Fantasy Axelis Fantasia (Inactive)

[Tice]

Adalus Highforest

Modest Tender

Midaheim Forest

A flash of scorching brilliance, and all that tied Adalus to this organization, by name, was reduced to dust. A peculiarly outspoken corner of his mind begged to return to the Highforest, to return to a life of simplicity. He doubted they would make a grand effort to stop him. But this, he knew, was what he wanted, despite the primal urge to flee. Had their master burned their letters with the use of a Mark? Or, more likely, was it some kind of trick? He felt it too mundane to waste such power on, but perhaps the letters were, themselves, unable to be harmed by conventional means.

Power beyond his scope. Never, amidst Bestiards and other non-humans, did he ever feel so mortal. And yet he was chosen. The last to arrive, too, but that didn't quite embarrass him. What did fluster him a touch was his relative nakedness; his traveling party was a motley mix of armor and benign weapons of station. He carried little more than a vagabond's kit and a knife better suited for whittling than gouging.

He broke a branch from a fallen tree as they strode into the forest, ostensibly to act as a walking stick, but moreso to provide a sense of security to himself. Their guide worried for their security and urged them to travel as one, and so Adalus's mind couldn't help but wonder as to what surrounded them now.

He was not meant for a life like this. The Princess must know something about Adalus that he himself did not. So, by the time they had met their other group, Adalus had settled into a comfortable belief that he had some role to play, something preordained.

Adalus of Highforest tried his best not to stare at them all, each fantastic in sight and stature, in armament and design. The blandness of his own presence, in comparison, would hopefully shield him from too-curious minds. The night felt rather chilly to him: any other day and he'd been filled with mulled wine. The tunnel loomed as a maw, and that familiar prick of fear raked his mind again.

 

[voided]

SHUFEN LIANG

Hurricane Maverick

Midaheim Forest

Shufan let out a sigh of relief as she saw the paper burn into a pile of ash. Not because she was worried about covering her tracks—her siblings probably had little to no clue where she went off to—but because she was glad that the paper wasn’t tucked away somewhere on her person. Knowing herself, she would have accidentally held it for a bit too long and burnt herself. There was also a slight pang of dejection as the letter was burnt away. It was something she held dear. She was wanted for once after a long time, that letter was evidence of that. A slight pout painted her face, but it was soon hidden by the mug being brought to her lips. Sipping along, she listened to the brief explanation done by the redhead man.

Wait, they were about to leave? She wasn’t expecting the group to leave anytime soon! Oh, how great! Seeing the group get up and prepare to head off, Shufen let out a grunt of sorts, something that was indicating to someone, anyone, to wait a few seconds for her to finish her beer. She chugged it down, slamming the empty mug on the table as she let out an exasperated sigh.

Note to self, never chug beer again.

⧫ ⧫ ⧫​

The journey was uneventful, at least in Shufan’s eyes. It was a whole lot of walking. A whole lot of nothing. Perhaps the only thing that really caught Shufan’s attention was the occasional flora she walked by, and the bear following them. She wasn’t too worried, as she spotted the bear leaving the alleyway as the Azelthyrian owner was in view.

Shufan couldn’t lie. She found it a little amusing that the Human didn’t spot the Vilebeast before.

“Hmm... the bear...” she mused out loud as the group stopped. She glanced over at Iana, and then over at the Vilebeast, Heshira, as she continued sarcastically once her fellow Azelthyrian stopped speaking. “Or, the bear simply stalked us and is waiting to strike when our guard is down.” Her expression was static, unchanging, as she stared directly at the human questioning the mere existence of the bear. “I’m joking.”

She then glanced at the second group, making note of the man that was referred to as ‘Sir Reymond’. Royalty perhaps? She looked at the others that stood behind this Reymond fellow, and then looked down at herself. Unknowingly, she was in slight solidarity with the other Human. Shufen felt underdressed for something as important as this; a dress shirt with a blazer on top. With her newsboy cap, she just looked like your everyday paperboy. Sans the two blades sheathed behind her back, of course. But hey, at least she could move fast in this get up. Using her thumb to push the cap up slightly, still hiding those small horns of hers, she nodded at the new group.

Should she have said something else?

Interactions:
ATurei (Iana) / accursedjobber (Marrok) / lunar_moth (Anthy) / Ayan (Maihara) / Khocolatte (funni cool dude with strikingly long, vermillion hair Reinier) / Tice (Adalus)

 

[WinterFestivity]

Enyo Klymene

Aureate Visionary

Location

While Enyo didn't have the trained senses in order to recognize that she had been tailed by someone, and thus, didn't notice Anaias, she was at least somewhat familiar with the social song and dance, enough to recognize Aristaios' peculiar reaction to her own presence, though she didn't get that much time to really react to it before her attention was grabbed by Anaias walking up without a single care in the world. She was certainly unlike anyone or anything Enyo had ever seen, especially those massive claws.

She noticed the blood dripping from them and felt her stomach drop a bit, she wasn't really expecting to see blood, let alone that much of it for a while. While she was no stranger to blood, it still admittedly freaked her out a bit to see. Nonetheless, swallowing her anxiety she'd quickly put on a much more presentable tone and spoke out to her. "Um- Hello there, miss! Are, you uh... okay?"

This was a situation she'd never really encountered in her life before this point, so she wasn't really entirely sure how to go about it in the first place to talk to someone who seemed so... Fine, but covered in blood. Still, asking was better than assuming. Hopefully. She did take note of Aristaios' offering to Anaias, which got a small smile from her before she realized her own lack of concrete action in that regard and felt a twinge of embarrassment. It was far too late to do so, so she'd bite her tongue until the man returned his gaze to her.

Of all the things she expected, him bowing wasn't one of them, her eyes widened as she felt her ears redden, embarrassment or flattery, she wasn't entirely sure, but nonetheless, it left her a tad flustered to receive this sort of attention so quickly. "O-Oh goodness!" She'd glance around for a moment before collecting herself and presented a far more formal and refined set of mannerisms. "Indeed, we do share heritage in that regard, brother! I must admit, I certainly didn't expect to encounter another one of our rather scattered family when I set about on my travels here, it is a very welcome surprise! Well met indeed..."

She'd offer a bow of her own and with another breath, she'd then speak, her formality disappearing in an instant. "Though, you needn't treat me with such formality, we are kin, not servant and lord, aye?" She'd offer him a small smile, it was relieving if nothing else to see someone whom she shared more in common with than the fact that they'd been invited to this clandestine meeting place. She'd briefly shift her attention over to the red-haired man that Aristaios had been conversing with when she arrived, to whom she'd offer a bow before turning her attention back to Aristaios. "I do hope that I didn't interrupt your conversation? I'd hate to be a moodkiller or anything of that sort!"

Finally, her attention briefly passed over the other two who'd made their appearances, she couldn't really pinpoint their races either, other than that they didn't have much of a human aura to them, but she didn't see any way to really get a conversation going with them, or an appropriate way, anyway. She'd shake her head and return her sight back to Aristaios, her eyes widening as a small gasp escaped her. She'd quickly extend her hand to him. "Pardon my rudeness! I'm a tad flustered with all of this-- I'm Enyo!"

Aristaios - Monday / Aetheros - Malphaestus / Otis - NUSKI / Esther - SleepySheepiez / Reymond - Arkangel

 

[Malphaestus]

Aetheros Virtus

Brilliant Sol

Midaheim Forest - Falhades

To the arrogant melody of weighted steps carried by one of comparable stature as his own, ennobled by the whispered hush of their walking feet well-taught in the etiquettes of the haughty, a beckoning murmur whisked itself across his ears alike the wind, heralding the tardy just beyond the tunnel; ‘twas a command caricatured, delivered more for the speaker’s good than subsequent hearing, gesturing the ones beyond to pursue the wake of the one who demanded the validity of leading them onward.

Fittingly ironic, stepping his feet repetitiously against the stone as he was, already ahead of them; turning his head in accompaniment to the intruding noise of the newly arriving’s continued venturing to their appointed place. Thinking of nothing but the reptitious crawl of the critters he’d crossed throughout the wooded swathe he’d himself treaded at trotting calm, ‘what striking resemblance’ he’d thought through his side-eyed glance of these ill-timed strangers.

At the very least it had become clear that this was no simple gathering, striking personalities embodied by their fittingly egregious presentations, foremost represented by the parodical embodiment of what Nephilim folktales speak of how Aerouants should be. Either the bestial woman truly was of twelve ages past, where neither fire nor stone had been understood, or she was the student of a truly peculiar master with a complicated relationship with water. Her smell- unique mixture of flower and lingering innards- beckoned her presence from at the very least a few dozen fathoms distant, but surprisingly charming all the same; the alluring naïveté of the simple-minded. Now all that would be left is to hear her speak, for unlike the rest of the common folk which surrounded him, she was unique in keeping her words to herself; even the ‘unimportant knight’ finding reason to quip at his most esteemed self.

And as progress finally found itself fallen upon him, the growing number of judgemental glances enviously peering themselves across his radiant posture matching the chorus of his ennatured shimmering. Though their feeble-mindedness sang as a choir to the growing number of letters forfeited to soothing flame, it penetrated not his enshrouding aura, for he was alike the glim of candle lit at midnight. He was soothed in his place amongst the rest, unlike they were in the presence of him.

Settled smile snaking itself across his lips not out of deceit, but born of his impervious will: ‘for he is the sun, that is all he is.’ So when Enyo addressed him, in the interspersed flurry of words and emotions she’d experience in accord with Aristaios’ own presentation of the same, he lifted his arm from it’s holding across his chest, a faint wave delivered in rhythm with his own words of ease: “worry not, kindred of the Sage; you’ve interrupted very little.” Her juvenile fiddling, in both mentality and presentation, more than visible through his shifting gaze, but he was none to detract for such fickle reasons: beyond that, he was, indeed.

Through his continued wave of the hand, settling directed at Aristaios; a more needed recipient of Enyo’s focus than himself, though Aetheros was never not the kind of character who was at a loss for his own voice, thus speaking to his own muse: “certainly, Aristaios’d be far more soothed by your rapturous character than he’d be content in speaking with one such as myself.” Though it would be hard to disguise, clad in regalia as befitting of his own epithet as the Brilliant One, he went to no length in curtailing his own noble heritage and speaking. He was, certainly, never one to diminish his own greatness; a quality which would find itself shined once more in his interactions with the foremost vocal amongst his arriving opposition:

“I do not recall pointing daggers at your throat in this incarnation,” Aetheros retorted with supreme nonchalance, unwilling to suffer Otis’ simplicities. Though he had been none-too-humoured by the dallying that had occurred amongst the group who’d just ventured into the tunnel, Otis baring his blade at the Haughty woman who’d led them in, had been an impossibility to avoid: the moon shone quite brightly this peculiar night.

His following quip, irradiated by the brilliance of his own self-assurity, basked all the same in that very moon-tinged light: “considering your invidious disposition, I’d say you seem at no loss for wars to wage.” His glib tongue, disturbed by the further arrivals of yet more visitors, halted. Focus, easily taken from Otis’ small character as it was, finding itself directed at yet more strangers, all far more interesting than who he had just engaged.

Though some stood out from the gathering cadre, accompanied by beasts and peculiar choice of clothes, armed with aloofness in as large a regard as they were ordinary, he couldn’t help himself from waving at the presented nod delivered by one of them. However, he was not one to leave things unwrapped, and so decided to tie loose knots.

“I would recommend you not to start too many, lest you embarrass yourself utterly at the hands of people who are less benevolent than myself,” his confidence unsubsiding. Perhaps even enticing, in and of itself, conflict. Though, naturally, unaware of such prospects: conflict, in this situation, wholly impossible to him.

Monday WinterFestivity NUSKI SleepySheepiez voided

 

[NUSKI]

O T I S

Ashen Sanguisuge

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

As the Nephilim continued on, Otis could only imagine different ways to separate his head from the rest of his body. It was unusual to be spoken to as he had been this night, his only experience with talking to people in the last couple of decades being right before he sank his teeth into them. Having to deal with other sentient beings in a civil manner was something he definitely did not miss from his blacksmithing days.

Despite how he felt about the Nephilim, it was not untrue that he was the only person to unsheathe a weapon that night; a mistake that he was now feeling more embarrassed about as he finally noticed the newcomers following behind another red-haired man. Taking notice of the exchange between the Nephilim and one of the humans, his eyes assessed the other new members of the assembled crowd with great impatience, pausing at the sight of a bear. Whatever chance Otis thought he had of landing an arrow between the Nephilim's eyes had now evaporated now that the group's numbers doubled.

Otis opened his mouth to say something but quickly smacked his teeth against each other as the magical fire produced by Princess Solara's emissary floated into his thoughts. Something resembling a mixture of a grunt and a hiss escaped his throat before the Draculus raised his other hand and waved it toward his self-appointed enemy dismissively. The Nephilim was correct; any hostility from Otis now would prove fruitless and cause even further embarrassment to himself. Otis could only hope that sometime in the near future he would catch him standing at the edge of a cliff or peacefully sleeping.

"I've said my piece," Otis started, his more regulated tone contradictory to the irritated expression on his face. He was willing to concede for now, if it meant it would provide him shelter from his presumed pursuers and Solara's wrath.

"At least now my conscience is clear when his presence inevitably spoils this fine group we have here," he ended a bit louder, his statement now directed to the group around him, a hint of sarcasm hanging on the edge of his words. It was a frustratingly unfamiliar situation he found himself in; wanting to act but being unable to. He didn't even want to think of what his deceased friends would think of him having a relatively conversation with their kind. It almost made him wonder if the princess had cracked open a history book in her lifetime.

Even with all the emotions bubbling within, he was forced to take the position of the Draculus he held up earlier and remain as polite as he could manage.

Arkangel Monday Malphaestus OverconfidentMagi WinterFestivity Admiral19 SleepySheepiez voided Khocolatte ATurei Tice lunar_moth accursedjobber Ayan

 

[Admiral19]

Altair Vasserow

Death Sentinel Lycoris

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

Altair watched the flame burn away her summons, felt the unusual warmth from where she stood. She knew what Chaos Roots were and had a vague idea of how they worked and what they looked like when they were used, but she had never seen one used herself until now...it was fascinating.

More were gathering, more were surrounding her, more were making their way towards the tunnel. Altair was genuinely excited by how many of these people were of her kind, though she was equally excited to meet those that were unlike her. But of course, one should still keep themselves guarded around unfamiliar souls, and one should be especially guarded around ones such as the Nephilim that had arrived. Altair was not one to hastily cast hatred(out loud), especially against would-be allies, but it was difficult to keep her credo out of her mind, difficult to forget the last thing a Nephilim had done to her. She, too, wondered if the princess had done her research before sending summons to members of a race that she and others like herself would inevitably glare at from a distance.

Ah, but there must have been a good reason if a Nephilim being a part of their cadre was intentional...in which case, the reason had best be good.

Shove it down, Altair, suspend your hatred; surely they would have plenty more time to properly interact once all those who were summoned came together properly. And surely by then, that Nephilim would grow...tolerable.

For now, the man that was also like herself would be a sufficient surrogate for her disgust, if the words he was speaking were any sort of indication.

SleepySheepiez NUSKI Malphaestus

 

[Ayan]

Maihra Melody

Shadow of a Hero

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius [VOIDED]

Interesting. Maihra's eyes scanned each of the arrivals, only joining the table properly when heads had been getting counted. Her eyes watched the paper that brought her here smolder, cracking as it blackened and burned away. There was something there, lyrics to a song never to be composed, she pursed her lips, before her ears flicked as she came back to proper attention. She remained silent up until now, only mumbling the codeword when it had been asked of her. She had no complaints as they began traveling. Her own page had been neatly folded, prim and proper, befitting how she carried herself. She did offer a smile to the one man she did recognize upon seeing him, Adalus. She had no recollection of who he was, and certainly didn't know his name, but his face was vaguely familiar.

♩ ♩ ♩​

The first thing anyone would hear from the elegant Bestiard was a muttering of "Are you kidding me?" Her father's blade was gripped in her hand, and she let out a low growl as she sheathed it, glaring at the 'bear' that would be accompanying the group. She glanced towards Shufen as she made her comment.

"I would love an excuse to kill the creature, alas I doubt I will be granted that luxury." The concept of a tamed vilebeast, even if she objectively knew they existed, was antithetical to everything she felt and knew. She had, besides the knowledge that an avatar of gluttony who had doubtless killed countless innocents before being 'tamed' was accompanying her, enjoyed the walk. She had spent a large amount of time in this forest, and in some parts it was nostalgic.

Then she saw the group they were meeting, her eyes immediately went to Sir Reymond, she recognized the knight, a man she respected, even if she did not know him particularly well. She did know her father made occasional mention of him, and she believed she had exchanged words with him in the past, though nothing of consequence.

 

[Kloudy]

Reus

The Highbane

Unknown Forest, Aeslengard Border, Ukrethia

The night was dark, as always...​

Stealing through the forest with reckless abandon was a shrouded man. His breath sharp and erratic, interrupted as he put his feet through holes in the undergrowth and stumbled to regain his footing. Thunder crackled past the canopy, its only material evidence coming from the rain that poured thick through the leaves above. The man scrambled on, an unappealing mix of blood, sweat and humidifying sky-water clinging to his skin and clothes.

"Oh gods, oh gods... Gotta get away, gotta find-"

He was interrupted by the sudden crashing of trunks and forestry. Glancing behind as he ran, the huntee saw a glimpse of his hunter and redoubled his pace with a startled yelp. A humanoid, but dressed in strangely ceremonial garb. It looked foreign, nothing like what was made in Ukrethia. He knew what the man chasing him was. He had been sent-

"Vanhela, no..." The man suddenly stopped, faced with a large cliff that entered onto a ravine.

Crazed guttural laughter could be heard from behind. More trees fell left and right. It was definitely a Chaos Root, the man decided, no mere mortal could cause such destruction otherwise. Those nefarious Nephilim were a scourge alright. It was almost a shame that he would meet his demise here. There was but one final letter to deliver, after all.

"FOUND YOU"​

There was no time to turn. Barely a moment for a sharp intake of air and the closing of one's eyes. A set of long, sharp claws emerged from his chest, spindly and soaked in fresh blood. The smell of iron filled the breeze. Much of the native wildlife shrank away, instincts unwilling to get involved in what was about to unfold. Even the trees seemed as if they pined to lean further away. A cold, disturbing and undeniably ominous presence joined the sulphurous scent of metal in the air.

"Thank you for the meal..."​

Before the shredding could begin, the hunter gave out a startled gurgle as he clutched at his throat. Their fingers met the cold steel of a dagger. Stumbling back, the would-be hunter tried to snarl but only succeeded in hacking up a foreboding pool of crimson. Blood loss was not enough to fell him and he reared around trying to ascertain from where the blade had been thrown.

"Too late a caution is no caution at all..."

Looking up, a bloodcurdling scream came from the red-handed man as a dark swirl of shadow and cloak swiftly drifted down from above. As if the world were moving in slow-motion, the black-clad assassin gracefully fell like a bird of prey gliding onto the back of its intended prey. Two short daggers shot into the man's neck as the cloaked figure jammed them between both shoulder blades. Another muffled scream. The angle of the blades allowed the tips to meet under the man's spine. Pulling down with strength that did not befit his assailant's stature, the man was filleted like one would to a hooked sea bream. Another quick flash of metal and the head came clean off.

Leaning against a nearby tree, the messenger gave ragged gasps for breath as he watched. It was likely the most horrifying yet entrancing thing the man had ever seen. The sheer brutality and the gore of it was more than he would usually stomach, but now that he lay in the dirt dying he did not seem to mind as much. It was the mechanical efficiency with which it was done that truly proved fascinating. Medical, even, in the precise nature with which the cloaked figure moved and cut. He knew he would never see such a wonder again, nor anything else for that matter. The five punctures in his chest grew into bigger rouge splodges. His lungs were filling up. No more running, no more time.

"...please... tra-traveller... plea... I-I can't..." He weakly called before devolving into a croaking coughing fit.

The cloaked figure stepped into view.

"You have done well. You may rest now, your sins washed away in this rain. Ausar will be kind to you."

It knelt down by the dying messenger, cradling his head to offer some little comfort in his last moments. Surprise came from the dying man's eyes, which then hardened as he seemed to remember something.

"No!" The messenger gripped the other's hand tightly, some last dregs of willpower lighting up in his eyes, "You... must t-take... this letter... to the one... they call... Highbane..." The messenger's coughing worsens and more crimson liquid spilt into the waterlogged underbrush. Despite this, he mustered enough strength to tightly grasp the envelop in his breast pocket and push it into the hooded man's hands, "You must... deliver... him this."

His almost-saviour did not respond directly at first, choosing to remove the metallic mask that hid his features further within the depths of his cloak's hood. Pushing that back too, a frock of the darkest auburn hair fell back across his face in loose strands. His skin was light and strangely unblemished. Sliding the crinkled letter into his own breast pocket, Reus nodded to the messenger, "You may rest now. The Highbane has seen your resolve."

He turned away before pausing, then turning back, "Thank you."

The messenger exhaled a small sigh of relief as he felt himself sink from the realm of mortality. The last he saw was the man in the black cloak harvesting some sort of organ from the deceased hunter, before quite literally vanishing into thin air. There was no more energy left in the messenger for astonishment, but his eyes dully dilated as he wondered just what exactly he had witnessed in his final moments.

And what would he find next?​

---

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

It was an evening like any other.

The cool night air filled the trees with a gentle ebbing. Critters chittered behind closed burrows and in underground quarters. The beasts of prey were out, sniffing for their next meal or predator. There was already a faint trace of spilt lifeblood on the wind. It came from no particular direction, giving credibility to its omen.

Reus could sense plausible pattern in the minute indications he found. Many footsteps, unwashed away by the lack of rain this time. He saw the mushrooms, how some were left torn by the riverbed where someone had simply grabbed several. He also noticed those that moved as he did, watching silently from the shadows. Caution was the survivor, he knew, but also the lamenter. To have not acted for fear of failure was to have acted foolishly. There was a fine line between it and hesitation.

Stepping lightly from the treetops to the ground, Reus made his way to the cave entrance. He did not need the mushrooms; the multitude of footprints tracking a similar path were enough. Of course, he shielded himself from view with Cold Mantle. The air grew slightly sharper still and the Nephilim rendered invisible to the naked eye.

Many made their impressions on the group that eventually gathered. Some with disdain, some with conceit and fear, most with a mix of nonchalance and expectation. They were all here for a reason. It made sense that impatience would grow rampant. When the letters were all offered to the mysterious knight, Reus uncloaked himself from the far wall and moved to join the congregation. Having placed his own in the pile, the hunter stepped back and continued his people-watching activity.

The knight's use of his Chaos Root did not shock or surprise Reus. As a Nephilim-in-hiding he was used to the abilities they wrought. Aeslengardian society was nigh-built around it. For others, it would seem like a mystical, unknowable force. For Reus, it was the cursed mark of Sindragar - yet another reminder of the sin of his people. The knight's words made another. Indeed many harassed and slaughtered the Nephilim for what their kind had done and still intended to do to those of Terra. It was for these reasons and more that Reus chose to keep his true identity unknown. For all anyone knew, he was human. And anything shy of shedding his blood would be fooled by this disguise.

"A Nephilim in the capital of his enemies, unmasked and unabated," Reus' gaze flicked to Aetheros with dull magnetism, "I'd say it is you who seems at no loss for wars to wage."

The irony of the man's name was not lost on Reus. A man born of such high stature that he takes the moniker 'Virtue', but acts with inetiquette eccentricity to his lessers. It was like one of those poor jokes one would hear from the local tavern's wretched bards perusing coin to pinch. Still, Reus slipped a notebook from his satchel and neatly wrote it down regardless.

Among it were plenitudes of writings from poetry to described locations or beasts with accompanied sketches. It was not a journal, more of a reminder. With each day that passed, Reus felt himself slipping back from a hunter with purpose to one of mindlessness. He acted methodical, logical, but sometimes at the expense of his humanity. When he felt himself slipping, he would read the notebook. It reminded him of why he served his purpose, why he continued to take each step. Tucking it back into the satchel, he wondered if the book had grown more in importance to him than he'd first realised.

There was no time for musings, however.

Another group had arrived. Reus waited to see what would unfold. This was either arranged by their benefactors, or they were being ambushed. From the distinct lack of clashing metal and fearful cries, he assumed they were of the former. Still, the hunter was always alert. He could hide his presence, he could hide his form and he could traverse distances likely vaster than those present could.

But beyond that, Reus knew where to attribute his calm demeanour. Nephilim were naturally valorous, unafraid of the feared. The cool, icy blood that ran through his veins was just another reminder...


Malphaestus Arkangel

 

[Arkangel]

Reymond Heracles

Imperial Knight: Sir Reymond

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

The last ones to arrive had handed their letters as the following sequence of events consisted of Reymond incinerating the letters with the flame hovering over his left palm. Only ashes remained of the memorandums, becoming one with the dirt below their feet, as ordered by the princess who wished the letters to be reduced to ashes for the sake of eliminating traces of her whereabouts. It was only a matter of time before specialists would enter the forest and remove all traces of the travelers’ scent. As authentic warriors and scholars summoned by the princess, Reymond closed his eyes and pondered for a moment, believing that the travelers deserved to at least know of this detail.

“As requested by Princess Evernight, the letters written by her very hand have now been scorched. Cast your disappointment elsewhere, for the letters would have only become a hindrance in your journey.”

Reymond opened his eyes and examined the bunch from left to right. Other than a select few, they seemed rather fragile in the body. He imagined himself drawing his sword to test the adventurers, but the night was finite, and so was the slumbering soul of the Godslayer who would undoubtedly wake from the nearby mana surge had he decided to test their might. Being under the castle of the sleeping beast, he was already careful activating his mark, he did not need trouble from his recklessness.

The fuchsia Aerouant was of no threat. Her elegance spoke for itself but her competence was questionable at the very least. Much like the first traveler to have arrived, the two shared similarities, excluding their racial status. Even so, it did not change the fact that she was one of his comrades. Chosen by the prince, Reymond knew that judging her now would be a fruitless effort, as the flower has yet bloomed.

Then the next to catch his eye was the young girl whose bodily features consisted of a magical carapace that had formed around her hands. He did not question her appearance and instead scoffed at her attempts to hide her identity. Although it could fool many, his senses could not deceive him. An obvious Nephilim, ashamed by her blood and true identity. Reymond did not blame the girl, but he cared not. It was unfortunate that he could not witness the original invitee once again, but the circumstances were not his to whine about.

The last to arrive was a man whose aura was stained in black. His enigmatic air and the usual Nephilim stench clogged Reymond’s nose, and from his demeanor, he ruled the possibilities of conflict. Fortunately for the princess, he seemed more docile than the pompous Nephilim next to him, who was beginning to already create an unfavorable atmosphere between them and the three Draculus that had left their hiding spot moments ago. A bad sign, indeed. But like anything else, it was none of his business.

He let out an exasperated sigh, silently to not gather unwanted attention, but it would soon be clear that his groan was not because of the travelers before him, but instead because of the familiar face that had graced the scene before the tunnel.

The crimson-haired knight held a torch that lit the dark tunnel, revealing the other half of the group. Reymond did not bother giving them the same attention that he had given to his group. Considering that they would become forgotten faces in the foreseeable future, he merely glanced at the familiar man and replied to his question.

Reymond ignored his first sentence on purpose, “They are the rest of the Princess’ retainers. My time is limited, Sword Saint. Once the sun ascends from the horizon, my services will end and our paths will divide.” He spoke more than usual, and his tone switched from nonchalance to mild irritation. He raised his voice slightly, “I wish not to test the Princess’ patience, especially when every minute is a gamble on the Godslayer’s awakening. Let us depart; silently, if possible.”

He remained true to his words and ushered his group into the darkness of the cave, snatching a torch from the entrance walls to help his vision. Throughout the arduous journey into the tunnels, he remained silent and on guard, wanting to hand the lead to the girl who was patiently waiting for her companions from the lower floor of the castle lounge.

…

The apparent darkness of the tunnel remained a constant environment as the conjoined groups marched towards the pathway that was being lit by the two knights who did not exchange many words throughout the journey. Strangely enough, Reymond and Reinier remained partially distant, not even glancing at the other despite their similar status in the current situation. The least amount of interaction they provided to the group was a mere “Here.” and “This way.” when they attempted to lead the crowd. Certainly, Reinier was livelier than the other guide who showed little interest in words.

The tunnel was diverse as it connected to the city sewers and into another secret pathway, this time a natural cavern that existed below the grand capital of Exultius: Falhades. The speleothem was empty but dangerous, the sharp limestones threatening thousands of cuts to those who walk mindlessly. Thankfully, the cave was not so dark as the flames of the guides’ torches lit the path clearly, providing them with the ability to avoid most injuries.

The path soon went upward, where the sound of human interaction and carriages could be heard. In 30 minutes, they had reached another section of the sewers where above the citizens carried on with their nightly business, unaware of the foreign adventurers below them. The sewer would then connect to a manmade tunnel, where the sound of the outside world grew quieter, marking their official arrival at the castle that was above them.

Reymond took the lead while the Sword Saint explained their location to the group. With no more than 15 more minutes left before they would greet the fated princess, Reymond noticeably picked up the pace until the path reached a dead end, with seemingly no direction available for them to take.

Suspicion and worry might have arisen in the group, but their anxiousness would soon be answered when Reymond took out an illuminating stone from his bagged pockets and placed the strange content on the stone, shining brighter when the surface of the rock grazed the end of the tunnel.

The wall split in half, opening slowly to reveal golden lights from the other side. It took no more than a few seconds for the entrance to completely extend outwards, presenting the group with a scarlet-haired woman standing before them. Beside her stood a female knight with white hair and sapphire eyes with luminous pupils that indicated that they were of divine blood, although their identity would be unknown to anyone except for Reymond and Reinier.

The princess was the first to speak, bowing before those who accepted the summoning.

“My name is Solara Evernight, the Princess of Exultius and the one who forged that letter. It’s more than a pleasure to be welcoming you to this palace.”

Although it was customary to bow before the crown princess, Reymond persisted in defying the order of royalty and stood before the tunnel exit, much like the others who wished to keep their foreigner status.

Not caring for his disloyalty, Solara continued her introduction after the white-haired knight apologized for his behavior with an awkward chuckle, their quick interaction inaudible. She then raised her voice for the others to hear, “Before any of you introduce yourselves—I apologize, but the hours we have in this castle are not in our favor. To avoid conflict, I wish to leave immediately before my fa- the Godslayer awakens from his dormancy. We may exchange identities when the time is right. Please, gather around this table with open ears. The next several minutes will be crucial for your involvement in the Ashen Knights.”

Between Solara and the group would be a wooden table with a large map spread across the table that presented the entire continent of Paymonia to view.

Khocolatte Reinier | lunar_moth Anthy | Kloudy | Reus Monday Aristaios | Malphaestus Aetheros | NUSKI Otis | Admiral19 Altair | SleepySheepiez Esther | WinterFestivity Enyo | OverconfidentMagi Anaias | accursedjobber Marrok | ATurei Iana | voided Shufen | Tice Adalus | Ayan Maihra

( Part 1 )​

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Anaias

Pretender Dragon

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

The knight accepted her letter and burned it along with the rest. Anaias had spent much of her journey to get here thinking and worrying that she may be turned away at this stage due to not being exactly whom the letter had invited, but the knight showed no indication of caring. Or perhaps he didn't know exactly who was meant to show up? That seemed risky. She doubted that was the case. Either way his lack of reaction only put her more on edge. She jumped back lightly from him as soon as she'd handed off her letter. She wasn't scared of him. Anaias didn't fear anything that she could fight and kill. But she didn't understand this whole situation, and that feeling of not knowing what was going on was something she was afraid of. So she put distance between herself and the embodiment of her present trepidation: that dark knight.

The pink girl that Anaias had stalked through the woods was trying to talk to her. "Um- Hello there, miss! Are, you uh... okay?" Anaias was interested in this person, for no other reason than her fondness for the race she pretended to be, despite knowing full well - her master had even warned her as much - that other aerouants were the most likely to see through her lie. She didn't know how or if she should interact with any of the "other" aerouants present, and so, not knowing what to do, Anaias simply pushed off needing to figure that out for now by pretending not to notice the pink aerouant speaking to her and ignored her completely.

She was making such a point of staying focused on Reymond that she almost jumped again - no, she did - when the pale aerouant she hadn't been paying attention to approached her and whispered, "For your face. You may keep it." He was holding out a square of white cloth. Anaias stared at it. Her face? She stuck out her tongue and felt around. Yup, there it was. The bitter, metallic, tongue-tingly taste of vilebeast blood... vileblood? Really it wasn't that bad, especially if cooked with some spices. Anaias really liked it when her master prepared the meat with lots of mint. It was delicious. Thinking about delicious meals she wouldn't be able to eat again for who knew how long with monster blood on her tongue made her stomach growl loudly. She hadn't eaten well over the last leg of her trip, and hadn't thought it wise to eat the beasts she'd killed just before showing up for this meeting.

Anaias took the cloth and wiped her face, and only her face, and then simply tossed the handkerchief away without a first thought about it. It wasn't something her master had given her, and it wasn't food, so it wasn't important. The only response she gave back to Aristaios was a silent nod... of respect? Acknowledgement? Thanks? None of the above. She just felt he would expect something from her in return, and as she had nothing to give and could think of nothing else to do... she just kind of bobbed her head awkwardly. Her unreactive demeanor masked her internal fluster, almost making the motion seem less odd. Anaias really wasn't used to interacting with strangers. She got by with interactions she could plan for, but she really didn't like it when people approached her out of the blue like that.

She raised a clawed hand to her chest, the unexpected interaction having sent her heartbeat into a panic, and only then took notice of the blood covering her claw. She should probably do something about that off before it stained her claws red. Monster blood went flying as Anaias shook her arm, somehow just a few shakes clearing off all of the blood that had been covering it, like it had all simply slid off. A perk of her claws' unique composition; they were easy to clean off.

It was a relief when the group finally moved into the tunnel towards their true destination. More walking meant less talking. At least that was what she hoped. The walk wasn't exactly short, and after a while Anaias found herself dragging a claw along the wall to draw a twisting ribbon-like design into the solid stone wall as she walked. It was only after someone shot her a look that she noticed what she was doing and how much noise she was making that she stopped. For the entirety of the remaining trek she held her hands together tightly, not wishing to repeat her embarrassing mistake.


So this was the princess that her master had instructed her to assist? Anaias felt nothing at all towards her. This person was completely meaningless in her eyes. Worth no more or less than the vilebeasts left to rot outside the city walls. Probably worth less if she was being pragmatic. Vilebeasts were at least good for food. Anaias may lean rather feral, but not even she would seriously consider another person as food... probably.

Anaias stepped into the room and raised a claw to her chest. A sharp fingertip sliced into her thin clothing, slowly dragging down and revealing bare skin and then the corner of folded paper she'd hidden on her person. It was not the burned invitation, but a letter from her master to be delivered directly to this princess. It was also the only worldly possession Anaias held. She made to pull it out and present it, but the princess put off introductions, leaving Anaias unsure about what to do. She hesitated and the moment to deliver the letter had passed as others entered the room and began to assemble around the table that had been prepared. Anaias let the others crowd around while she stood back. She wanted to inspect the map, years spent traveling with her master had made her really appreciate good cartography, but she didn't want to get that close with the others. It was easier to just sneak a peek when she got the chance.


Enyo WinterFestivity / Aristaios Monday / Aetheros Malphaestus / Otis NUSKI / Altair Admiral19 / Esther SleepySheepiez / Reymond Arkangel

 

[Arkangel]

Solara Evernight

Scorching Inflorescence

Falhades, Exultius | Paymonia

Solara was quick to notice the group that had emerged from the secret entryway. Among them were odd individuals whose faces she was not aware of, notably the Aerouant whose attire was ragged and stained with vile blood. But as she had said prior, the remaining time was too important for her to question her legitimacy. At least it was clear that she was of no threat—trusting the judgment of Sir Reymond, who guided them to the castle alongside her other trustworthy companion, Reinier.

For now, she gestured the party to surround the table, waiting for each and every person to focus their vision onto the map below with the exception of Reymond, who wanted no part in this gathering.

“Our journey will be strenuous. I believe you all have answered the letter understanding the risks. For that, you have my eternal gratitude.” Solara expressed her honesty with a sincere bow, before placing her focus back on the map. “The first objective will be to escape the Midaheim Forest and travel north where our headquarters will be held—at the Calchester Village, located in the northeastern region of Exultius.”

Solara pointed her index finger at Falhades, where they were currently located. Moving her finger north she crossed the Midaheim Forest surrounding the capital before stopping just outside the forest entrance. “Withdrawing from Midaheim will not take much effort. I have dedicated eyes surrounding the designated passage that’ll help us cross the woodlands with relative ease. The hardship will begin here.” Solara tapped onto the flat terrain marked ‘Umbral Stadtholm’.

“This path is necessary to remain clandestine for the rest of the travels. Through the plains of Umbral Stadtholm, we will be retrieving materials from two different cities. I have knights stationed in these cities to help navigate us to the needed supplies. Once we obtain what we need, we will continue to traverse north and head our way to the destined village.”

Before allowing questions to brew, Solara was quick to reach into her back pockets to grab an item that would provide importance. From her palm was an enigmatic device taking the shape of a quill pen. However, unlike the item used for literature, the pen served a different purpose. “This is what they call the ‘Stargazer’. A combination of machinery and magic, this item will allow us to communicate from far distances without having to activate our mark. Unfortunately, getting my hands on it was difficult enough. So, Reinier and I will be the ones who’ll keep ownership of this pen.”

After a brief pause, she demanded the Sword Saint’s attention, “Using the Sword Saint as an example, I’ll demonstrate how this works. Pay close attention.”

The tip of the pen was sharp—almost designed to be used as a substitute surgical knife. In an effort to explain how it works, and having already obtained his consent prior, she punctured his thumb with the pen’s end and seized a sample of his blood, the pen absorbing and storing the information within the pen, activating its magical capabilities. “It can hold a maximum of 12 vessels. Each vessel is for a unique individual. With the contract formed, I can send a variety of different messages with no particular limit on the words, length, and method of delivery. Because it uses the essence of the blood as a source of pseudo-mana, the only limitation is the unspecific duration of the contract.”

Solara waved the pen in the air and wrote the word ‘Falhade’. The word was then transferred over to Reinier’s left arm, displaying the text via magic and no harm done to the skin. She then repeated the process again and this time, the words appeared on the back of his right hand, demonstrating that there was no specific area she could not hide the words behind.

“This will be the only way we’ll communicate outside of battles when our marks are activated. I will be requiring everyone’s participation before we leave this castle. Now, before we disembark…” Solara returned the pen to her back pockets, “Any questions?”

Adalus ( Tice ), Aetheros ( Malphaestus ), Altair ( Admiral19 ), Anaias ( OverconfidentMagi ), Anthus ( lunar_moth ), Aristaios ( Monday ), Darius (@Emerald), Enyo ( WinterFestivity ), Esther ( SleepySheepiez ), Iana ( ATurei ), Maihra ( Ayan ), Marrok ( accursedjobber ), Otis ( NUSKI ), Shufan ( voided ), Sirius ( Kloudy )

 

[lunar_moth]

Anthy Casimir Grey

Prince of Tarnished Silver

Falhades, Exultius | Paymonia

Anthy is, for the most part, quiet and quick to follow, and his padded toes are whisper-quiet on the ground. Figure out where you stand before you start to get comfortable. The mood shifts quickly once everyone’s assembled altogether; still, there’s an anticipatory buzz to it, like a bee trapped beneath a towel, and it makes his tailtip swish back and forth as he watches the princess herself emerge from the shadows.

He’s not incredibly concerned about the loss of his letter. He sort of didn’t imagine he would be able to hold onto it for very long anyways, sensitive as it was. Some of the others seem a little more affected, but then again, he’s had a lot of practice with not storing sentimentality in losable things.

When the princess pulls out her pen, though, Anthy’s a little bristly on the ends. Maybe just a bit. Hey, he’s also had practice with being poked at by sharp things, and he’s learned he doesn’t much care for it. But so is the cost of glory. And Anthy, again, has learned this too: in a situation like this, sometimes the only thing left to do is to charge headfirst into whatever’s giving you pause. Like taking a cold shower!

“Aah, but Princess— does that mean we can’t write you messages back, since only you get to hold the pen? I suppose that’ll have to do… though how am I supposed to ask for clarification on things I don’t understand! En, at least I’m scrappy, so I can probably still figure it out. I guess that means I’ll do it! I’ll join you! Here, try here, it’ll probably be hard to reach the skin through all the fur—“ Anthy says, steadily increasing in enthusiasm as he goes. He quickly hefts up one baggy sleeve: underneath, his arm is mostly covered in wooly fur that only tapers out once it reaches mid-bicep, but the fur on the inner side of his arm is much lighter in colour and sparser in texture. It’s easy to see the veins in his elbows when he uses a finger to part the fur there and extends it out to be Stargazered. His pupils have dilated somewhat in the dim lighting and he leans forward with his ears perked.

“Ah, it seems I’m the only one with the problem of fur like this..? No matter! We make do. I’m sure the pen’s ink is dark enough that it will still be readable. Go ahead and try, your highness!”

Arkangel , @/All

 

[Arkangel]

Solara Evernight

Scorching Inflorescence

Falhades, Exultius | Paymonia

The first to approach her was the curious Bestiard whose enthusiasm could be seen through his rather conspicuous body language. Solara returned his jubilance with an honest smile, “Ciphertexts which only we can understand will be used to convey long messages. No need to worry.” Solara gently places her hand under his arm, holding it in place for her to properly inject the end of the Stargazer into his skin. The pointy end would then pierce lightly into several layers of his skin and through the veins, exsanguinating a small amount of his blood. The pain was barely noticeable—the twinge comparable to a measly bee sting.

The pen encapsulated the blood, activating a hidden magical contract between Stargazer and the Bestiard. No visual changes indicated such, but as Solara wrote the name ‘Anthus’, it was clear that the device had worked accordingly when the Bestiard would realize the illuminating letters had appeared on his paws, where the fur was light. “Previous experimentations assume that this will have to be done on a monthly basis.” Solara spoke as she pressed a circular band-aid against the wound, “You may take it off in 30 minutes. And while we’re at it, it’s a pleasure. I hope there are no troubles in the fact that I already know the names of many in this room. Although—it’s to be expected.”

Interactions: lunar_moth (Anthy)
Audience: @/Everyone

 

[voided]

SHUFEN LIANG

Hurricane Maverick

Midaheim Forest

Standing near the table, Shufen looked down at the map. Truth be told, she was not the best with reading maps, she was better with the odd, visual directions she had come across while in Mutou-Kagyou City. Go straight from your house until you find yourself in the marketplace, then take an immediate right upon seeing the ragged old man selling carpets. Directions like that were what Shufen was used to.

She squinted at the map before giving a light shrug. No matter, she’d just follow Solara and the others. They’d know where they were going.

Her gaze flickered down to the pen Solara pulled out of her pocket. Stargazer, huh? Her gaze lingered on it a bit longer, before watching Solara gently puncture the Sword Saint’s thumb. An instinctual twitch of the eye could have been seen as the pen entered the flesh. Shufen was not expecting any sort of blood pact. As if she was the one who got punctured, she began rubbing her thumb before looking back up at the redhead princess.

Raising one hand into the air, she tried getting Solara’s attention. Meanwhile, her other hand was counting her newfound coworkers. She wasn’t sure how she felt about a few of them based on visual impressions and the brief interaction from earlier—especially that human who jumped at the Vilebeast and the catgirl who wanted to slay it—but for now, she kept her mouth shut.

“Fourteen.” Shufen spoke. “There’s fourteen people and twelve vessels. If we count Reinier and uh...” She looked over at Anthy, not knowing his name. Perhaps it was said, but Shufen was in her own world for the most part. “...Mister Rabbit.” Wonderful nickname. Was he even a rabbit? Who knows. “That means only ten others can be stabbed with your special pen, yeah?”

She cleared her throat as she rolled up her sleeve, extending her bare arm out to the princess. Solara only needed the thumb, yet Shufen was preparing herself for something much more.

“A-Anyway! Please be gentle ma’am! The last time I got poked with something, I was put outta commission for a bit! It went a bit too deep and hit something it shouldn’t have!”

Stating she was just a little bit scared was an understatement. The Azelthyrian’s face was going a little pale as she shut her eyes and turned her head away from the empress. Why was she going forth with getting Stargazer'd if her hunch was correct? Good question. Shufen herself didn't know as well, her mind was screaming at her for being dumb and going with it, but it was too late to back out. If she couldn't handle getting poked with a pen, then she felt she had no right to be here.

Interactions: Arkangel

Audience: @/everyone

 

[Malphaestus]

Aetheros Virtus

Brilliant Sol

Midaheim Forest - Falhades

His sister’d told him, had he been born of differing disposition; kingdoms and empires were not far from him, well within reach. Words poisoned with animosity, foul-smelling: it had been a darksome day, lurking clouds covering the skies and bathing the noon with the touch of night. Curious, he’d always thought; was that not obvious, regardless of how he was, he’d respond. She’d snarled, the fume of fury chiselled into her very sight; ‘of course not, you forsook it, ruined all you had, and no one even knows for what reason.’ Though he’d smiled at her, the answer should have been obvious: it is not that he’d forsaken it, he’d merely not done as others had wanted from him. He was his own person, greater than most and below, certainly, none- regardless of what society wanted of him. He knew that well, others did additionally; how else had he risen as he had, to the position he’d gained.

He was not complete, he’d wanted more, and the Priesthood had been stifling. His growth, limiting, and halting. It was not his own fault, but the circumstances that surrounded him; he’d change them, no lingering within his heart to hold him or keep him. He’d departed, not particularly covert- merely unexpectedly; following his own time had given him much, amongst which was the traversing across Aeslengards border: meetings with many unique characters. Adventuring had suited him much better, but he knew he needed far greater power. He was driven towards it, always pursuing tasks to further his growth. None had ever helped him to ascend, a lone wolf as he’d been: always proud, always brilliant. But he realised he was of a particular sort, all the same, then: during his adventuring time, it was a time where he was practising himself. He’d become locally famed, but nothing truly great or reverent.

He knew he lacked something, his destiny had yet to end; that was obvious, his pursuing of something greater than any thing. But he did not know where it led, always wandering. It had gotten him into close proximity with royalty, unbeknownst to him. How fittingly life-like, to find himself here in the midst of this vast swathe of such a colourful cast. He was not free from guidance: he’d need relics of the past, of the ancients; hard to come across. He was well-versed in the texts, though all which he’d acquired were insufficient to elucidate him as to the ways of ascension. It was no surprise to him, the concept to every living being wholly incomprehensible and pointless; but he was him, not someone else; he knew it was within his power to accomplish, provided he did his part well.

He simply had to figure out how to Awaken to the next stage of his Archonic disposition. That was the first test, which he’d yet to accomplish. He was amongst the mightiest of the least, but amongst the vastness he was far from where he’d wish to be. It did not suit him, nor did it taste well. But everything would come in time: it always had, always will.

How strange, reminiscence spliced inbetwixt this strange blend of prospects; he’d not taken much attention to them before now, but as they walked the shadowed halls bathed in flickering flame’s light, he felt oddly urged towards observance. Perhaps it was a result of the quietude, their shepherds rather unwilling to pay them either heed or contact beyond their obvious task. Odd, considering the Knight’s apparent willingness to do so prior, disregarding whatever front he’d raised before himself. Even so, as much as there was to see and to think about, being submerged beneath the earth was not where he wished to be for long, confined in the dark.

As he spared some time for thought- ; the contemplations he’d held prior wholly swayed beyond his psyche upon becoming the recipient of vocal harassment- obvious and beyond his care, but still distracting; - the Knight was the one person who definitely did not fit amongst the rest. He’d spoken of the Sword Saint, famed amongst the nations, recipient of endless respect: must’ve been the red-head, the late arrival, and gatherer of a further army of volunteers- he’d assume. Regardless, Raymond’s air dwarfed them, in a sense not wholly explainable. Whether age, weariness, or wisdom, he could not say. But the flames he’d shown, the Mark he’d sacrificed were done through nonchalance; but he doubted that was the end of it. A simple torch would suit the needs simpler, leaving him an opportunity to guard more freely, without sacrificing misattributed protection.


Perhaps he was, in fact, on guard: the act- perceivable as a sign of amnesty, sacrificing a mark with intents of good-will- actually performed with raised walls, a sign of an Imperial Custodian; how interesting, were that to be the case. His visible distaste hinted towards that being the case, regardless:

Within his hands were obvious prowess, equipped in no street merchant’s craft, but the workings of artisans beyond even nobility’s pockets. He must know a great many things, and it was obvious to Aetheros that he would need guidance were he to quicken his eventual ascent; there was no harm in being faster, so long as one arrives complete.

Though he was bright and he was glowing; he’d once been tolerated, then he’d become unbecoming. Respected, so long as he was growing. Once stagnant: issues began showing. He needed growth to continue shaping himself toward the final form he was destined to hold. Because of this, he could not disregard the gnawing dissatisfaction within him; the distaste of not amounting to what he knew he could do and accomplish, even if he would eventually.

Perhaps that is why his sister, every now and then, reveals herself from beneath the depths of his mind to chastise him. She had been dutiful, filial, unlike him, retaining different values from him growing up.

He knew well she must be quite preoccupied with living up to his own presentation, however dishevelled it may have ended up ending. He doubted she had room to pursue him, not that she would need to: the events of the night of her awakening of the Archon, their first meeting, rearing itself every now and then, recurring.

But he shrugged it off, his worries were those of the peasantry, not in proportion with what he had to do: easily disregarded. Though, who could possibly say when old heads rear themselves in future times, but it would not matter until they did, he supposed: regardless, the Crown Prince’d know who he was, and what he brought with him: clearly it had not mattered much to them, drinking as they’d done whilst arguing pleasantly. He was surprising even himself, with how nostalgic he’d be, as they walked towards their destination.

Had he not been so absorbed in his own quest, he’d likely have understood far before then, of the Prince’s death. But he was not someone else, strikingly egocentric, though not necessarily ill-intented.

Swallowing his pride proved an impossibility for him, as they began to reach their destination, he’d simply looked at the back of the presumed Imperial Guard with anticipation. Lowering his head before royalty was to be expected, but to seek guidance from anyone else as to how to ascend upon their first meeting? Incomprehensible. Instead, he’d cover his mouth, a brief cough then expelled, before he shook himself back into his usual dauntless self; just in time, light’s shine of the surface crossing the distance left to travel, a silhouette begging their unified attention: the Princess.

Things would then naturally progress, he was surprised by the haste taken in the arranging, but he supposed the Godslayer would not allow this to happen were he conscious, clearly asleep then. Though, again, who could say. The man was fabled for his lunacy, the Priesthood deathly afraid of him, for good reason, though he could likely imagine himself standing proud before him, perhaps amusing to the Ageless One.

Placing himself easily alongside the two most prominent, the Princess and her Martial Saint, if for no other reason than the fact that it was cramped, placing his focus instead on what was said, and heeded the words with care:

A journey, he heard- nonsense, for what purpose would there be in such undertakings? His gaze shifted to the Black Knight, clearly unwilling with what was occurring, most dubious. But the Princess appeared most trusting of his reliability, perhaps the house was fracturing? The Imperial Crown of Exultius in disarray? How baffling, humorous, perhaps even. But so, be as it may, he felt a graveness dwelling from within him: what of the Prince? Solara made a proud demonstration of the magical tool which she had acquired, and though it was a priceless artefact beyond the reach of mortal men, he was amongst the number who wielded a similar creation, though in need of restoration by a most capable artisan– an almost impossible prospect.

“Excuse my saying this, Princess- And, I admit I have been rather preoccupied in my own matters but,” Aetheros began uttering, his right firmly grasping his chin in thought, his discerning glimpse locked upon her eyes, “I owe the Crown Prince, and he appears to not be here with us.” Crossing his arms yet again, whilst scanning the map's contents, well-acquainted with them; he was supposed to lead armies to glory and victory, impossible to do without cartography; not a bad route, he thought briefly before continuing.

“He saved my life- though the event itself is rather complex,” not wishing to linger on the embarrassment for long, he swiftly approached the intent behind his interjecting: “I doubt he were to be dead, so I would not owe you in his place, would I?”

Interactions: Arkangel

Audience: @/everyone

 

[accursedjobber]

Marrok Escrimeur

Foolish Freedom Fighter

Midaheim Forest

Iana's assertation allowed Marrok to relax in the face of the so-called vile beast, apparently being domesticated to a state far away from Marrok's past experiences with bear's being less than fun, returning to attempting retain stilled nerves in the face of the impending meeting and trying not to focus on the impressive states of those around him in a futile attempt to not fuel jealousy and self-doubt, such traits would be unbecoming of a Captain after all.

"Nature truly is terrifying" Shufen's sarcastic intent in her comments was lost on Marrok as once again broke free from a mask of competency clumsily attempting to draw his sword before hearing the truth of the words "Yes, I too was joking" awkwardly back-tracking and making the decision to just stay quiet from now on.


The bestiard thankfully seemed to volunteer to go first to undergo that 'Stargazer' followed by a few others, if blood leeching is a common practice for royal engagements, then so be it, to take part in a plan that was probably above his own seemingly mundane schemes. Being given a chance to work under the princess of Exultius would be a pipe dream in any other circumstance so what right would Marrok even have to refuse, most folk would be grateful to even be in the same room as these probably high-profile figures.

Swallowing any semblance of doubt even if it's as a name featured in a failed plot record, to be remembered is the ultimate prize, with Marrok only having a single question to ask as he presented his unarmored hand along the rest going off that by the looks of things this would less painful then past stabbings.

"Would we be able to send letters once we're off? Course it wouldn't contain any sufficient details, but too be honest I half expected to be hung, Drawn and quartered and should really retract those precautions"

Already Marrok's fear seemed foolish in response to the invitation especially from the display of the stargazer, already knowing the answer to his question was probably a no and being seen as a fool but a promise was a promise to keep his men informed of his continued existence, drowning your sorrows only works for so long before the hang over sets in leading to boredom then treachery then more trouble for him to cull if he returns.


Interactions: Arkangel

Audience: @/everyone

 

[Monday]

Aristaios Solon

Relentless Sojourner

Madaheim Forest, Capital Exultius, Falhades

Aristaios tried not to wince as the small horned girl tossed away a perfectly good handkerchief. It was, after all, now her property, to dispose of as she pleased. At the same time, she appeared either not to hear or to ignore outright the words addressed to her by the Ukrethian lady. Taken together, her wary stance, her unkempt appearance, her blank stare, and her strange insensibility to blood and gore gave the impression of bewilderment rather than intentional rudeness. In response to his gesture, she did give a nod, if nothing more. Whether or not she was an Aerouant, she certainly had not received a normal upbringing. If the blood staining her claws was any indication, she was accustomed to fending for herself in the wilderness, where social graces were of no import. It was not her fault she had never been taught manners. He returned her nod, then decided to leave her be for the moment, stepping back to avoid being splashed by the blood she shook from her claws. Apparently it had not occurred to her to use his handkerchief for that purpose.

Either he had mistaken her rank at first glance, or this rose-clad woman was far less pretentious than the other nobles he had known. Alarmed at first by her reaction to his show of deference, he relaxed when she expressed her preference for informality with a friendly smile- one which he returned, after a moment, with a faltering smile of his own. He was a bit out of practice, these days. If anything, it was a relief to know that he wasn't the only one feeling out of his depth. Her breathless flurry of speech, even as it left his mind reeling to keep pace, was charming, in its way. Meanwhile, Virtue dismissed her concern over the interruption, adding that Aristaios would be far more comfortable speaking with her. Aristaios cocked his head, puzzling over this strange remark until his fellow Aerouant again drew his attention with her introduction. Enyo. It was an Aerouant name, all right, with a fine martial ring to it. "No, no, not at all!" He tried to put her at ease. "Rather, pardon me... I have not introduced myself properly. I am Aristaios of the Solon family..." He resisted the urge to bow again.

Their conversation was cut short by one of the latecomers, a yellow-eyed Draculus, expressing skepticism that a Nephilim such as Virtue could uphold the cause of peace, laced with venomous dislike for his kind. None had more reason to resent the Nephilim than the Aerouants and the Draculus, but this was neither the time nor the place, and Virtue did not represent his people. Aristaios tensed, anticipating confrontation, and struggled to think of something conciliatory to say. Virtue was quick to execute a deadly riposte without the slightest change in his casual demeanor. Aristaios waited in dread for retaliation, but the Draculus, apparently embarrassed, contented himself with sarcastic grumblings as he turned away. A fourth latecomer, one who had disconcertingly appeared out of nowhere to hand over his summons and whose voice had not been among the murmurings he had discerned outside the tunnel, voiced a cool retort to Virtue, which was summarily ignored.

Aristaios breathed a sigh of relief. Well. That was... one way of handling the situation. It was not one he would have chosen. Though it had proved effective, after a fashion, it would doubtless accrue resentment in the long term. Wondering if he should attempt to repair the damage done, he glanced at the Draculus, but ultimately decided against it. Wounded pride was a delicate business, and an obvious attempt to soothe it would only accomplish the opposite. Perhaps later he would offer a kind word, but for now the less said, the better. He then ventured a glance at Virtue. The Nephilim would face his share of difficulties amid such a diverse company, and so far he had not done himself any favors. Aristaios was willing to vouch for him when appropriate, but he could not imagine that Virtue would feel any sort of gratitude, nor that he would moderate his own demeanor in the slightest. In the end, that was his responsibility. At least he had made his own intentions clear.

Such thoughts were swept aside by the arrival of the other contingent, comprised of two individuals who looked human at glance, an Azelthyrian woman, two Beastiards, and, oddly, a large bear, which he assumed was a pack beast. Aside from the bear, they seemed rather mundane next to this odd assembly. Indeed, none of these people would look particularly out of place in the streets of Falhades. They were probably Exultius natives. Leading the procession was a man with striking red hair, of a far more jovial disposition than their own guide, who was addressed as "Sword Saint". The ensuing interaction betrayed some tension between them, at least on the part of Sir Reymond.

During the remainder of the journey he stayed close to both Enyo and the small, feral Aerouant. A hush had fallen over the group, as picking their way amid stalagmites became a tricky business, and neither the stony silence of Sir Reymond nor the Sword Saint's businesslike manner were such to encourage idle chatter. Aristaios cast curious glances round at the rock formations when he could afford it. In the presence of companions, even the empty darkness of this cavern beyond the warm circles of torchlight did not seem so sinister as the forest he had traversed alone. Rather, it was the noise of the city close overhead that played upon his nerves, stirring haunted memories. Finally, they stood directly beneath palace itself. He could almost feel a weight bearing down on him from above.

Now events moved quickly. Once he laid eyes on the Princess, all else was forgotten. Aristaios knew her even before she introduced herself, for who else could this woman be, with the blazing scarlet hair and noble, erect bearing? Every inch a royal, and every inch a soldier- gracious, composed, and possessed of a gentle self-assurance. She was just as a leader should be- or so it seemed. Such a one, he knew, could easily command his respect, for better or worse. He had believed in many, and many had failed him. Nonetheless, he was prepared to give her everything if only to keep that faint spark of hope alive- his trust, his loyalty, his life. Princess Solara Evernight... Please... Do not disappoint me. Such were his thoughts as he returned her bow with solemn gravity.

His rehearsed introduction postponed by the need for haste, he was quick to take a place at the table near the Princess, scanning its layout while the others assembled. As she delineated their route, he followed along with his eyes, committing each of the marked stations to memory. He was no great warrior, nor was he a trained tactician. Even so, he was determined to make himself useful. At the very least, he would not be a burden.

While she demonstrated the Stargazer's function he watched with keen fascination. Seldom had he been allowed to examine a genuine magical device in person. It would have been interesting to see its inner workings, though he wouldn't dream of dismantling such a valuable item. He was caught off guard by her solicitation of questions. Of course he had many questions. He was never without questions. All the more reason to think carefully before monopolizing valuable time. Whatever he asked ought to be of immediate, practical importance. Thankfully the Bestiard did not share his reticence, and and the ensuing interactions more or less encompassed his remaining doubts regarding the Stargazer.

Meanwhile, he listened with half an ear as his mind reviewed their itinerary and anticipated the challenges that lay ahead. At last, he ventured to speak. "Your Highness, if I may... You say we must stop in two cities to obtain supplies. Some of us cannot enter a city in Exultius openly. Will we split into two parties when we reach those locations...?" On second thought, perhaps it was a foolish question. Of course she would have measures in place, and it would not be strictly necessary to know them for a good while, yet. It was too late for regrets, however.

Interactions: Arkangel
Audience: @/everyone

 

[lunar_moth]

Anthy Casimir Grey

Prince of Tarnished Silver

Midaheim Forest

Anthy smooths his paw over the other where it was stuck. Thankfully, the initial pinprick has faded, and he’s pretty sure that the fur there is both light and sparse enough that any dark mark will show (unlike his Mark, that is, which is hidden underneath the darkly furred topside of his right paw; clearly, Anthy thinks, a side-effect of his being born without, and subsequently granted something which he was never equipped to carry).

He rubs his thumb absently over the inside of his arm and finds himself bobbing his head along with everyone else who speaks up. Mn, it’s true, now that he does a headcount— there are quite a few adventurers all gathered here. What’s one to do if they’re left out of the Stargazering process? Anthy begins to raise his finger to his chin, contemplative, but is abruptly cut off all at once. His head snaps to look across the way at the needle-shy blonde. Mrrrrp?!

“Ehh?? Miss, I’m not sure your eyes are working right… I’m no rabbit! I eat those for dinner! Me, I’m full feline—“ Anthy exclaims, and his tail flicks back and forth as if to demonstrate. He pulls his paws into a clawlike gesture and holds both up by his face. Like he’s ready to pounce, only he’s more kitten than lion, since his pupils are still round and dark from exhilaration. “…maybe not any kind specific, but the me-kind! I’m all Anthy-cat! Tch-hu-hu~”

Int: voided (Shufen Liang)
Audience: @/All

 

[ATurei]

Iana Ilmarinen

Wistful Wanderer

Falhades, Exultius | Paymonia

In this strange environment among strangers of temperaments she had yet learned, Iana found herself relented, molded to fit what was expected of her. She kept silent save for when the need for speech is vital. And her steps too fell into hunting caution, lest she caused needless troubles for new friends. For she treated them as such, as she ever does any who has not a blade to her throat. In that very manner, she answered with a warm smile the fellow Azelthyrian’s jest aimed at the anxious human. But when indeed a blade was conjured, hypothetically or not, her mood turned sour.

For all the mingling with folks of foreign culture that had birthed a degree of understanding and tolerance in her, she did not take well to threats of killing. Certainly not one packaged with so great a loathsome desire.

She answered the bestiard’s threat, as that was how she perceived the words, “That is not a nice thing to speak of a friend. I’m sure none of us want to hurt a friend, much less kill one. For my part, I would not do such a thing gleefully.” Her own words, more or less, did not carry the full extent of her malice; still, it was delivered a note colder than her previous answer. As for the implication of her willingness to retaliate, it was for the bestiard to figure out herself.

For the rest of the journey through the tunnel, she kept an eye on the bestiard. Perhaps it was unfair of her to be wary. Mayhaps the girl had an unfortunate history with vile beasts, as most people do not and cannot get along well with those creatures of destruction. Admittedly, her emotions were getting the better of her, and so was her expectation of the people summoned by the princess that came short. She had thought they a more understanding and capable folk. Recalling her brief time with the prince, and how many of his followers had worthily taken to their leader’s virtues, she was a tad bit disappointed by some of the disagreeable people she was with.

Gloomy doubts she bore with her along the gloomy underground passage. Only when the door revealed the familiar face full of meanings, was the light of hope sparked again. She couldn’t contain a smile at the sight of the woman. To Iana, the princess symbolized a better, brighter time. She was the purpose, the sole light out of tedium and creeping darkness. And though Iana seldom treated people differently, she regarded the likes of the Prince and Solara as people of different stock, whose stature stretched larger than life. For they are those who fight not for themselves but for great causes, and thus bear the hopes and lives of many. It would have been difficult to treat the princess as a simple individual if not for the affection ingrained in Iana for the woman.

Though she reserved fondly a spot for the princess in her memory and thoughts, Iana wondered if the princess still remembered her. She was royalty, of course, with many important businesses to attend to, as well as meetings and all sorts of duties that Iana could only imagine. And for how many notable people the princess got to meet every day, for how many encounters of wonder, perhaps Iana was not more than a flickering candle, that may at most invoke a vague familiarity of days bygone.

She hid her smile with a deep bow. An awkward and clumsy one. She was not used to such fancy customs, nor had she made an earnest effort for it during her time with the prince.

The mood was lightened by a fellow Azelthyrian’s cute reaction to the blood pact. Iana giggled innocently, and she too stepped forth. “At ease now, there’s nothing to be worried about: she’s not one to be violent.” She presented her wrist, “so be gentle with me too, Sol-ah-Princess,” she corrected herself in time just before committing the discourtesy of referring to the princess by her first name.

Arkangel and everyone
Direct interactions: voided Ayan

 

[voided]

SHUFEN LIANG

Hurricane Maverick

Midaheim Forest

Opening her eyes, she looked over at Anthy. She blinked at him, confused, as her gaze then went up to his ears. She blankly stared at them a little longer. Yeah, no, she couldn’t see the feline shape he was talking about. Shufan squinted, as if thinking that would help her in any manner. A free hand went up to the top of her head, back of her hand pressing down on her hat—just behind her small horns—as her index finger pointed up.

“Eh? But sir! Your ears are so long! How could you be a feline?” A genuine yet innocent question. She hadn’t gotten close to any Bestiards other than one of her siblings. All the others she saw were from people-watching as she sat around. As he entered some sort of clawlike stance, Shufan lowered her free hand, copying the clawlike hand position, albeit loosely. She hadn’t seen someone do that before. It was cute.

“Anthy-cat, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

The appearance of her fellow Azelthyrian was enough for her weak attention span to switch focus. Be at ease? How could she be at ease! A needle... pen... thing was going to prick her! She gave Iana an bewildered look, genuinely surprised at the reassuring comment. “Hey, hey... You can’t tell me to be at ease and then ask the princess to be gentle with you too! That’s cona– contri– c– That’s just going against your other sentence.”

Fortunately or unfortunately for Solara, Shufen was quite distracted with the two people chatting with her. Her arm was still presented as she talked to both Anthy and Iana, but not as tense as before.

Interactions: Arkangel (Solara) / lunar_moth (Anthy) / ATurei (Iana)

Audience: @/everyone

 

[lunar_moth]

Anthy Casimir Grey

Prince of Tarnished Silver

Midaheim Forest

“Mn, well, let’s see…. I don’t wag my tail, so I can’t be a dog. I can’t hop particularly impressively, so I’m not a bunny, and I don’t eat veggies much either….” Anthy makes a show of counting each example on his hand as he goes, putting down a finger each time. He’s not necessarily concerned about the other people who might be a little squeamish to sharp things, because hey, grow up, but at the same time it soothes a part of him to know he might be helping to bring a bit of relief to the situation. He snaps his fingers dramatically, and holds up one finger in a declaration of enthusiasm.

“—Hey! Maybe in another life I could be an owl! Owls have big ears sometimes, right? And nasty claws! Aah, that would be cool too, but in this life I’m just me. I guess no one ever actually told me I was a cat, so I understand your confusion. But I think it makes the most sense out of aaall the kinds I could be. And, I mean, ehe, I have some pretty good evidence to prove my example, but I’m not showing that to just anybody unless they catch me dinner first~” Anthy titters, and he sticks out his tongue playfully.

“En, are the rest of you all squeamish too? I thought the princess wanted only the bravest to join her side!” He adds an eyelid pull to his taunting face. “Surely if I and the Miss here can be brave about it, you all can hurry up and give your blood too…!”

voided @/all

 

[NUSKI]

O T I S

Ashen Sanguisuge

Capital Falhades, Exultius

As the princess' emissary stopped at a dead end of the tunnel, Otis slowly slid his right foot back against the grimy cement floor of the sewers, assuming the worst. He wrinkled his nose as the armoured man raised a shining stone from his pocket and placed it against the stone. The tunnel wall split in two and opened outwards and the group continued forward. The Draculus could see the light from the other side of the doorway but was too stubborn in his suspicions to enter without allowing the majority of the group to enter before him.

Passing through the tunnel wall, Otis pulled his hood down, taking in the room before his eyes landed on the princess. Having been in isolation for many decades he was unaware of what the princess looked like but he was expecting... something more. That shouldn't have surprised him either; humans were often disappointing creatures. When the Draculi were prospering, they were frail and simple, and just by looking at the Solara Evernight, he presumed not much had changed. If it weren't for the sheer amount of them, Otis' doubted they would have accomplished as much as they have. Otis wasn't sure if he was supposed to bow, but it was irrelevant; the only person who could ever receive such a high level of respect from him was Lilith herself.

Otis made his way over to the wooden table, taking in the map with great interest. It had been some time since he had seen one on this scale, the majority he had gotten in hands-on in the past few years only contained potential hunting locations for deer, bears and the like. Solara's explanation of their planned voyage fell on deaf ears as Otis was more focused on what had changed most in the surrounding area.

At the mention of magic, his head shot up and his focus switched over to the pen in Solara's hand. The corners of his mouth only sank deeper as blood from the Sword Saint's finger was used as some kind of magical ink. Otis was hoping that the fire produced by the armoured guide would be the only magic he would have to deal with, at least for the time being but after speaking to the Nephilim, he should have realized the disappointment wouldn't end there.

The Bestiard was the first to offer their arm to the princess, a blonde woman following close behind and Otis couldn't help but scowl with disgust as the princess repeated the process. Otis cared very little about the questions that came from the assembled group so he began rolling up his right sleeve whilst simultaneously cursing his past self for burning down his cabin. At the mention of being squeamish, Otis threw an annoyed glare in the long-eared Bestiard's direction.

"It has nothing to do with being squeamish, cat. Some of us are just not as willing to expose ourselves to strange magic," Otis said through gritted teeth. While he meant it to come out as bold and defiant, the slight tremor behind his words and the nauseous expression on his face betrayed his intentions. The thought of getting personally involved with magic was enough to make his stomach churn. Otis extended his exposed arm towards Solara, his gloved hand squeezing on the back of his forearm to conceal the quivering.

Interaction(s): Arkangel lunar_moth
Audience: @/all

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Anaias

Pretender Dragon

Capital Falhades, Exultius

Go here. Do this. Fight something. Kill someone. Anaias was relived. It sounded like the princess wasn't going to demand anything too complicated yet. She made it sound like they were just going to a place, picking something up, and going on their merry way. Funny plan. Anaias expected to have to kill many things in the near future if she wanted to keep the princess' funny plan on track. Anaias was used to drawing monsters and misfortune out of every shadowed ditch and crevasse along the path, the unavoidable perk of her rotten blood, and any that she traveled with would just have to deal with the fallout of that. Thankfully, she wasn't the only nephilim among the group, so worst case she'd just join the rest in blaming them for all the problems that were sure to arise.

Anaias's cold river eyes involuntary glanced backwards towards the way she'd entered the room as soon as the princess revealed the function of that magical tool she held. It was only a moment, then it passed. She was anything but fearful of giving her own blood - it was the currency she was most familiar with spending after all - but giving it to someone besides her master made her feel unpleasant. She ignored her discomfort and approached. "Urk," a single indeterminate sound escaped Anaias' lips as she realized there might be a problem. She stepped back for a moment and tapped a dangerous claw against her forehead. How exactly was she supposed to give her blood to the magic pen? The tip would probably break if the princess tried putting it in her arm... It would be a simple matter of explaining as much, but she was loath to use her words with so many people around. Those nearby the feral "aerouant" may have heard the faint growl of frustration rise from her as she thought about what to do here.

She gave up on thinking and avoided the issue of the princess needing to draw her blood entirely, by opting to slice open her skin near her collarbone and present a bloody claw to the princess. Without a sound of either explanation or complaint. Anaias saw no use for the magical pen in her case - where was it expected to write that she could read the message? - but if the princess asked for blood she would give it.

 

[voided]

SHUFEN LIANG

Hurricane Maverick

Midaheim Forest

Shufen looked at Anthy in a befuddled manner. Was eating vegetables a prerequisite to being a rabbit? Well, it made sense. Rabbits were herbivores, after all. Shufen lowered her free hand as she looked at Anthy up and down. Perhaps Bestiards had limited diets depending on the type of animal they were. The Azelthyrian hummed as she looked back up at Anthy.

“So question—and I'm prefacing this by the fact that I’m not that well-knowledged on a lotta stuff—are Bestiards diet limited by their specific race? Like since you’re a cat, you primarily eat meat? And a uhh...” Shufen looked away as she trailed off, thinking about another animal. Something omnivorous. “whatsanotheranimal— Bears!” Matching Anthy in holding up a finger enthusiastically. “So a bear Bestiard would eat both veggies and meat, yeah?”

As Anthy made a joke about not showing certain evidence to anyone unless they bought him dinner, Shufen gave him a nervous chuckle. She didn’t understand what exactly the Bestiard man meant, but she smiled and nodded along. As she looked back at Solara, the meaning behind Anthy’s words settled in. Yes, cats have–

A smack could be heard as she covered her face with her free hand, hiding her embarrassment. With a groan, she dragged her hand down her face slowly, looking over at Reinier as he confirmed her suspicions. Thank god there was an out of this predicament! Thank you mister redhead! Lowering her free hand, she nodded to the man’s words.

“Mhm, that makes sense. I guess whoever doesn’t want to get stabbed with the Stargazer can just say so?”

Interactions: lunar_moth (Anthy) / Khocolatte (Reinier)

Audience: @/everyone

 

[Arkangel]

Solara Evernight

Scorching Inflorescence

Falhades, Exultius | Paymonia

After the sole Bestiard, the next to voice their thoughts was the blonde whose origin ethnicity did not match the common Paymonian. She was an interesting one—relatively more passionate than some.

NUSKI voided ATurei “Fourteen. There’s fourteen people and twelve vessels. If we count Reinier and uh... Mister Rabbit. That means only ten others can be stabbed with your special pen, yeah?”

Solara would only reply with a nod.

The blonde then continued, “A-Anyway! Please be gentle ma’am! The last time I got poked with something, I was put outta commission for a bit! It went a bit too deep and hit something it shouldn’t have!”

The redhead was slow to catch onto what she had meant. It was something personal, perhaps? No matter, the way her expression changed throughout her speech was enough for her to let out a soft chuckle. But time was pressing her to hurry, and this was no exception. Solara responded with a firm tone, "There will be no need," she laid her hand over Shufen's and Otis' extended arms, before realizing that the one who tamed a Vile Beast was also offering her arm for the process. "Anthus was already on the list for those who will receive the Stargazer's conjuration. As you may have already guessed, only a select few will be chosen. Especially those who will be capable of relaying the messages to others easier. And unfortunately, the Stargazer is not a perfect item, it... tends to reject those of particular blood."

Solara shifted her vision to Otis, "Draculus blood is still being researched to this day, and for reasons that I do not know, the Stargazer cannot analyze Draculian blood. No need to worry."

Shortly after the end of her response to the Azelthyrian, the next to speak spawned concern for the princess.

Malphaestus “Excuse my saying this, Princess- And, I admit I have been rather preoccupied in my own matters but, I owe the Crown Prince, and he appears to not be here with us.”

“He saved my life- though the event itself is rather complex. I doubt he were to be dead, so I would not owe you in his place, would I?”

What troublesome words, she thought to herself. The news of her brother's death was intercontinental news that would be difficult to purposefully ignore for most common folks worldwide. From the newly established newspapers to simple words spoken from person to person, it would've been difficult to manage this far without the truth being laid upon one's ears. Perhaps, he was bluffing? But even then, what purpose would such a lie hold? Regardless, she grimaced at his words. Not out of enmity, but because of uncertainty.

"If he were to be alive, we would not be here right now." she stated with a hint of anguish, "He was executed for a capital offense that he did not commit. The details... we do not have the time right now to converse about the topic. Remind me again once we leave Falhades—you will receive a more fitting answer then."

Solara lightly shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts from the past. Now was not the time for reminiscence. Thankfully, the banter between the blonde Azelthyrian and the Bestiard was proving to help her focus on her priorities. Not to mention the phenomenal explanation given by Idalia and Reinier. She certainly owed them one.

Audience: @/everyone

Reymond Heracles

Imperial Knight: Sir Reymond

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

"It is time," the Imperial Knight spoke for the first time after emerging from the secret entrance, reminding Solara that it was time to withdraw from the castle. She would've liked to spend time with her newly formed comrades, and it was rather obvious to him that she desired to do so, but he was not interested in invoking the wrath of the Godslayer and dealing with his fiery temper. They were already on awful terms due to Reymond's blood, but that was of no concern to him. He made a promise to the one person he could ever truly call a friend, and he will honor that promise until it is done.

"Do not test your father's patience. It will end poorly for every person in this room. The Godslayer is this nation's final word. According to the laws that he established decades ago, we are traitors to his cause. You do not wish to end up like your brother without enacting your vengeance, do you?" Reymond spoke harshly, gaining a sharp gaze from his white-haired partner. No matter, he clicked his teeth and gestured the guards to begin the next phase, as they opened the gates and announced the departure of the princess to those who were part of this procedure.

"Our partnership ends here." Reymond allowed silence to continue between him and the princess for a brief moment, before announcing his final words before his departure. "May our next encounter be peaceful."

With those words said and his back facing the group, he was the first to disappear before the gate.

Interaction: Reymond, Khocolatte (Idalia)
Audience: @/everyone

Solara Evernight

Scorching Inflorescence

Falhades, Exultius | Paymonia

Solara could not find the right words to respond to his cold statements. He meant no ill will, and she knew that better than anyone else. Still, it felt bitter. With his strength and courage, and Idalia's passion and charisma, this road that she was determined to walk wouldn't have been so risky. But it was not meant to be. They had their own journey to continue, and the fact that they remained until now was enough for her. Respectfully bowing before the Imperial Knight who did not acknowledge her gesture, she then turned to Idalia who was standing beside her and smiled warmly before trying her hardest to hold back some tears.

"I suppose you'll be following behind him next..." she would find it difficult to lock gaze with the saint. Despite their similar height and youthful appearance, the princess viewed her like an elder sister who watched over her ever since she was a child. "Be safe out there. Really. I'm not entirely sure what you guys are planning, but I know that you're finishing the journey that my brother entrusted you two with before his death. I'm dying to know about the details, but I understand that it's not something I should know about."

Solara gathered the courage to raise her gaze.

"Thank you for everything you two have done for us. I won't forget it—ever."

Interaction: Khocolatte (Idalia)
Audience: @/everyone