voice lowered further, filled with a quiet intensity. “And right now, Charlotte Vikena is a risk I cannot afford to trust.”

Liliane tilted her head slightly in understanding, gently brushing her thumb over his knuckles. “I trust your judgment, Calbert,” she murmured reassuringly. “I always have.”

Liliane nodded softly, recognizing the sincerity in her husband’s words. A moment of quiet passed before she gently changed the subject, her tone cautious. “Speaking of concerns… Have you heard from Violet? Did she confirm where she’d be this evening?”

Calbert’s expression subtly tightened, though his composed exterior never faltered. He straightened his shoulders, voice low but reassuring. “She will be arriving shortly.”

It was then Milo St. Claire entered the room.

Calbert watched the introduction unfold, his piercing gaze settling thoughtfully upon Milo St. Claire. Though his expression remained pleasantly composed, something keenly analytical flickered within his eyes.

Intriguing, he mused inwardly, fingertips gently brushing his chin as he considered the newcomer. Calbert knew power came in many forms, and this artist—Mr. Sunshine, as some called him—wielded it effortlessly through presence alone. He took note of Milo's subtle, almost intimate regard toward Queen Alibeth, filing it neatly away for future contemplation.

Beside him, Liliane softly sighed, eyes bright with admiration. She leaned slightly toward her husband, voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, how marvelous he seems. Such grace in every step. Do you suppose his paintings truly capture the soul as they say?”

Calbert’s lips curled into a faint, indulgent smile, never breaking his gaze from Milo.

“Indeed, my dear,” he murmured, gently squeezing her hand. “But remember, my Lily, artists—like their art—are often more complex beneath their beautiful surfaces. I would be most curious to see precisely whose soul Master St. Claire intends to paint next.”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

🌸 Race: Half-Elf 🌸
🦋 Class: Druidic Mystic 🦋
🍄 Location: The Bar 🍄
🍃 Interactions: Gears @PapaOso Menzai @Samreaper Arya @Potter Wendel @FunnyGuy 🍃
🌼 Equipment: 🌼

Full Equipment List

✦ Druidic Staff
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts
✦ Her amulet
✦ Satchel
✦ Flint & dried tinder moss
✦ Waterskin
✦ Dried Medicinal Herbs
✦ Bag of pretty trinkets, marbles and rocks
✦ Sharpening river stone
✦ Oruna tribal moon bracelet

🪷 Attire: Outfit 🪷

Attire

✦ Antler Headdress – Elegant branching antlers wrapped in vines and blooming wild roses and other flowers, dangling with purple crystal teardrops.
✦ Thick Magenta Hair – Flowing in long, heavy waves with many braids, tiny beads and blossoms braided throughout.
✦ Forest Bralette – A natural fabric top adorned with layered leaves, hide, flowers, and shimmering gem accents across the bust.
✦ Arm Jewelry – Vine-wrapped armlets and bracelets studded with glistening stones in violet and turquoise hues.
✦ Green Cloaklet – A light green cloak clasped with a gem like amber—crafted from flora and fauna
✦ Layered Skirt – Flowing petal-draped skirt with high side slits, woven from cloth and flower petals
✦ Waist Adornments – A golden vine belt holding a satchels, feathers, and a charm pouch of herbs and trinkets.
✦ Leg Jewelry – Beaded anklets and thigh cords with gemstone charms
✦ Nature Tattoos & Paint – Faint tribal markings or nature-inspired body paint peek beneath her outfit

🪞 Gold Balance: 20 🪞
🌸 Injuries: Faint Scrapes on Shins & Knees 🌸

As the shiny female nudged the marble with one of her fingers, Phia's eyes locked on it like a jungle cat on its prey. She watched, transfixed, as it spun. However, as she informed her about her "knickknacks," her gaze slowly slid back to her, and her brows furrowed with both confusion and some frustration. She looked down at her sparkling treasures with betrayal, then she immediately protested, almost interrupting as she proclaimed with rising horror, "But this one's blue."

The warforged kindly explained, and Phia’s lips parted in soft realization. “Coin,” she echoed, as if tasting the word for the first time. She immediately dove into her satchel with the urgency of a hungry raccoon, wrist-deep in bones, feathers, polished stones, and various sparkly “not-coins,” clearly trying to decipher what might count as worthy.

As her rummaging grew louder, the warforged offered gently, “But tell ya what... If you are hungry, I’ll pour you a cup of somethin’ warm on the house while you go figure out where your coin purse wandered off to. That sound fair?”

Phia looked up from her frantic sorting, her hands still full of pebbles and string. She blinked again, a spark of awe in her voice.“Wait… Warm? ... On what house?”

It was in that moment the wind shifted. Her nose twitched as a familiar scent swept past her senses. Her head snapped up on instinct and her eyes lit up.

“Menzai!”

She half-gasped, half-giggled just as his voice flowed in like winter wind through tree branches. Her posture straightened with excitement and relief, her satchel forgotten momentarily. Her arms twitched like she might launch herself into a hug until the firm tap of his clawed finger landed atop the counter, right next to her crumpled message.

Her eyes dropped to the paper.

"...Oh."

Her stomach let out another theatrical growl, loud enough to earn a glance from a passing patron. Just as she lifted her head with a pitiful pout, a soft clink sounded against the wood bar. Menzai had placed a coin atop her crumpled message.

Phia lit up with recognition, pointing to it proudly like she’d just solved a puzzle. “A shiny round,” she declared with absolute certainty, giving an enthusiastic nod. “That’s what they want. Not the blue, not the bone—just shiny rounds.”

She paused, then leaned closer to the coin, whispering like it could hear her. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re only slightly more valuable than my glittery bug shell.” And yet, she gently patted the coin with affection… just in case.

"And this should be served with the meat. As much as the young miss wishes though I must ask to add some vegetables."

Phia wrinkled her nose at the v word the moment it left Menzai’s lips. She leaned back ever so slightly, as if recoiling from an invisible force.
"Vegetables?" she repeated suspiciously. With exaggerated slowness, she shifted her wide eyes from Menzai to the bartender, then back again—clearly weighing the possibility of escape. "I didn’t say vegetables... I said meats. Meats don't grow from the ground, Menzai." Still, after a beat, her stomach growled again, louder than before. She sighed in defeat and poked the paper with a reluctant finger. "...Okay. But only if they hide them under the meats."

“You two from a traveling circus, orrr...?”

Phia blinked and tilted her head in confusion, however, she quickly lost interest as she took notice of the drink on the counter. With the reverence of a squirrel discovering its first acorn, she seized it with both hands like it was holy nectar. She threw her head back, pouring the contents down her throat like a dehydrated beast at a jungle spring as Menzai had been speaking.

Her eyes crossed briefly. Her soul briefly evacuated. Somewhere in the distance, an ancestor probably facepalmed. She exhaled like she’d just swallowed a forest fire and she slammed the cup down. “Delicious pain,” she gasped, blinking rapidly.

As her eyes refocused, they drifted down the bar… and paused. A hunched, cloaked figure sat just a few stools down. A horn poked out from beneath the hood. Phia stared long and hard as she leaned closer to the girl, squinting at her to try to catch a look at her face.

“…You smell like secrets,” she whispered toward the figure. “And maybe… smoky berries?”

But then—her curiosity ping-ponged back to the shiny bartender as she recalled that she should thank her for the refreshment. The Oruna tribe had warned her after all that people outside the wilds needed assurance of their good deeds, or else they would feel slighted. “Thank you, shiny one,” she said sincerely, bowing her head with both gratitude and lingering heat trauma. Then she perked up, lifting her hand like a student with a Very Important Question™.

“Can you tell us your name? And what species you are?” Her eyes sparkled with genuine wonder. She leaned in again, whispering in awe with widened eyes: “Are you a rock girl?”

A creak of a stool shifting drew her attention. A short, bearded man had taken a seat beside the hooded girl, his voice rising to address the barkeep before Gears could answer her question. Phia slowly turned her head to fix her gaze on him. Not with malice... But with wide, unblinking intensity as if she were trying to determine whether he was a squirrel or a beast in disguise.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

🌸 Race: Half-Elf 🌸
🦋 Class: Druidic Mystic 🦋
🍄 Location: The Bar 🍄
🍃 Interactions: Gears, Bastion @PapaOso Menzai @Samreaper 🍃
🌼 Equipment: 🌼

Full Equipment List

✦ Druidic Staff
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts
✦ Her amulet
✦ Satchel
✦ Flint & dried tinder moss
✦ Waterskin
✦ Dried Medicinal Herbs
✦ Bag of pretty trinkets, marbles and rocks
✦ Sharpening river stone
✦ Oruna tribal moon bracelet

🪷 Attire: Outfit 🪷

Attire

✦ Antler Headdress – Elegant branching antlers wrapped in vines and blooming wild roses and other flowers, dangling with purple crystal teardrops.
✦ Thick Magenta Hair – Flowing in long, heavy waves with many braids, tiny beads and blossoms braided throughout.
✦ Forest Bralette – A natural fabric top adorned with layered leaves, hide, flowers, and shimmering gem accents across the bust.
✦ Arm Jewelry – Vine-wrapped armlets and bracelets studded with glistening stones in violet and turquoise hues.
✦ Green Cloaklet – A light green cloak clasped with a gem like amber—crafted from flora and fauna
✦ Layered Skirt – Flowing petal-draped skirt with high side slits, woven from cloth and flower petals
✦ Waist Adornments – A golden vine belt holding a satchels, feathers, and a charm pouch of herbs and trinkets.
✦ Leg Jewelry – Beaded anklets and thigh cords with gemstone charms
✦ Nature Tattoos & Paint – Faint tribal markings or nature-inspired body paint peek beneath her outfit

🪞 Gold Balance: 10 🪞
🌸 Injuries: Faint Scrapes on Shins & Knees 🌸

The morning sun caressed Phia’s skin with all the tenderness of a long-lost lover as she stepped onto the upper deck. Warmth kissed her shoulders, and she welcomed it with outstretched arms as if to return the sun's embrace, her eyes fluttering closed. For a few seconds, she simply stood there, smiling and basking, before her golden eyes opened to the breathtaking view: clouds drifting not only above, but below them, like waves on the sea.

She had no words for the marvel beneath her feet. This giant, humming wooden beast that sailed through the sky like a bird with no wings. The very idea that she could now dance among the skies she had always gazed up at felt like a miracle whispered straight from the spirits. With a delighted giggle, she lifted her staff high into the air and released a wild, euphoric cry. Birds from below and above responded in kind, their calls swirling around her like an enchanted chorus(much to the confusion of those nearby).

She twirled... then paused mid-spin, remembering her original mission: food.

Menzai had still been asleep when she slipped away, so she'd left him a scrap of cloth with the word “hongry” scrawled across it in a barbaric, chaotic script. Hopefully, he'd get the message.

With hunger now guiding her steps, Phia turned on her heel and began making her way. However, then her steps slowed, her bright eyes suddenly drawn toward an unfamiliar-looking figure standing near the deck's railing. Her smile softened, lips parting slightly with surprise and gentle curiosity. At first glance, the being seemed carved from the earth itself, shimmering like stone beneath the sun.

She paused mid-step, head tilting inquisitively. Her gaze traced over his metallic body, noting the glowing lights of his eyes, the curve of his mouth. Her eyes widened slightly in realization: it was alive.

Wonder filled Phia’s expression as it turned its attention from the sky to her. She hesitated, but then a decision bloomed inside her and she beamed at the being kindly before continuing toward the bar over yonder. Her pace quickened again, footsteps light, but her thoughts lingered on the fascinating stranger she had just encountered. Phia practically danced across the deck up to the bar, each step accompanied by the jingling of gemstone charms and anklets that adorned her legs.

Phia noticed yet another curious figure standing behind the table. This one was slimmer than the other rock being. It had features that suggested a feminine grace. Her gaze traveled over the warforged bartender, absorbing every shimmering detail, before she finally stepped up.

Biting her lower lip in concentration, Phia rummaged through her pouch, its contents softly clinking. Without much finesse, she began placing shiny marbles, polished stones, and tiny crystals onto the counter one by one. Each item was meticulously chosen and arranged as if it were a precious offering.

She lifted her gaze to meet the warforged bartender’s glowing eyes.

“Can I… trade these for meats?”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

The world of Eberron is one where magic fuels invention and ancient powers simmer beneath the surface of progress. A place where steel meets spell, where elemental-bound machines streak across the sky, and where the scars of war still bleed beneath the glamor of modernity.

For over a century, the continent of Khorvaire was locked in the Last War—a brutal conflict that shattered the once-unified Kingdom of Galifar. Nations rose and fell. Millions perished. Trust fractured. And then, without warning, it stopped.

On a single, terrible day, the proud nation of Cyre was consumed by a blast of bright light, and then a rolling wall of gray mist. Cities vanished. Forests withered. People died without a sound. The skies are said to have burned so brightly that even soldiers stationed miles away were blinded by the sight of it . That day became known as the Day of Mourning—a tragedy so horrifying that it brought even the most hardened generals to the peace table.

The Treaty of Thronehold brought peace… but not closure. Not truth. Not answers.

Now, just four years later, a new era dawns—an arcane industrial revolution.
Lightning rails whistle across the land. Elemental galleons carve through the clouds. Warforged soldiers, once created for slaughter, now seek identity in a world no longer at war. Magic is no longer rare—it is commerce, convenience, and conquest.

And it is in this fractured, electrified world that you fly.

Each of you has your reasons—buried, bitter, hopeful, or hungry. You leave your past behind as your eyes turn toward Khorvaire, a land of secrets, opportunity, and the unknown. Whatever brought you here, whether for the first time or simply back after time away, you now share the same vessel: The Stormrider.

A state-of-the-art elemental airship, the Stormrider is suspended in flight by a bound fire elemental—its hull crafted from gleaming soarwood, its arcane ring pulsing with controlled flame. The ship is sleek, beautiful, and alive with energy. Passengers line the open decks, mingle in the lounge, or sip drinks in the touristy tavern onboard. The sky stretches infinitely in every direction, a sea of clouds painted in gold and violet.

At the helm is Captain Jovik Cindralis, a charismatic half-elf known for simply being the best there is at what he does.



Among you are merchants. Scholars. Refugees. Mercenaries. Each with their own baggage—some literal, some dangerous.

But for now… there is calm. You find yourselves scattered somewhere on board— some may be seated near the bar or pacing the deck— suspended between continents, between identities, between destinies.

You do not yet know it, but this is where your story…your REAL story begins.

“When the fire breaks, and the skies scream… Even the stars will forget their names. The pattern will fray, and the unwritten shall decide the fate of all.”
Everything is about to change.

Stormrider Directory

✦ The Bar Deck
An open-air circular bar with glowing crystal panels and the Warforged bartender, Gears. Perfect for drinks and casual mingling beneath the skies.
There are wooden tables, shaded canopies, and passengers playing games or swapping stories over a mug of something strong.

✦ Upper Viewing Lounge
Elegant and exclusive. Plush seating, private tables, and breathtaking views; reserved for upper-class passengers.

✦ Lower Viewing Lounge
Cozy benches and shared travel stories. A more humble but comforting space for the everyday traveler.

✦ Tea Room
A warm, wood-paneled space lit by lanterns and packed with books, plush chairs, and small round tables. A haven for quiet conversation, tea, and calm.

✦ Interior Lounge Rooms
Small, semi-private nooks with sofas and lantern light, perfect for one-on-one chats, naps, or contemplative cloud-watching.

✦ Passenger Cabins
Rooms fitted with basics: cot, trunk, and a porthole window. You need to pay extra for private room vs a shared space.

✦ Cargo Hold
Heavily secured, full of crates, luggage, and whatever mysterious items make the Stormrider's journey possible.

✦ Engine Core
Home to the fire elemental that powers the ship and accessible via a door in the cargo hold. Off-limits!

✦ The Bridge
The private domain of Captain Jovik Cindralis. Maps, charts, swords, and secrets dwell here.

✦ Observation Nook
A peaceful, tucked-away area at the bottom of the ship where passengers can sit quietly and take in the views through windows.

✦ Bathing Rooms
Communal yet private stalls enchanted for warmth, water, and cleaning comfort. Self-drying runes included.

Bar Menu Highlights

Signature Drinks:
"Brelish Brass" Ale: A hearty, nutty beer served in a tankard shaped like a griffon’s head.
"Aundairian Arcana" Cocktail: A sparkling, lavender-colored drink that changes flavors every sip, thanks to a simple enchantment.
"Mourning’s Shadow" Stout: A pitch-black beer with smoky undertones, served with a swirl of silver mist over the top, referencing the Day of Mourning.
"Searing Heights Shot": A fiery cinnamon whiskey served with a small flame hovering above the glass.
"Highrider Special": A tropical fruit punch with floating pieces of enchanted, glowing ice cubes.

Snacks & Gimmicks:
"Thranish Sunbread" : A golden, lightly sweet bread served warm with honey.
"Zilargo Poppers": Spicy stuffed peppers that sizzle slightly due to alchemical spices.
"Dragonshard Cookies": Sugar cookies shaped like dragonshards, with edible glitter.

Meals for Travelers:
"Karrnathi Ironplate": A savory platter of seared meat strips, smoked cheese, and dark rye, served with pickled roots and buttered herbed potatoes.
"Skyraider’s Stew": Hearty beef and vegetable stew, slow-cooked with floating dumplings and spiced with lightning pepper.
"Sharn Skewer Sampler": Assorted grilled meats and vegetables on enchanted skewers that keep themselves warm.
"Vegetarian Verdancy": A fresh salad bowl with enchanted greens that shimmer faintly, tossed with nuts, berries, and citrus drizzle.
"Breland Breakfast Anytime": Fluffy eggs, crisped ham, fried tubers, and a biscuit with jam, available even at midnight.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @Potter Olivia @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Silverpaw Wulfric
Mention: @FunnyGuy Alexander

---

Charlotte dipped into a graceful curtsy, her fingers clutching at the maroon folds of her gown as she lowered herself before the majesty of the banquet hall. Her raven hair cascaded softly in loose waves around her shoulders and down her back as if ink had spilled upon her. Meanwhile, her gown had a midnight blue bodice, embellished with black lace and subtle gold detailing. A trim of soft white lace kissed the edge of her neckline while the flowing crimson fabric of her skirts and off-the-shoulder sleeves pooled like wine around her in an almost haunting way—much like the turmoil she carried within.

As she rose, Charlotte's thoughts spun uncontrollably while her heart pounded like a distant drum in her chest. Though her posture remained poised, chin lifted as she took her seat, on the inside she felt practically ill she was so overwhelmed. The hum of conversation, the clink of crystal, the glow of candlelight—it all blurred together like a fevered dream. She felt watched… and worse, she didn’t know by whom.

“Girls, it looks like I have a twin- No… We’re TRIPLETS!” Lorenzo's boisterous voice suddenly pierced the haze of her thoughts, accompanied by a playful nudge “Prince Callum and uh… who is he, Charlotte?” Her gaze followed her stepfather’s gesture, and her jaw immediately tensed. Her heart skipped sharply, a flush of discomfort washing through her as she hesitated a beat before replying.

"...His name is Alexander." She informed Lorenzo, her voice even and sweet despite the faint tremor she pushed down deep inside. "Alexander Deacon. Vice President of the Black Rose Trading Company... ” Her gaze flickered ever so briefly across the table—just enough to acknowledge the man in question, but not long enough to invite his attention. Her hand rose to tuck a curl behind her ear as she added,“And—so I’ve heard—recently appointed as royal advisor.” Her gaze quickly retreated, focusing intently upon the empty plate before her

Before Lorenzo could respond, the herald’s voice rang out once more: “Presenting the crown prince, His Royal Highness Wulfric Danrose!” The sheer power of the announcement led Charlotte to lift her head back up. Her spine instinctively straightened as her eyes were drawn to the Prince. As he passed, she inclined her head and offered him a graceful curtsy from her seat.

“Your Highness,” she greeted, her tone demure yet sincere. Once Wulfric passed and the room resumed its murmur, Charlotte's gaze drifted across the table piled high with delicacies and landed on Olivia.

She smiled gently at first, however, the longer the moment passed, the more melancholy seeped into her expression, her smile saddening. There was a faraway glint behind her gaze, as if her mind had wandered somewhere her heart wasn’t ready to follow.

For a moment, she simply watched her, her hands still in her lap. Then, as if a decision had bloomed quietly inside her, Charlotte’s fingers reached for the clasp at the nape of her neck. The amulet slid into her palm and without a word, she stood from her seat. Her gown swayed as she stepped around the table, stopping behind Olivia’s chair like a whisper. “You look lovely, dear, ” Charlotte murmured, as her hand gently swept aside a lock of Olivia’s hair. “Truly radiant... But…” she tilted her head with a playful note and smiled once more, “Something’s missing.”

She then lifted the amulet around Olivia’s neck. The chain fell with a soft click against her skin as Charlotte fastened the clasp, then she gently adjusted Olivia’s hair once more with a tender touch.

“There,” she whispered, “just perfect.” Her voice softened even further as she leaned in, her words warm against her friend’s ear. “Keep it safe for me please? Just for tonight.” And though the smile she gave was sweet, her eyes held a solemnity that said she wasn't simply passing a necklace, but a prayer.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6pm
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: None
Attire:Dress, Hair

---

Princess Anastasia Danrose sat amidst the splendor, draped in an ethereal gown of champagne and rose gold. A matching gold tiara sat upon her head catching the glow of the chandeliers above, and her hair was pulled into an elegant yet messy updo. Her dress shimmered with the ambiance around her, yet, for all the finery around her, Anastasia was preoccupied with something far more important—her drink.

She twirled the stem of her wine glass between slender fingers, watching the amber liquid swirl with fascination before taking another sip. The warmth of the alcohol unfurled in her chest. As she pondered how many more sips it would take before the room felt even funnier, her free hand drifted absently toward a pastry on her plate. A soft, flaky bite of something sweet met her lips as she chewed.

"Anastasia," suddenly came a warm greeting from behind. Her head whirled around to find her darling brother pulling out his chair beside her.

"Auguste!" she chirped, instantly brightening as she set down her wine glass. Without hesitation, she reached out and gently squeezed his arm. Auguste chuckled and asked, "Enjoying yourself?"

Her expression turned sheepish as she cast a glance at the half-finished pastry and the very refilled glass of wine before her. "Mm, well… let's just say I’m thriving." She giggled, shifting slightly so she could nudge a plate toward him.

"But! I was thinking about you," she declared proudly, gesturing to the carefully arranged selection of meats and roasted vegetables in front of him. "I know how you are about eating healthy stuff, so I already gathered some of the best cuts and greens for you! Everything here is good—no weird sauces or suspiciously buttery things. Only Auguste-approved foods!" She beamed at him, clearly expecting some sort of big-brotherly praise for her effort. "See? I can be responsible." She gave a playful toss of her hair, though the effect was somewhat undercut by the way she nearly knocked over her wine glass in the process. She gasped, staring at the spill as if it had personally betrayed her. "Oops."

Auguste exhaled through his nose, an amused smirk barely hidden beneath his more composed demeanor. He reached for a napkin, clearly prepared to clean up after her, when suddenly—

CLANK.

There was an abrupt weight behind them and the unmistakable sound of silverware against the table. The Grand Vizier of Alidasht swept into the seat on Anastasia’s other side with all the force of a storm. His movements were graceful on paper, but there was a distinct edge to them. The kind of restrained power that did not need to announce itself to be felt. The utensils before him trembled slightly from the force of his arrival, though his face remained composed, save for the unsettling gleam in his eyes.

His expression was controlled, but his aura was unmistakable—he had come from something unpleasant, something that had stirred his temper, but he had emerged victorious. The flicker of self-satisfaction curled at the corners of his mouth, though it did little to soften those eyes.

Then, in a calculated shift, he smiled. Not quite forced, yet not entirely natural, like a mask carefully placed back into position.

"Your Highnesses," he greeted smoothly, inclining his head toward both Anastasia and Auguste. Yet,his gaze did not settle on them for long.

Instead, his eyes flickered, subtly, seemingly seeking something—or someone—else. It was brief, a mere flicker before he returned his attention forward, but it was there.

Anastasia, still mildly distracted by her wine mishap, barely noticed. She brightened at his presence, oblivious to the undercurrents in his demeanor. "Oh! Grand Vizier, you’re just in time!" she chirped, brushing away the minor catastrophe of her spilled drink as she gestured toward the plate. "I was just telling Auguste how I saved him from the horrors of carbs!"

"Look! All healthy, all Auguste-approved!" She lifted her goblet once more, nearly tipping it over again. She caught it at the last second with a triumphant little giggle.

Hafiz’s fingers traced the rim of his goblet. He did not comment immediately, instead taking a long sip. Then, with a slow exhale, he spoke.

"Ah, a thoughtful gesture, indeed." His fingers tapped lightly against the stem of his goblet as he regarded Anastasia with something unreadable behind his gaze.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Phia

Phia ✦ 24 ✦ Female ✦ Half-Elf ✦ Druidic Mystic

Theme Song: Can't Catch Me Now

	Height: 5'4" Weight: 120 lbs Build: Pear-shaped body, lean and agile Hair Color: Magenta Hair Length Thigh-length Eye Color: Amber Skin Tone: Light with sun-kissed undertones Distinguishing Features: ✦ Freckles ✦ Scars on her back and arms from her childhood injuries ✦ Smells faintly of wildflowers and earth ✦ Wears an ancient amulet with an unknown crest Clothing Style: Handmade garments—stitched from furs, feathers, and natural fabrics. She collects trinkets to adorn her outfits. Usually barefoot or in light leather boots. She loves to put lots of accessories into her head pieces including antlers, flowers, and jewels. Everything she wears has an overage of accessories.

Likes: ✦ The flora and fauna (including bugs!) ✦ Climbing and swinging through trees ✦ Honey ✦ Hoarding trinkets (especially shiny ones) ✦ Making her own clothing items ✦ Collecting bones, flowers, rocks, anything SHINY ✦ Hugs (she holds them for an awkward amount of time) Dislikes: ✦ Following orders ✦ When people disrespect nature, the natural order and the dead ✦ Being in tight spaces and feeling confined ✦ Getting hangry ✦ People touching her trinkets without asking ✦ Menzai’s life being in danger ✦ Cruelty; seeing other people and animals hurt ✦ Wearing too many clothes		Habits/Quirks: ✦ Finding something to swing or hang on mid-conversation ✦ Flowers sometimes grow in grass behind her steps ✦ Staring at pretty objects and people for awkward amounts of time ✦ Paying people in shiny rocks instead of real money ✦ Collects bones, feathers, and shiny things as “gifts” for her friends Dreams/Motivations: ✦ To find out where she came from and what her father meant by her “destiny” ✦ To experience all the wonders of Khorvaire firsthand ✦ To keep Menzai safe (even though he's supposed to protect her)

Sexuality:Demisexual
Willingness to make friends (1-5): 5
Willingness toward romance (1-5): 3

Engaging With Others ✦ Extroversion (1-5): 5 ✦ Kindness (1-5): 5 ✦ Chattiness (1-5): 3 ✦ Trustfulness (1-5): 5 ✦ Sense of Humor (1-5): 5 ✦ Loyalty (1-5): 5 ✦ Selflessness (1-5): 4 ✦ Flirtatiousness (1-5): 2 ✦ Arrogance (1-5): 2		Handling Conflict and Decisions ✦ Patience (1-5): 2 ✦ Temperance (1-5): 3 ✦ Forgiveness (1-5): 1 ✦ Courage (1-5): 5 ✦ Stubbornness (1-5): 5 ✦ Pacifism (1-5): 2 ✦ Impulsiveness (1-5): 5 ✦ Creativity (1-5): 5 ✦ Mercy (1-5): 5 ✦ Charisma (1-5): 3

Place of Origin: Unknown (somewhere in Khorvaire), but she lived much of her life with a shifter tribe in Xen'drik

Current Occupation: Traveler

Living Family Members: Unknown

Companions on the Airship: Menzai

Why are you traveling to Khorvaire? To uncover her origins and fulfill her unknown destiny.

Non-Combative Skills:
✦ Climbing
✦ Foraging & Survival
✦ Herbalism
✦ Mediocre Sewing

History

Phia was never meant to grow up in the wilds.

She was born far from the shifter tribe she grew up with, but fate and blood led her there. One night, a wounded man stumbled into the heart of the shifter village, carrying a small child in his arms. He was bloody, barely standing, but his grip on the girl never faltered. The elders of the tribe stepped forward warily as the man fell to his knees before them and spoke to them for a brief time.
Through ragged breaths, he uttered his last words: “She must be protected. When she is ready, her destiny… lies in Khorvaire.”
The tribe rushed to aid him, but it was too late. He succumbed to his wounds, leaving behind only his child and the mysterious amulet she wore. His words became sacred law among the tribe. They took the child in without hesitation, vowing to protect and prepare her until the day she was ready to leave.
They were known as the Oruna Tribe, composed entirely of shifters who lived according to their ancient traditions. Following widespread discrimination after the war, they retreated into isolation, settling deep within untamed wilds where few outsiders dared venture. They lived in harmony with nature, believing in the spirits of the forest, sky, and ancestors.

Phia was raised as one of them—but she was always different. While the other children learned to master their shifting forms, she had no beast to call her own. But she learned other things—how to move silently through the trees, how to read the wind, how to understand the way of predators and prey. But no matter how much she belonged, Phia always knew she was meant to leave.

As she grew older, the tribe elders made a decision. If Phia was to leave one day, she would need a protector, as she was young and inexperienced. That was when they assigned her Menzai.
Menzai was one of the most disciplined warriors in the tribe—a shifter who had completely mastered his animal instincts. He had once lost someone dear to him, and through that pain, he had learned to control himself in ways few others could.
The elders believed he was the only one who could both protect and guide her.

Menzai took his duty seriously, but Phia saw him as a friend before a guardian. They trained together, hunted together, and watched over each other.
When Phia came of age, the tribe did not try to stop her from leaving. They knew this moment had been coming.
They gathered around her in a parting ceremony, placing their hands on her shoulders, her arms, her back, whispering blessings for protection and wisdom.
The elders gave her one final message: “Your ancestors will guide you. Your past will find you.”
With Menzai at her side, Phia stepped beyond the only home she had ever known. She had no idea what waited for her in Khorvaire, only that she had been prepared for this moment her entire life.

Class Concept / Role::
Druidic Mystic

Signature Abilities::
✦ Beastial Aspect - Temporarily adopt traits (keen senses, claws, agility) of a chosen animal.
✦ Wild Communion - Extend your natural bond with animals, allowing detailed communication, deepening
your connection, gleaning secrets, warnings, or rallying creatures to assist in critical moments.
✦"Cornered Animal" (Custom) - When Phia is severely wounded, surrounded, or pushed into a last stand,
something inside her snaps—not into mindless rage, but into a feral, instinct-driven frenzy. Her movements become erratic yet purposeful, her
strikes wild yet devastating, and her eyes burn with the unrelenting will to survive. She fights like a wounded predator: faster, stronger,
and utterly relentless. Pain is ignored, fear is nonexistent, and hesitation is a foreign concept.

Major Weaknesses (3)::
✦ Primal Instincts Over Logic – Phia acts first, thinks later. If something feels right, she does it,
even if it's a terrible idea.
✦ Glass Claws – Phia is fragile and light and also refuses to wear armor.
If she fails to evade, she takes on a full hit.
✦ Beast’s Burden - Phia’s connection to animals runs deep—too deep. If an animal near her is wounded or suffering,
she is compelled to help, even if it puts her in danger.

Racial Trait::
“Once per day, they can convince others they belong somewhere they technically shouldn’t or gain trust faster than expected.”

Boons & Banes:

Boons:
✦ Oruna Tribe Martial Arts - Phia moves with the fluidity of a predator, using instinctual combat techniques.
She is adept at dodging attacks, using her surroundings to her advantage, and striking fast before retreating into the shadows.
✦ Tarzan Mobility - Climbing, swinging, and moving through dense terrain is second nature to Phia.
She can scale trees, leap between branches, and navigate the wilderness with ease, making it difficult for enemies to catch her in open terrain.

Bane:
✦ Technologically Inept - Phia grew up in an isolated tribal setting and has no understanding of advanced technology,
magical machinery, or complex devices. She struggles with airships, warforged, arcane locks, and other forms of "modern" civilization, often resorting to instinctual solutions (which usually involve breaking things).

Combat Equipment and Gear::
✦ Druidic Staff - A handcrafted druidic staff made of twisted wood, adorned with embedded gemstones, woven flowers, and vines.
The staff serves as both a melee weapon and a focus for her magic. When she fights, the flowers bloom or wilt depending on her emotions.
The lower end is sharpened to a lethal, spear-like point, its tip made of ironwood. This edge can stab through soft armor, pierce flesh, and be used for precise thrusting strikes.
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger - Strapped to her thigh for quick access.
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts - Bone/Wood darts coated with a mild paralytic toxin extracted from jungle flora, stored in a small pouch,
with a handmade straw blowgun to fire them silently.
✦ Her amulet ???

Full Equipment List

✦ Druidic Staff
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts
✦ Her amulet
✦ Satchel
✦ Flint & dried tinder moss
✦ Waterskin
✦ Dried Medicinal Herbs
✦ Bag of pretty trinkets, marbles and rocks
✦ Sharpening river stone
✦ Oruna tribal moon bracelet