Fantasy ❝ 𝙲 𝙾 𝙽 𝙲 𝙾 𝚁 𝙳 𝙸 𝙰 ❞ ─ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔯𝔲𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

[butterfly aubade]

THE PLOT​

[div style="background:url(https://i.imgur.com/yOi1zuZ.jpg);padding:20px;background-attachment:fixed;width:80%;border-radius:20px;margin:auto;"]
[div style="text-align:center;background:rgba(0,0,0,0.5);padding:15px;border-radius:20px;font-size:12px;"][div style="margin: auto; width: 10rem; height: 10rem; background: url(https://i.imgur.com/GlF0biG.jpg); background-size: cover; border-width: .2rem; border-style: solid; border-radius: 200px; border-color: gray"][/div]



TROUBLE STIRS IN THE NORTHWEST...

As the Vupaenth Kingdom slowly starves due to the lack of agricultural resource available, the peasants, farmers, merchant-traders and even some Enchanters rise up in rebellion. While the throne tries desperately to quell the whispers of treason, the middle and lower classes have started to view their monarchs in an unkind light. They believe their rulers have not done right by them as citizens; the King is too busy entertaining his harem of wives, the wives are busy vying to the King's attention, the Princes & Princesses scheme against each other for power and the Court officials that actually do anything are cast aside for the ones that do nothing except kiss up to the throne. Hatred takes a hold in the hearts of the low-born. Among them, a prominent figure has become the sigil for the rebellion: the Basilisk, who remains shrouded in shadow. Nevertheless, the people have gathered behind the Basilisk. And they rise, full force, just as the first gusts of the bitter winter wind rake across the Kingdom.



A DANCE FOR POWER HAPPENS IN THE NORTHEAST…

The proud High Houses of the Weisslogia Kingdom have ruled the lands since the beginning of time. Beneath them, the Vessel Houses exist simply to support them; their names unknown, buried in the ocean of anonymity as the High Houses bathe in glory and worship. In the light of recent events, the throne has been destabilized. Following the birth of a new Prince, the King has revoked the rights of the elder Princess as heiress. Enraged at her father’s betrayal, she used the hostility between the High Houses and Vessel Houses to her advantage. The Princess rallied the Vessel Houses together, forming an alliance on the promise that she’d bring better equality if they helped her take down the King. The Vessel Houses, eager for an excuse to fight back, agreed.


TWO REBEL LEADERS MEET ON NEUTRAL GROUND...

The Vupaenth and Weisslogian rebels have formed a fragile alliance upon realization that they both share a common goal: overhrow their central government. Much to the horror of the aristocrats of both Kingdoms, the Princess and the Basilisk have began backing each other up in their endeavors to bring both Kingdoms to their knees.


UNREST IN PARADISE...

As the Republic of Ryseria grows stronger, its economy and infrastructure booming, it becomes the centre of innovation. The citizens enjoy harmony, equality and prosperity unparalleled. Until an Elder among the Elvish tribes sees a vision. In it, they solemnly report seeing Concordia burning -- children dying in battles they’re too young to fight in. They predict an oncoming apocalptic force that is going to spell the destruction of the entire continent if the divided citizens do not stand in unity and fight together. They urge the Republic’s leaders to seek audience with the Weisslogian and Vupaenth leaders so that the rebellions may be stopped. However, the citizens are hesitant, having just begun to prosper in their new-found freedom away from the rule of Weisslogia and Vupaenth.



[/div][/div]

THE CAST​

[div style="background:url(https://i.imgur.com/yOi1zuZ.jpg);padding:20px;background-attachment:fixed;width:80%;border-radius:20px;margin:auto;"]
[div style="text-align:center;background:rgba(0,0,0,0.5);padding:15px;border-radius:20px;font-size:12px;"][div style="margin: auto; width: 10rem; height: 10rem; background: url(https://i.imgur.com/y09BPIG.jpg); background-size: cover; border-width: .2rem; border-style: solid; border-radius: 200px; border-color: gray"][/div]



THE BASILISK

Leader of the Vupaenth rebellion. Contrary to popular belief, they are actually a she. The enigmatic leader was born to a high-ranking family that later fell out of grace. They were a military-oriented family, with her father being one of the best War Lords Vupaenth had ever seen. However due to ________, he was executed upon the King’s orders and his entire family was forced to flee before they followed the same fate.


THE REBEL PRINCESS

Strong-willed and stubborn, she was raised to succeed the King of the Weisslogian Kingdom. Her dream of ruling was subsequently shattered on her eighteenth birthday, when her mother gave birth to baby boy. The King, overjoyed, named him the new heir. Betrayed, hurt and angered beyond words, the Princess disappeared, surfacing a few days later to broadcast her status of open rebellion against the throne. Her relationship with her father has always been one of great complication. With her father being minorly abusive towards her, mocking her ruthlessly and chipping away at her self-esteem with crude remarks about her inadequacy. The announcement of a new heir was the final straw. She’s currently aligned with the Vessel Houses and the Basilisk’s rebels.


THE FALLEN STAR

A genius tactician who was a former apprentice of a well-known battle tactician sitting on the War Committee. He is the right hand man of the Basilisk. He is also an Enchanter, having self-studied the Runic Alphabet in great detail and aced the qualifying exams to allowed him to practice the craft. He was born poor single mother, who died early on. He has a knack for runes, and had hoped to specialize in magical defense on the tactician team. It was only when he discovered he had the ability to create runes did he dig further back to uncover a shocking parentage. He was the product of an affair between a legendary Celestial Enchantress (a part of his mother’s identity she’d completely hidden from him) and the Vupaenth King, who broke his mother’s heart when he exiled the pair of them due to _______.




THE WRETCHED KING

As a boy, he never wanted the throne, having preferred to get lost in the palace library instead of dallying the Kingdom’s affairs. After his father and elder brother’s abrupt passing (having been killed in battle), he was forced to step up as King. Thing happened in a blur; he was married to a woman he never met, started shouldering the burdens of a ruling and soon became a father, a figure whose responsibilties he never could quite meet. His mother passed not long after the birth of his daughter, causing him to spiral into an unhealthy mental state. He felt anger; why did his father have to die? And loneliness. These feelings of negativity were eventually taken out on his daughter and wife, as he turned to the embrace of alcohol and strange women. When his son was born, he named him the new heir because _______.




THE COLD KING

The ruler of the Vupaenth Kingdom is strategic, calculative and a master manipulator. He’s perfected his image over the years, solidifying his place in hierarchy as the all-powerful and untouchable monarch. He deftly pits his countless wives against one another, and greatly enjoys toying with his squabbling, power-hungry children, leading multiple to believe they have secured his favour and the subsequent title of heir. He himself was once a rebel, having killed three elder brothers and his father for his current position. His victory can be accredited to a former lover, in part, although not much is known about her; except the fact that she was a powerful Celestial Enchantress and gave him a child, before disappearing under mysterious circumstances.




THE SILENT QUEEN

She was groomed for the role at an early age by her own mother, having taken etiquette, politics, history and a variety of other subjects to mold her into the perfect ruler. Never once did she question her purpose. Her family took advantage of the late King and heir’s death, engaging to the younger, more timid brother who was crowned as King of Weisslogia. Shortly after the birth of her daughter, she discovered the unhappiness of having no control over one’s destiny. As her husband drank himself into a stupor and slept around with various women, she kept silent, suffering in isolation, with only her daughter for company. When he was abusive towards her, she kept silent. When he named their son as the new heir, she kept silent. Following the disappearance of her daughter, the Queen has been put in a position of conflict. She was close with the Princess, as they sought solace in each other. With the recent development of the rebellion, she couldn’t wonder what if _______.




THE WISE ELDER

Unlike what her name suggests, she’s actually quite young. Born to a large Elvish tribe, the Elder got her title after the passing of her father, as she was the eldest of his children. She’s been blessed with the gift of an exceptionally strong foresight, receiving vivid visions of the future ever since she was a child. Her latest vision bring disturbing news: Concordia will fall. She describes seeing winged, humanoid creatures waging war on he citizens. Alarmed, the Elvish tribes collectively persuade the Republic of Ryseria’s Premiers to take action. She is frustrated by their hesitance and has begun to take frequent trips to the Muthoag Isles, where a wide variety of non-human creatures reside, hoping to _______.


[/div][/div]

 

[butterfly aubade]

OPENING SCENE :​

Exactly one moon has passed since the Weisslogian Princess disappeared, vanishing into the night with only a few of her most trusted serving staff for company. Tension crackles among the Royal Enclave as all eyes turn to the seemingly passive King, who's too dazed to care and the meek Queen, who was known to be close with her daughter prior to her disappearance and subsequent treachery.

The furious Princess rises, bringing the cries of the oppressed Vessel Houses with her. However, the revolution (spurred by the promise of better equality in the House system) is still a fragile flame. When left bare to the natural elements, wind and rain threaten to smother out its existence entirely. Nevertheless, whispers of secrets, bought, bribed or blackmailed for, have started to feed into the Kingdom's stream of gossip. Spectators have begun speculate that the Princess may be joining forces with the Basilisk, a more established figure of rebellion from the Vupaenth Kingdom. Nobles of both rival Kingdoms are deeply unsettled by the prospect of a potential alliance. The final nail in the coffin came in the form of frazzled informants; intelligence officers, both Vupaenth and Weisslogian, reported suspicious activity from the Muthoag Isles, the rumored meeting place between the Princess and Basilisk.

This, of course, called for action. Both Kings, roused from the safety of their palace walls, ride south with their fastest fleets while preparations for a solemn diplomatic meeting are made.

 

[Collidias Rex]

Tychondrelix was a particular specimen, the kind which didn’t occur in the wild. Human design had their own priorities which nature did not share. In another world, he would have wasted away; too clumsy and slow on his wings to chase prey and too big to feed himself. But humans had their own way of investing in the future.


Two lithe beige beasts rounded the bluff in the distance, twisting and writhing like bleak fireflies in the twilight sky as if engrossed in dance. A third lumbered after them seconds later, locked in a steady banking turn, It arced around the bluff in tow and glimmering orange in the pallid sunset, like an opal under warm firelight.


Dressed in quilted riding breeches and fully barefoot, Zahara reclined on the beach as waves lapped at her. Every so-often a swell would wash over her, shunting her several inches back toward land and soaking her. Each time she would shuffle back into position. Her retinue toiled away on the other side of the treeline, shooed away while her ladyship bathed. Perhaps ‘bathed’ wasn’t the right word - she was only bathing insofar as playing with one’s food could be called ‘eating’. Where her breeches had been matted with sweat, they were now heavy and bloated with salty seawater. She wriggled her toes and rested back, letting her eyes close. If she wanted to, she could have just laid back and let the waves swallow her. She could have rolled over and her face would be submerged. It would all be over in a minute. A part of her would have liked that. Even as she reclined, she teetered on the edge of exhaustion. An errant thought could see her drift into unconsciousness and drown. If she were more sensible, she would have taken a guard to watch over her as she bathed, but she refused to let anyone see her like this. Distant. Drowsy. Dead on the inside. She always slipped into bad habits when left alone. She couldn’t keep her chin up without someone reminding her, without someone watching her. She’d always been like that. What would they think of their queen to witness her in such a state?


The first of the two dragons sailed overhead with a quiet warbling as wind rushed beneath their wings. Several seconds later, the ground shook as the third crashed down. An errant wave splashed Zahara’s leg from a new direction. She sat and listened with her eyes closed. The soft thump of titanic footsteps on sand seemed distant, each sound fading swiftly from memory like a dream passing by. A huff of air scattered her drenched hair and jerked her awake.


A droplet of blood touched Zahara’s exposed toe, running from the neck of the deer Tyche clutched in his jaws. The dragon’s coal black eyes bore down on her, silently judging. Zahara knew the look. It was a kind of chastising disapproval. She hadn’t slept since they left Weisslogia - she had been awake the entire three day flight to the Muthoag Isles, and Tyche knew it, and he disapproved.


“You are a sweetie, Tyche, but you should expect this by now.” Zahara smiled sadly as she stood upright, and taking the dragon’s snout in both arms she pulled his head low and placed a kiss between his eyes. Tyche rumbled, something not dissimilar to reluctance. “Come, let us return. We can’t have your quarry being soaked ...” Zahara dipped her gaze to the deer, now resting half-submerged at her feet, “... and the men will be concerned if I am gone any longer.”


She strolled up the beach, awkwardly shuffling in her waterlogged breeches to where she had laid her spare change of clothes. Tychondrelix quickly curled around her and brought one wing overhead, forming a cocoon of armored scales to shield her from prying eyes. Minutes later she re-emerged, dried and adorned in a deep red robe and a tiara. As she paced for the treeline, Tyche re-collected the quartet of deer carcasses he had acquired - three clutched between two foreclaws, and one held in the mouth. He took off over the treeline, landing on the other side seconds later to a chorus of yelps and cursing. Zahara straightened her shoulders, tossed her hair back over her shoulders and held herself tall as she pushed past the treeline and into the cove where she had landed.


Dozens of eyes swivelled to her and held, momentarily transfixed. The bustling unloading of cargo from dragons slowed for several seconds before crawling into action again. Zahara smiled, and her fingers folded across her belly as she moved step by deliberate, slow step toward her charges. She hadn’t brought many - she couldn’t afford to on such a long journey. Skimming the coasts of Ryseria was always an option, but a flight of dragons would draw attention. Her initial plan had been to disguise her party as nothing more than a Weisslogian scouting team, but someone would identify Tyche before long, and she couldn’t take that risk. A long sea journey had been the only option, far from any coastline.


“Edis.” Zahara paused before a balding man, who had been in the process of unpacking a flat rectangular crate. The man wiped his brow and offered a tired half-smile, delivering an equally enthusiastic bow.


“My lady.”


“Nerys and Vangr make quick work. The two of them and Tyche looked quite satisfied …” Zahara paused to watch the two beige dragons snap at and headbutt one another playfully, “... I can only assume they had their fill while on the prowl. Make sure Moragen gets one carcass of her own, she seems to have fallen ill in the final leg of our journey and we will need her at full strength. The remainder are to be split between the men. I shan’t need much myself.”


Edis cast her a wary expression, but his head bobbed obediently and he returned to his work. Zahara didn’t bother fetching a meal of her own, doubting she’d be able to finish it in her present state. No - more than anything else, she needed to sleep. She needed to fall asleep without anyone realizing how tired she had become.


“Tell the men that I shall retire with Tychondrelix for the evening. I have much to plan yet.” Zahara departed with a wave of her cloak, making a relaxed beeline for a pale wooden crate which had been set aside. Noting her trajectory, Tyche abandoned his squabbling with the other dragons to follow after her. In his typical fashion, he curled around the crate as Zahara lifted the lid, revealing a pile of furs within. The moment Tyche had hidden her from her men, she collapsed forward into the box.


“Fuck!” She hissed quietly as her elbow struck the edge of the box, rolling onto her side as the pain jolted her from any thoughts of sleep. A curious rumble sounded from behind her, and Tyche pushed his head under his wing to inquire. “It’s … it’s nothing, don’t worry.” She winced and rubbed the tender elbow, settling down once more in her impromptu bed.


A year ago she had her future all planned out. She would be training now, doing what she had always done. Fighting, studying, riding Tyche and learning the art of war. Now? Now she had no idea what was even happening outside of her own little bubble. The world had become smaller and tighter, like a snake constricting around her.


She let her arms go limp at her side, acquiescing to the aching pain behind her eyes that drew her closer to sleep. She needed to prepare still. She needed to be ready for tomorrow, for the Basilisk. But how could one be ready for such a thing? For diplomatic discussions with Vupaeth? An unprecedented scenario entirely.


But that was okay. Anybody would be nervous in her scenario, that was only natural. It had to be. She was the right person for this job. The only person for this job. If anybody in the world could do this, it was her. At least, that’s what she needed her men to believe. And so that is what she would have them believe.


But in that moment she was hidden from the world. In that moment she was permitted to be weak. To be tired. To be anxious. In that moment, surrounded by a shield of scales and muscle, she could take a second to hold on tight and just surrender to her fatigue.

Tomorrow would be the dawn of something grand.

 

[MinTea]

Ever since her daughter had declared rebellion, Cheneka had began to wander the halls of the castle in hopes of overhearing some news or gossip, about her daughters whereabouts. It was as if the halls symbolized her life and how she was continuously going in circles. What could she do to escape this never ending cycle? Would she be stuck here forever, just looping around in hopes of one day hearing how either her daughter or her husband has won? Either way it wouldn't be good news; her daughter or her husband could end up being dead.

Furthermore, the woman feared for Zahara, worrying about her health and mental state; her daughter would always matter to her even if they were at war. This is why she could never be involved in a conversation with others over the situation, to her it was either the betrayal of her country or her child. It didn't matter to Cheneka that the girl had raised her banners in rebellion, she had cared for Zahara and no one was about to tell her that her own child was a traitor. Although she knew that she shouldn't of, she began to wear her black dresses, to symbolize how her daughter is currently missing. People would interpret it as they liked, but she knew what it really meant. If we look at the situation closely, did she not have a right to betray her father, the monster that he is? He took her birthright and future? He was a downright, disgusting individual, one who abused and hurt them all.

Not to confuse this with that she didn't care for her newborn son, she loved him with all of her heart. It greatly irked her that he would be dragged into this war along the way, he was named the heir so he represents what Zahara lost. In the queens eyes, she didn't see her son as a reincarnation of Elazer's father, that didn't matter though as her opinion was as important to her husbands as a Weissloggians' to a Vupaenths'. She could only hope for the mercy and kindness of Zahara if it came down to it. Recently Cheneka had been with her son more and more, worrying for his safety as time went on; an attack could be imminent from all sides with the kingdom weak. She knew that there would have to be a plan in case of a palace coup or attack. You never know who you can trust nowadays.

This was her third lap of the entire castle today and the tenth one for this week. Only stopping when she believed she had heard something about her daughter. Cheneka would always pay close attention on her walks, it always turned out to be something of a false prophecy however. No one knew anything of her daughter it seemed. People also would give her critical stares from time to time, as you would if someone kept doing a repetitive act without completing anything. They probably wondered what she was doing. Maybe they thought that she had nothing better to do than just wander aimlessly around the palace, or that she was trying to comfort those who were scared?

 

[butterfly aubade]

Location: Atop Icarus, on his way to the Isles
Mood: Anxious & Weary
Mentions: N/A

THE WIND CUT ELAZER’S FACE LIKE A BLADE, crisply slicing away at the hallowed flesh and bone that had become the King's weary figure. It was quite a sight, really. A small, pale and fragile-looking Rider astride one of the greatest beasts in the entire continent. If one didn't look carefully, they could miss Elazer (who sat nestled in between the Dragon's neck ridges) entirely. Of course, this was assuming that they wouldn't recognize Icarus (the Dragon in question) on sight. Such a magnificent monstrosity was a rare commodity and many would have killed to obtain ownership of the beast.

As proven by the many hilariously bad Dragon-napping attempts (made by overly-ambitious fools from all across realm), Icarus was not a steed easily tamed. The Dragon was infamous for his foul temperament; terrorizing, injuring and even once decapitating a poor stable boy. By all means, he was a chore to care for and had been a nightmare to train, but he had earned his keep because Elazer had liked him. It also helped that Icarus was capable of crushing a dozen soldiers just by spreading his wings, too.

They made for a comical pair; the wretched, cowardly King and the fearsome, deadly Drake who had a penchant for cannibalizing hatchlings when bored. Perhaps the only thing they shared was their bond, which had been nurtured slowly, over the course of several tumultuous decades.
When others looked at Icarus, they saw a merciless beast, utterly consumed with bloodlust and cold fury. What they didn't know was that Icarus had been an orphan; born in a clutch of eggs laid by a wild Dragoness who had rejected him. Barely two days old, weak and hungry, Icarus had permanently damaged his vocal cords from desperate braying -- calling to one who had left him to die. He’d been found, severely underweight, on burning away the last vesitges of his life force. The Aquilo wranglers brought him in, whereupon the two met for the first time. Elazer, newly crowned and still grieving for the loss of two brothers, found a reflection of himself in the young hatchling. In each other’s company they’d killed the aloneness, and slowly, their presences melded into two halves of one broken soul.

Theirs was a bond forged from shared misery, pain and general isolation. And though the King was not keen on the coming battle, he found himself relaxing in the confident way Icarus commanded authority in the sky. They’d taken their strongest Dragons and best soldiers to make the excruciatingly unpleasant trip down south (the reported meeting place for the rebel leaders), where the Isles were known for their unforgiving storms during winter. While their war party had luckily managed to maintain their breakneck pace, a quick survey of the skies foretold a grim day ahead.

A lightning storm was coming.

“Well,” Elazer mused. “It looks like the Heavens disapprove of this godforsaken, foolish rebellion as well.” Below him, Icarus rumbled in what sounded like a noise of agreement.

Though Elazer had never liked his daughter, Zahara had proven herself to be a capable warrior and heir. The poor girl worked so hard and pushed so far that the King couldn’t help but pity her. She was ambitious. Fiery. Intelligent. And she’d, regrettably, soon be sentenced to death. Treason was, after all, unforgivable.

A sudden shriek pierced the air -- abruptly shattering Elazer’s train of thought. Poking around Icarus’ spinal ridges, he squinted to make out the source of the noise, which turned out to be a peculiar looking creature. Half-eagle and half-lion. A griffin. The stupid beast cocked its head curiosly in the Dragons’ directions, its beady yellow eyes narrowed into slits. Observing.

Icarus tensed, to which Elazer responded with a pat. “Easy there now,” he began. “I’m sure far more satisfying meals await us.”

 

[AnimeGenork]

.

[class=fyuri11wrapper] max-width:400px; height:500px; margin:auto; [/class] [class=fyuri11imagebox] width:100%; height:500px; background:url('https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8c/c3/be/8cc3be7112cbb2660d392dc2996fc3f8.png') no-repeat; [/class] [class=fyuri11overlayparent] display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; max-width:400px; height:500px; [/class] [class=fyuri11overlay] display: flex; width:200px; height:200px; margin:auto; background-color:rgba(0,0,0, 0.8); color:#fff; [/class] [class=fyuri11header] display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; flex-flow: column nowrap; text-align:center; width:100%; font-family: 'Sigmar One', Impact; font-size:30px; color:#fff; [/class] [class=fyuri11parent] opacity:0.0; position:relative; margin-top:-500px; width:100%; height:500px; background:#000; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=fyuri11parent state=hover] opacity:1.0; width:calc(100% - 20px); height:480px; background:rgba(218,20,69, 0.8); padding:10px; [/class] [class=fyuri11content] width:calc (100% - 20px); height:460px; background-color:#fff; overflow:auto; padding:10px; text-align:justify; color:#313131; [/class] [class=fyuri11credit] max-width:400px; margin:auto; opacity:0.3; font-size:10px; [/class]
[div class=fyuri11wrapper][div class=fyuri11imagebox][div class=fyuri11overlayparent][div class=fyuri11overlay][div class=fyuri11header]Adrian

-hover-

[/div]

[/div][/div][/div][div class=fyuri11parent][div class=fyuri11content]Adrian squinted against the wind that blew across his face and through his long blond hair. It had been four years since he'd been here in the Isles, and it had taken exactly that long to forget just how bright it was here. Perhaps it was the climate, or perhaps it was the overall sense of conflict that permeated the air in Vupaenth, but everything here felt significantly brighter and freer than his native country did. Then again, he had some delightful memories of time spent with fellow Enchanters, learning new magics and mastering his craft that he was, thankfully, allowed to practice in Vupaenth, due to his rigorous studying. Vupaenth was full of nothing but death and anger.

"Vupaenth" meaning Adrian himself, of course.

His juvenile serpent, Lilissa, aptly named after his Celestial mother, rested her head against his leg. Reaching down, he lightly stroked her head. She had seen him through multiple phases of his life: his apprenticeship on the War Committee, his studies in magic, his tenure in the Isles, and finally, his working with the Basilisk to fully start a rebellion against the King. He did not speak Serpent, and she did not speak his language, but she was highly capable of sensing how he felt, and he was thankful for that. As a man who was very out of touch with his own emotions, he needed someone (or someserpent) to save him from them when they overwhelmed him.

Adrian was not quite sure why he was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was the sense that he was finally making headway in his admittedly childish rebellion against his father, or perhaps it was the sense that the peace of this place was about to be ruined by the talks that were soon to talk place. Perhaps it was the meat he'd had for breakfast--he wasn't too sure it had been cooked properly, so this was quite possibly a bout of nausea. Whatever it was, something was irking him. And if he didn't figure out what it was, it was sure to come back and haunt him later.

Turning away from the horizon he was staring blankly at and not absorbing at all, Adrian led Lilissa through the camp back toward the tent where Avelot--more commonly known as the Basilisk herself--was staying. Even though they weren't in Vupaenth or Weisslogia, they had been careful not to draw attention to themselves. It was probably for the best, as Adrian had a feeling that if they caused too much of a ruckus, there was sure to be some fallout (was that the dread he was feeling? Hm...). They had brought quite a number of their rebellion here, but Adrian had suggested it only because he didn't quite trust anyone that wasn't the Basilisk--for all he knew, the Weisslogian princess had been playacting in some overly complicated scheme to ruin all of their hard work.

He was starting to think he needed to work on his trust issues.

As he made his way through the camp, he gave the men and women there nods. Their faces weren't nearly as friendly as the Celestials--he'd visited some of those he'd become acquainted with during his former tenure--but they would have to do for now. He may have preferred the life of a peaceful Enchanter, but he wouldn't stop living a life of war until he achieved his ultimate goal: the destruction of his father. His jaw clenched at the thought.

Finally, he'd reached Avelot's tent. He gave her a whistle, his normal signal that gave her notice of his arrival anywhere, and then he called, "Avelot, are you in there? Should we go over the plan for the meeting?"

Location: Rebel Camp | Mood: Full of Dread...For Some Reason | Interactions: Avelot | Tags: honeylemon​

[/div][/div][/div][div class=fyuri11credit]code/design by @Fyuri[/div]

 

[honeylemon]

[class=link] display: inline-block; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; transition: 1s; font-size: 9px; font-family: Avenir; padding-top: 5px; color: #999; [/class] [class=tag] display: inline; margin-top: 10px; padding: 1px 1px 2px 1px; font-family: Playfair Display; font-weight: bold; color: #333; font-size: 12px; border-bottom: 1px solid #d69754; margin-right: 3px; [/class] [class=tag3] display: inline; margin-top: 10px; padding: 1px 5px 3px 5px; font-family: Playfair Display; color: #000; border: 1px solid #d69754; background: #fff; border-radius: 5px; font-size: 10px; [/class] [class=home] color: #fff; width: 60px; height: 60px; margin: auto; box-sizing: border-box; background: #000; padding-top: 5px; border-radius: 100%; border: 1px solid #000; font-size: 25px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; text-transform: uppercase; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; transition: all 1s; [/class] [class name=home state=hover] color: #d69754; transition: all 1s; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; [/class] [class=tab] box-sizing: border-box; background: #fff; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #000; padding: 1px 5px 1px 5px; display: inline; color: #000; text-align: center; transition: all .5s; font-size: 12px; font-family: Avenir; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; [/class] [class name=tab state=hover] color: #d69754; border: 1px solid #d69754; transition: all .5s; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; [/class] [class=tabContents] position: absolute; opacity: 0; transition: all 1s; width: 294px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 26px; background: #fff; color: #000; height: 400px; box-sizing: border-box; [/class] [class=show] opacity: 1; z-index: 1; [/class] [script class=tab1 on=click] addClass show tabContents01 removeClass show tabContents07 [/script] [script class=home on=click] addClass show tabContents07 removeClass show tabContents01 [/script]

[div class=home]

[div class=tag3]mood

stressed out. tired
[div class=tag3]location

rebel camp
[div class=tag3]interactions

adrian
[div class=tag3]tags

AnimeGenork [/div] [/div]

[div class="tabContents tabContents07 show"]

Avelot
Grissell

[div class="tab tab1"]read more

[/div] [div class="tabContents tabContents01"]

Trudging through the camp with her Serpent beside her, Avelot was tired. Not physically- though she could definitely do with some sleep- but mentally. Beyond the stress of hey its a rebellion, she now had to prepare for whatever happened at and after the meeting. There were way too many possibilities. Sure, that was moreso Adrian’s job, but she still liked to be ready. And how do you prepare for something you know practically nothing about?

As she walked, Avelot replied to a few hellos with waves of her own, not stopping to chat. She eventually made her way to her tent. Slipping inside- her Serpent, Lufir, was left behind her tent- she immediately flopped down. Stars above she was exhausted. The stress was probably getting to her. Giving herself a minute to relax, she monitored her breathing until she was less tense. Good.

Hearing a familiar whistle, she immediately sat up. She stood, took a second to mold her face back into its familiar mask, and walked to the entrance. “That would be great, Adri,” she replied, opening the entrance to her tent just enough to slip out. "Lead the way."

[/div] [/div] [/div] [/div][/div]

[div class=link]coded by christy.

https://www.rpnation.com/threads/𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘆-⧾-𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻′𝘀-𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘆-𝗰𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘀.454487/post-9951524[/div]

 

[MinTea]

Location: The castle
Mood: Bold, brave and anxious


"Hush son, rest your eyes," Cheneka whispered, as her lullaby finished her sons eyes drooped until he fell into a shroud of black. He had an adorable, small face. It looked so innocent. It concealed the chaotic nature that shrouded him. He was the cause of all the events shaking the kingdom, yet the woman nursing him only saw him as a victim. It was not this poor boys fault that Elazer had pushed inheritance onto him. For fear of his life, she had sung him to bed every night since the disappearance of her daughter, it was easier to watch over him this way. What time had taught her is that anything could happen and people could suffer. She also learnt however, that no other woman would have the maternal instinct or love for her children as she did.
"Now I must leave you, I am sorry my son." Cheneka kissed his head, got up and brushed down her dress, "Guards, defend this room with your life and only let the most senior of handmaidens in. We shall risk nothing in protecting him!" Taking one final look at her son, she paced over to the door.

The woman marched along the cold, damp halls. Her breathe visible in the cold, night air; the castle hadn't been very well insulated against such nights as this one. It was like the atmosphere had somehow become a physical form of itself since her daughters declaration. Everyone had become on edge, untrusting of each other, cold towards even those they were once close with. In her mind this behaviour had always been there, it only took such a situation like this for it to rear its ugly head. Anyone could be a spy is all that the courtiers knew, Zahara grew up in the same court as them, she could've made friends. A majority of people didn't know what they could say to the situation either, it was a frosty subject around the queen.

Reaching her chambers, the queen quietly sat down at her desk. Looking out her window, she pondered, would this be the right thing to do? Cheneka knew that if she overthought this it would only lead for her to back out, yet she couldn't help but think.
"She couldn't abandon her daughter like this, it shouldn't be a trivial matter. Blood is blood. If she abandoned her children in times like this, what precedent would this set?" In her soul, the Silent Queen knew that abandonment would prove her to be a lot like her husband than she would like. "Yet, if she got caught...the consequences would be fatal. If her husband was merciful he may just take away her position. Why would he treat her kindly though, he had never done it before! It would be her head that he would want."

Taking a deep breath, she decided.



Dear Darius Howard,
I know it has been months since I last contacted you, but this is important. Very important. You have probably heard the news throughout the kingdom by now, my daughter has rebelled against Elazer in act of defiance, throwing the kingdom into a time of turmoil. People are fighting each other and wars are to come, yet I do not send this letter to you for you to kill her. Fear not, I love my daughter with all of my heart, I just want you to find her. If you do, please tell her the words, "Mother loves you."
I miss my daughter and my heart yearns more everyday, to know where she is would fill a hole in my heart. You see, a mother without her children looses apart of herself everyday. I only wish that you keep this secret and that no one else knows of my request; both of our heads would be on the line.

Kind Regards,
The Woman of Weisslogia

 

[Collidias Rex]

“Madness.”

“Brazen,” Zahara snapped in retort, “but certainly not mad.” She raised her left arm and allowed her squire to duck beneath, where he set about fastening her breastplate to her gambeson. Laegrimm’s forehead wrinkled as he eyed the boy for a moment, then Zahara again.

Once upon a time, Sir Laegrimm was Zahara’s trainer in all things arms and armor. That was many years ago though, at this stage he served as something more akin to a sparring partner than a trainer. In these dire times, Zahara found that it was she who instructed he. Laegrimm was a remarkable swordsman with a kind heart, but that was the extent of his merit.

“With the most-due-of respect,” Laegrimm’s hand waved in agitation, punctuating each syllable with a swat through the air, “what would happen, should the Vupaenth revolutionaries attack? What would you do?”

Zahara thought about that for a moment. “Die, I suppose.”

Her squire paused and regarded her with stunned silence.

“I didn’t say to stop, squire.” Zahara sighed and cast the lad an irritated glance, which jostled him into action at once. He was only fifteen, but he had a strong heart. He was brave - you’d have to be, to follow the rebel princess at that age. “But I daresay that doesn’t properly answer your question, Ser Laegrimm. It’s true. If they decided to double-cross me, I imagine I would have no chance of surviving, unless they seek to take me alive.” She shuddered at the thought. “Tychondrelix would stop swordsmen, but he is slow - an arrow would find my head quicker than he could shield me from one. But they won’t.”

Zahara’s head craned back, and she gazed into the early morning sky. It was still dim out, and the sun had not lifted above the horizon.

“They won’t,” she continued, “because you and the remainder of my men will be circling overhead in flight. Perhaps not the most inconspicuous of plans, but by this stage anyone in a position to witness us has already done so. We lose nothing by being observed from here on out. So, you will circle overhead while I meet this Basilisk alone on the ground, with Tychondrelix. While this places me in a position of vulnerability, it also places the Basilisk in a similarly precarious one. Should his forces attack me, they would be swiftly set upon by the bulk of our forces from above.” She lifted her other arm for her squire to pass underneath. “Live or die, between our forces and Tychondrelix, we shall see that the Basilisk and myself share the same fate. And I cannot imagine anyone would travel so far to simply die.”

A more astute tactician might have seen the desperation in her plan, but Laegrimm nodded morosely, with something akin to reluctant agreement. If the Vupaenth revolutionaries simply held the Basilisk back in hiding, it would present a perfect opportunity to kill her with minimal loss to their own side. But any revolution must be sparked from somewhere, and Zahara doubted this Basilisk would throw his troops into a massacre for such petty reasons. After all - while the Vupaenth revolutionaries had no reason to like Zahara, they had little reason to want her dead either. At least, not enough reason to throw men to their death in a reckless assassination venture.

Laegrimm bowed stiffly. “If that is your wisdom, your highness.”

“It is. Inform the men that I shall be meeting the Basilisk alone.

Zahara took the longsword proffered by her squire and held it fast in two gauntleted hands.

“Let them know that I fear no man nor his army.”

-----

Zahara sought to arrive before the Vupaenth faction, and had made a point of arriving some hours early. She and her retinue descended upon Ciallis, veering in from the north-east sea and riding landward with the morning sun at their back, as if descending from some glaring higher plane. It was a reliable attack tactic, as well as a standard psychological maneuver among the Weisslogian military - the broad wings of dragons flying overhead would cast stretching shadows across the ground, and the momentarily coldness of their shadow would signal a vicious aerial attack, adding an element of intimidation to the ensuing battle. More than that - flying in from the sun placed great difficulty upon the enemy’s archers, who struggled to fire into the direct sunlight.

She raised an arm as the city ruins came into sight, and a horn bellowed from a rider to her west. One-by-one, her entourage pulled back and upward - levelling out and continuing straight as Tyche tipped into a nosedive. Tyche wasn’t the most agile of flier, but his size meant he made for a spectacular nosedive - a hulking mass of red and orange plummeting from the heavens like a falling star, spiked and jagged and vicious all over. But his wings were broad and his body was strong, and he flared those wings as the ground fast approached, catching his immense weight and flattening out to skim over the treeline.

Zahara hunkered down and held on tight as Tyche approached the ruins, where he flared his wings and reared back. A devastating downdraft cut through the overgrowth beneath his landing path, tearing small plants from the ground and throwing up a storm of foliage as he swept down a decrepit thoroughfare. The landing was as rough as ever, something Zahara had long learned to brace for as Tyche careened into a plaza. His wings flared high and wide one last time and his spiked tail slammed into the ancient cobblestones behind him like an anchor, throwing a barrage of stone and dirt into the air behind it. His rear legs touched down first, then he lurched forward onto his forelegs as he came to a stop. Zahara grabbed her reigns tight and braced against a spine in front of her, one specifically wrapped in furs to absorb the impact of landing.

She had arrived.

She spent a minute properly dismounting and untying her harness as Tyche sniffed around the area, his tail swinging carelessly like a dog’s as he took in the new scenery. With a solid whack of her gauntleted fist against his back, the dragon paused to watch her over his shoulder, then lowered himself to the ground. Zahara slid down his wing like a slide, holding her hair out of the way with one hand as the other kept her steady.

“This seems appropriately scenic.” She observed as she paced her way into the middle of the plaza, taking in the sights. High above, her men formed a whirling circular patrol around her position - some high, some low, some ducking and diving in between, giving the impression of a cyclone whirling around her. “Tyche!”

Tyche’s head shot up immediately and he spun around - his enormous bludgeon of a tail swinging clean through a stone wall in his haste. He didn’t seem to notice the damage. He trudged across the plaza toward Zahara, leaving broken cobblestones under each footstep, and lowered his head to be at eye-level with Zahara.

“Keep distance.” Zahara called, and pointed to the north-east corner of the plaza. “Wait for signal. Understand?”

Tyche’s brow flattened and he rumbled disagreeably. Zahara frowned in response, and swiftly backhanded him upon the nose. The dragon seemed entirely unmoved by the gesture, and instead nudged her with his nose - almost bowling her over.

“No!” Zahara scowled and placed both hands upon his head, trying in vain to steer the dragon toward the corner. Tyche watched her impassively, but the gently swaying of his tail betrayed his amusement. “Tyche! This is not the time for games.”

Tychondrelix’ tail went still, and he made a soft, whining noise in his throat.

“Serious.” Zahara stared at him, holding his nose firmly in both hands and forcing him to look at her. “Serious, Tyche.”

Tyche’s head bobbed. He understood. upon reflection, it was a sad thing - Tyche had never been quite so playful or affectionate as he had been in the past month. Troublesome? Sure. Mischievous? Absolutely. But never quite ... playful, like this. For a time, Zahara wondered if her revolution had earned his respect. Perhaps that same respect permitted him to show her such affection. With due time she had decided this was only partially the case. No, the truth was that Tyche fully understood the severity of her situation. Tyche was showing her affection because he didn't expect her to live much longer. He was trying to be kind to her in what could well be her last days.

“Keep distance. Wait for signal.”

Tyche’s head bobbed again, and with visible reluctance he shifted back, and lumbered into the corner of the plaza as instructed. His tail moved carefully now, with deliberate and constrained movements until he was well out of reach of Zahara.

The Rebel princess sighed, shifted into the center of the plaza, and she stood there alone.

 

[honeylemon]

Mood: Tense
Location: Rebel Meeting Spot
Interactions: Adrian, Zahara
Tags: AnimeGenork Collidias Rex

Atop Lusai, Avelot was doing her best to stay... calm. Yeah, calm. She was on the way to the meeting spot that had been agreed upon- some secluded ruins- but with a pack of guards between herself and Adrian, she was afraid they were being a tad paranoid. Not to mention the three battalions stationed in a protective arch, the numerous guards stationed in the forest, or the fact that she was in full combat gear atop her Serpent.

Okay so maybe they were being a tad too cautious. This was meant to be a peaceful, alliance-forming meeting- not a paranoia induced brawl.

Maybe a scout. Just to see what the Weisslogians brought. Ave turns to the pack of guards dressed in lighter gear. "One of you scout ahead- we wouldn't want to meet the Weisslogians with an intimidating force," she commanded. The guard who seemed to be leading nodded before disappearing further ahead. Alright then. That's done.

The group trudged onward for what seemed an eternity before the scout returned. "It appears their leader is out alone, however, their dragon guards nearby," the guard said. That... oh. Perhaps having an entire outfit of guards would be overkill. A threat, even- though she doubted much could be a threat to a dragon.

Avelot took a moment to organize her words. "Alright. Those of you who were chosen as our personal guard," she commanded, "you will act as another level of rear protection." She paused, turning to Adrian. "Adrian and I will travel without you to maintain a more peaceful meeting. If any... trouble... begins, the rest of you have my full permission to retrieve our troops."

The guards took a pause before nodding, realizing that they were meant to affirm this. If any of them had concerns with this change of plan, it was not shown, as the pair's "personal guard" turned around, going back down their path.

Avelot nodded to the remaining guards. They took this as a signal to fan out, each taking their own path forward. She watched as they all disappeared, prepared for the first sign of hostility. She took a deep breath before continuing straight.

Alone with her thoughts, Avelot had a lot of time to think. Chances are the Weisslogian rebels wouldn't launch an ambush or attack, though, with the amount of hidden guards they had... She shook the thought out of her head. If the guards were found, sensed, or located in anyway, she could simply say they were being cautious. Because they were- it's not every day you meet with another rebel leader. And besides, if the Weisslogians were hostile, they had a number of troops waiting beyond the woods. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that, because it meant their rebellions were doomed. "Then let's keep this peaceful," her thoughts declared.

As they neared the ruins Avelot made the final preparations. She dismounted her serpent, motioning for Adrian to do the same. She thought about taking off her helm, thinking against it. She could do that when they entered the Princess's sight. They stood a few paces off the treeline- on the brink of something that would go down in history regardless of its outcome. On the brink of something great.

"This is it, Adri," she said, taking a step. Avelot turned to face where she presumed their ally to stand. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the treeline. A few steps away rested the stones of the ruins. Her boots clacked as she walked, steadily approaching. She couldn't see the Weisslogian just yet, so she readjusted her posture.

If Avelot had been told years ago that she would be meeting on equal terms with a Weisslogian, she would have scoffed. While they weren't scum per se, the only time they would be meeting peacefully would be to sign a treaty. An alliance, however? That would have never crossed her mind all those years ago. But now it was the- hopefully- most likely outcome, and one she would work towards.

The clicking of her boots on the ruined cobble paused for barely a moment when the other rebel leader entered her view. Avelot quickly affirmed the scout's statement, spotting a dragon a ways off. She tapped her serpent, which moved a bit before stopping.

Avelot stepped up, now a few paces away from her counterpart. Now to pick those first words carefully. Be confident, but not aggressive. Assertive, but not commanding. Concise but not- Yeah. That.

"Greetings. You know me as the Basilisk, but if we are to be allies, I believe our names should be out in the open." Her hands lifted off her helmet, which she tucked under her arm. "My name is Avelot- Avelot Grissell."

 

[MasterJuann]

Semet Evaélinothe

━━━※ ·❆· ※━━​

Fire.

That has been the only thing Semet could see since her meeting with the Premiers.

Her vision was etched into every corner of her mind, and when the fact that they wouldn't act surfaced, it started feeling like the nightmare had already become reality. When she looked at their tents, all she could see were the cloths and wood being slowly consumed by ruthless flames, vanishing quicker with each passing moment. When she looked at the sky, all she could see were flashes of orange and red hurling down, covering the green Earth beneath her feet with the smell of soot. When she looked in her son's eyes, all she could see were the reflections of death and destruction that would put out the only flame that she wanted to preserve...

His.

Her regular visits to the Muthoag Isles weren't making her feel any better about the impending future. She hadn't seen anything that could be traced to her vision, and while it was always nice to train with her steed, she cared much more about saving Concordia than she did about Mika's combat skills. Of course she wanted to meet with those from their neighboring kingdoms on the matter, but she couldn't do so without the approval of Ryseria's Premiers. Whether she wanted to or not, she'd need their support for any chance of successfully contacting any leaders outside of the Republic. Even with her objectively high status as an Elder, that all vanished the second she stepped foot on foreign territory. She highly doubted that any ruler from Vupaenth or Weisslogian would give her the time of day. It'd be easier to at least reach out to the rebels first, but then there was the problem of not knowing where any of them stayed. That was to be expected, though, since no one in their right mind would reveal whereabouts when going against an entire government.

Even so, Semet knew she couldn't give up. This just required patience. Even if she had no idea whether or not time was on her side, sitting still wouldn't get her anywhere. She had to be active. Visiting Vupaenth and Weisslogian would take lengthy trips, but she didn't have the luxury to pursue those when the others were keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn't try anything against their wishes. So far, this meant lots and lots of investigation, research, and other precautions.

Semet took extra time for more mediation so she could properly study the vision—she watched it religiously. She was utterly obsessed with every detail, every second, every glimpse. Really, she was looking for any sort of change. If the vision seemed even slightly different, she wanted to know how and figure out a way how to trace it for clues. When she wasn't meditating, she was researching the creatures in the Muthoag Isles, and though it was taking some time to cover all the islands, there were texts the tribes had kept over the centuries to help. Aside from that, there wasn't much she could do about prevention, so she also put some focus into overcoming the worst case scenario. She discussed evacuation plans with other Elders and those in her tribe should her vision come to pass before it can be changed, figuring out ways to safely help everyone get to safety. They began building boats for emergency travel and put more focus on Water Phoenixes. She's also begun figuring out how to combat fire with Mika. Her steed followed her everywhere, so she wanted to be sure that they could do something other than just fight countless creatures who have the advantage of wings. Now, she was focusing on stamina and speed, in a rush to create as many high-moisture plants as possible that could delay the inferno's spreading. She wouldn't be able to put it out with this method, of course, but it'd give some escaping Ryserians time.

She glanced up at the night sky as she fastened her bow and arrows to her back, picked up her satchel, and whistled lightly for Mika to join her. They had stayed much longer than usual, but she was getting desperate without knowing if time was on their side. It was definitely necessary to get back, though, before eyes of disapproval bore any more into her actions. Semet waited a few moments, but the phoenix never came.

"...Mika?" Semet called, whistling once again as she began trudging in the direction she had last seen her. This was strange. Even if she usually took off on her own sometimes, it was always in close range enough to come when needed.

The woman continued her walks in the dark, using a large branch as a torch to guide her along the way. The stars and moon were bright, but the trees were heavy in this area, so it wasn't too efficient to rely on the night sky. Eventually, she spotted a Larkspur petal and decided to continue in that direction as she found more. It's a good thing Mika's an Earth Phoenix.

Almost three pedals into the widely spread trail left behind, a sudden figure rushed into Semet's face, sending her backwards by reflex before she just barely caught herself. There was wild flapping before the bird flew off in the direction she came, sparking both worry and hopefulness the Elder's stomach. She was acting strangely--maybe it was something relating to the vision? Yes, that would make so much sense! It could be the first big step to being rid of this whole thing.

...or it could be the first event, already coming to pass.

Semet sped up her pace.

It wasn't long before she came across a broken arrow, and one that definitely wasn't from the Republic. She could tell just by how it was made. She turned it around a bit, before pausing with a raised eyebrow at the flash of color belonging to what she could only assume was a ripped fletching. It was red.

...military?

"You saw soldiers?" the woman asked, glancing over at Mika, who was standing in front of her. She didn't make a peep, but Semet wasn't expecting an answer, anyway. It was just habit at this point to act as if the phoenix could converse. Even so, they still had a bond and could get general communication across. There was a mutual understanding without verbal language. She didn't have to receive an answer to know she was right--probably.

The little phoenix shot upwards the moment she saw legs began to move, and only halted for a moment to see the command she was being given: an index finger pressed lightly against thick lips, and soft air blowing through her teeth. Semet was telling her to shut up for the time being.

The two continued forward, carefully, on the lookout. A change would come. She just knew it.

 

[AnimeGenork]

.

[class=fyuri11wrapper] max-width:400px; height:500px; margin:auto; [/class] [class=fyuri11imagebox] width:100%; height:500px; background:url('https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8c/c3/be/8cc3be7112cbb2660d392dc2996fc3f8.png') no-repeat; [/class] [class=fyuri11overlayparent] display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; max-width:400px; height:500px; [/class] [class=fyuri11overlay] display: flex; width:200px; height:200px; margin:auto; background-color:rgba(0,0,0, 0.8); color:#fff; [/class] [class=fyuri11header] display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; flex-flow: column nowrap; text-align:center; width:100%; font-family: 'Sigmar One', Impact; font-size:30px; color:#fff; [/class] [class=fyuri11parent] opacity:0.0; position:relative; margin-top:-500px; width:100%; height:500px; background:#000; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=fyuri11parent state=hover] opacity:1.0; width:calc(100% - 20px); height:480px; background:rgba(218,20,69, 0.8); padding:10px; [/class] [class=fyuri11content] width:calc (100% - 20px); height:460px; background-color:#fff; overflow:auto; padding:10px; text-align:justify; color:#313131; [/class] [class=fyuri11credit] max-width:400px; margin:auto; opacity:0.3; font-size:10px; [/class]
[div class=fyuri11wrapper][div class=fyuri11imagebox][div class=fyuri11overlayparent][div class=fyuri11overlay][div class=fyuri11header]Adrian

-hover-

[/div]

[/div][/div][/div][div class=fyuri11parent][div class=fyuri11content]Adrian's dread had been growing and growing since he'd met up with Avelot. His paranoia about things going wrong today had apparently rubbed off on her as well, because they were bringing a rather large contingent of guards. Right now, he couldn't even see her, as there was a mini army separating them. For some reason, he had more guards then her (she had once explained the logic to him, but that didn't necessarily mean he agreed with it), and there were more shadowing them in case something went wrong with the Weisslogian princess.

Avelot sent a scout ahead to check out the scene, but he didn't hear the scout's assessment due to their separation. He began to hear her again when they dispersed as per her orders to act as a rear level of protection. They, however, would go, seemingly alone, in order to maintain peace. Once she was done giving her orders, they fanned out and disappeared, and then they were somewhat alone.

Adrian nodded to her, and they set off once again. After a while, she dismounted her serpent, making a motion to him. He had walked beside Lilissa, taking comfort in placing his hand on her enchanted scales (it had taken him a few months, but it was worth it to seem the runes perfectly crafted onto them), so he simply retracted his hand and stepped away from her, giving her a look full of meaning. She bowed her head, her eyes glittering, and he knew they understood each other. If trouble came, they would protect each other and make their best efforts to escape.

"Yes," he replied, not feeling the need to add more to his response. This was it. This was the day when history, good or bad, would be made.

They emerged from the treeline to meet their hopeful ally. He spotted the dragon almost right away, and his eyes narrowed. His magic may have been impressive for his age, but even he had his limits. If anything went wrong, this would be a rough fight.

Avelot took her spot, and he stood just behind her and to her right. She introduced herself as the Basilisk, and Adrian could feel the surprise in the air. Although the rebels with them knew of her identity, there were some who still assumed it was he who bore the moniker. Fools. He had a tattoo of the species on his back, but that was merely a ploy to keep the real Basilisk safe.

While the princess and Avelot talked, Adrian narrowed his eyes and studied the sky above him. Something was going to happen, he just knew it.

Location: The Meeting | Mood: Full of Dread and Paranoia | Interactions: Avelot | Tags: honeylemon Collidias Rex​

[/div][/div][/div][div class=fyuri11credit]code/design by @Fyuri[/div]