Fantasy Axelis Fantasia (Inactive)

[Arkangel]

Axelis Fantasia

Final Divine Conflict

Chapter 0 - Prologue

Credit: swd3e2

The Story

Ages ago, in a continent where mortals and spirits of providence resided with one another through a cruel pyramid of hierarchy, a revolutionary of iron perseverance and strength revolted against the lords of the heavens, and waged war that shook the lands and reshaped civilization for the eons to come.

His influence conceived an empire of mortals, armed with weapons forged by ordinary fire and blessed by the blood of the fallen celestials. Through sacrifice and their tenacious will, the mortals rose victorious after decades of bloodshed, shattering the thousand-year-long law that held humanity chained to the dirt. From His battle against Heaven did an empire of tellurian supremacy thrive, bringing forth a new reign across the continent, establishing reconstituted law and order for the sake of the godless.

However, as even the mightiest is susceptible to the deterioration of the mind through aging, the revolutionary-turned-king began showing symptoms of dementia, worsening over time through the curse known as immortality after fortuitously consuming the souls of His slain foes.

What came after was a series of disasters that led the world into unfathomable discord.

A war was triggered between the mighty kingdom of His rule and His theocratic adversaries with the intention of rescuing the remnants of their fallen god, now nothing but a crystallized fragment used for the greed of humanity. His poor leadership initiated the death of thousands outside the capital city. And after His successor, His firstborn son had miraculously managed to diplomatically cease the war for a set period of time, the demented king ascended from His throne and chastised His beloved offspring, believing that His firstborn had fallen into the hands of the gods and their deceiving words.

An execution soon followed after as their lifeless corpse stained the memories of the innocent princess, whose will and determination strengthened over the course of her adolescence.

From the flames of her brother’s resolve, her fortitude became impenetrable, succeeding in their foolish dream of world peace, and abandoned the empire with a group of adventurers looking to imbue their names into the fables to come.

As they walk through the adversarial environment and collect the trust of the foreigners, the denounced princess seeks to build a nation from the people of the world, and defeat the malice that lurks beneath goodwill.

Such an adventure will not remain simple, however, as this world was forged from the raging inferno of conflict and suffering, and they will be met by an entourage of opposers whose ends would spell doom for her endeavors.

Khocolatte Malphaestus lunar_moth WinterFestivity Kloudy Obsidian OverconfidentMagi NUSKI Tice voided Monday SleepySheepiez Admiral19 ATurei Ayan accursedjobber

 

[Arkangel]

Solara Evernight

Scorching Inflorescence

Royal Evernight Athenaeum, Exutlius, A Decade Ago

“Does my dear sister know of the Bifrost Prophecies?”

“The ancient predictions made by the First Scholars of Aegyium? They’re wonderful stories! Father’s a fan of the prophecies himself. He speaks of it with such delight!”

“Is that so? A stunning revelation. I always believed he disdained the prophecies.”

“Why do you think that?”

“... The City of Avalon remains a ruin to this day.”

The crimson-haired young girl raised an eyebrow, confused by the answer of her elder brother. She curiously placed her fingers above the wooden table and peaked at the book that the prince was reading, the table barely blocking her view.

Curious, the princess raised her heels to get a better display of the book's cover, only to be disappointed when she found her brother’s hands over the texts, intervening in her curiosity. She pouted and scooted herself to her brother’s lap, and read the tiny texts above the cover where his hands did not impede.

The Bifrost Prophecies.

As stated by the prince, they are a series of predictions made by the famous scholars that roamed Aegyium during the continent’s time, before it became a land infested by the creatures from the Infinity Chasm. The last of its forgotten history, the Bifrost Prophecies is an apocryphal piece that is mainly believed to be written by the First Scholars, a group of academic philosophers that knew the truth behind the world, mainly through their ability to predict the future. Though they reigned over the world with their wisdom thousands of years before the First Divine Conflict, the horrifying fact behind their disappearance and the fall of Aegyium’s greatest empires would leave many uncertain, as the Bifrost Prophecies was the direct source behind the fall of their own civilization.

There exists three books that speak of the prophecies in detail: The Downfall, The Apocalypse, and The Resurgence. Each book tells a tale of its own, void of characters and titles, but instead visualizes the world through wordy descriptions. The typical method of prediction—many would say to slander the books, many experts in the field would exclaim. Until the world drowned in the same flames that the prophecies spoke of, and witnessed the apocalypse that would leave half of Paymonia in ruins and form the river of blood across the continent, did the people begin to believe that the prophecies should not be taken lightly.

And with the Godslayer’s rise and the Fourth Divine Conflict, the prophecies became common knowledge, as even the peasants who have no access to advanced literature would know of its contents.

It wasn’t exactly unexpected that the princess of one of the most powerful countries would know of it in great detail.

“Mm… I don’t really get it,” The princess expressed her confusion, finding comfort on her elder brother’s lap. She digressed shortly after, “I just want to read whatever you’re reading. Move your hand!”

A soft chortle escaped the prince’s lips as he felt the light strength of his sister move his hand away from the closed book, attempting to view the title with a fierce look, showing her spoiled side. In an attempt to calm her blazing curiosity, the prince allowed his hand to be carried away to reveal the title.

Upon first glance, the princess observed with confusion and muttered the words that were written.

“The… Divine Cycle…?”

“Indeed, it is the fourth divination.”

“Liar, there’s only three!”

“Or so they say. Yet here lies the original, untethered from decay. Its condition immaculate, but with the exception that it remains incomplete.”

Silence ensued for a moment until the princess’ curiosity widened upon the realization that this would make her night. A fan of the three prophecies, it was no surprise that she would find interest in the fourth issue, especially when her brother claimed that the book in front was the original, and not the copy. Excitedly she would swing her legs back and forth, carefully not to accidentally strike her heels against his shins.

“Well, if that’s the case—I want to hear more about it!” She demanded, refusing to leave her brother’s side despite getting the initial answer she wanted. Like the spoiled child she was, the princess was never the type to allow her curiosities to be left unanswered. And with the newly reawakened desire, her inquisitiveness returned, perhaps more resilient than ever.

The prince’s charm came from his understanding. And so, his weakness was the purity of his only sibling who wanted his attention more than anything else. Having lost to her roaring charisma, he nodded in defeat and smiled, ultimately choosing to entertain her until her scheduled curfew.

“Did you notify Miss Helene that you’ll be spending your night here?”

“Ah…! I forgot!”

“Hm… No worries. I suppose this would not take long.”

Prince Wilhelm cleared his throat and flipped through the pages until he would end up in the first chapter, titled “The Promised Victory”, where he would begin narrating the prophecies in his own words, as opposed to reading the texts.

“Aeons in the future, once the enraging inferno cleanses the world and evil exist no more, fates will intertwine between two souls, facing one another from separate worlds. From there, they will overcome their adversities for the sake of the other and repeal the Apocalypse, vindicating their name to the heavenly testament. Only then will they be reborn into a world of infinity, where they shall enact the Divine Cycle.”

He flips to the next page.

Having already visualized the scenario in her head, the princess would frown at the sight of the contents of the next page. To her disappointment, the pages were without ink—textless and vacant of images and words.

“It’s unfinished?”

“I find it hard to believe that the First Scholars would title an unfinished book. The pages exist elsewhere, outside of this library. I have ventured the foreign lands in search of it, but…”

He paused and sighed. Solara’s quick wits caught onto his expression and body language, as he began to tap his fingers on the table. In silence, she waited for him to continue, slightly distressed by her brother’s peace until he uttered his next words with uncertainty.

“The answers lie under the debris that buried the City of Avalon. Father, who planned on restoring the city, lost his desire when the Fourth ended. For reasons that no man understands, he has forbidden Exultian institutions from studying the ruined city, regardless of the safety measures taken against the Vile Dragon, Fafnir. I know it lies underneath the cavern. The covenant that split the world in three, and the truth behind the Infinity Chasm.”

To Solara, these were mere rambles that she found difficult to comprehend. Perplexed by his explanation, she raised an eyebrow and listened, expecting more to be told.

But regardless of how many minutes passed, Solara would find herself sitting in silence, disappointed again when her brother would attempt to digress.

“Ah… Sorry about that, Solara. Your brother hasn’t slept in a good while, and it seems delirium is finally getting to him. Unfortunately, it is time for us to depart to our chambers for proper rest. I shall entertain you tomorrow, once the opportunity comes again.”

After several attempts at expressing her desirous attitude, the prince would ultimately pamper the spoiled child with actions but did not yield to her curiosity. With haste, the prince ushered her guardian maid and sent the princess back to her chambers, where the night would continue without a word between the two, until the morning when news would spread across the empire.

The prince had departed from the nation with a handful of knights and trusted companions, only to return to his demise a decade later.

Evernight Highcastle, Exultius

Within the confines of her bed-chamber, the adolescent daughter of the renowned Godslayer scribbled away at her desk while the old man fell into a somnolent slumber. Moments like these were most opportune for the young adult to continue her crusade in secret, one that would inevitably come to fruition if she succeeded in achieving her current goals without getting caught. Otherwise, she inferred that she would end up on the chopping block like her late brother, and that her head would end up rolling not too far from where his had once been. The recurring thoughts of his last moments, unfairly stripped from him, filled her with unbridled rage and ambition. It was more than enough to maintain her motivation for her cause.

With black ink calligraphically etched onto the surface of rough, tinted parchment, the princess of Evernight diligently crafted fifteen handwritten letters to be carried out to her soon-to-be warriors, should they have accepted her written proposal, and would write fifteen more should they have not. Each one was personally tailored to the desires of its recipient, although they all shared a similar design. The date–March 26, 3920–was emblazoned onto the thick paper with a rich onyx pigment, followed by words of exigency, instructions of where to meet, and how to get to the rendezvous point assigned accordingly to one’s residence.

To those who lived beyond the borders of Exultius, they would receive the following instructions:
“The main entrance to the capital is cut off by several hundreds of guards and is kept on high watch at all hours. Because of this, I have provided a diagram below for reference as to understand how to enter the castle, where we shall meet in person on March 28, 3920, at 0200 hours. The secret entrance that you will take will be located underground, just northwest of castle grounds. There should be a river by the gate.

At midnight, please follow the river northwards, and you will eventually stumble upon a distinct, glowing triangle symbol. From there, you will have to venture throughout the forest to find the path towards the castle’s secret entrance. I have created a simple way to locate this path, using genetically modified mushrooms that glow upon contact with an acidic mixture I have concocted. I have attached a vial of this substance to this letter, so use it accordingly. These mushrooms are reactive, meaning that others will glow alongside it. Make sure no one is around when you are using this, and advise caution. Despite the mushrooms individually having a low lumen count, I would recommend plucking a few mushrooms and releasing the spores to reach the intended path without attracting too much attention.”

In the letter, to those who lived within Exultius, its contents would read:
“Please arrive at the Arkaim Tavern on March 27, 3920, at 2100 hours. Once you arrive, head to the second floor and search for a man of average height with strikingly long, vermilion hair. Use the code word “Bifrost” so he knows I have sent you. He shall guide you, amongst a few others, to the secret entrance of the castle. Keep in mind that it will be dark once you reach the forest, so it will be a good idea to stick together.”

After hours of writing, the letters would be rolled up into scrolls, tied with a golden thread, and stamped with a scarlet wax seal to be sent off. Once she had placed the letters into her scroll bag, the princess made her way throughout the castle, performing her mundane duties as she typically would while quietly searching for her most trusted servant. She would eventually find them on watch duty by the balcony, humming to themselves as if unaware of the princess’s presence. A curt tap on the arm with the back of her palm would bring their attention to her. Initially, the two would assume natural conversation, and then the princess would issue a command in a hushed voice, in case the walls had ears.

“Listen carefully,” she would say, “for I am entrusting you with a very important decree. I need you to deliver these letters to their intended subjects. You must not read what is inside; your only task is to make sure that these letters get to them, no matter what. Whether on foot, by messenger crow, by horse, or by sea, as long as it gets done, the method of delivery does not matter. Any other circumstance, should you fail to fulfill this task, will be unforgivable.”

With her last remark, she withdrew herself from the scene.

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

 

[Monday]

Aristaios Solon

Relentless Sojourner

Forest Outside Exultius' Capital

By the light of the moon, Aristaios studied the diagram and re-read the instructions enfolded in the well-worn scroll, though there was little need, for he knew both by heart. A cool breeze set the leaves to whispering, and he breathed deeply of damp earth and new growth. His heart hammered. Now the adventure was begun. Out of habit, he drew his cloak close about him. No garment would hide his horns- there were holes cut in the hood to accommodate them- but if spotted at a distance he might pass for an Azelthyrian, and if seen for what he was, he would at least have the protection of anonymity while he made his escape. Until now he had journeyed through the wild places of Exultius, as he had once before, though this errand could not be more different from that mad and aimless flight.

Before him, at some distance, stood the impregnable wall of the nation's capital and within it the great gate, aglow with torchlight, by which swarms of patrolling sentries cast long and wavering shadows. Beyond it rose more delicate masonry- arches, columns, buttresses; and over all loomed the castle spires, like some brooding apparition. This was as far as he dared venture. A river flowed nearby, bubbling, brisk, and flashing silver. North and south it ran, by his reckoning. Judging by position of the moon and the faint glow of the horizon, it was midnight- or else the hour had come and gone while he stood deliberating. Satisfied that this was the river indicated by the Princess, he replaced the letter in his pack, adjusted its weight on his shoulders, and felt his bow and quiver close at hand. Then he slipped into the shadows among the trees.

Ages, it seemed, had passed since the summons came, though to his years abroad it was nothing. How shocked he had been, on returning late and weary to the creaking warehouse he called a school, to find that brilliant red seal upon the old chest he called his desk. Alarm seized him. Surely this missive had been stolen or mislaid en route to some important personage. How could he return it without being taken for the thief, himself? Then he saw his name. Yet again, he wondered what sort of person Solara Evernight might be, and how she had come to know of him. He would soon find out. Like many, he had known and admired Prince Wihelm from afar, but to his knowledge their paths had never crossed. Could one of the innumerable faces blurred together in his memory belong to him? It was a thought both eerie and thrilling.

The night wore on. Aristaios had a poor sense of time, but he knew the sky well. Nonetheless, he began to fear he had not calculated his course aright. To lose the opportunity that had given his life purpose over some trivial error! It was unthinkable. Still, these anxieties kept rising to the surface, and each time he tamped them down by reviewing the letter again and again. There was no detail he had missed. Softly, the wind sighed, the river murmured, and occasionally animals stirred in the undergrowth. Eyes and ears alert as always, while his mind roamed elsewhere, he flitted from shadow to shadow with a practiced grace born of hard necessity. Such a blundering oaf, he had been, at the start. If not for his quick wit and the kindness of strangers, there was little telling what might have become of him.

Presently he discerned a glow up ahead. As he drew near it resolved into a triangle shape, which, on closer inspection, was revealed to be a plot of luminous mushrooms. A vial was soon produced from his pack. Now he knew he must proceed carefully. Some minutes' exploration lead him to a small cluster of similar mushrooms at the far end of the grove, though without any light. After looking around him carefully and listening, he crouched down, uncorked the vial, and tipped one drop of the substance onto the cap of a mushroom. Almost immediately, it glowed. Then one beside it followed suit, and another. Soon the whole patch was alight. Disconcerted, he quickly plucked them all and stuffed them into his knapsack, reserving one, which he held under his cloak.

By poking and prodding and examining it quite meticulously, he was able to find the mechanism by which the spores were released. In fact, a firm tap on the cap was all that was needed. Aided by the breeze, the glowing spores, like steady fireflies, drifted away from him, some alighting here and there amongst their kin and sparking the same soft glow. These lights, though few and far apart, seemed to lead away from the river. Aristaios breathed deeply to compose himself, and then pressed on. He dearly hoped he was doing this correctly. Were these instructions for him alone? She had warned him to be discreet- a directive he would have heeded in any case. Yet he must meet someone, eventually, be it even within the castle walls. Would he meet no one but the Princess? Had not others been called?

A shiver crept over him as he appreciated the danger of this enterprise. An Aerouant, a so-called traitor to Exultius, stealing into the abode of the Godslayer! Madness. Sheer madness. Unfortunately he was not one to see humor in it. There was, frankly, far too little information in that letter to satisfy him. Would he know the gate by sight? Would there a gatekeeper? How would he know friend from foe? Far too many variables were left to prey upon his imagination as he walked along. How visible was the path of mushrooms from afar? Could he be followed? What if he was going the wrong way? What if he had followed the wrong river? At the very least, he could be reasonably sure it wasn't a trap. Reasonably sure. A trap, he thought, would be much easier to find.

Well. For all his doubts, there was nothing for it. Even the faintest promise of peace was worth every risk. A proverb came to mind: Look not behind, nor to the right, nor to the left, for the path of duty lies straight ahead, if it be through fire and thorns.

 

[Ayan]

Maihra Melody

Shadow of a Hero

Arkaim Tavern [VOIDED]

Mai had not been expecting any letters. When she saw the red seal, she was even further surprised. A letter from Solara, intriguing. She had not spoken to or even seen the princess in quite some time, they rarely encountered each other after the death of the prince. She had memorized each word by the time she finished traveling back to the capital, and now the time had come. She didn't really even have a choice in answering this summons, but she was glad to be helping Solara regardless.

She wore an elegant, but reasonably practical black dress, she didn't plan on fighting tonight, but needed to be prepared should it be necessary. She entered the tavern several minutes before the hour dawned, she made no effort to hide her appearance or identity, but in kind made no attempt to draw attention. She spent those few minutes mingling around, so when she did go to the second floor the moment the hour changed, she wouldn't be as conspicuous doing so. Her eyes began scanning for the man the letter described the moment she reached the higher level.


Bifrost was the codeword. This was remarkably like Solara, thought out, carefully planned, and a bit needlessly theatric. Mai smiled to herself, clutching her staff in her hand. Soon she would be amongst allies, likely most of them new, but allies nonetheless. It had been years since she could say such.

 

[Arkangel]

Reymond Heracles

Imperial Knight: Sir Reymond

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

The Midaheim Forest held historical significance that most would not know about. Other than it being a glorified battlefield in the previous Divine Conflict, those who were born in Exultius would learn of its history alongside the Godslayer's tales, especially the point about the forest being the center point of attention during the Nephilim assault.

The Eastlands, where Exultius and other allied commonwealths are situated, harbored a terrain stranger than anywhere else in Paymonia. The Midaheim Forest was a prime example. The thick woodlands surrounded the capital of Exultius, Falhades, hugging the mountains that protect the south, east, and west, and allowed towers and fortresses to be built on top of the mountains, with a significant view over the forest beneath. Only the north remained open to flat terrain. As such, vast walls as tall as the mountains were built to protect the capital from the remaining directions.

Not only did the forest offer great protection to the heart of Exultius, but it also contained several earthly fissures that were formed during the Godslayer's battle against his greatest foe, Ausar. His strikes broke the heavenly gates and struck the earth of Terra below, creating a deep chasm that would later be used as a territorial advantage during the war against Aeslengard.

Aristaios and the other adventurers would certainly find hardship during their travels across the forest. From the abyssal fissures on the ground to vile beasts that lurked in the wide forest, their journey would soon be met with a tremendous wall, an extension of the northern gate.

The river that they would follow continued onward into the wall's underground tunnel, where only darkness remained. The only thing they would hear is the sound of the flowing water reaching the deeper end of the tunnel underneath the wall. With no source of light to guide them, they would be troubled, as they knew not what awaited them once they set foot into the artificial tunnel.

However, their worriment would soon be tested when they realized that a person was walking towards them from within the tunnel, their metal boots clanking towards them, perhaps alerting Aristaios.

But before he realized it, the man had already revealed himself to the Aerouant, the moonlight grazing against his face and mauve armor, lighting the carved gemstone on his chest that extended to his neck. Armored to every inch of his body except for his head, the intimidating knight shot his gaze into Aristaios' eyes, analyzing him for a moment before he spoke.

"You're the first."

His voice had an almost ethereal tone with a slight hint of baritone.

Aristaios ( Monday )​

 

[NUSKI]

O T I S

Ashen Sanguisuge

Asura Forest to Exultius' Capital

The smell of smoke invaded Otis' nostrils as he watched the cabin's roof cave in. The heat licked his ashen hair before he stepped back to watch his home of over 70 years moan and creak as the flames enveloped the wooden walls. The Draculus lifted the letter to the light of the flames, squinting at the instructions one last time before departing. Simply leaving the forest caused him significant discomfort, his last reference to the outside world being saturated with bloodshed and heavy losses. Although it had been some time, he was aware of a path he could follow out of Ukrethian territory without encountering too many people.

Resting on his right hip were four glass vials filled to the brim that would make a soft clinking sound every time he picked up his pace. Three of them were filled with rabbit blood while the fourth contained the acidic mixture that was sent with instructions. On his left, Adeline hung loosely whilst his left hand gripped Cecil's hilt, beginning to sweat at the thought of the outside world. Otis would not look too different from a homeless veteran if it were not for the weapons. His attire consisted of mismatched pieces of poorly maintained leather armour, stolen from the humans foolish enough to hunt in the Asura Forest. His left gloved hand pulled at his oversized ripped brown cloak, caked with stains of dirt and blood. He bent down to pick up Lilith and hang the bow on his shoulder, resting uncomfortably beside the half-filled quiver.

The journey to Exultius' border alone took much longer than he would've liked as he travelled solely on foot and stopped at the mere sound of branches snapping or leaves shaking in the wind. Otis was overwhelmed by just the sight of the city, his thoughts immediately scrambling to comprehend how many denizens the walls protected. As he lifted his head skyward, Otis suddenly felt very small compared to his simple living in the wilderness. If he tried hard, he could envision Cecil gawking at the architecture whilst Adeline grabbed him by the ear and pulled him forward. It would not be uncommon for Otis to chastise the two and remind them to stay on task, a skill he had learned before the Third Divine Conflict.

A soft breeze swept passed him and quickly returned him to the present, the reality of his old friends' fates souring his mood. "If they could see me now," Otis whispered to himself before he spat on the ground and continued towards the river.

It did not take too long after his reminiscing to find the glowing triangle described in the letter. Otis bent down to get a closer look before dragging the fourth vial from its leather holster and holding it up towards the moonlight. He lowered his gaze to the scene in front of him, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards at the sight of the forest. He turned his head to the ground and tilted his head to the side at the sight of a small clearing of mushroom roots. Otis' eyes danced crossed the dirt, searching for any recent footprints. His gloved hand gripped tight around Adeline's hilt, he identified a pair of footprints disappearing into the grass. He slowly pulled his body upwards before walking in the opposite direction to pluck some mushrooms from the ground.

Otis held one in his hand while the rest were squished under his armpit, cautiously dabbing the mushroom cap with the mixture before throwing it carelessly towards the grass where the footprints disappeared to. Two other mushrooms lit up and Otis plucked another from under his armpit, gaining an understanding of what he had to do. The Draculus threw the following mushrooms sparingly, taking care not to leave an obvious path for any potential foe to follow him.

It was when Otis could see two figures farther toward the ominous tunnel did he stop in his tracks. A soft hiss escaped from his lips and he got low, threw the vial and mushrooms behind him and unsheathed Cecil. The letter didn't specify if others were joining him yet they did not seem to be a search party. He slid behind the closest tree, his yellow eyes staring wide towards the tunnel, waiting to see what would unfold.

 

[Malphaestus]

Aetheros Virtus

Brilliant Sol

Midaheim Forest - Falhades

Forests speak in their own language, through the critters who creep, and through the winds that swivel in between rotted stumps and growing trees: a language unspoken, merely felt- beauticious, but deadly all the same. It had not taken long for him to arrive at their rendezvous, as per the directions delivered to him, and as per the oral oath he had sworn to the Crown Prince out of ignorance for his stature and place. Who’d known that it would take him into the Castle of the Beast, but it was of no consequence to him; no matter the danger, he would emerge the victor eventually. It was simply who he was to be.

As he swayed the foliage with graceful hand, he glode through the forestry with patient haste trained in wandering for many years. Neither concerned, nor in fear, what dangers lurk within the forests were none to rear themselves before him, miraculously avoiding the biggest brunt of hindrances on his blissful trek through this wooded place. Absorbed, instead, with this nocturnal realm: stone’s throw outside the most devious place the Nephilim have ever put to word and story, for should he believe what he’d been taught, naught but horror could be found beyond the walls which above him towered. But he remained unperturbed as he wandered further, a clearing reached and the mushrooms sighted, those from which the letter’d speak.

But he heard subtle creaks, of foliage rustled, and branches cracked. Realising the situation then, the Virtuous One came to realise that neither was he the only one, nor the first, to pursue the will of the letter delivered, forcing piqued curiosity and weighted thoughts.

Based on the sounds he’d heard, the one who’d stepped before him was cautious beyond reproach. And though none could’ve ever heard their subtle walk, it was an unfortunate coincidence to them that Aetheros had simply wandered in a world wholly his own, unappreciative of the world beyond until he was forced to recognize the mushrooms.

By that point, no stealth could ever obscure their sound, simply far too close to hide whilst moving within the tall grass and amongst the shrubbery, carefully taking note of the subdued glow of mushrooms that pierced through the foliage, walking behind them only when he felt, intuitively, that an appropriate distance had been broached between the two.

He had planned to do as the letter requested of him to, but considering the fact that the path itself revealed itself to him, without so much as an effort spent, he felt no need to pursue it; taking settled steps, walking with upright back and with a gaze wandering through the wilderness that encompassed all of them, he noticed the beauty all around him. Every little thing, from indiginous flora, to the sudden racing of small critters, too absorbed in eating to notice his presence until the very last second.

With the contents of the letter deeply cemented into his brain, he was at no loss on what to do, and as he wandered, he merely waited for the next step on his walk to reveal itself: a drainage tunnel, which no doubt would carry itself into the very heart of the Monster and his Empire. Certainly, he could not have ever expected himself to wander where the Godslayer reared his kindred and transplanted fear into the hearts and minds of all lessers. Though his sanity had been gravely criticised for many years, it meant turmoil for other nations and their ambitions: no longer controlled, sensible, or logical. He knew, from whispers to his ears, back in his golden years, that the Highest Priesthood deeply feared how to handle the man.

Though it was none of his own matter, his path- whilst he could not know where it led- would certainly never end before it had ever began.

As he carried himself through the last of the thicket, he spotted the tunnel, and the subsequent river which, within, flooded out and the river at his side which, until now, he’d never taken notice of. Though the thought that he’d even arrived at the meeting point without taking great notice of the surroundings around him did emerge from the deepest recesses of his own mind, he took it for granted that he would, as he did with all else, and was rewarded adequately.

Though, what was most curious was the man, at the mouth of the drainage tunnel, hugging to the wall, and peeking deep inside. Based on his aversion for notice, the carefulness in his demeanour so obvious as to be counter-productive, it must have been the man he had allowed to lead him. Considering where his focus had been planted, Aetheros presumed there were yet others inside.

Uncaring for the peeping man, he simply continued to walk towards the tunnel, glancing through the side-eye at the dual-wielder, mocking him mentally for appearing like a common robber seeking bounty in a sewage tunnel.

Though Aetheros was never particularly covert, the moment where the Draculus had taken notice of his own presence, he had already called out to them man, wondering “who could possibly occupy the tunnel, during a night such as this, where fellows gather for a meeting with royalty?” Though he spoke with loose lips, and softened glib, it was no lie that it would make no sense were it anyone but those who had received the letter to congregate before a sewage drain without any apparent worth.

Though he wished to tap the shoulder of the estranged man, clearly far too tense to function with any degree of normalcy in the social environment, he refrained from doing so. Hermits, after all, were a strange group; certainly no telling how they would respond to any apparent slight. And, if they were as he was, they couldn’t possibly be ordinary.

Instead, he snapped his finger, and emerged into the tunnel. As he did, he spotted the figure of two, one bearing horns, and another ladened in steel from neck-to-toe. As he did, flippantly, he told the two of them: “another one is ‘hiding’ at the mouth of the tunnel, though,” briefest pause settled, as he gazed at the Knight’s imposing figure, “perhaps you were already aware of that.”

Bearing unrivalled poise, circumstance not meaning much to him, he settled amongst the two, as the third, amongst the soon-to-be four, hopeful that they would not need to mingle for long amongst the cold cavernous sprawl. It was damp, and uncomfortable: an unideal place to settle old scores, and relieve burdensome oaths.

Though, hopefully, he could find a clue to his destiny here. After all, where else but Exultius to accomplish such a task: this was Falhades, no place across the Earth was alike this one. Who could even number the innumerable secrets which are found within its halls, in its backdoors, and held within the minds of the Empire’s most accomplished.

 

[lunar_moth]

Anthy Casimir Grey

Prince of Tarnished Silver

Arkaim Tavern

Anthy wastes no time in packing a rucksack with his most necessary belongings — a change of innerwear, whatever paint pigments and medicinal herbs he has left stored in a multicompartmental tin, and his glass-faced pocketwatch, all tucked into a leather bag and hefted across his back and over his dual swords. The strap chafes a bit at his skin from underneath his cloak, and for a moment, he feels an indescribable feeling; something big, and heavy, and un-take-backable. He takes one more look at the wax-sealed letter in his paw before reaching over to tuck that in his bag too, and that is all he needs to steel his resolve and remind himself exactly what the next right choice is for him to make.

Anthy clutches his right handpaw to his chest, mark pressed close. He doesn’t dare pray, but it’s something close, even if he doesn’t have the words for it.

“…Okay. Okay, goodbye, Brindleweald. I’ll come back when it’s all over. I’ll see you soon.”

He turns heel and begins the march onwards to the capital city, to meet the princess, and perhaps to do the most important thing of his life.

***​

…But not quite yet. We’ll work up to that. At the moment, Anthy is trying his best to scrabble up a small cliffside, having opted to travel by foot rather than catching a ride. Unfortunately, having spent most of his life wandering the same old woods, he seems to have severely underestimated the volume of mountainous terrain that surrounds the capital city, and he finds himself with sweat-dampened fur, claws dug into the ridges he can get a hold of and trying desperately not to fall to his pathetic, rocky death before he even makes it to the tavern.

“Above and below,” he curses/wheezes, ears flattened against his head in a face of determination. Or maybe constipation; it’s nuanced. His left foot slips off of its hold and he yelps. His clawtips scratch and scramble at the rock face; his tail lashes back and forth a bit furiously, but he quickly puts a stop to that when the momentum of it only serves to disrupt his balance more. You’re practically a mountain lion! Get it together, man!

There is one more method he can try. He’s close enough to the top of the hill that he can nearly reach out and hoist himself up onto the final ledge. It’s just out of arm’s reach, however…. and Anthy grimaces a little bit at the feeling of rock grinding against metal, but when he precariously reaches over his shoulder to unsheathe one hooked sword and uses it to latch onto the next tiny foothold, well — if it works, it works. The pointed tip of the blade digs into the rock and gives him the leverage he needs to pull himself up and onto the hilltop. He immediately collapses onto his back, arms and legs sprawled out and dust clinging to his fur. As Anthy catches his breath, his gaze drifts sideways and across the landscape. From this high up he can see the city, plus the winding dirt road that leads up through the hills and trees, populated by a few sparse travellers. That would have been a much, much easier path to take. Unfortunately Anthy has a bit of a flair for theatrics sometimes and, well, the mountainous route was more stealth-like.

“Only the finest of soldiers for her highness,” Anthy reminds himself, and then he picks himself up and continues the dusty, weary trek onwards to glory.

***​

Perks of being of Bestiard descent: hyper reflexes, superior endurance, physical traits uniquely suited to your environment. Claws and paws are wonderful for climbing and smacking things around.

Cons of the same: Everybody ever will notice you. Like, even the other Bestiards, because no two look the same. They all wanna question you and get all up in your business, like it’s any of their right to invade your privacy.

“I’m not trying to invade your privacy. I’m asking you to get off of the roof or I’ll have to have you escorted off the premises,” the bar employee calls up to him. He doesn’t have particularly striking vermillion hair, but it’s sort of a rusty brown, and he sure is average height. Maybe this is one of the people he’s supposed to meet?

Anthy grumbles to himself but still dutifully slides off of the tavern’s roof and onto the second-floor balcony, landing on all fours, as you do. He straightens himself out and offers a half bow of theatrical flair.

“Evening, brother!” Anthy says, and extends a hand palm-up in courtesy. “Kekeke, don’t mind me. I’ve just come by to meet up with some of my cohort from the university nearby and got distracted by the view. We’re studying to become scholars of local history; you’ve heard of the Bifrost Prophecies, I assume?” His eyes glitter as he awaits an answer.

Unfortunately, this man is apparently not one relevant to the quest. All he does is casually, threateningly lead Anthy inside with a hand clapped firmly over his shoulder.

“Very well and good for you and all that. Now stay off of my roof. Off you go, go find your school friends, then.”

“Yes, sir!” Anthy salutes. He scurries inside. The ambery smell of liquor and the buzz of drunken voices greets him on the way in; immediately, his eyes rove around the room for someone a little more suited to the description in the letter. Aha! There he is, sidled up in a shadowy part of the tavern. Anthy meanders along up to him and slides into a booth just to his side.

He stretches both arms above his head, tail curling at the same time. Then he makes a show of rolling out his shoulders, cracking his neck, and he places one foot on the bar table in front of him; shoes, while lovely in all their perks, are not strictly necessary for his kind, and his paw pads leave little dusty smears on the tabletop. Frankly, it’s unbecoming behaviour for a supposed high-calibre university student of his age. Good thing none of that was true!

He turns his head lazily to peer at the red-haired man from underneath his eyelids. Now would be the time for a super cool double-meaning introduction featuring the codeword, like he gave the bouncer earlier. Except now that he’s actually here and face to face with the guy who is definitely the one from the letter, his mind, stupidly, idiotically, goes blank.

“Bifrost,” Anthy says to him, out loud, very unsubtly, and immediately tries not to shrivel up and die.

 

[accursedjobber]

Marrok

Foolish Freedom Fighter

Arkaim Tavern

A rhythm of thumps followed Marrok's absent-minded tapping and rapping on to his holstered sword. The source of this uneasiness laying opened on his desk, still sitting where Marrok found it on waking from the rare full 5 hours of rest, seemingly smuggled in through the guards and watchmen emplaced to prevent this exact scenario, promises of grandeur, knighthood and honor replaced the expected results of an assassin finding a way into their current encampment on the coast of Exultus. A respite from another unsuccessful campaign attempt in Aeslengard, light boats still tethered and being emptied of its righteously stolen bounty.

Exhaling his breath of unease as he reached his decision, stepping forward for a brief inspection to check for any signs of remnants of tiredness on his face in a futile attempt to iron them out. Then going through the arduous process of properly fitting the gleaming armor ever shining in its composite of unknown metals, tightly bound to offer a proper array of protection as Marrok got to the hard part of the morning slotting in the letter into a pocket for later reference planning how he's going to break it to the men that he's pursuing this lead after all who wouldn't accept an offer of this precedent, now to start with either 'Valorous folk' or 'Brave soldiers' to break the news.

After a rushed speech, Marrok departed entrusting leadership to his second in command and with a promise to send reports back along with a chance at legitimacy hopefully reinvigorate the men enough to hold down on their own for a while, Afterall with a promise of royal support even if this was a trap or a mistake it was worth it.

The unfamiliar streets quickly passing him by as Marrok followed the directions given, advice given from his men's penchant for drink and partying while on leave from their duty in the one place that wouldn't lynch them, making the search for one 'Arkaim Tavern' a matter of asking. For once being afforded the luxury of visiting a tavern, Ignoring the nagging feeling of awkwardness as he opened through the main entrance of the Tavern and entering into to the bustling inside.

Doubts already settling in as he hastened to the secondary floor already regretting his decision to only disguise his sword under an array of rather auspicious rags on a back sheath, with a feeble excuse of identity clarity and a need for positive first impressions doubling as a defense against the ever-present threat of being shanked. Didn't protect him from the discomfort of feeling out of place here as he got towards looking for the Vermillion man, surly the people recruited would have a royalist aura, professionalism and riches.

What if they have a complicated scheme here under disguise, any person among this crowd may be perhaps a double agent or an eloper, yes that person may match the description but the slim possibility of this being a test caused Marrok to clumsily creep closer attempting to take care looking for a signal or sign from the target being truly the one, following his 'intuition'.

'Bifrost'​

Thankfully the codeword reached his fear-fueled hearing on the way over, a vagrant Bestiard sitting down before saying the signal forcing Marrok to rush his 'careful' approach scrambling to stand alongside the table to be late to the meeting.

"Marrok Escrimeur, leader of the Peace fighters of Aeslengard" Performing a crude bow along with it in an effort to make a better first impression in the presence of royal assorted tensing up upon realizing the conundrum he put himself in.

'​

"Bifrost, that's the passcode right, I got the letter and everything. I-I realize this timing is bad though I can vow to you that I didn't eavesdrop and copy it" Spluttering reservations as Marrok attempted to sit down to grab a seat at the apparent table of converse.

 

[ATurei]

Iana Ilmarinen

Wistful Wanderer

Arkaim Tavern

Through a slim crack on the wall, the first daylight shone aslant upon Iana’s packed belongings. She had been sitting there before dawn, and having only empty thoughts of her own as silent companions. She wondered at the many hours she had spent there, unmoving. It was getting difficult, she thought, to say goodbye. Not unlike the lingering sleepiness over the early risers. You spent too long in one place, attachments that build up when you aren’t looking get a firm stranglehold on you. Like sweet chain links that latch and bound, and soon enough you couldn’t find a way out anymore. And yet to someone whose life was movements like Iana the wave of adventure inevitably came along and drags – drags even if flesh and blood must be torn from chains and bounds. And still, she was there, on the day of her departure, when only inertia being the last attachment to the town she had spent months making friends, creating bonds and love for its community, its routine, and its very soil. Saying goodbye is difficult, even if one must, and even if one could eventually, it does not happen painlessly.

Over the years, parting times like these had eaten away at her, until the present day when she was tired and weary of her very own nature. She wondered if she would be happier being as uncaring as a carriage, slave to the drawing horses and thoughtless of the roads under its wheel. But if even savage beasts have a love for their homeland, how could she possibly not? And yet again she must depart.

In the growing daylight, Iana tried to motivate herself. She thought of the places she would go next after this town. She had traveled far and wide, but there was still much more to see in this land, and surely in the countries beyond the borders. Strange hills and woods, deep sreams and valleys, so many yet to be seen. She wanted to see it all, even if over the years the thrill of novelty had begun to wither away. All but the present at hand seemed purposeless. Meaningless. But had she ever sought for meanings in the first place? Once, or twice, at least. But her findings had been fragile, short-lived, ever failed to last the change of seasons.

Stop thinking now.

So she rose in silence, collected her sack, and tiptoed downstairs. The inn was quiet and still, cozy in early morning sleepiness. It was the perfect time to make her escape. Without witnesses she would simply disappear like the shapeless wind that comes and goes, leaving only vague memories in people’s minds.

Her plan failed, however. She had indulged in melancholy for so long that when she came down, the innkeeper had already been awake. With a bundle of bedclothes in his arms, he gazed at her packed belongings in bewilderment.

“Leaving, Iana? Didn’t you pay in advance this month?”

She was never good at saying goodbye. She nodded, wishing for a smooth getaway even now.

“Ahh, you almost missed this.” He set down the bedclothes, and bent down under the bar, “Someone brought this for you last night. Check it before you go, alright?”

A sealed letter, almost looked too nice and pristine in their hands. She stood leaning on the bar and cracked open the seal, wanting to leave as soon as she could.

Upon reading the sender’s introduction, however, she took her sweet time and a seat. Her eyes moved up and down the letter, and when done, shifted again to and fro almost randomly across the page. Twice then thrice she read, until the message had not only become clear as day but also fully convinced her heart.

“Good news?” the innkeeper interrupted her trance.

“Yes?”

“Nothing, just that you’ve been beaming at that letter for half an hour.”

“Have I now?”

Indeed she had.

------------------------

The Azelthyrian stealthily entered the town. Her entrance would have been striking had she entered the town from the main street. A lone, dusty and heavily armed drifter on top of one enormous she-bear was a sight to draw eyes. She had enough mind in her to understand the nature of the coming meeting. She had been in this place before, as had she in all towns and cities in Exultius. Finding the tavern was not very difficult, though it was once she didn’t frequent her last time here. Dismounted, the brown Azelthyrian and her tamed vile beast hugged shadowed alleys until the tavern was in sight.

She stroked the beast’s fur. Dirt and mud had tainted and made rough the dark hair of both her and Heshira. “Stay here for a little while, Heshira dear,” said she, scratching the bear’s chin. Then she rounded her way to the tavern’s front and entered. At the doorstep, with the enormous crossbow on her back, she scanned the room. Faces alarmed by her tool of destruction were met with a friendly smile. She sauntered lightly to the bar. A thought halted her. So close. She was going to go through her routine as usual: asking for recent news in town, bantering with the master, and chatting up whatever friendly fellow was there. But doing so would draw attention. Maybe not this time. Iana sighed, her shoulders visibly slumped. Instead, she gave the tavern master a nod and an awkward smile – twisted by a will to keep her talkative spirit in check, and asked for a drink, which she brought with her upstairs.

People were already there. In an attempt to avoid raising suspicion, for those people must be on edge, she refrained from checking them out. But by a quick glimpse, she could tell one was a Bestiard and the other human. Somehow, they both seemed nervous.

“Bifrost!” she grinned. As is her way to warm up to new people, she came in without reservation but stayed just out of people’s personal space. “Prophecies and myths! Such tales of wonder – I have some good ones to tell if you folk would like, but,” she turned to face the mysterious man in the corner with vermillion hair as was described in the letter, and emphasized her words, “Bifrost, isn’t it?”

 

[Monday]

Aristaios Solon

Relentless Sojourner

Northern Wall of Falhades

Creeping furtively through silver-dappled shade while the unknowns plagued his mind, Aristaios was haunted, also, by a vague sense of being followed. Whether this was true or simply a product of overwrought nerves was impossible to discern. Perhaps it was paranoia about the visibility of the mushrooms. Several times he stood still and listened, but heard nothing that would betray a pursuer. At the same time, as he ventured further in, he knew his chances of encountering a vile beast increased with every step. He took to carrying his bow in hand. Through gaps in the canopy he glimpsed, from time to time, the colossal crags that ensconced the capital; cold, grey, weathered faces that frowned on his trespass from on high. Thankfully there was enough moonlight to avoid the great gashes in the earth, rumored remnants of the wrath of Herrscher, and he gave them a wide berth, chilled by the glimpse they afforded of the immensity of divine power.

A stark land, this was- a land of heights and depths, where the Heavens and the Abyss lay side by side. Though the Godslayer might silence every word of that reality beyond nature, the earth itself bore witness. A feeling of immense weight settled on him, from above and below. The Abyss pressed upward, teeming in the cracks and caverns, pooling in the shadows, watching, waiting. Whither he hastened as his years marched on. Heaven bore down on him, once resplendent, glorious, demanding; now empty, dark, and silent. Mortals dwelt in the twilight of those extremes. It was an environment well suited to awaken such black thoughts as often came to him in the wee hours: thoughts of the intelligent races crawling like flies and maggots on the surface of the world, side by side with the vile beasts, indulging base appetites, killing, breeding, dying; and always that old, inarticulate fear of an unthinking malevolence at the heart of all things. Even the natural night sounds took on a sinister character.

This would not do. "If you must indulge in morbid speculations, my boy," came the voice of the mentor of his youth across a chasm of years, "At least do it in daylight hours when you are well fed and rested. You'll find they have much less power over the imagination then." He was quite right. How shamefully seldom he managed to obey such sound advice! Dark thoughts found him somehow, whether he willed it or no. He must find a diversion. But, ah- there was no need. Ahead of him rose a wall of immense height- none other than the great northern wall of Falhades. The river he had been following flowed into a tunnel at the base, man-made by the looks of it, and was lost in darkness. He approached warily and peered inside. Only a very short distance was illuminated, and he dared not strike a light. Chilled underground smells and echoes of trickling water issued from within. Must he go inside? Follow the river north, the letter had said. This was the river, and it still ran north.

After a moment's thought, he produced a mushroom from his pack, now dimmer than before, and advanced a few steps into the tunnel's mouth. Beyond the patch of moonlight his tiny lantern reflected only a shimmer on damp stone. Then a sharp clink reached his ears. Footsteps? The mushroom slipped from his grasp, quickly replaced by an arrow which he nocked on the string of his bow as he retreated several paces, though he did not yet raise his weapon. A figure stepped into the light, a man of hard eyes and enigmatic expression, wearing a finely-crafted suit of armor with a jeweled star insignia on the breastplate. A tense moment passed. Aristaios met his gaze with wide eyes and his heart in his throat as a thousand thoughts flashed through his mind. By his posture, he judged that the man meant him no immediate harm. Then he spoke. "You're the first." Was he a friend of the Princess?

"I... You..." Aristaios croaked, his mouth dry. It had been far too long since he'd had a proper conversation. He swallowed in preparation for another attempt, but at a shout from outside he started and whirled around, still taking care to aim his weapon at the ground. A tall, well dressed man with red hair entered the tunnel and snapped his fingers, causing him to flinch. This one carried no weapons, neither did his demeanor, though laced with a casual arrogance, indicate aggression. The meaning of his earlier address settled in his mind belatedly- something about "meeting with royalty". He let out a pent up breath, relaxed his shoulders, and returned the arrow to its quiver. Meanwhile, the newcomer informed them that there was another hiding outside. Vaguely, the possibility of a trap still nagged at him, but in lieu of any clear danger signals he thought he may as well forge ahead.

"I am Aristaios Solon," he said, with a slight bow. "I take it you also received the summons," he turned to the armored man, "and that you have been sent to guide us? Well met."

Arkangel Malphaestus NUSKI

 

[SleepySheepiez]

Esther

Undying Dawnseeker

Northern Wall of Falhades

The decision to answer the summons had been one of whimsy, but the journey to make good on such a promise necessitated a bit more caution. The wood was not a foreign element to the tall woman of porcelain skin who glided over roots and through brush with nary a second glance or missed step, but the threat of a bigger fish was always a looming one. A golden birdcage hangs dancing from her belt to the silent music of her stride, while the other hip holds a long scabbard and the promise of steel. Both are hidden beneath the elegant make of her feather-ruffed, hoodless cloak like a secret. Esther knew well the value of silence, having spent so much of her first and second life clothed in it. The forest at night was only another study in a heavy tome of which she was well versed, ducking under a branch here, weaving around a tangle of thicket here, following a beaten deer trail next. The quiet of the night made finding the little signs that pointed the path forward relaxing and easy.

Third were the patches of mushrooms, arrayed in clumps that could almost pass as natural. Second there had been the river, with it's bubbling laughter as it rushed her by. First there had been the triangle, loud as a brand in the darkness of night, accompanied by the imposing view of the capital gate and what it protected. To most it might have supplied some sense of wonder, or maybe an icicle of fear, but, seeing the prosperity of the great gates and soldiers and buildings beyond, Esther only found herself kindled with an ageless and uncompromising fury that glowed as the faint remnants of the mushrooms before her now did. It is faint; controlled this feeling is. Esther had tempered with a practice lent her by decades her sentiment towards the traitorous heretic who sat upon the throne there, but reminders were all too effective at worsening that deadened heat. It was the heat she stoked for every brigand or beast that died halfway up the length of her blade.
Esther made sure always to watch the life go, watch as it deadened in the eyes, venerating its gift as precious, whispering in her velvety voice the proper prayers to their everlasting mother before lunging forward for her meal.

She watches now one of these dying fungal lights, tossed so carelessly into clumps of the same. Whatever acidic concoction had given them their glow was slowly fading away to hide the secret path once more. She lets the dark wind and quiet of midnight soften her unbeating heart. Only gods and murderers of gods knew what Vanhela dreamt of her jailers,
but it would not be the goddess's need to worry of such things.
Her faithful Dawnseeker would make well sure by the end that her return would find no obstacle.
Joyous would be the day, that clarion call.

Esther smiles dreamily at the thought, as she makes her softly stepped way along the scattered remnants of the mushrooms hidden in the undergrowth. Whoever had come before had taken care not to leave too obvious a trail, but following the darkened fungi when the fading path failed was just as effective, if far less efficient, and she cared not to make the way any easier for another traveler who might follow behind. Besides, she had realized she rather liked the color of the little bottle that had come along with the letter itself. It had claimed the mixture within to be acidic, and a whim had struck the Dawnseeker to stow it away into the folds of her belt, dangling next to the sheathe of her nameless sword. If she did not have need of it to arrive where she was needed, then perhaps she could find some other amusing use for it.

By the time the tall draculus approaches the gaping maw of the tunnel, she is in a rather jolly mood, evidenced only by a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her dark eyes. She keeps herself swaddled like a priestess in her cloak as she moves forward, stopping to hesitate when she catches glimpse of a most peculiar sight. There was one of her own here, a draculus man with striking yellow eyes, staring ahead at what was looking to be a small gathering up ahead in the place which the letter had directed, half hidden in the void of the tunnel. A blade was unsheathed in his hands, and something like fear pulled those beautiful eyes open a little wider than she expected they would normally be.

Pathetic.

The Dawnseeker makes no effort to hide the delicate rustling of feathers that accompanies her approach, nor does she make any move to threaten any more than the cold weight of her presence already would. Esther stands a few feet back from the creeping man and warms her smile for him.

"Pray tell traveler, be thee a skulker of this wood or something more kindly?"

 

[NUSKI]

O T I S

Ashen Sanguisuge

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

Otis froze with overwhelming paranoia as the red-haired man spoke. His toes dug into the soil and the grip around his shortsword tightened as the stranger continued forward towards the tunnel, Otis' eyes following his every step with extreme caution. Despite the sensical statement provided by the newcomer, the Draculus refused to move from behind the tree. Even if he was right that others could have received the same letter as himself, it didn't change that there was a chance of a hostile party joining the fold.

Fool, what if Vile Beasts suddenly emerge from the darkness and devour you all? Otis thought, the corners of his mouth lifting subtly. If a trap were to reveal itself, the group ahead would, fortunately, take the fall as he disappeared into the forest. Although he was unaware of the ongoings of the modern world, he could not be uncertain that the Nephilim were not as violent and persistent as they were over a century ago. For all he knew, there could be a hunting party waiting for him to step towards the tunnel so they could eliminate the group in one fell swoop.

It would not be the first time my patience and ingenuity sav-

"Pray tell traveller, be thee a skulker of this wood or something more kindly?"

Otis immediately stood up, his body swivelling on one foot, nearly tripping on his cloak as he pointed Cecil heedlessly towards the voice. He was forced to lean his head back and take in the view of the tall woman before a wide frown painted itself across his face. He suddenly felt very foolish, the words of the red-haired man slowly replaying in his mind. Otis stood there in silence, for several seconds longer than normal, his eyes flicking between the woman and the darkness shrouded by the trees behind her.

A familiar beauty and charm were radiating from the woman's smile, nothing compared to Lilith's obviously but enough to remind him of his people. Even so, he could not allow himself to look foolish, or even worse, cowardly, so he offered an awkward, crooked, and forced smile in return.

"Neither," Otis started in an unusually hushed tone. He slowly walked around the woman, his eyes wide and his blade held to his chest and tilted towards her neck. "If you're here for the same reason I am, I think it best that we save introductions for our friends over there," Otis continued shakily as he stopped directly behind the stranger. "You first, of course. I would like to avoid any more surprises for the night."

SleepySheepiez

 

[voided]

SHUFEN LIANG

Hurricane Maverick

Arkaim Tavern

The sun went down, and then an Azelthyrian crawled out. As fitting for someone for her demeanor, the neatly put together letter soon became something much more messy. The golden thread was lost, presumably somewhere in her own home. The wax seal was picked off messily, as if it was something to fidget with. All that was left was the letter in her pocket, crudely crumpled up and folded to maintain some level of diligence.

She wasn’t fooling anyone, there was nothing diligent about her.

Why was she making her way here? A question that rang out in her head often, like an intrusive thought one never wants to hear. She didn’t know the answer to her own question. She just wanted to be out of Mutou-Kagyou City for once, wanted to be away from her family, and perhaps, maybe to even find Tanya during all this mess. On the carriage ride there, Shufen let out a groan of sorts, rubbing her temples as she groaned into her hands, burying her face into them.

What did the princess see in her? She knew what she saw in the princess. Shufen thought the princess was wonderful in many ways. Strong, determined, cool. Ultimately, someone to be admired. On the other hand, Shufen was tiring, reckless, socially stupid. She didn’t think lowly of herself, in fact, she liked who she was. Perhaps she was just disquieted for once. Another groan was heard.

“Is everything okay?” The carriage rider asked. “You’ve been mutterin’ and sighin’ back there for the past five minutes.”

Shufen looked up from her hands, corner of her lip curling up to a smirk. She almost scoffed at his question.

“Aye, yeah. Splendid, perfect, sublime.” She responds, head still hanging low.

Peerless, as usual!

⧫ ⧫ ⧫​

Soon enough, she found herself in front of the tavern. Shufen hadn’t really been in these settings before, at least not in these circumstances. Similar establishments in Mutou-Kagyou City were always around. Those who weren’t buying or sellings, normally went off to get a quick drink after work. But Shufen was always around for different reasons. Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor—herself. Always herself.

As she entered the tavern, she fixed a hat on her head. A newsboy cap of some kind. Her horns were small for an Azelthyrian, but they stood out compared to her blonde hair. Black on blonde, what a striking combo! Good thing they were short enough to be hidden by a hat. Strolling up to the bar counter, Shufen tapped on the wooden countertop twice, getting the attention of the bartender.

“Mug of beer please!” She asked, putting up her most charming smile as the other person gave her a nod. They quickly fixed up a mug and slid it over to her. “I’ll be taking this upstairs. Meeting up with a few friends I haven’t met in a while!”

Regardless of their response, Shufen turned on her heel and made her way upstairs. Once she reached the top, she took a sip of her beer, looking around for the individual described in her letter. Long, vermilion hair. Easy. She spotted him, and it seemed like there were a few others already there; two Bestiards, a Human perhaps, and another Azelthyrian. Oh boy, time to converse with people. She took another swig, perhaps to instill a false sense of confidence from the alcohol, and walked over. Placing the mug down on the table, she lifted her cap slightly; enough for the group to see her face, but not enough to see the horns.

“Greetings.” She spoke, short and to the point.

On the outside, she looked collected. Inside however, she was a wreck. Perhaps she should have had more of a first impression. Something with a little more spunk. Regardless, her grip on her mug tightened. A way to keep her anxiety in check. Her gaze fell on the man of importance, her tone falling low enough for only the people at the table to hear.

“Bifrost, right?”

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

 

[Admiral19]

Altair Vasserow

Death Sentinel Lycoris

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

Ash clung to Altair's body, smudges of ruined homes and crumbled landmarks painting her skin and clothes. In gray-dusted hands, she held a letter; further reading would reveal that it was a summons at someone's behest, detailing instructions on how to enter the heart of Exultius, alongside a vial of some sort of substance(the letter said that it should be used within the forest she would supposedly be walking through, so she left it alone for now). The letter detailed nothing about for what Altair was being summoned for, only said that the meeting would occur in the next couple of days, at 0200.

Altair had been stubborn this past century. She had refused to leave the remnants of Dentoro ever since it was ravaged and set aflame. She had carved herself a shelter from the rotting corpse of a home, resting amidst charred earth incapable of growing life. Dentoro had been her home for the longest time, and for a while after she had created her new shelter, she thought that it would be her final resting place, and was prepared to let her body crumble alongside everything she had ever held dear.

But ash was unfitting for a grave. There was nothing left for Altair here, and she did not want to die in this place, alone, without purpose, surrounded by memories set aflame.

So she decided to gather the bow and arrows she was given, partly thankful that it was the only thing she had left to bring along. She found the remnants of a gray cloak on the branches of an oak and wrapped it around herself, giving a last look back to the remains of Dentoro before she slipped into the surrounding forest.

The trip to the forest detailed in the letter was uneventful and mostly taken on foot, at least until she managed to find someone driving a cart who took her up just short of the border. Of course, she sustained herself on blood the whole trip there, hunting for her own animals whenever she could.

As the river she was meant to follow approached and the triangular symbol that marked the entrance to the forest became visible, Altair's heart began pounding far faster than it had been before. She didn't know what to expect, having lived in her little world for ages. She was new to the rushing river and the clusters of mushrooms and the colors they shone in when she scattered some of the substance she was given over them. And she would be new to anyone she would meet, whether it be during the meeting itself or even on the way into the castle...

For example, the pair standing by each other near the entrance of a gaping tunnel. That must be the secret entrance.

"The way forward is open." She spoke aloud, voice projected enough for either party to hear.

SleepySheepiez NUSKI

 

[Arkangel]

Reymond Heracles

Imperial Knight: Sir Reymond

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

The Imperial Knight stood before the tunnel entrance with a fierce stance, defensively positioning himself at the center to send a message that no man shall enter without his permission. From his expression alone some would assume that he was a man of few words. Even as the Nephilim strolled forward and spoke to him with self-confidence, the knight remained steadfast and unchanging, not exchanging a word until the others began to arrive afterward.

As he said, Reymond noticed the arrival of the Draculi before the red-haired Nephilim made himself known. He simply nodded and shot a gaze at the Draculus and his arriving companions, until the five of them would gather before him, showing their faces beneath the moonlight that offered a clear vision of their faces. He knew none of them, nor have they met, but there was only one way to confirm their identities.

"Who I am is none of your concern. Treat me like no more than a nameless guide. You will forget my existence once sunlight graces the horizon... Now, hand the letters forged by the princess. I expect that none of you had lost it."

He went straight to the point, wasting no second for small talk.

Once the letters were handed to his possession, regardless of whether or not some held suspicions of the man, the knight would eventually get his hands on the letters, especially after noticing the Exultius crest embedded on his shoulder plates.

Although it was no certain way of proving his alliance with the cause, the knight refused to elaborate further, valuing his identity far more than their curiosity.

After a quick read through the letters to verify their authenticity, the imperial knight stacked the papers on top of each other and raised his other hand, showing his mark on the back of his armored hand, the mark transparent through the armor. Anyone with decent knowledge of Chaos Roots would know that he possessed a root, and would remain alerted by the sudden glow of his mark, only to be surprised when he a mark illuminated in bright violet, dissipating within seconds.

From that sacrifice, his armor was engulfed with a navy aura, showing that he had activated his Chaos Root.

The hand that harbored the marks summoned ordinary flames that did not affect anyone around his area. The heat was unusually intense, but other than its uncomfortable heat that expanded further than it normally should, the danger was nowhere to be found within the cheap spell.

And before anyone could question or stop his movement, the knight tossed the letters into the ball of flame, incinerating it within seconds, leaving nothing but ashes to grace the dirt underneath.

His Chaos Root was deactivated shortly after, most likely manually done so to rest assure the others that he held no hostile intentions. "Continuity to the princess' chambers will begin once the others arrive. Meanwhile, I have questions. Especially to the Nephilim." Reymond paused, shooting his glare at Aetheros. "I care not for your blood. Your race will be met with hostility once you enter Exultius, but perhaps you've ventured into the borders already knowing that you will experience discrimination beyond what you could possibly fathom. Even so, that idiocy tends to amuse me until no end. Surely, you came here knowing what you wanted."

Reymond then turned his gaze to the others, continuing the question to the others. "The same goes for you all. Humor me."

Aristaios Monday / Aetheros Malphaestus / Otis NUSKI / Altair Admiral19 / Esther SleepySheepiez​

 

[WinterFestivity]

Enyo Klymene

Aureate Visionary

Madaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

Despite her expedited preparations, the journey from the interior of Ukrethia to the capital of Exultius took far longer than Enyo had expected - or desired - thanks to her unfamiliarity with the skies and lands the majority of the trip passed through. For the first half, she was able to mostly get away with flight in her dragon form, but as she began to cross into more and more inhabited regions it became necessary to undertake the rest of the journey on foot, thankfully for her, her horns were small enough to mostly be concealed by a cloak, enabling her rather uneventful travels despite her rather distinct inexperience in such matters.

As she came upon the beginnings of the forest, teeming with trees and wildlife wholly unknown to her, contrasted by the wonderous sight of the capital of Exultius, lit by torchlight, or well it's walls anyway. Either way, she was rather in awe at the sight, she enjoyed seeing all the unique sights that the world produced and this certainly was one. She'd never seen a city quite as big, but she'd sigh to herself, shaking her head as she'd inhale deeply and begin to step forward into the forest - she'd have time to gawk later - she had to focus on her current objective; sneaking into the damn place.

Enyo's rather graceful carrying of herself was contrasted by the crunching of twigs and leaflitter beneath her boots, she'd reach into her cloak in order to pull out the letter, illuminated by the beautiful moonlight underneath the canopy, she'd set study it as if committing it to memory once more before continuing forth. Step after step, she'd begin walking alongside the river, compass in hand to help guide her, occasionally glancing at the movement of the water, letting its ambiance put her mind at ease. Then, finally, her eyes would find the glowing triangle that she'd been looking for for, well, however long she'd been walking, quickly stowing away her compass she'd just as quickly take out the vial containing the acidic substance.

Her eyes wouldn't have to search for very long to find the intended mushrooms to use it on, as there were faint remnants from those who had come before Enyo, which meant... Ah, damn, she's late. Her hopes of being the first one there were dashed in that moment, but regardless, she'd quickly shove those aside as she'd apply the mixture to the poor thing, plucking only one of its caps afterward, to serve as a "brightener" for the path, so to say, which while faint, was fairly clearly laid out ahead of her.

Great. More walking, at least it was pretty straightforward and she didn't have to keep an eye out for anything other than what was right in front of her, it wouldn't take her that long to begin to spy the gathering of individuals. Oh Sage, how many people had the Princess requested the presence of? She counted six people at least, which was... Concerning? But also added up with what she'd seen from the relatively well-trodden path, well, in the worst case she'd have to try to make a daring escape, which wouldn't be particularly hard thanks to her nature as an Aerouant.

Regardless, she'd step forward out into the relative open along with the rest of the figures, waiting for the one wearing the mark of Exultius on his shoulder plate to finish incinerating whatever it was that he had been burning - she was too far away to see before it was aflame - before finally clearing her throat to bring attention to her presence as she pulled down her cloak, her eyes briefly wandering over to the one with peculiar horns, a brief twang of excitement following as she thought him to be possibly Aerouant as well. Either way, she'd take a quick breath in as she spoke.

"Ah, hello! It appears that I've failed in my bid to arrive fashionably early, haha... I hope I'm not mistaken in assuming that we're all gathered here at the behest of a certain someone, yeah?" She'd maintain a degree of confidence, but it was quite frankly rather nerve-wracking as it was hard to tell if she'd need to run in a second or not, but she was reasonably confident at the same time that this was indeed the right gathering to approach regarding this, it was far more diverse than any other one would've been. "If we are all gathered here for the same reason, I am dreadfully sorry for my poor timekeeping, such expeditious travel is rather unfamiliar to me, you see. Either way, it's a pleasure, I say!" She'd offer a small smile to the others, gently brushing some of her hair back behind her ear, still rather tense.


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

 

[Tice]

Adalus Highforest

Modest Tender

Arkaim Tavern - Exultius

Adalus did not know when the letter had arrived. Nor did his father, when asked. It had been laid plainly on his end table and, if not for the intricacies of the seal and the richness of the threading, would have assumed it to be any other letter. Careful, untrained eyes pieced together words shakily, uncertain of their meaning. He was requested- rather urgently, he gathered - to drop his current life and dedicate himself to a cause that, while noble, seemed foolhardy. And yet he went, negotiated to do so by his father.

They were beyond the capital, but Adalus was an Exultius citizen in full, and so his travels were largely unhindered, if somewhat slow. He rode no mount, fearing he'd have no stable to rely upon when he met this shadowy network. He was unarmed, unarmored, and utterly mundane, shouldering a thin, tawny cloak covering his frame and homespun clothing best fit for his station. None would guess a man as he would be called upon by the Princess herself, her command shrouded in secrecy.

A thin line from poaching to treason, it seemed. Even now, he knew not if his heart was placed right, but there was no denying his father's most fervent wish, and his own curiosity proved too strong to ignore. He was an utter stranger to the bustle of urbanity, let alone the capital's, and if not for his familiarity with taverns would have been entirely lost. This, he felt, was his wildlands, and as he perused streets without aim, Adalus felt increasingly like an interloper. It hadn't dawned on him until dark that he could simply bother a man for direction.

Adalus had his share of taverns, even rowdy nights, but a tavern in the capital in the dark hours was a whole new beast, viler than he expected. If not for the stunning hair of their guide on the second story he very well could have spent the rest of that damned night looking for him. So many already gathered! Adalus didn't feel late, but he became critically aware of his blood; he recognized Lady Melody more readily than their red-haired guide and realized, then, the full extent of their mission.

Beyond that, he was not in the majority even in his humanity. He stepped towards their corner, speaking towards any lingering eyes from them. "Bifrost." He looked about, recognizing none save the daughter of his late baron. He, and his liquor-craving tongue, stood still.

ATurei (Iana) / accursedjobber (Marrok) / lunar_moth (Anthy) / Ayan (Maihara) / Arkangel (GM) voided (Shufen)

 

[Malphaestus]

Aetheros Virtus

Brilliant Sol

Midaheim Forest - Falhades

During the lapse of briefest silence, amidst his rhythmic striding, a middling ensamble turned into a gathering cadre; frankly, as he heard the jabbering from the beyond-tunnel from whence he’d came, the mass of the number summoned surprised him. As he settled place, arms crossed and wholly unashamed, he took foremost note of the Knight’s silent retort to his prior prodding, a nodding all to be provided them. Mattered little, though curious all the same; anticipation dawned on him, in company of the subdued smirk thence engulfing his moon-shoned face. Though they were a stone’s throw deep into the tunnel, the moon, humbled before the day, wandering amongst the night, nonetheless reached the three, suitably presenting their visages to one another pleasantly.

The horned one, bearing bow and a mystique their horns had failed to present as well as their social unease, appeared unsettled by whatever thoughts which their mind had been fraught with, audibly stumbling upon the words which they desired spoked, since startled by the snapping of Virtue’s own fingers. With their weapon pointed at cobbled tiling- encompassing the whole of the footing from which the aged tunnel consisted- they bravely introduced themself, in attempts of swaying a fitting response from the lot surrounding them.

Needless to say, the Knight remained unimpressed, and so was Virtue himself yet, pitying the attempt that Aristaios had undertaken, reciprocated the underlying sentiment: “Though it is not my name, Virtue is the moniker I’ve borne since departing my birthplace.” His words fittingly accentuated by the simple bobbing, faint gesturing, of his predominant hand.

Almost pre-prepared for the Knight’s inspection of their letters, highlighted by their coarse address, thanks to having procured it seamlessly during his prior maneuvering, before forever depositing it to the palm of the plate-clad, nameless Man. Little of their misdirection could dispel the fact that, for such a ‘nameless man’, seemingly unimportant, manifested qualities of excellence: experience, particularly displayed in his electing to use his Chaos Root for mundane letter inflaming.

Through the flame, the peculiar character of the man, seemingly proclaiming himself a nobody, became all the more enlightening. Should it truly be that he was merely one amongst the many, then the breadth of the Imperial Army was certainly wide. But, he doubted such; how could a mere soldier guide the way towards one of the majesties. Briefest scoff emerged loud, yet briefly- Aetheros was none to fool, but had no reason, all the same, to deny him. Choosing instead to settle his doubts where the three of them could see them well.

Perhaps it would not be correct to state that the man’s flames were what attracted the foremost of his attention, but instead the apparent whimsy by which they had performed their sacrifice, seemingly defying all convention. Though, as he stood stout before him, eyeing the Knight’s action, he couldn’t hold his tongue for long, “very boisterous for someone so keen on keeping their name unheard,” and shrewd he’d been too, all manner of posturing flowing from their mouth before Aetheros’ interjecting; “however uncaring you may seem, the words you speak seem to paint something mightily differing. I suppose I should thank you for caring,” his own faint grinning never submitting before the Knight’s stalwart presentation, by this point, and the nonchalance with which he spoke, he was clearly something different from the usual castle sentry.

Hadn’t he been, then how could he undertake the quest the Crown Prince had given him. Though he cared little for the princess, she was needlessly the intermediary by which his obligation had to go for the unbreaking of past oaths, nevertheless, both were of prominent political stature. Should this man be of little rapport, then Exultius would’ve conquered the continents long ago, but Gods still linger, and the Nephilim frighten a lasting majority. Though he had lost interest in the man prior, he’d regained it through his respectable, but failed attempt at disparagement. The Knight did not intimidate him, nor did the Castle which he was within destined reach of.

Even so, for them to know his identity, and to profess it so outwardly, it meant strong enmity and superior extrasensory capability; though he was not certain, he began to believe the man to number amongst the awakened, no doubt trained in numerous battles, with disdain for the race from whence Virtue’d came.

Yet grinning, Virtue turned to the Dragon-kin, “as you heard, I am of the Nephilim,” proud before potential persecution, or simply ignorant of life’s own realities, would be up for anyone to believe. Nevertheless, regardless of whatever would come next, they had a meeting to attend.

Since the beginning of his stoppage, as he’d settled amongst the Knight and the Horned One, he’d began tapping his heel: impatiently waiting for the gathering congregation to up the pace.

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Anaias

Pretender Dragon

Forest Outside Exultius' Capital

Anaias' river-blue eyes watched her master's back as it grew small and distant from her. He often left her alone with little warning, but the fact that he'd told her he wouldn't be back for a while meant this time was different. Normally he just left her to figure things out until he showed back up out of nowhere weeks or months later. This time he'd told her not to wait around for him, and it was only her incessant begging him for something she could do that finally wore him down to the point where he did.

He'd taken out the piece of paper that had prompted all of this and handed it to her, along with a second sealed letter of his own, and simply told her to go to where the first paper said and "help out that spoilt princess". He did add the disclaimer that she was free to not do that and just run off and do anything else, but she would of course do anything even slightly beneficial for her master, so Anaias had every intention of doing whatever it was this princess person asked.

It wasn't long before her master was no longer visible from the ground, his red-scaled form disappearing into the clouds above, and with his departure the young woman's smile faded. Anaias crouched down where she was, in the middle of an inhospitable forest known to contain all sorts of unpleasant beasts, with her long clawed hands wrapped around her knees, the two letters that were her only worldly possessions crumpled tightly inside one fist. She always hated the time right after her master left her alone. It was always the hardest. Once she got over being alone again she was fine, but that took some effort. Her sharp claws dug into her side, drawing blood. There. Now she'd be better.

Sure enough, thanks to her nephilim blood attracting the local wildlife, she was able to get over the shock of being abandoned again, and from there it was much easier. Just find the right stars to look at once night fell and keep walking East. Follow the roads as they get bigger to find a city, and head towards the capital from there. Easy, but not fast. Away from towns and cities finding food was simple, just attract some monsters and chow down, but as she ventured into more civilized areas Anaias had to use some of the tricks her master had taught her to get by, like luring a bunch of monsters towards a town so she could offer to take care of them all for food and money. Her master would have told her to let the monsters destroy more of the town or kill a few people before she showed up to help, to raise her reward, but she just wanted to keep moving towards her destination, so she only let the monsters rampage a little bit. It was to her benefit that she managed to gather some funds from those early towns she passed through because the monsters that would be her source of food and money became less common as she neared the capital. She was just about back to being broke and hungry by the time she finally saw the city walls. It was certainly imposing. She hadn't laid her eyes on any place quite as impressive since home. She felt a sudden desire to climb up and over the walls.

Nightfall was an eventful time. Anaias watched from the darkness for the distant glow through the trees that indicated someone had activated the mushrooms. Her master hadn't remembered to actually give her the vial of stuff needed to make the mushrooms glow, so she'd been forced to stake out the area and wait for someone else to come by and do it for her. Thankfully these woods were quite the hub of covert activity tonight, and while some of those passing through seemed practiced in moving quietly and making sure not to disturb their surroundings for others to easily follow their trail, others seemed to bumble their way right through without a thought of who or what may be watching. And if Anaias was the watching who, then the vile beasts in the forests were the watching whats. Anaias dropped down from her hiding spot onto the back of a furred beast, breaking its spine and tearing out its throat for good measure. It had been following a noisy pink girl before betting distracted by the smell of a nephilim and coming this way to search out its death. That was the third one already. Anaias felt bad about wasting food, but it wasn't like she could take them with her to the meeting spot. Given how many people had already come through, it was probably about time she showed up there herself.

She shadowed the pink girl through the forest to the secret entrance into the city - a shame, she did really want to try scaling the walls - and dropped out of the darkness behind her upon entering the clearing before the tunnel opening. It looked like that one guy was collecting the invitation letters, so without a word to the person she'd been stalking to get here or anyone else Anaias walked right up to the ominous-looking knight - her master was way scarier, so she didn't feel much of anything from this guy at all - and held out her clawed arm, which opened to drop a crumpled letter in front of him. She cocked her head to ask if there was anything else she was supposed to do, but she didn't speak.

She failed to acknowledge the dark blood of monsters dripping from her other clawed hand at her side, or the streak of monster blood on her face where it looked like she'd rubbed it and forgotten to clean up. Really this was Anaias near her most presentable. She'd refrained from eating any of the monsters she'd killed just now, else there would have been a lot more blood around her face than that one streak.

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

 

[Monday]

Aristaios Solon

Relentless Sojourner

Madaheim Forest, Capital Exultius, Falhades

Unfazed by the other man's insolent affability, and paying no heed to the exchange of introductory courtesies, the stoic Knight stood like a bulwark barring their path. Despite his words, Aristaios doubted he would soon forget this encounter. As per the request, he handed over the letter, albeit with some reluctance, still tied with the gold ribbon as he had found it and with the seal mostly intact. At the last second, he pulled the ribbon free and closed his fist around it, though what he intended to do with it, he did not know. As he saw it, such a clandestine meeting already smacked of treason, so even if this man were not of their side handing over the letters could hardly make matters worse. And if he was trustworthy, there was no point in delay. At the least, he would have expected more of an attempt at persuasion from one intending to deceive. If anything, the fact that the Princess commanded such a formidable ally boded well for their enterprise.

Apparently satisfied as to the letters' contents, the Knight raised his hand, revealing a set of strange markings on the gauntlet. Only when one of them flashed bright purple did Aristaios recognize them as denoting a Chaos Root. He tensed, but sensing no hostile intent, watched with a wary fascination, taking a small step back from the intense heat. Seldom had he seen such a sight up close... at least, when not preoccupied with his immediate survival. This was the power bestowed by the gods, a power that had built empires and unmade them, a power to save or destroy at its bearer's whim. Many of his kin had met their end by such a weapon, or so he'd been told. A pang of regret followed as the papers crumbled to ash, and he was grateful that he had committed the letter to memory. Never would he forget the words which had lifted him from despair.

That done, the Knight saw fit to question the motives that had lead them thus, paying special attention to the red-haired man beside him. At the word 'Nephilim', Aristaios glanced up at him sharply. Yes... he could well believe it, as he studied that haughty profile through narrowed eyes. It was possessed of a certain indefinable discordance that human faces simply lacked. Aristaios shared his race's indignation toward the Nephilim. However, since he was too young to have suffered directly at their hands, his opinion could admit a bit of ambivalence. More than any individual Nephilim, he blamed their dogma, and for that, he blamed Sindragar. Having neglected to teach his creations humility, he bore the blame for their sins, just as an irresponsible parent bears the blame for their child's failings. Now he wasn't alive to answer for it, leaving his children alone in a hostile world with nought but their perverted doctrines to cling to- in a strange way, victims, themselves.

Vengeance would serve no purpose. He had no desire to throw himself beneath the inexorable wheel of retribution. For the present, neither did he wish to witness a clash of wills. Glancing nervously between them, as the Nephilim met the Knight's scrutinizing gaze head on, he winced at the sarcasm in the latter's reply, though, thankfully, he did not seem to want a fight. In fact he did not seem to truly take offense, caring little for the Knight's opinion- as little, Aristaios supposed, as he cared for any opinion besides his own- observing this hostility with a sort of detached amusement. He apparently accepted prejudice as a mere fact to be negotiated, almost a curiosity, acknowledging and dismissing in one gesture. Then the Nephilim- or Virtue, as he'd introduced himself- unexpectedly turned to address him, his smirk still intact, waiting for his reaction. Briefly taken aback, he gaped for a few heartbeats before words found him.

"Your race means nothing to me as long as we share the same objective. I will cooperate with anyone I must, whatever their motives, so long as our material goals are the same." In addition, the tantalizing prospect of studying the nature of Nephilims through close association outweighed any personal revulsion he might feel. Granted, a Nephilim who strayed from his homeland, much less one who associated himself with such a company and cause as this, would not represent the average. Still, it was better than nothing. A faint tapping sound drew his eye briefly to the impatient movement of Virtue's foot. Aristaios frowned. His assessment of Virtue's temperament, based on his years of experience dealing with various types, could be expressed in a single word: difficult. But that was a problem for another time. Turning back to the Knight, he said, "My reasons are simple. I wish for the peoples of Terra to live in peace with one another. Princess Solara shares this desire and has a plan to achieve it. Of course I would lend her my support."

Only now did he realize that Virtue had not answered the Knight's question. Meanwhile, another presence asserted itself in the form of a strikingly tall, elegant young woman clad in rose and gold and crowned with a pair of horns, calling out greetings in a crisp and cultured voice. Now his heart began to beat with something other than fear, even as the ache of homesickness returned tenfold. Could this be a member of his own race? Other races shared some resemblance, but her appearance taken together with her garb, her manner of speech, her bearing, her demeanor... all these things painted a very familiar picture: that of a Ukrethian noblewoman. It was as though a fresh breeze had passed over him, carrying the sounds of flags snapping and temple bells tolling, vendors shouting and the laughter of children at play, stately marching tunes and the splashing of fountains, the smells of fresh bread and stewed meat mingling with those of dyes, perfumes, and incense. How long had it been...? Simply staring would not do.

Before he could martial his thoughts into some acceptable greeting, another addition to their party was made. This one also bore horns, so at first he assumed she was of his kindred, but at a second glance, he was not so sure. There could not have been more contrast between her comportment and that of the woman preceding her. Her appearance was... haphazard (to say 'slovenly' would be to pass too harsh a judgement on one he did not know), and the letter she dropped on the ground was crumpled. Furthermore, her claws were unlike any feature he could assign to a particular race. She seemed to have had an interesting time of it, what with the blood smeared across her cheek and dripping from one of her odd appendages, though she seemed uninjured. Aristaios fished in his pack until he found a handkerchief and discreetly handed it to her. "For your face," he whispered. "You may keep it."

At last he faced the Aerouant woman, finding, as he did so, that his nerves had returned in full force. He felt suddenly clumsy, his hands cold. Fortunately the manners drilled into him throughout his youth asserted themselves, and he found himself bowing, more deeply than one would for a social equal. "I-if my eyes do not deceive me, Lady... you are of the race of Aerouant." He straightened and lifted his eyes to her face. From maturity through the first century ages could be difficult to guess for long-lived races, but something- a certain freshness in her eyes, perhaps- suggested she was at least nearer twenty than he. "Long has it been since I encountered another of our kind under such strange skies. Well met, sister..." At that, he trailed off, as words failed him.

Arkangel Malphaestus OverconfidentMagi WinterFestivity NUSKI Admiral19 SleepySheepiez

 

[SleepySheepiez]

Esther

Undying Dawnseeker

Northern Wall of Falhades

"As you wish."

The draculus woman is less than impressed by her fellow's show of wary bravado, particularly the sword tilted towards her throat. It is an insult really, for what reason could he have to be so hostile towards one of his own? The smile at least was acceptable, if ill-practiced. It would do for now. A good bit of the warmth is sapped from Esther's own smile by the prickliness of this welcome, but it isn't something she finds herself in the mood to hold a grudge over. She would settle instead for the diminishing regard she now had of him.
O Vanhela, glorious and bright.
Grant me the temperament and patience to bear the stupidity of this man.

"If nothing else, at least put that sword of yours away. Someone might end up getting hurt."
Her low tone almost makes it sound like a threat. Almost.

It is just then that the voice of another peals out into the night. A sidelong glance confirms the newcomer as another of Lilith's children. How strange for a small congregation of the draculi to meet in a place such as this. How long had it truly been? Esther feels a strange emotion working its way through her gut. An unfamiliar feeling. Curious.

"The way forward is open." The next of the princess' guests had said.
And so we will follow.

A distinct flavor of conceit mixes into the smile of the Dawnseeker, now reaching her eyes, for what could be more fitting? Of course it would be she who would lead them into the tunnel. Let them follow in her wake. Let them tread the path forged in her blessed radiance. Yes, Esther would go first, and that was no surprise.

"So it is," she purrs, relishing the moment. "Follow me."

⧫ ⧫ ⧫​

It is a dull fatigue she demonstrates at having to part with the letter. The crest on the seal had been rather pretty and she had entertained the idea of keeping it as a bauble. Perhaps to take out and admire from time to time. Pretty things were so often difficult to come across when one lives the life of a wanderer, and seldom did they arrive to stay. The flames however... the flames were a comfort. Though likely dangerous to anyone else, Esther held no fear of the sudden blaze of magic. The fire held nothing for her but the loving caress of Vanhela's divine healing, blessed unto her be the fiery light of life.

Whoever this nameless guide was, his show of trust was convincing. Even the most egotistical of wielders would surely not leave willingly give up a mark to prove a point if they intended to turn on the crowd that had gathered presently. That, or the guide was simply that far above them all. The second option sparks a thrill in Esther's unbeating heart.
Where will this path lead me, I wonder...

"I have." she answers the man, voice quiet as the dark of the tunnel they now stand cloaked in. What fool would come without knowing what they wanted from such a lofty engagement? It made sense of course, for the man to ask. Perhaps there was one who simply answered the call like a dog, ignorant to what they might be getting themselves into.

But not I.
I know to whom my allegiance be.

Esther finds herself scanning her peers from the corner of her eye in search of amusement. There were the draculi who had arrived near the time she had, the man and the woman. There was the peculiar thing with the overgrown claws, swimming was she in the sweet, sweet tinge of fresh blood. Esther leashes the hunger that gnaws into her composure for now, the dark of her eyes glinting like a marble that catches the light. Her time to feed would be later. A promise. Though she had never before seen a being like this one.
For that matter, the other two, horned and nervous, they must be Aerouant. Dragonkin or dragons proper. Perhaps it would depend of who you might ask. The one with the claws might be another of the same.
Two groups of three... How neatly arranged are we.

The last of the group is prideful, tempting, and far louder than Esther would like him to be. She lowers her lashes demurely to gaze idly at the smudge of ashes in the dark that had so recently been prettily inscribed envelopes and paper. It was a sight far more pleasing to be sure.
indignation is not the word Esther would use to describe what it was she felt towards the man in that moment. She holds her peace with an unspoken prayer to the life-giver to distract herself from all the bloody methods she could rend this arrogant vermin into her next lunch. Instinct screams at her to attack, however irrational such a path might be.
Ever she provides, watchful, yet sleeping. Close, yet so impossibly distant.
O Vanhela, grant me the will to avoid making of this path to you I've been given so great and terrible a mess.
Grant me the faith to endure the pain of this Nephilim and his breath in my presence until it is done.

Esther wrenches a polite smile onto her icy mouth, fighting the urge to bare the pale razors of her canines in a snarl like the monster she once had been.

"Charmed to be of service."

- Arkangel - Monday - Malphaestus - OverconfidentMagi - WinterFestivity - NUSKI - Admiral19

 

[NUSKI]

O T I S

Ashen Sanguisuge

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

Otis lazily turned his head around at the second voice, growing annoyed at being approached from behind. Similar to the tall woman he assumed to be one of his kind and the poised human who spoke to him earlier, this one didn't seem to have any hostile intent. He took a large step to the side before twirling Cecil's hilt in the air and sliding the weapon back into its sheath, his bright eyes keeping watch on the two strangers. As the taller one continued towards the group ahead, Otis turned his attention to the woman behind him and tilted his head with great curiosity, feeling the same sense of familiarity he did with the giantess. He let out a soft grunt before pulling the hood of his oversized cloak over his head and took after the darker-haired Draculus, keeping his gloved hand enveloped around the other.

By the time Otis had caught up to the main group, he could see that were all handing in their letters. He pulled his from up under his cloak and dropped it into the armoured man's hands before taking a few awkward steps back so he could assess the rest of assembled group. It was not difficult for him to feel almost immediately overwhelmed; he had not been around this many people in over a century. His eyes danced from one stranger's to the next before the crackling of flames redirected his attention to whom he assumed to be the princess' emissary. His nose wrinkled as the magical fire swallowed up the papers that led him to this very spot.

Magic.

Even after all this time, the subject still left him uncomfortable and confused. It was rare that he even took off his glove and looked at his marks. Otis took two small steps forward and his eyes widened as the Chaos Root was deactivated. The control that the emissary seemed to possess over his magical capital capabilities almost made him want to try activating his own mark.

Then suddenly, as if a dragon landed in front of him, Otis could feel his eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the mention of Nephilim. As the red-haired human, or rather Nephilim, confirmed his identity, the Draculus scanned the face of the Aerouant who spoke up after him. He saw no immediate fear, hostility, or anger. Otis knew that he was not up to date on worldly affairs but he had still assumed the Nephilim race was considered to be akin to a blight in Paymonia. The corners of his mouth sunk downward as he thought of Lilith, Cecil, Adeline, and more importantly the day he was informed the Nephilim had successfully replicated Draculi weaponry. He nearly considered if he would have enough time to get a shot off with Lilith before the rest of the group or more worryingly, the armoured emissary returned the favour tenfold. It was not too long ago he promised himself that he would slay any Nephilim he found but Otis now felt stuck. He had remained in isolation for decades but even he knew that making an enemy of someone like Solara Evernight was foolish.

Otis took his place unnecessarily close to the tall woman, who he now presumed to be one of his own. "Yes... peace in Terra is an admiral goal," Otis affirmed facetiously, a hardened scowl directed in the Nephilim's direction. "...Though it is unfortunate there are treacherous beings in this country who spread nothing but misery everywhere they step," Otis continued, ignorant to the disgust that poured from his tone. He cared very little about how much time has passed since the Nephilim's betrayal, he would not allow himself to forgive their actions.

Otis lifted his nose to the air slightly as his eyes narrowed in the armoured man's direction. "Last time I checked, Nephilim and peace are two words that do not go together" the Draculus ended undemonstratively, the stub where a finger should be scratching itself against his leather glove.

Arkangel Monday Malphaestus OverconfidentMagi WinterFestivity Admiral19 SleepySheepiez

 

[accursedjobber]

Marrok

Foolish Freedom Fighter

Arkaim Tavern

Affirmation stilled Marrok's nerves as he got to following the strange gentlemen along with the present company of Weirdos that arrived at the meetup, the burning of the given letter finalizing the gamble, still Marrok did hope he could acquire some evidence that would indicate that he didn't leave his duties to visit a tavern, only being partly true. Swallowing his objection as there was probably no way to somehow unburn a letter and the slight addition of it being justified.

Following the Man without much objection through the intermission of travel permitted where admitly Marrok didn't do much but try and suppress the urge to go back home or giving the stink eye to people that looked shifty, ignoring present company of course. Thankfully there was a bear with them.

Wait, Marrok couldn't hold it any longer in the intermission finally wearing down his self-imposed attempted stoicism in trying to keep his composure in a futile attempt to improve his image.

"Why is there a bear? Why are we bringing the bear with us? How did it even get here?"

Letting out his pent-up questions stinged with confusion finally as they made their arrival at the location combining the compatriots aiming at the person that it seemed most friendly with. The now foreboding sense of cheeriness encapsulating his prejudgments already forming the imagery of a cold-hearted nature witch in place of Iana. It made sense taming a bear, laughing at the prospect of semi high treason not to mention needing to have to be high profile enough to receive an invitation. After all everyone present must have earned the royal curiosity with grand deeds even those two bestiards may have killed twenty men in single combat or that fairly normal man might have magic to summon a really big fire sword.

Marrok's impression of royalty spiraling again upon spying the second group not missing a beat in the feelings of validation that came with matching attire.

ATurei Tice voided lunar_moth Khocolatte

 

[ATurei]

Iana Ilmarinen

Wistful Wanderer

Midaheim Forest, Capital Falhades, Exultius

Partly owing to the journey's secrecy, Iana had followed their guide in silence. But no less because she was feeling a tad bit gloomy after the burning of her invitation letter. Hers indeed. It was addressed to her. And more so than any letters she had ever received, it was proof of her newfound purpose. One that even after this quest’s end could have gone on to serve as a reminder of her usefulness to someone else. But that proof had been reduced to ash now. She had sighed but hadn’t raised any objection. She could not be quite so selfish as to put her selfish desire above the quest that she had been looking forward to.

An abrupt question pulled her out of her gloomy mood, and though it was aimed at no one in particular, it seemed the one who brought it up had a problem with Heshira’s presence.

“Why? Because Heshira gets lonely when I’m not around. But you needn’t worry, she’s not just any bear, she’s my vile beast.

She explained no further. She could perhaps assure the human also that Heshira would not harm anyone without her order. But she had faith, even in a fragile human, that the people chosen for this quest were more than capable of putting up with an Azelthyrian’s vile beast and not getting panicked for such a trivial matter.

At any rate, she didn’t dwell on it, as her attention became directed at the new appearance just before a tunnel – another collaborator of the Princess perhaps. And beyond him, a group of capable-looking people. She gazed at them with curiosity, while her hand moved to stroke Heshira’s fur. She wondered if the act alone would suffice to tell them that the she-bear was a tame beast and not just some accidental companion they met along the way.

Tice voided lunar_moth Khocolatte Arkangel accursedjobber