Fantasy Auraelion: Crossing Horizons

[Prizzy Kriyze]

They say this is the last cycle. If they don't succeed in The Ethereal Quest this time, that's the end of our world. I truly hope their zeal is enough to finally bridge the gap. - Lord General Esteban Goldbone

Long ago there was a world called Auraelion. Similar, but much larger than the world that the species of today live on. A planet created at the beginning of time, beautiful and perfect for nurturing life. It was the cradle of every species, and every God that rose to power in those days are the ones that we today call the Ancients. That a planet so beautiful and perfect could stoop into chaos and madness is surprising, but that Auraelion now is split into Thylia and Septim is the ultimate proof that it did happen.

- Prof. Dirk Langley, First Lesson of Ancient Lore​

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

-DO NOT POST UNTIL THE RP BEGINS-

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[Prizzy Kriyze]

The City of Eisenheim


The morning of departure has come upon us, and the Children of Destiny along with their noble and brave servants stand ready to start the Ethereal Quest one last time. Every man, woman, and child are filling the streets. Spirits are at an all-time high, and a grand event paired with a parade is being carried out through the main street. At the centre of the castle the human King, Erasmus Eisenhorn, stands and looks out over his happy kingdom. At his side is Sir Ta'tael, a powerful and proud Archlord of the Ibel'Tan race. The evening sun is bathing the beautiful empire in it's first orange light.


If there had ever been more faith in the success of the quest, nobody around was old enough to recall it. The smell of alcohol and good food fills the air, and even manages to seep it's way into the small stone hall where the Children were to prepare for their long journey. From here on, it was up to them how the fate of Auraelion would turn out. Would they be rewarded with glory for their selfless endeavour, or would death turn out to be their only solace?

. . . . .


(Optional Read)
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"Ah, don't you feel the magic in the air this morn Ta'tael? And I'm not talking about that flashy stuff you swing around." The rustling of armour echoed throughout the room as Ta'tael folded his arms and leaned against the side of the opening leading out to the balcony. "Certainly, your majesty." Distant cheers resounded throughout the city and were heard all the way up inside the spire where they conversed. "They may not be as numerous as the groups my father and those before him catered, but that they were still judged as enough only shows how promising they are, does it not?"


King Eisenhorn's wide smile couldn't be interpreted as anything but honest. The departure was the grandest event any King could hope for. Ta'tael's indifferent gaze didn't even dent his ambitious aura, which was shared by every servant that stood around the room, ready to bow to any request from their great leader. "Certainly, your majes-"


A loud explosion shook the room, and Erasmus dove to cover as his exquisite pillows were sent in a tornado around the room. Ta'tael's gaze turned stern, and with a wave of his hand he stopped all the miscellaneous items in their tracks. They all fell to the floor, and revealed the figure at the center of the room. A character clad in a large black coat looked as if he was extremely uncomfortable at the center of the singe-mark pattern on the floor. "Eradicate the intruder!" Erasmus shouted from behind a flipped-over table. Ta'tael smiled. "Definitely, your majesty."


Faster than could be perceived by anyone in the room, Ta'tael shot across the room and raised his blade... Another bright light exploded out of nothingness, but this time no excess force caused the room to violently redecorate. A hand had stopped Ta'tael's sword, seemingly unbothered by it's impossibly sharp edge. A collective gasp was heard from everyone gathered in the room, even Ta'tael himself, as out of the light a world-famous figure stepped. The knight immediately fell to one knee before the Third Elven Goddess of The Circle, Rylia Foster.


Her unearthly beauty drew the eyes of men and women alike, all but the cloaked figure who still felt very out of place. "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord Angel-" Ta'tael immediately began. The desperation in his voice was obvious, but Rylia calmly replied "Do not fret, child. You are forgiven." Just like her appearance, her voice was heavenly and filled everyone with a sense of serenity. She rested one of her hands calmingly on the knight's shoulder, and then looked up to meet the eyes of the King who'd poked his head out over the edge of the table. "Eisenhorn, your majesty, would you come out and join me?" She said in her disarming way.


The King scrambled to his feet and came before the Goddess. He bowed deeply, and spoke in his most venerating tone. "To what do we owe the pleasure of laying our eyes upon The Grand Angel, Rylia of the Summer?" She smiled once more, and replied "This child here," Her hand waved towards the cloaked figure "His name is Virgil Argyris, he must accompany the Children of Destiny on their journey." Erasmus blinked a couple times, and looked between the two. "A boy sent by the Gods..?"


"Wait a moment, that boy survived those kind of energies in that teleportation just now. He is far more powerful than what the Cycle allows for!" The King's personal advisor and Archmage, Archibald Tyrrell appeared from the back of the room. "If we bring him along the entire spell will be null!" Archibald was known as a stern, unfearing man, but in the company of someone like the Goddess of Summer even his voice trembled slightly. The King quickly snapped out of it, and looked to his advisor. "Archibald is right, we can't allow for someone like him to be part of the journey."


The everlasting smile upon Rylia's face remained. "Do not worry, child. His existence will not disturb the balance, we've made sure of that." Erasmus was clearly split. Should he listen to his loyal servants or one of the Gods? "Ah... that's what you mean..." Ta'tael suddenly whispered. His eyes pierced the cloaked figure, and Rylia lowered her head to look at him once more. "I believe we should trust the Goddess, your majesty."


"Huh?" The King and his advisor let out. "I won't doubt your judgment Ta'tael, but what made you change your mind?" Archibald spoke. "I'll explain at some other time, the Children will leave soon." The King seemed to contemplate it for a moment, then let out a defeated sigh. "I suppose we will then, but if anything goes wrong it's on you, Ta'tael." Rylia let go of the knight's shoulder, then made a short motion with her hand. The various items that had been strewn across the room disappeared in a flash, and reappeared where they previously had been placed. "I'm glad you understand, your majesty. I will trust you with the care of the boy, then."


With a final glance at everyone in the room, the Goddess wandered to Virgil's side and grabbed him with both her arms. "Good luck..." She whispered, then disappeared in another portal of warm light. The room was quiet, and Virgil stood as uncomfortably as he previously had.


Ten minutes later he'd been sent away to join with the Children, and Archibald, Ta'tael and Erasmus were alone in the hall. "Hopefully they'll be able to find the missing Child or Children of Destiny out there. Otherwise the Journey will be even more perilous." Erasmus started, but was cut of by his advisor. "Nevermind that!" He said. "What did she tell you, Ta'tael?" The Knight's gaze was fixated on the city outside. "She told me nothing, but I understand you couldn't have felt it." Archbald hissed "What's that supposed to mean?!" A low chuckle was heard from the knight. "Nothing at all." He then paused. A number of small birds gathered on the edge of the balcony and played in a cup of water someone had left behind. "The boy wasn't quite real. The God's have a plan of some kind, and he plays a part in it. We just have to put our faith in those beyond our understanding."

. . . . .


(End of optional Read)
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Virgil Argyris

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Servants lead him through winding corridors and confusing rooms. The castle of Eisenheim was a beautiful place, but anyone who hadn't been raised here from birth would have a difficult time traversing the confusing layout. It had been built over centuries by adding on to the last design, and so a lot of it ended up having twisting corridors where none were intended, and plenty of gardens were spread out in-between new and old buildings. Near the front of the castle a long staircase brought him down to a long hall where the sun beamed in through a few small openings near the ceiling.


This was where the Children were going to prepare.


"They are all to arrive here shortly, young sir." The servant said and indicated the room with his arm. "All of their gear has been stored within the chests along the wall, and once they're finished that large door over there will be opened. You'll walk down the main street for all the people to see you off on your journey, and then you'll visit the mage's guild on the edge of town. They've prepared a ritual to teleport you all to the outskirts of Talabec, where it's rumored the first part of the Ascension talisman should be. I assume you know the rest yourself."


Virgil's curious eyes peered over the edge of his cloak as the man spoke. The little room was surprisingly beautiful, the ceiling had been painted by some masterful artist to display the entire cityscape, and every wall had decorative patterns carved into them. "You do know the Children and their servants, right?" The seneschal asked as Virgil started pacing into the room. "... No." He slowly responded. "Oh, well let's see.."


"There's the gracious Child of Destiny Soléy Dal'Avin. She's a powerful ice-sorcerer and a proud member of the Wardancer race. Nice girl, she's bound to hold the group together well. Then we have the playful but brutish Lyria Duscellis, of the reknown Duscellis family. She's a half-elf, believe it or not, but she's amazingly talented at the blade and has a knack for illusions. The third Child of Destiny was never found, but we're hoping that perhaps you'll come across them on your journey..."


Virgil was walking along the walls, tracing the patterns with his fingers and looking at the chests where the supposed members were keeping their equipment. Whether or not he was listening was uncertain, but the seneschal fearlessly continued.


"Accompanying those two, we have the Orc Zyraxes, Master Hunter of the Agathyrsi Clan. Smart and methodical, he can oversee the group with great care. Laindessiel is an elf a few centuries of age, with the brains to cure nearly any ailment. She reknown throughout the Eisenheim empire, and without her in your group, you'd be certain to face hardship upon hardship without any time to rest."


Virgil stopped and looked to the seneschal. "Small group." He nodded. "Yet still they've been approved. They ought to be a very impressive bunch." Virgil continued to trace the walls. "Well, I ought to leave. I have other things to tend to. You just wait here until the others come around." And with that, the servant disappeared back up into the castle. Virgil stood quietly at the center of the room.

The roleplay has now started!

~Time to move all your characters to the opening hall~

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Spoiler

@Elvengarda @Ravel @Aldur Forgehammer​

 

[Sunbather]

Insect-like is a very broad term, yet it seemed oddly accurate, regardless of what kind of squishy bug one's mind could come up with. The slowly arriving menace of a spider sensing the way ahead to its prey, the jerky chaos most flies move with, or the oddly remorseless, almost catatonic heaps a moth may showcase if it's disrupted during lunchtime somewhere deeply buried in the closet of a king. They ALL kind of fit at one point or another. Right now, a mixture of a yet unknown but graceful occean dweller who danced with the waves' motions, and a head-tilted, alarmed praying mantis seemed to be the most accurate attributes one could make out in the fragile-looking figure's style of movement. Though neither illuminated nor humming, her presence seemed to glow, as if a soothing pulse decided to radiate in calmingly consistent intervals, while her mere appearance triggered the illusion of wooden fanfare-replacements sounding somewhere, far away in the distant woods, but noticably for her and for her only.


Fittingly, her movements were that of nobility, and as such, an unfamilar bystander could easily mistake her prideful steps for that of a ruler, a queen perhaps or at the very least a relative of the royal family, though at least in terms of official recognition Soléy was in no way related to the monarchic tree. She did however think equally highly if not more of her heritage, and it showed in her soft yet oddly content expression, the expression someone who knows they are entitled and willing to take that status by the scalp and force it to put in the work carries. The way her (so far) invisible jowls seemed to be a tad bit bloated by a patronizingly supportive smile, the way her relatively small head was tilted upwards ever so slightly. The only thing one may perceive as a sign of clear distance to the proper and prim royality of the fortress she moved in was the distinctly embracive trait of her body's language, the way it moved, almost flowing with each step. A mixture of romantic allure, ballet-like elegance and maternal purity swirled throughout her every cell, making it hard to not look for more than a mere second, and while fitting for a queen, suggested something entirely different, though much less defined by any moniker existent in today's tongues.


Before the delicate-bodied girl entered her premise, the meet-up location, her raised head hovered turned over the wall, so she could scour through the masses that had come to cheer and maybe gawk. A mute laugh escaped her thin mouth, before a force-like motion waved through her body again and she quickly and bluntly let herself into the room. Hall was more like it actually, with the spacey interior and the simple yet suitable inner-architecture. It didn't take long in the comperatively bare accommodation to spot the thin boy. Sticking out like a screwed up nail in an intricately welded decoration, Soléy scanned him up and down faster than she could consciously decide to do so, and came to the realization that he simply looked a little sickly, if not flat-out starved and unhealthily melanin-deprived. It didn't exactly seem like an issue, however, which made the wardancer feel a little confused, though less at the indiviuals' health rather than her unusually indecisive gut feeling. "Hello." she said, commandingly brief, almost harsh, yet sonically pleasing. The kind of greeting that stroked one's cheek with a gentle touch while clearly demaning a lengthier, defensive ntroduction of the appointed, as if the person in question was on trial or owed the hello their life's story. "Are you sure you're right here? In this area, I mean?" Soléy's voice scraped the barrel filled with arrogance and dismissive attitude just barely, still different enough that it sounded sincerely concerned, a trait wardancers seemed to inherit with or without consent.

 

[Aldur]

The Castle.


To say the spirits were high would be an understatement. The streets were filled to the brim with people and great excitement for the Journey to come. Such an event happens seldom and perhaps with good reason. They were... dangerous and unpredictable. Quite like hunting blindfolded he remembered. One needed to be resourceful and perhaps a little mad to undergo such actions. Well-placed steps signalled the approach of the large figure, evidently taller than a common man. The orc wore a cloak of earthy colours. It was rough and somewhat dirty, but he didn't seem to mind. The hood had been resting on his shoulders and on his back, exposing his brutish appearance. His face seemed tense and immovable, set to a stern expression. It seemed as if he barely even blinked. Zyraxes came to a full stop not too far from the two figures in the room.


His facial muscles relaxed. Eyes inspecting the unfamiliar face, taking in the stranger's features. He turned his gaze towards the Wardancer. "Greetings, Graceful One." The tone was warm, but his voice rugged and the presence of his oversized lower canines more than obvious. The dance itself was drawing his attention with all its alluring movement. But there, he looked at the newcomer and asked who he was. "Is he a friend of yours? Or perhaps a friend of a friend's?" Zyraxes brought his right hand to his jaw and cracked the joints in his neck. The crackle resounded in the room and it wasn't long until he repeated the act, turning his head in the opposite direction. After he was done Zyraxes shook his head sideways and smiled faintly to himself. The tusks protruding from his mandible became all the more apparent as he did.

 

[JayfeatherRaven]

Sunlight filtered through the emerald leaves, causing the cascade of rainbow hair to shimmer. No, rainbow wasn't the right word to describe the petite girl's hair. Every strand was a thousand hues of colour, complete with every shade in between. It cast multicoloured shadows on the the soft grass below, while the girl's kaleidoscopic eyes took in the beautiful scene before her. She was clad in a plain white cotton dress, the simplicity of it only enhancing the detailed weavings. Every thread and every twine was intricately spun, creating the perfect piece of fabric that now hugged the girl's skin, fitting her curves snugly. This flawless clothing, as light as air, could only be made by one species known-the Wind Nymphs.


Yet the girl moved with the grace of an Earth Nymph; her voice flowing and rushing like a Water Nymph; her eyes glowing with the same intensity of a Fire Nymph. You are all of them, yet neither of them. Amitola had always known she was special, from the day she'd found the strange mark spread across her lower back. Her parents had told her again and again how she was the only nymph who was all of the elements, but she never understood how normal nymphs had only one. It would be like...like flames without heat, or a stream without sound. How could they bear to live without the wind whispering by and the land pulsing beneath their feet? It was unthinkable.


She glanced up to see a small brown sparrow perched on a tree limb, pecking at the smooth red berries dangling among the leaves. Her ever-changing eyes lit up with surprise and delight. Perfect! She thought and hurried over. Closing her eyes, she called on the gentle breeze around her and willed it to do her bidding. Slowly, a gust of wind swirled below her, lifting up her dress. With a gasp, her now storm-grey eyes snapped open. It was working. She levitated unsteadily and reached for the inviting berries with one hand; the other pointed downwards as if to direct the miniature whirlwind that was growing bigger every second. Her small frame trembled with the effort and with one last desperate grab, she caught the branch and hauled herself up onto the tree.


The wind dissipated immediately, glad to be free of Amitola's control. Her irises faded to their original shifting luminescence and her lips curved into a satisfied smile. Well, that went well. She congratulated herself as she plucked a hard-earned fruit from its stem and popped it into her mouth, savouring the crisp taste. Her legs swung merrily and she admired the view on the treetops. The second berry was on its way to her mouth when suddenly she froze, the crimson fruit falling from her fingers, her legs stopping in mid-swing.


Not far from her spot, hidden in the lush grass was a cobble-stoned path. A path that called to her. A path that led...to more. More than she'd ever known. Follow me. It said to her. As if in a trance, she slid down the tree trunk, ignoring the hem of her dress which had caught on a stray branch. Follow me. The path echoed, louder this time. The sound of her dress ripping was enough to make her pause, but not for long. I have to go. Someplace in her heart she yearned to step on the path and let it lead her. And as soon as her foot struck the smooth stones, she knew where she had to go.

 

[InsanEleven]

Ina looked at a butterfly by the side of the road, closed wings and clearly disturbed by the drizzle. It was small, pale and one wouldn't really care for such a simple thing normally. Was he normal though? Not in any sense of the word he could come up with... and he had researched quite the amount of words. Most would say his wondrous gaze showed the kind of curiosity that got the fools killed and the intelligent outcast. Perhaps that was why he was sitting here in the rain trying to make a drawing of a common butterfly in his journal.


He had reached Talabec a little while ago now, precisely on time if his silver pocket watch was correct. His true goals weren't merely drawing pretty pictures, instead he had taken it upon him to do research on what these children of destiny were. It was certainly troublesome that he had to give up his research on the Wardancers for this, it would have been wonderful had Soléy been able to stay there a bit longer so he could combine the two. This was a much more eventful type of research though, and definitely more important in his mind. All the children would be intriguing characters, that was bound to be by their nature, and how could he let a chance to document their mysteries pass him by?


Because he wasn't invited... that was what a normal man would say. The only one he knew was Soléy, and only on a platonic level through his fieldwork. None of the higher ups would allow him to be a bodyguard to them, his magic wasn't the type commonly known as trustworthy or even good. A black mage as bodyguard to a child of destiny, the outrage that would cause. No, it was best for him to just catch up with her and the others as they were out of the city. He wasn't exactly sure they would be in Talabec, but he had good reasons to believe that would most likely be their first destination. The rumours all pointed here, and if they would go to another place he could trace her.


The bond was weak, but still in place, even if the distance was far, he would know approximately where she was. Despite that he doubted it would last, perhaps a week more and then he'd lose the tie, then it would be nearly impossible to figure out where they went. Grabbing at loose straws of rumours wasn't his strong point, he was a scholar, not a tracker or a hunter.


Ina closed his journal, now containing a near perfect image of a butterfly. Silently he looked forward over the road, and put his cloak tighter around him as he went on his way. Of course there was always the possibility that the guards and other children would kill him if he found the group, but that was a risk he would have to take. For the sake of progress... and the wonder of fools and scholars alike.

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Virgil Argyris

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Virgil felt Azazel shift underneath him as soon as the foreign seneschal left the room. As if to soothe the cloak he ran a hand along the inside of it. If he only had a way to, Azazel would most likely be purring at that point. He might be intelligent, but his mind wasn't terribly far from that of a guard dog. That's why when someone appeared behind him, a red eye materialized on the surface of the cloak's fabric, right below Virgil's cheek on the high neck. Virgil twisted his body so he stood sideways to the girl, the turned his head to face her. Azazel's eye was locked on the girl in a menacing stare, while Virgil's own was looking over her with a variety of confusion, serenity and happiness rolling through them.


He was silent for longer than he should after she addressed him. He looked at her with curiosity, almost as if he was expecting her to say more, but when a large burly figure entered the room the silence was filled once more. The visible eye on his cloak disappeared into the fabric, concealing itself before the Orc could've seen it. As long as only one person saw Azazel at a time, they could always be convinced they were insane. Virgil had to raise his chin to look the Orc over, and his curious smile revealed itself over the edge of the cloak momentarily. This time, instead of letting the silence ring out in the room, Virgil cut into the Orc's sentence before it was over.


"No." Muffled were his words as they vibrated through the fabric once again covering his mouth. "I don't have friends." He added in a matter-of-fact sort of way. Red irises locked with the female Child of Destiny once more, and he seemed to completely block out the Orc's presence. "I'm supposed to be here. The Summer Angel said." His stare lacked any sense of courtesy, but he never lowered it from her eyes. "She wanted me to protect. You." The last word was oddly separated from the sentence, but he gave no hint of having said it unintentionally. Judging by his gaze, the reassurance didn't stretch to the Orc either.


@Aldur Forgehammer

 

[Ronan]

Laindessiel 'Free Woman'

Last night she dreamt she went to the Varden again. The earth was young and the forest undying with elves hung on it's eaves. She dreamt of her mother, a kind ardour about her and of her father with his crooked elfin ears and a smile cleaved unto his face. Then Fáreryniel came, face absent of the familiar caritas fair folk held, and knew to be afraid. But the soft, familiar touch of summer's ghost on her shoulders relieved the fear, Anna, she knew, and turned only to be greeted with empty wealds and forgotten time. And then she woke and cried to dream again.

( present. )

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Wildflowers, she observed, hands pressed against the warm window and lost somewhere between her guest chamber and the the meeting room. The garden had beds of tamed wildflowers and a polished fountain at it's centre. It felt artificial. Nature shouldn't be tamed—it should be disordered and aberrant as the world was before the advent of mankind. She hadn't seen nature for several weeks, only the cobbled paths and brick homes of Eisenheim. The elf sighed. It was only a few decades ago that this country was simply farmlands. She moved away from the window and moved her gaze to the other side of the corridor that was lined with paintings of past and present kings of the kingdom. N'ataya, she thought as the wall was notably absent of queens. In the Varden they had both, and the Varden now was in the age of Berthadhiell, the venerable, aged queen of the fair folk. Laindessiel often gave vespers to her.


She moved down the ingress, eventually reaching the stairs. At the top, she was greeted with rows of columns and painted ceilings, then eventually voices—a boy, an orc, and a Wardancer, a race she came to appreciate in her wayfaring. 'Vedui, children and guardians?' she asked.

 

[Sunbather]

Soléy's curious eyes swirled around in their sockets, though the rest of her body remained in its previous position without even so much as a single muscle in her face twitching, as the masculine, grunted voice of Zyraxes. "A friend?" Filled with a sense of disapproving curiosity, Soléy's face trailed off towards the end of her brief repetition, her attentive glare long back on the pale, thin creature in front of her, glued on his sickly appearance. His impersonal stare, which appeared not to waver whatsoever, found hers again. A vaguely amused curl of her lips finally warmed up her face before she raised her head, now looking "down" at the stranger.


"Protect?" It seemed rather odd to the Wardancer that a sickly, completely unknown boy was supposed to guard her and the others. "And what exactly qualifies you for such a task?" Soléy's expression remained friendly and warm, but her voice now became more demanding. Though it certainly was just that before, it had stopped hiding in subtetly and instead commanded in a crystal clear manner. Before her gaze could harden or Virgil could answer, Soléy swirled around, this time with her whole body. The motion, similar to an ice-skater changing direction on a frozen lake, swift and oddly whimsical. Somehow, the intrusion - a mere question by Laindessiel, and a polite one at that - had caught the fragile girl off-guard due to her unusually tense state of mind. She immediately forced herself to lay off the suspicious attitude and instead smile. "Greetings." she said, her pitch returning to the gracefully calm sound it usually was, as she nodded to answer the newly arrived Elf.