rabidbacon

Regalia

@Mirandae I was actually considering that the character starts out in prison (caught doing crime or doing time for a boss) and gets blessed during a nasty fight, which then allows them to break out and escape. Would this escape "pardon" them in society's eyes, in a similar way that surviving a witch trial or winning a trial by combat makes one innocent?

Regalia

All right, shifting my focus onto Leviathan. My character concept would be someone working in "sanitation" read: some kind of mob undertaker who leaves people to sleep with the fishes.

Is that still in line with the RP vibe? Just want to make sure before I proceed.

Regalia

Oops, just saw now that @Theyra called dibs. May I know who how many Dominants are left / what you would like to know if a player wants to propose a Dominant?

An aside - I realized why the vibe was somewhat familiar. I applied to Bleak Centauri years ago (made a character for Quetzlcoatl), which turns out to be yours as well.

Regalia

@Mirandae I've been eyeing Valefor, if there are no other takers yet. My question would be how its powers can be expressed without essentially going all the way to what appears to be a nuclear strike?

My character concept for it would be some rich person who likes antiques a little too much and inadvertently buys remnants of Valefor's temple artifacts... or something along those lines. Lmk if that's in line with the vibe!

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

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Cullen was both relieved and alarmed to hear that even some of those among the ranks felt the same way he did about the Inquisitor's decisions. As he watched the elf leave, he strove to reassure himself with the idea of Ophelia being so unpredictably, irrationally charitable that the enemy is kept constantly on their toes, unable to guess the Inquisition's next move. Unfortunately, it also kept him and the rest of the advisors on their toes, ready to clean up any messes that good intentions caused. Now, this unplanned evening excursion was one of these efforts. The Commander finally allowed himself to lean against the wall, shaking his head at how he'd managed to create more tasks for himself. It had to be seen, though, by none other than himself. Though Templar and Templar recruits were no longer bound by their previous oaths, Cullen knew all too well that it took more than that to break free from such clean lines.

Give all that he'd seen and lived through, he couldn't help but feel a spark of anger and disappointment at the mages who lowered themselves into mutiny. Hadn't the Inquisition given them a safe place to hide while the world tears itself apart outside? With each piece of armor he removed, he did not feel the burden decrease. Instead, the combined weight of worry and resentment ate at him, even while he strove to stem the flow of thoughts in his mind. Only a prayer could quell the darkness in his heart, and he mouthed off to the Maker all the way, whispering each word of the Chant as if it were a curse upon his own sins, as he walked to meet Hyacinth at the courtyard.

Eventually, he'd reached the courtyard, the shadows of night transforming its simple tranquility into a garden of secrets and intrigue. Cullen made sure the hood upon his head was high enough to conceal his features. His eyes flitted about, waiting for the crowd to gather, though he hoped against hope that there would be none, and that Hyacinth would be mistaken. But Leliana's spies were very rarely wrong, in the end.

Considering his options, the Commander decided to stand at a shadowy corner where he supposed he would be able to hear most of the whispers, though it would also cut off his best chances of escape. All too well, he was reminded of how mages didn't need anything but their intentions and a focused mind to deal death to those who stood against their magic. Right now, all he had was a dagger, with his longsword being far too large to be hidden effectively under his disguise.

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It was a wondrous fortress, far beyond anything Alba had ever seen before. Her mouth opened in excitement, ears already ringing with the sound of imagined coin. There had to be chestfuls of them in such a place! Little matter that their entryway into riches would be through the dungeons. Alba determined that she and her crew would get their share. After all, it seemed that they had quieted their grumbling, now that they began to see why Alba had been keen on getting caught.

"Forgive my presumptions, Inquisitor. Of course, yes, you are doing very well indeed," said the pirate, her smile darkened by greed. "I do look forward to our next meeting." The rumors of the Inquisition being an untrained and impoverished force was a pack of lies and intentional misinformation, she realized.

"Whatever story I tell, you can be certain of one thing - I am keen on writing myself into yours," continued Alba, raising her bound hands and making a funny little gesture with the fingers she could move, as if she were holding a quill and scribbling in the air. Then, she stopped, and stepped closer towards Ophelia, drawn back only by those who maintained the Inquisitor's security. "And be forewarned: I tend to write in blood, Inquisitor."

The threat warranted a rough transfer to the cells, with each one of them thrown in with disgust and outrage, the crimes of pirates known among many. Alba herself nursed a few bruises she had sustained, though she seemed not at all disturbed by the rats nor the smells. No, what worried her the most was the stripping of her sword. It was an ornate piece, easily worth a small fortune on account of its exquisite craftsmanship. So she stewed in the cell, awaiting the one who would no doubt torture her.

Shadows of the Forgotten Realm

Bane watched the newcomers with bleary eyes. There was nothing more they could take from him aside from his life; there was no village near that would accept his cursed armor for trade, either. It was safe, here, in the bleakest way. Somehow, that filled the guard with comfort, enough to share of himself, first. Not all of himself, but just enough.

"I was stolen from," said Bane. He stared at the spice offered and decided to go without, feeling unworthy of such finery. Then, his eyes met the young scholar's gaze, meaningful in its sternness. She ought to keep her valuables and her primness to herself, unless she was certain she was among friends. There were those who would cut her down for less. Unable to stop the old habits of a nobleman's guard, he continued, still keeping his focus on her. "Ma'am... you must be cautious. Generosity does not always bode well." He refrained from the finer details on his thief, however. It was a bawdy tale, though the marks on his neck left an unspoken explanation. Unsolicited advice given, he then continued with some reluctance, particularly as he felt the hooded figure's eyes on him. Bane felt his ears burn with shame from beneath his helm as he realized how relieved he was to be able to hide his own true nature.

"I am nobody," said the man, his voice as worn as his greaves. "But you may call me Bane." While Cora might have had to explain her skills and knowledge to a potentially ignorant and illiterate crowd, the guard's armor and arms spoke for him. "Mercenary for hire, on most days. Tonight, just a vagrant, sharing a kind stranger's fire."

His head turned to watch the warrior opposite him, her features and her headdress betraying experience and wisdom with both the fight and the wilds. There was a peace about her that he envied, one that he chased after, but could never find. The closest he could get was the bottom of the bottle, but it never lasted, and it always led him to trouble. Would tonight be different?

"I hail from Riffolk. But like many others... it is long gone, now."

To this end, no further details were offered, and once more, the guard's face returned to its stolid, thoughtful state.

Pride and Prejudice [ rabidbacon and EweDoughNo ]

Take your time! And belated happy birthday 🥳

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

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His hand was still outstretched, holding out the note of extra rations. Patience drawing thin, he maneuvered past his desk, taking a few long strides to place the paper in the woman's hand. Armor shook and clanked with each step he took, and as he drew close, she would smell the unmistakable scent of acrid herbs and crushed elderflower. The paper crumpled as he closed her hand around it firmly, as if expecting her to throw it back.

"If you won't take it, give Fisher your share," he explained, finally letting go. "Don't deny him his relief. It should get him back to the field sooner." Cullen then returned to his place behind the mountains of paper, resuming his work as he spoke. When she mentioned the gathering, however, his hands stopped, and he studied her with worried frown. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if reshaping his words repeatedly, the thoughts half-formed. Eventually, he found the right ones, and he spoke with a sudden speed, though his voice was now hushed. "Is this true? But... very well. It is best that I see this with my own eyes."

The Commander felt uneasy at her mention of his piety; was it pious to feel such fear and darkness in his heart when the mages were mentioned acting thus? He had told himself that he would do what was right, but given this, what would be right, if she were telling the truth? He eyed her smirk with some jealousy. Cullen had never been able to care less about anything, least of all, those in his care.

"I will make the time. Make certain that they will not notice my presence," he replied, more for his own conviction than her benefit. With a nod, he levelled with her gaze, conveying a small gesture of trust. "Dismissed, Agent Hyacinth. And let Leliana know of this. I... do not want her to think I am going back on my word. I... believe in the sacrifice of the Templars... but I also sympathize with the plight of the mages. We are all here to do what is right."

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Alba looked on the armored man with pity. All the metal he wore and carried was already burdensome; the pack he lugged around must have felt like an anchor. Her interest was piqued when the poison was mentioned, not expecting the Inquisitor to resort to such dastardly tactics. All in all, Ophelia Trevelyan appeared to be a series of contradictions, packaged in a neat, leathered bundle of righteousness and pomp. For who else but a high-born Inquisitor could decide to take in a pack of pirates, magnanimously offer to watch their ship, and expect compliance as she explained their detention with detached cordiality, as if she were inviting them all to a little festa complete with wine and dancing? The crew howled and groaned all the way, some casting mutinous glances at their captain as they were all forced to follow the Inquisitor like placid little sheep. Despite it all, Alba merely smiled, reflecting Ophelia's cordial manner with an equally poised amusement.

"I see, so this is what passes for hospitality in your lands," said the pirate, with a shrug. "Your people are as cold as the snow. In my homeland, we would ply the prisoners with drink first, at least, before we bring out the ropes. The difference between honey and vinegar, as it has been said." There was no effort made to look innocent, and given Alba's nonchalance, it was evident that this was not the first time she had been placed in this position. "But thank you, Inquisitor, for offering to guard my ship. She is a beauty, is she not?" If Ophelia cared to look at the pirate, she would see a pair of eerie eyes staring back at her with a calculating gaze. "I had heard that the Inquisition has grown in power. But true power cannot be had without traversing the seas."

But quick as the wind, Alba shifted the topic, returning to the matter at hand.

"At any rate, who is this Cassandra? I hope she sees that I mean all the best, too," continued the pirate. "But truly, to waste your time on such a simple crime... and on innocent passers-by... I will have to give an honest account." Her lips lifted, turning the cordial smile into a savage grin. The promise of trouble glinted in her teeth. "Surely, the Inquisitor has more important things to do. I would hate to keep you."

It Came From the Sky

Coins received without much argument, Eldwic gave the man a respectful bow of thanks, before running Evalynn's way. He never bothered to argue with her father, as while he was a hard man, he paid for labor fairly, owing to him knowing its value and hardship well. With sack of rats slung over his shoulder and Larder by his side, he gave his friend a nod and a smile. Nothing like coin to put one in a good mood, after all.

"You look like you're in a hurry," he called out, grinning at her. The grin eventually dimmed, however, as he noticed the stormy look on her face. Larder seemed to smell the sadness on her, too, and she reared up on her legs, pawing at the girl. "I'm not looking to go home earlier than I have to. Father wants me to help him with the carcasses we just received. Fresh kill is one thing, but those things given him... they're foul! I told him so... but he never listens to me. So, take your time."

It was a half-lie; Eldwic found the carcasses fascinating. There was something about bodies and how they worked that captivated the lad, but he couldn't say such things out loud. Not if he didn't want to be drowned, or tried before a group of old, grizzled men who jumped at any chance to see someone hang. No, the lie was for Evalynn's benefit. Perhaps, she hoped for an ear to listen to her, or even just space to breathe.

"If you would like, I could even show you. My father's also preparing the meat we were meant to send your way - he hasn't finished carving it up, so an hour or two should pass before everything is ready." He eyed the tall man in the distance, then turned his attentions back to Evie. "I suppose we should tell him first? In... case he comes running and looking for you again. I guess he worries about you." Eldwic kicked a pebble and laughed, though the sound was mirthless. "That's nice, isn't it?"

He wanted to tell her how lucky she was - once, he'd broken an arm and gotten stuck out in the woods, nearly perishing on account of exposure and starvation. Only Evie had thought to look for him, and only she knew where he'd be, up in the trees, watching the birds.

"Oh! And we'll have to stop halfway along the road, too. I need to pick a fresh place to bury the rats. Too many in one spot brings in the wolves. Then farmer Dunstan will have my hide, when one of his sheep get their insides out again."

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

you said you had playlists, right? were there any you wanted to send me for Alba? i’d love to get a good feel for her character, if you have anything specific!

@sweetestsins

As she's a new character, I haven't quite made one yet, but you'll definitely get one your way soon.
Send me Ophelia's! And feel free to send me more Hyacinth and/or Cullen stuff.