Fantasy Mysnia - Heralds of Darkness

[EdwardDewey98]

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RulesThis RP is currently a partially closed RP. We are not actively recruiting, but if you are interested in it, shoot me a message! I'll see what I can do regarding working you in, if you really want to join!

As GM, I control various NPCs in the story, but some may be controlled by players. All events will be under my direction. Feel free to throw ideas at your fellow players. I want you guys to have fun!

• Please, be nice. No power or metagaming. You have a lot of freedom and slack, but ultimately rolls determine if things happen.
• Out of Character (OOC) chat should be in double parentheses, ((so it will look like this when you post OOC)).
• If you go inactive or drop, your character(s) will be under my control (and may potentially die.) If you let me know you're going to be inactive for a while and can pick back up later, I'll look after your character till you return.
• This is primarily a PvE game, but PvP can still potentially happen if its agreed upon by both parties and run by me.
• As GM, I have full control of the game. New rules can be implemented on the fly if need be.

Player Characters

• Rekko by joshuadim
• Lucafiel sa Helendal by Emperor Sagan
• Cordia Dis & Illifis Blightspreader by Breadman
• Izaak Rosach by Worthlessplebian
• Voyka the Warsome by Damian0358
• Jagvir Kohar by turtwigwins
• Thalarion by Crocodile
• Hildegard von Kappelburg by Abstracty
• Yz by Femboy
• Sharyx Valghemora by K0mori

Player Commanders

• Seith Voidsinger by Infab

 

[EdwardDewey98]

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The dark waters of the ocean crashed against the vessels that dared the brave waters of the Sea of Lohrasahr, spraying many of their travelers with harsh salts as the clouds above swirled and tumbled with a dark, foreboding presence. A great many sailors would have avoided traversing the waves in these conditions, but those approaching the isle of the Dark Lord were motivated. The towers that jutted into the sky like daggers looked like insurmountable peaks to the ships below, led by a great row galley with deep purple sails and flags depicting the Eye of Darkness. In their depths, thousands of thralls rowed while their cruel masters lorded over them with barbed whips. Standing at the front of the deck were several figures, all heeding the call of Darkness.

In the front was Thalarion, who had been a great time away from the Obsidian Throne. But he diligently continued his task as the Voice of Darkness, receiving orders from the Dark Lord's sorceress. But if the rumors were true, then he would witness the rise of the Dark Lord once more. Behind him was Voyka, the most infamous Herald of the Dark Lord, whose name stirs great fear across the realms of all Kine. Her presence was not a surprise as she heeded the calls of Darkness once more. Behind her was Izaak Rosach, the Voivode of Skulls, accompanied by a couple of skeletal guardsmen. He had been to Lohrsahr before, but it would be his first time witnessing the Dark Lord rise from the Obsidian Throne.

At the ship's rear was a strange, colorful woman that neither of the three veterans had ever seen in their lives. A clown or entertainer of some kind that seemed to have the ability to phase in and out of perception accompanied with a deranged personality. She introduced herself as Yz, and was currently throwing little paper boats into the waters below. Somehow, these little boats followed the galley despite the treacherous weather. Left to the galley was a dark, elegant vessel with the front sail depicting the symbol of House Zeldorra. Running about the ship were several little Luachra, small lizard folk who delve in the depths of the earth of whom many have become slaves to other races that delve in the Depths. Watching over these little menaces were several warriors of the House, but the majority were standing beside their commander and the newest addition to the First Betrayer's Court: Sharyx Valghemora.

The warriors nearby assumed Sharyx must have impressed the Matriarch greatly if she was being sent as a representative of House Zeldorra, but what was going through her mind? The young, ambitious warrioress looked ahead to the monolithic towers with great anticipation as a new destiny called to her. Would she be able to cleanse her family name by spreading the word of Darkness throughout all Kine? Only time would tell. Sitting atop a barrel nearby was her companion Seith Voidsinger, a wood elf that had followed Sharyx after her harrowing and victorious escape. He was mysterious, and not liked by the Dark Elves or even their Lauchra slaves. There was something wrong with him, and yet he continued to smil while his blindfolded eyes kept staring at the towers ahead of him.

Right to the galley was another galleon, however this one differed from the elegance on display by House Zeldorra. This monstrous vessel soared through the savage waters of this accursed sea, its black sails flapping violently in the wind. And the one manning the helm was none other than Captain Cordia, the infamous banshee of the sea, as she shouted at her undead crew to work even harder. All the while, her beloved husband - Lord Illifis Blightspreader - stood by her side, grabbing at her sometimes at the waist in a tender and loving way.

Sailing before the galley was an equally large, but even more extravagent looking ship; not made for war, but for luxurious travelling through the open seas. It was painted in gold, black and white with the golden busts of two Vestati angels carved by each side of this decadent behemoth. Thousands of human slaves roweed while several Yakal and Satyr warriors patrolled the ship to keep an eye on the chattel. Sitting comfortably in his private quarters, surrounded by extravagant wealth and lovers holding trays with delicacies was the Redeemer Prince himself, Lucafiel sa Helendal.

Behind Cordia's galleon was a rather small but impressive longboat of Northern design, jumping up and down using ropes to control the sail. Rowing relentlessly were several Saukkonen, singing a crass sailors song while their captain, the intrepid mercenary commander Rekko the River Warrior, looked at Lohrsahr with some doubts. He knew that those who served the Darkness were shifty, but we all had to take dirty deals sometimes...

Sailing close to Lucafiel's vessel was another galleon, one of Avalionesse design, with the tattered banner of the Duchy of Nassau hanging beneath a newer purple banner of House von Kappelburg. Its crew consisted of undead servants, handmaidens, musicians, knights, and a host of vampiric abominations all loyal to their master: the exiled priestess of Light, Hildegard von Kappelburg, who sat comfortably behind a desk that belonged to the captain of the previous crew.

Lagging behind them was a three mast ship of Indraj design, with the symbol of Clan Kohar drawn upon the sails, lent to its current crew by the Raj of Indraj. Rakhsha sailors were manning their stations, with several fearsome warriors of great skill standing in front of the deck as they observed Lohrsahr grow closer in the distance. Leading them was none other than the Marshal of Indraj, the Iron Fist himself, Jagvir Kohar.

There were a great many other ships surrounding the fleet, either mercenaries trying to get more gold in exchange of fighting a war that they don't fully understand or loyal followers of the Lord of Darkness and First Sinner willing to die for the cause. But as they neared the keep, the monstrous beasts inhabiting the murky waters began to make themselves known. A kraken wrapped its tentacles around a galleon full of mercenaries, crushing the ship and dragging its crew down to the bottom of the sea. Another vessel crashed onto the jagged rocks jutting out from the base of the island itself, a dire reminder of the dangers that surrounded this accursed keep.

​

The port of Lohrsahr was ghastly in appearance, as starved thralls were forced to fish from the shores or use nets and harpoons to kill large fishes and clams that were just as deadly as the monsters that delved beneath the sea. The first ship to disembark was the one carrying Voyka, Izaak, Thalarion, and Yz. They were followed by the other vessels soon after and the Heralds, alongside their bodyguards and other important folowers, were asked to follow a dark clad knight towards the entrance of the Dark Lord's keep.

This gave the Heralds the opportunity to survey their new comrades and study the island itself. People like Voyka and Thalarion would notice how derelict everything appeared, alongside the scant number of thralls working the war forges and fields compared to conflicts past. The death of the Dark Lord at the hands of the Wood Elves dealt a serious blow towards the forces of Darkness, and it was more apparent than ever how much of a disadvantage they were at. But as the realms of Kine fight amongst one another, the Dark Lord will rise again.

Once they had arrived at the castle courtyard, they were asked by the Dark Knight to wait until the Dark Lord's most trusted companion arrived to gret them. The Heralds noticed that even the castle and its many towers looked worse for wear. The courtyard had wild bushes of black and purple roses growing all over it, and it appeared that their nature was sorcerous as some of the bushes twitched in erratic manners. When the doors to the keep opened, a few more Dark Knights emerged and behind them was Alexandra Rhomavion who was known by many names: the Temptress of Kureau, the Destroyer of Merkat, but her most famous title was the Witch Queen of Lohrsahr which she bore with pride.

She looked down at the Heralds, recognizing a few and assuming the identity of one. But she was curious about the many new faces that appeared before her; the sorceress walked down the dark steps of the castle and approached them with a serious and slightly distant demeanour. "Welcome, Heralds of Darkness! You have heard and heeded the call of our Dark Mistress. I see many new faces... but also several old ones. It pleases me to see that we still have loyal subjects in the mainland beyond our entrusted Voice. You've been summoned not by me, but by the First Sinner herself. For the Dark Lord is close to awakening once more, and we will begin a new war."

 

[Femboy]

Yz

Yz peacefully hummed and giggled to themselves as they proceeded to grab another piece of paper, peacefully mojlding it into the shape of another little papercraft vessel as they looked it over after it had finished in its creation. Such a beautiful little simplicity only born from a little bit of blank canvas, who couldn't look at one of these and just smile in delight? Alas, itnwas not right to pull such a majestic creature from its natural habitat simply to point and marvel, and thus it was time to return it back to its families in the water.

"Oh I do love you so little boatie, yet it's time for you to return home to your kind! They wouldn't be very pleased if I kept you here all to my little self! How does it sound, are you ready to go back into the water?" Yz asked the boat as they held it up, moving it like it was talking.
"I would love to, but it'd be a shame to be gone from you once you move on, pray tell that you'll come and visit us again Yz!" the boat asked, which was just Yz putting on a slightly different voice. They quietly stifled their laughs at their own antics as they held up the paper boat with both hands to hold it up with praise and appreciation for the whimsical little vessel.
"You are beautitul, but you must return to where you once came, you are needed and will be missed if you do not return. Now go, little one, we will meet once again, and when I make more of your brethren will you hear of my tales and exploits... now, to the grand sea with you" Yz answered as they nonchalantly dropped the paper boat to the water, where it joined the rest of the paper boats that followed the galleon. Uttering a soft small sigh, they leaned on the edge of the ship as they looked over at the mighty fleet they had created with their own two hands.

"It is truly amazing, nature is returning to its home and thriving, this population of magnificent creatures once believed almost extinct is returning in numbers thanks to the hard effort of one great hero. May they help continue solving the wildlife population problems in their adventures, gifting the world one blessing at a time" Yz spoke to themselves as they looked upon the paper boats they had released to the wild, delighted with their own work as for while they had time to wait for the boat ride to end they had continued making more paper boats with what paper they actually had.

After completely disregarding the dark atmosphere of the scenery and accompanying people after disembarking, Yz casually skipped and cartwheeled their way along following wherever it was that their dark knight tour guide was taking them to. This wasn't the exact vacation destination Yz was having in mind, but it'd probably do with a bit of fixing up, surely nobody would mind a balloon or two to brighten up the place when Yz had time.
"The tempo beacons be here and elsewhere, salt-mongers tasty though. Where's the cold wood tortoise roam and sit on its throne?.. " Yz joyfully hummed such nonsense to themselves until they were eventually brought into the presence of the Witch Queen of Lorsahr. While the woman gave introduction, Yz couldn't put heads or tails whether they truly recognised them or not. It was also partially probably that Yz was opting to not recognise them in any way since it wouldn't be very interesting to be boringly formal. Perhaps they were someones relative also along for the trip, they spoke a lot of serious words for someone in such a silly and unserious outfit, Yz would clearly be the rightful judge of that.

"Gee, she must be old, wars are such a thing of the past, but whatever. I wonder whose relative she is... maybe that one's mother... " Yz blatantly was speaking aloud without any consideration, pointing their finger to random people among them as they tried to decipher a non-existent mystery.
"Or that one, or them... in fact maybe she's not a mother at all, maybe she's a dad. Wait, is she supposed to be my parent? Is that why she's dressed ridiculous and why I'm here with all the edgy cult dropouts?" Yz pondered as they rubbed their chin in thought, a perplexing mystery. Hmm, wonder if she had any more paper. That'd be cool, RIGHT, a real parent or relative would always have spare paper, that's how family worked! Family always liked being around eachother, and giving eachother paper. Having one last unused piece of paper from the boat ride, Yz crafted a paper boat, unfortunately this one would be held in captivity for a while until Yz could release it to the wild later.

"Hi mom, or dad, do you have any more paper? Also, whose parent are you, why is it so dark and dingy here? You should hire me as a decorator here, this place would be so much prettier if you let me spend a little time on it. Also who are these clowns, they're gonna look at me funny and think I'm weird and I don't like it" Yz blankly spoke as they gestured to the rest of those who had come along, showing Alexandra their crafted paper boat in hopes that they would be proud of the war-ready firepower they had been making on the way. Suddenly startled as they acted jumpy all of a sudden, they shuddered.

"War? I dunno anything about war! I make love, not war! All I know is to- STRIP THE FLESH AND SALT THE WOUNDS- but I wouldn't hurt a fly! Why am I here again? Maybe I made a wrong turn on that boat..." Yz answered, abruptly swapped their tone to one more unhinged and loud for a moment as they paused after what they said, holding their arms crossed behind their back as they looked on.

"The infinity is ticking, child. Tick, tock. Don't disturb it~" they giggled softly, speaking in a hushed tone and slowly tilting their head as they kept quietly giggling and laughing over their own nonsensical words.​

 

[Abstracty]

Hildegard von Kappelburg
As the malicious waves rocked the captured galleon back and forth, Hildegard von Kappelburg looked on at her host of undead servants toiling away to keep their vessel floating with great disinterest. As exciting and promising as the prospect of soon entering the dark keep of Lohrsahr was, the journey here had been utterly uneventful. She was almost offended that the Sea of Lohrsahr hadn't thrown some nasty kraken or spiteful sirens at them to impede their progress. The high and wild waves required constant attention and hard labour, but thats what the thralls were for and she had no qualms in making them sweat away. "My, my... it seems like we are finally here...", Hildegard purred towards the shrunken head of Franz Krätzer, dangling on an old rope from the ceiling of her cabin. She flicked a finger against its dried up cheek as she spoke, sending the head to tumble even more than the waves did. "Verfluchtes Hexenweib! In der Hölle sollst du brennen!", Franz sounded off angrily with his raspy, gurgling voice causing Hildegard to smile in amusement. "Yes, yes, you have told me before, dear Franzl...", she teased, before flicking him a lot harder, causing the skull to spin around itself now. "Ich kriege dich noch! Verflucht seist du! Widerliche Dirne!", his curses got quieter as she finally left her cabin again, to observe docking process and behold Lohrsahr from up-close for the first time.

Hildegard smiled wickedly as she took a deep breath in, relishing the salty air and the aura of impending doom. Something big was about to happen and the fallen priestess would not want to miss it. As the galleon was finally landed, the sorceress strutted onto shore, followed by a flock of undead servants, all nearly buckling under the load of baggage they were meant to carry. A few were spared entirely from this duty, most notably her handmaidens who immediately rushed to her side. Their fine dresses and headgowns were a stark contrast to the withered away faces and dead skin, sometimes peeling off entirely to reveal rotten flesh and bone. A few knights were next in line, following the ladies with rattling steps. Their armor and withered coat of arms revealed Avalionessian origins, whilst the musicians following next already started playing their Shirvaninan tunes until Hildegard cut them off with a simple flick of her hand, causing them to slump forward and fall silent. The undead procession would only move when the necromancer herself did and right now she was busy observing the castle ahead, as well as the other arrivals. She had heard of most of them, but there was little time to be wasted on polite smalltalk, for the Darkness inside was not to be kept waiting. And besides, Hildegard was far to eager to see what was laying ahead, she would have the chance to meet the other Heralds in due time. But she graced them with an elegant bow before continuing on, wondering if the strange ramblings of the cartwheeling Yz upfront had any meaning to them.

As she swaggered her way into the courtyard, Hildegard took note of the sorcerous nature of its flora. The towers themselves were decrepit looking, utterly unworthy of such a place. But it seemed as though the inhabitants had fared way better than the castle itself and Hildegard casually plucked an especially large rose with black and purple petals intertwining as she moved towards the opening door. A gentle smirk formed as the flower twitched against her grasp at first, but soon fell silent. Hildegard took a spot amongst the other Heralds, where she presumed they were meant to stand. Her smirk slightly increased for a moment as they were adressed as loyal subjects, but she politely listened to the infamous Witch Queen of Lohrsahr standing in front of them. Her chin raised with some pride and anticipation as Alexandra Rhomavion announced the close return of his Darkness and - more importantly to the necromancer - the beginning of a new war. Her thoughts slid off to the foul priests of Heiligstadt. If they were to be brought to their knees, these were the right forces to do so. Alexandra seemed very sure of what she was announcing, but Hildegard found her eyes wandering away from her face where they were supposed to look for any signs of deceit or doubt. There were other enticing features to behold, but she didn't linger on it. Instead, she drank in the atmosphere of the place again, before Yz managed to change it entirely.

With a small gesture towards one of her undead servants, she compelled the zombie to indeed deliver some old paper to Yz, though it didn't speak any words while doing so. Hildegard on the other hand winked at Yz, but there was a different person she needed to adress first. "The flesh must indeed be stripped or perhaps just molded into a new purpose.", she mused, before elegantly curtsying towards Alexandra. "Hildegard von Kappelburg, at the Dark Lords service.", she decided to ignore Yzs antics otherwise, for there must have been a reason as to why she was able to speak to the Queen of Lohrsahr in such a manner. She couldn't even disagree with the place needing some work done. "What is required of us while we await the return of his Darkness?"

 

[Breadman]

"The wind is in our sails and the isle is within sight. We should be making landfall within a few hours."

"Will we be the first to dock I wonder." Illifis scanned the horizon. "I don't think the Dark Lord would care for us to be that punctual, but you seem to be very eager to get ahead of the pack."

"Am I?" Cordia turned her head to look at her husband with a smirk. "The storm winds and I are old acquaintances. I have followed their thundering advice and they have been good to me in return."

"I don't doubt that." He returned the look "It was they who led me to you." His attention was drawn to the kraken's tentacles emerging from the ocean and wrapping themselves around a mercenary ship. The sound of thunder masked the hull splitting apart from the pressure. "I don't think that's one of yours."

"Have you been listening to what the sailors talk amongs themselves again?" Cordia chuckled "No, my voice can't reach the mind of those creatures yet. Either our Dark Lord is culling the weak or someone on that ship had tempted fate too much." Cordia slightly turned the wheel to prevent the ship from going off course and getting too close to one of the other ones. "What do you think of that one?" She motioned her head to point towards the Vestati vessel

"See something you like, my love?" Illifis observed the other ship. It didn't look like it was capable of any prolonged engagement against other sea vessels.

"Were we not in the same fleet I would be making plans to board it." The Butcher's blade could in theory reduce it to splinters, but he knew that his banshee lover meant something else.

"It would be a grand start for a treasure fleet, I admit. However I don't think we should make such plans against our allies."

"I am merely musing, my dear." Cordia looked again to the ornate ship. The pirate captain noticed the crew and passangers and was very interested in the more regal ones. She waved to who she believed were the officers onboard before returning her attention to her own steering. "Beastment and angelic beings. Quite a variety."

"Is it who the legends speak of?" Illifis was now very curious as he watched the ship sail next to them. "I would not expect him to be among our ranks."

"Why not? You're on another legend's ship right now, are you not?" Illifis had to concede quetly to his wife. "I also sense another. An old power amongs the other ship there."

"Any idea who it might be?"

"Voyka." A lightning bolt pierced the sky at that very moment "She has had many names thoughout the ages. I first learned of her when I was but a small child playing with the others. Me and the other girls took turns pretending to be the hag. Granny hunger we called her. I was very good at it."

"Even so small you scared them witless."

"I did more that frighten them." Cordia smilled as she was remembering those childhood moments "Those were more innocent days."

"You'll have to tell me some day."

As the Butcher's blade neared the shores it slowed down in order to properly dock in the harbor. Despite Cordia's sailing, they were not the first to reach the docks. The pirate captain shrugged at the realization. Maybe next time. As the crew moved to pull the ship close enough with ropes and prepare for disembarking, Illifis stood next to his wife and with her hand in his, they both walked down the steps to the deck.

"Crasus, you're in charge until we come back." Cordia gave instructions to her first mate.

"Aye cap'tin." The large merman saluted. Illifis always liked him. Unlike many of the crew he seemed to be one of the few who had their wits put together. There were others ofcourse, like Uripa, their medical doctor who maintained the 'health' of the undead crew and the small creature she called Mr. Gribbs. He was annoying, but his utility spared him from their wrath.

The knights of the Withered rose left their quarters on the ship and joined the two to act as their bodyguards. Ser Tristan and Lady Meredith were always loyal knights under his command and would pick the best to act as his personal guard. The entourage disembarked from the Butcher's blade and followed the dark knight that greeted them to the keep.

As they moved, the duo looked to the other heralds that followed and talked between each other.

"It really is him." Illifis commented as he saw Lucafiel "I wonder what drew him and his people to join us."

"If the legends are true, then he may be seeking something strong enough to kill a god. I like that."

"It is an admirable goal." His gaze moved to Rekko and his entourage "I believe those fellows there were trailing after your ship, my love."

"Oh, I had no idea." Cordia was surprised to hear that there was anyone trailing behind her ship. The usual school of sharks and other bloodthirsty ocean denizens would discourage anyone from trailing the Butcher's blade. "That explains the singing that I was hearing. They need more practice, but they have the voices for it."

"It was a crude, but fun ditty. Soldiers have to keep their morale up somehow."

"Do you recognize that banner, dear?" Cordia pointed to the Dutchy of Nassau's purple banner. "I saw their ship, but couldn't make it out."

"Yes, its the House Von Keppleburg. Exiles from their land due to politics last I heard." He paused for a brief moment as he examined those under the banner. "That is the woman herself. Lady Hildegard Von Keppleburg. What I've heard about her is a lythany of descriptives depending on who's talking, but I believe her presence here confirms that she has a great talent for necromancy and wits to lead all in one lovely package, but not as lovely as you."

"Come now, Illifis. There is no need for that. You know I'm not the jealous type. If I were, my list would be longer."

"Woe be to all my past loves if that were the case." They shared a laugh. "Look there, another legend. The Iron fist- Jagvir Kohar."

"That's a name I've only heard once or twice."

"A dangrous man to cross with a large chip on his shoulder. His brutality and cunning are second only to his ambition to be the greatest warrior history has known."

"You speak with such reverance for a man who could be your rival." Cordia had to bring her husband back down to earth.

"My dear, I believe you have similar reverance for Voyka, no?"

"True. I can see her now and I must admit I feel like I did all those centuries ago." Her eyes did linger for a few moments on the Warsome, but eventually she saw someone else. "I believe I have heard of that armored figure over there." Cordia remembered a few conversations she's had with some of her crew. Those who would talk after ressurection at least. "The Voivode of Skulls."

"You have heard of him?"

"Only rumors. Dabbled with objects of power that have cursed him." She paused and looked to her husband "They claim that it destroyed him. I say him being here destroyed his weakness."

"I am afraid that I do not recognize the rest." Illifis said as he looked at the remaining Heralds.

"The dark elf girl is unknown to me, yet I can sense something in her. Something dark, hungry and powerful." She shifted her eyes to Thalarion and Yz "Similar to our masked friends over there." It took but a few moments to hear Yz speak for Cordia to come to a conclusion "Ah, she is carzy."

"Aren't half of us?"

"Of a different kind, love."

They followed the knight to the courtyard and were greeted by the none other than the Witch Queen of Lohrsahr.

Welcome, Heralds of Darkness! You have heard and heeded the call of our Dark Mistress. I see many new faces... but also several old ones. It pleases me to see that we still have loyal subjects in the mainland beyond our entrusted Voice. You've been summoned not by me, but by the First Sinner herself. For the Dark Lord is close to awakening once more, and we will begin a new war.

The expectations that they were chosen by the Dark Lord were not exactly true, but it didn't deter Illifis or Cordia, it in fact emboldened them. The First sinner herself. There was no doubt in them now. They were destined for something greater.

"Lord Illifis Blightspreader." He spoke next and bowed to the dark queen.

"Captain Cordia Dis, at your service." The banshee followed her husband's lead.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The ship rolled through the churning dark waters of Lohrasahr like a marine predator surging through the shallows, trailing arcs of inky water off its thins in its wake. The water that splashed up its wooden hull was dead, merciless, and frigid, devoid of fairer seas. He strode down the main deck towards the forecastle, the bitter wind moaning as he went, snatching at his muscle-fibre cloak. Helmet shifting as he went, observing the diligent work of his thralls, of men and dead. He placed one foot on the taffrail, folding his arms across the sleek, shaped-slab plates of his chest, glistening like rust against the thinning beams of light that penetrated the scudding dark cloud cover. A skull, white and pristine, chained to his hip clattered against his armoured hip, its eye sockets lifeless and void, as the waters around them, as the black slits of his beetle-crested helmet. A leather cord, another affectation, fastened tightly around his gauntlet, hung with fangs and talons of various predators.

Despite prior visitations, Izaak feels as every bit a foreign prisoner as a herald of darkness, far removed from the skin-clad bony hands of the thralls under the Witch Queen's service, with only but an unspoken barrier between them. He wondered why that is, the exclusionary feelings that he harbored. Were they a symptom of something nestled in the core of his heart, were they the honest, bare impressions of his peers, or merely the flawed interpretations he accrued from them? No easy answers came to him, even as his lungs took in the salt-crusted air. The iron lattice raking and burning against his chest — sore and red.

Behind him, he heard a rattling, bones meeting wood. He half-turned, seeing his ever-faithful hound playfully tumbling against the creaky floor. Amused by the clatter it produced. The canine companion's yellowed skull inclined up, tilting to the side as it took stock of its master's attention. Izaak raised his hand, splaying out the lanky digits of his gauntlet. A skeleton custodian swabbing the deck with a mop of white threads lurched forward, dragged by an invisible force. Its forearm twisted, inhumanly cruel if it were alive, and flew off its socket. Todor lowered itself to the ground, bony tail wagging, head lowered to shoulder-level. The dog leapt to the air, catching a mouthful of an ulna and radius, gnawing at the new distraction, persistent in its mimicry of living. The skeleton continued its duties with one hand.

The port of Lohrasahr peaked into view, Izaak's eyes picking out the craggy shore and slave-served docks. A cowled figure approached, a man clad in a loose, but thick beige robes, emaciated hands drooping down from the wide, looping sleeves. "Milord, anchoring preparations will begin soon." The chamberlain said, voice rasping. Izaak did not say anything for a moment, letting the howling wind the only conversation between them. "Very well. I shan't be needing a retinue, have my men remain at the boat." Emil nodded, clasping his hands in the folds of his sleeves. He hadn't need to hear that he will also be attending, he always did at these meetings.

The anchor fell, splashing into the murky shallows. Izaak, for a moment, disappeared into the bowels of his personal, albeit temporary chamber, emerging out with a white, fur-collar around his neck and his cruel-edged sword at his hip. He went down the serried ramp, meeting with Emil at the docks and his skeletal guard. The latter is a formality, he hadn't needed them, and rarely does he take them. Emil bowed, a ghostly smile parting his lips, milky eyes hidden beneath shadows of his hood. The summons of the Darkness shall not be kept waiting, Izaak and Emil walked, Todor beside his master and the hard thump of boots and bones echoed as they traveled behind the trio. Izaak admits only this, Lohrasahr and the Queen's court still catches his breath. They followed the knight up to the courtyard, derelict but decked with floral beauty of flowers borne of night and nebula.

Izaak went ahead slightly, Emil remaining back with the skeletons, not too dissimilar to them. "Voyka, you wicked bat." He called, stepping behind the Warsome. "It has been some time since I saw you last." He reached out with his hand, wicked talons inviting a greeting between veterans. Then the furred collar stirred on his neck, hairs rippling as a head went up, a button nose and sparking blue eyes with cute, rounded ears. The arctic fox gave a canorous giggle at the former hag.

His voice carrying much of the same as always — deep, dry, rough. Still sounding as though he were better suited to the black hood of an executioner than the silver spoon of a noble. Although, coloured with a lightness as he spoke to the Horned veteran, one could mistake cordial teasing when he called her a bat.

The doors to the Keep soon opened, their gracious host coalescing from the dark. Alexandra Rhomavion hailing the heralds and giving thanks for their arrival. He gave his respect as always. Bowing his head, Izaak would look up again. Giving the most minor of glances to Yz, the jester. Entertaining, he found her slapstick.

 

[joshuadim]

"Nuapurista kuulu sep olokan tahti
jalakani pohjii kutkutti jalakani pohjii kutkutti.
Ievan äiti se tyttöösä vahti
vaan kyllähän Ieva sen jutkutti
sillä ei meitä silloin kiellot haittaa
kun myö tanssimme laiasta laitaan.
Salivili hipput tupput täppyt
äppyt tipput hilijalleen..."

A sea shanty could be distantly heard through the chaos of the seas, signalling that at least the crew of the Saukkonen longboat were having some joy in their venture. Only one remained silent, his gaze fixed upon the ever growing island of Lohsahr which seemed to be at the centre of this damnable tempest. The brow of his great hat shielded him from most of the spray, but he remained ever vigilant as these waters contained great terrors beneath. Despite his intention to strike a deal with the Dark Lord, he remained apprehensive about the whole affair. His people had never gotten involved in any of the grand conflicts of millennia past, having preferred the comforts of isolation and being generally left alone. For a Saukkonen, the world had been the lakes and rivers of their beautiful homeland. Everything beyond that was simply an affair too far away to care. Such as it was that the Saukkonen was content to be left alone with their fishing rods, crispy roast sprats, and their pipe-weed until the end of days.

That was until the outside world came to them. First it was intrepid explorers charting the lands. Then came the merchants, eager to find something exotic to bring back home. That was how Rekko's people came about to use the pistol and rifle, helping them in their great aquatic hunts. Finally, came the damnable Medvedyi and their dreams of conquest. They demanded his people bend the knee, and when refused they brought their military fury upon them. For many years they fought, making the invaders pay dearly for every inch of land they dared claim as their own. So much bloodshed, so many lives lost, all of which rested heavily upon Rekko's mind every day since he was a pup. Rather than live under the indignity of the boot, many Saukkonens chose exile. The Great Scattering sent all matter of Saukkonen clans and families across the wider world, including his own, and left them as outcasts amidst an uncaring world.

The years that followed, as he tried to garner sympathies and support for his cause, Rekko would grow more bitter towards the world of the Light. His appeals were met with either indifference or outright rejection, as either the great realms either had their interests placed elsewhere or cared too for the plight of his people. If the Light was meant to be good and just, then how is it his people are forced to live in perpetual injustice? The Darkness was no better with its slaving, murdering, and killing, and yet it offered an actual chance for support to reclaim the great land of Järvimaata. He swore to himself that he would do anything to deliver justice for his people... but would that mean making a deal with the devil himself? Given how he had tried exhaustively otherwise, he had little choice.

The alternative was to silently accept existence as foreigners in strange lands that would never welcome them fully. That was unacceptable.

He had gotten into a fight just the night before with his sole Waterspeaker, Uljas, who had been vehemently opposed to the idea. They wrestled in their words long into the night, and ultimately it was Rekko who triumphed. Yet he felt no victory come of it, as it meant stepping into the dark lair with some of the worst beings imaginable. For his people, he was willing to sacrifice everything. Even his own soul.

As the longboat came to shore upon its black sands, the Saukkonens quickly disembarked and quickly pulled it ashore. Rekko was the one to step forward and observe his surroundings; it was truly a grim sight to behold. Even in its derilect state, there was a constant reminder of the evil that lurked here. He instinctively kept his hands close to the two pistols of Meroan design that were in their holsters at his hips, wary of anything that might sprout up and cause a ruckus. The sailors with him looked around with apprehension and awe, making their discomfort known.

["This place... it makes me sick in my stomach."] one commented in their native tongue.

["It feels as though the heat from my body is being taken from me!"]

["Watch your tongues."] Rekko said curtly as he turned to face his men. ["We don't know if they can speak our tongue. I'd rather we didn't get ourselves killed in all this."] He then turned to where the main host was gathering, and sighed. ["Aris, Simo, come with me."] Rekko and his two chosen companions walked towards the gathering, while the others stayed put with the ship and stayed on guard with their steel and guns. Within the courtyard himself, Rekko kept himself on guard as he scanned all the others. He was studying them, seeing how threatening they all were. The undead pirate and her "husband" seemed to be a terror upon the waves made manifest, while the hag was frightening in demeanour altogether. The purple haired witch seemed to be a violent temptress by just appearances alone. He already made the judgement in his mind to avoid her; and then the jester... he didn't know what to think of that.

He had made it in time for Izaak to speak, to which Rekko crossed his arms as he listened. He was familiar with the hag here, which made him all the more unappealing. Afterwards, he drew up the muster to speak up: "I am Rekko, son of Alvar. Mercenary by trade. I'm here ta make a deal with your Dark Lord." he stated matter of factly to the Witch Queen in the common tongue.

 

[K0mori]

At the bow of the Rayless, Sharyx stood with one foot on the ship's forecastle and took in the looming, foreboding scenery of the landmass ahead.

Lohrsahr - a place she had been indoctrinated since birth to hate, to believe it was the root of all that was diseased and wicked in the world - was only minutes away. It wasn't so long ago that she would have cowered from it and begged for mercy, begged to be led away from the turbulent, monster-infested seas surrounding it. Even now, she stifled a shiver beneath her shadowy leather armor, and so she gripped the edge of her cape and wrapped herself against the wind.

Of course, even if a large part of the stories were true, things were different now. A child wandering the woodlands alone at night was a helpless thing, whereas the wolf which traced her moonlit steps was not. One only needs to place themself in the role which best suits their survival to understand that helplessness is a mere choice. And when Sharyx made hers, it was her mother and father who begged for mercy.

Her dark, sunken eyes lit up as she remembered their final moments. A smirk played its tune across her lips. She had never known power before that day, but with her family's blade gripped firmly in her hands, she knew that others would surrender her the life she desired, or they would surrender their own. This was the only bargain that she would ever offer from that point onward, and it felt so natural to seek satisfaction. Escaping Ilberynn had been easy; the wood elves proved themselves poor negotiators, but at least they always paid their dues when Sharyx appeared.

And then she met the witchblade, Seith. When she appeared in his secluded tract, she recognized the telltale signs of exile around his homestead and instantly felt a vague kinship with the heretic. Likewise, the moment his scarred eyes caught sight of her through his blindfold, he recognized her from an old story he had heard: the Valghemora dark elves, five in all and with a baby on the way, fleeing from the Matriarch of Zeldorra. The King would grant amnesty, a great scandal, and the people would pour their bitterness and animosity out upon their new, unwanted neighbors. How fitting that this would be how the story ends: their spite having transformed the only innocent among the lot into the very shadow of Death.

Seith took Sharyx in for the night, and they discussed their goals. Sharyx was headed back to Zeldorra to take her rightful place in service of the First Sinner. Their mutual hatred for the Light-devoted instantly brought them together, and at once he recognized that destiny would not call to him so clearly again if he did not accompany her. When they arrived together, they had cut such a path of carnage that the entire Kingdom of Ilberynn was searching for them, and news of the Valghemora spawn awakening to her true nature had sent shockwaves that had even reached the underworld.

Kneeling before the Matriarch, Sharyx presented Kiranna with her traitorous family's hearts, and was quickly welcomed back into the fold. Despite the near-total poverty she had emerged from, her aristocratic education, sharp swordplay, and aptitude for magical studies made her a very promising scion. She was eventually summoned by the Matriarch, who presented her to Alexandra Rhomavion, who tested and confirmed her suitability for the coming task.

The name Valghemora had once stood for something. While her ancestors had fought, bled, and died for Queen Fyrixia many years before her family's betrayal, Sharyx felt undeserving of the loyalty the Knights of Zeldorra were giving her. While they chatted about the likelihood of the Dark Lord's resurrection, she was lost in her thoughts, wondering how she would best serve out her purpose. Whether or not he was coming back, there was a great deal of work that could be done to battle the Light's stranglehold over much of the world. And much had to be done; if Sharyx were to have her way, she would see King Lethoriel drawn and quartered for the so-called mercy he granted upon her cowardly family, may they all burn in Hell.

That would certainly take a great deal of preparation. Entire nations would need to be liquidated to grant her the chance, and so that was her charge.

The ship arrived at port, and she disembarked with Seith and a few of her knights to join the procession of the Heralds of Darkness. She was the newcomer here, and so she waited patiently for her turn to speak.

"Welcome, Heralds of Darkness! You have heard and heeded the call of our Dark Mistress. I see many new faces... but also several old ones. It pleases me to see that we still have loyal subjects in the mainland beyond our entrusted Voice. You've been summoned not by me, but by the First Sinner herself. For the Dark Lord is close to awakening once more, and we will begin a new war."

So, the rumors were true: the Dark Lord would soon reawaken. This obviously didn't surprise her, as Lohrsahr would not have called upon so many for anything less than another total war against the Light.

"It is an honor to serve," she said, her voice as bleak as her demeanor. She then turned to the others and introduced herself. "Sharyx Valghemora, the last of my name," she explained with a grin.

 

[Damian0358]

Voyka felt fortunate that she had managed to depart as swiftly as she had from Valakia, as word of a 'rogue female Rogovac convicted of murder and assault' swiftly spread word as Voyka panic filled the air among the Rogovci and the Valakian legal system demanded someone be punished for what she had done. She didn't need a repeat of the breakout she had to commit during the time of the Third War, as at the time they had managed to figure her out before she knew herself and had imprisoned her, forcing her to slaughter her way out. Of course, she wouldn't have minded it either, but this was less effort. Her kerchief helped cover the top of her forehead, where the shaved root of her horn stood in plain sight otherwise, and if anyone got too suspicious, she still had her greatsword with her to cut anyone down (with opportunity allowing cover-ups). With the Kingdom maintaining open trade with the Dark Lord, she managed to stowaway across the border into Caer Narak, and head for the port of La Matanza, in the Duchy of Ozcura.

Out of harm's way, she now had to figure out the best means of hearing news from Lohrsahr - and even more importantly, a means to get there. She had the option of hunting down one of the few open supports outside the Economic Area of Darkness, such as one Voice of Darkness in Thalarion. Of course, she would have to figure out where Thalarion was, assuming he wasn't just skulking in Turegia. It was likely just simpler for her to skulk around La Matanza for word from Lohrsahr, though making sure to avoid those talking about arrest warrants from Valakia describing her crime in the army, even if she was sure Ozcura had no extradition treaties with Valakia. Eventually, however, she was tracked down by a hooded messenger, as she conducted odd jobs for the local butcher. Word of Valakia's arrest warrant had reached Lohrsahr, and thus, from what she was told, the Witch Queen had sent out supernatural messengers to track her down, on a hunch that only someone like Voyka would inspire the release of such a warrant. Voyka chuckled - of course someone who had been around since the Second War would realize that. She was swiftly ushered onto the ship at port, where she would effectively live for the remainder of her journey to Lohrsahr.

Abroad the ship she would, at least in appearance, become acquainted with some of her incoming peers, those being Thalarion, Izaak and Yz; she remembered the former two from the last war, when she had been as she had originally been, a murderous hag. Though she considered Thalarion a wormtongue to a degree, his loyalty in this past century showed to her that he could be reasoned with, while Izaak, though scatterbrained at points, was a reliable partner in murder. Yz, however, was new to her, and she could not get a grip on them while on the ship. Something to save for landfall, as she would rather relax aboard.

Soon enough, however, they passed through the familiar waters of the Sea of Lohrsahr, and arrived on the island. As she disembarked, she observed the apparent decay since the last war. In contrast to how things appeared at the start of the Fourth War, there were fewer thralls than ever, and that could be reflected on how little development everything had seen since the end of that conflict. Izaak finally greeted her after they had their way onto the port, seemingly aware that she had joined them onboard, but only now realizing it was her, probably thrown off by her being younger than her previous incarnation.

"Ah, Voivode Rosach, it has been awhile," Voyka responded, reaching her own hand out for a friendly shake, "though a bat's hardly appropriate. I'm more of a 'wicked moth', you know?" she chuckled with a grin that Izaak would instinctively recognize. Despite her younger appearance, her way of talking revealed her immediately, while Izaak sounded much as he had before. She gave the fox a scratch behind the neck as it popped its head out.

She did not have much to say as the Dark Knight ushered them into the courtyard and asked them to wait. Even within it was clear the decrease in manpower had eroded the castle's capacity to heal. And thereafter Alexandra appeared from the steps and began to herald as she expected her to, and with that done the introductions from all that had arrived.

Yz went ahead first and continued to prove somewhat a mystery, especially as they effectively interrupted her descent down the steps and began to openly blabber. By the end, she was certain of one thing: they already had a contender for the Nutter among their ranks this war. Hildegard went after, approaching formally and immediately considering what to do next. Cordia and Illifis followed, similarly keeping it formal. She knew next to nothing on these three, though Cordia seemed to be a captain - always good to have those focused on the sea - while she thinks she might've heard Illifis being spoken of at La Matanza... something in relations to a place known as Samaria, maybe it has something to do with his Lordship. Izaak merely bowed when Alexandra hailed her and the remaining 'heralds' earlier. Rekko was next, and thereafter Sharyx (with another seemingly watching her moves), two more newcomers she was unfamiliar with, with another two in waiting in Jagvir and Lucafiel, and Thalarion likely waiting to be last.

It was then that Voyka stepped forth to introduce herself, or rather, make her presence known.

"Sasha, a pleasure to see you once more," Voyka began, as she approached Alexandra with her hand resting upon the pommel of her greatsword, "I see the title of 'temptress' still applies to you so many years later," she remarked as she grabbed the edges of her open vest and covered up her chest like a grandma would.

"Let's try to be a bit more formal for the start of a new war, no?" Voyka finished with her signature grin, before backing off. She wouldn't need to give a formal introduction like the rest, Alexandra would immediately know it was her.

 

[Infab]

Seith Voidsinger

In times like these, it's always nice to simply observe. Take in the grand scope of things, like the environment and others within it around you. Seith Voidsinger had only heard of Lohrsahr over the years, through the other Anuraii of Ilberynn before his exile and after from random passing wanderer that came through his neck of the woods. Now, seeing it in person, the stories failed to capture the true appearance of things. Even in its crumbling, desolate state, it was still a sight to behold. He wondered just how grand it must have been in its prime at the height of the Dark Lord's power.

As he waited, perched atop the barrel with a leg folded beneath him, he eventually shifted his gaze to Sharyx nearby. He couldn't imagine the feelings washing over the girl's mind now. It had all been building up to this. The bloody cleansing of her own family name through the killing of her parents and siblings, the chance encounter she had with him, the bloody path they carved through Ilberynn and beyond on the way Zeldorra. She even brought the Matriarch her family's hearts, which were practically rotting and crawling with maggots in a canvas sack by that point. Something they deserved, of course. In death, they actually provided something worthwhile to the world.

Seith devoutly followed her during the whole ordeal. He had no love of the Light or its narrow-minded followers. It was they who made him an outcast in the first place, due to his studies of the eldritch magics of Chaos. The arts of Chaos, like those of Darkness, were outright banned by the Anuraii. So, he had no place in their society and was shunned.

At first, he simply wished to know Chaos. Understand it. He was a man of learning, after all. Eventually, after becoming an outcast, that changed to wanting to know how to use it to correct things. Perhaps the key to Darkness winning once more was to learn to harness the power of Chaos itself. After all, Chaos decimated both the realms of Darkness and Light just after the first war.

The Gods of Chaos would be dealt with, of course. Disposed of and replaced. The same would be said about the other gods. A true Age of Darkness would be born from the ashes. In order to achieve all of this, however, they would have to win this new war. Seith would serve, alongside Sharyx. He had already begun teaching her what he knew of the magical arts, enhancing her abilities and repertoire. An amazing sorceress, she was slowly becoming.

He wouldn't teach her the ways of Chaos, however. Getting to know her, and the bond of kinship they shared, prevented him from doing so. The ways of Chaos were fickle, and his face provided the evidence as such. As a novice, he had gazed into the Void. The Void really didn't seem to like that. He wanted to spare Sharyx further damage her already wounded mind, and the scarring to her beautiful form.

Eventually, the ship would find its dock. He would disembark with Sharyx and other Dark Elf knights. He pondered if he would actually need to introduce himself to the other leaders when the time came. He wasn't of such importance as they were, as he were but a servant and advisor to Sharyx per the Matriarch of Zeldorra. Eventually, the leaders would gather together, and the first to gain his attention was the harlequin named Yz.

If he hadn't known any better, he'd have thought she were a Chaos cultist. Servants of the Chaos Gods that had lost their minds, or at least had them severely fractured by the meddling of eldritch forces. She was, at least, entertaining. Oddly attractive too, but there were places even he wouldn't go. He liked his slightly frayed sanity too much.

Then came Lady von Kappelburg. Quite beautiful, for a necromancer. He wasn't fond of the undead, or the stench their rotting corpses brought. Skeletons were at least a bit cleaner, but... too quiet for his liking, beyond the creaking of grinding bones. An undead army, however, had its use. As long as there were bodies, you had soldiers. In war, there were always plenty of bodies.

Next was the pair of Captain Cordia Dis and Lord Illifis Blightspreader. An undead couple stood amongst the leaders. Cordia would provide a proper navy for the war, while Illifis offered a more land based force. Quite useful for the Dark Lord and his associates.

Izaak followed, forcing a soft, quiet sigh from Seith as he stood behind Sharyx. So many necromancers. At least it was another army that could refill its ranks quite easily. But again... it was the dead. Not living, breathing people to talk to and carry on with. Rekko's appearance caused him to perk up a bit. Beastfolk? Surprising. He resembled an otter, which Seith found oddly cute. Probably a vicious little fucker in combat, though, alongside his men.

Sharyx introduced herself next, and Seith gave a polite bow behind her as he lift a hand across his chest. Ready as ever, they would see the Dark Lord's work done. Darkness would rule in the end, as it almost did at the end of the first war. They would make sure of it. Then, another woman spoke up. She didn't really introduce herself, which forced Seith to tilt his head as she spoke to Alexandra. It was likely Voyka. A legend in her own right, having been around quite a long time and aligned with Darkness just as long.

He then looked about, peering through his blindfold to see who would be next in the introductions.

 

[turtwigwins]

Jagvir stood upright upon the forefront of the deck near the bow of the ship. Behind him standed two of his brothers similar in stature to Jagvir and practitioners of the family Shadowiji themselves. Jagvir heard the Rakhsha men behind him curse as they dealt with the waves before them, carefully maneuvering through the spiked lands as they neared the approach. He trusted the men behind him, the Kohar Clan had insured the loyalty of the crew. Still, the waves were a cruel enemy if they chose you to be a prey.

Jagvir turned his focus to the various ships that clashed along the sea in front of him. “It seems that the dark lord's return has heralded quite a few too return to the fold.”

His brother Eqbal behind him spoke in return, “True, us being one of them brother… still, it compares far less to the grandeur our grandfather recalled in his telling of the fourth return.”

Jagvir gave a small snort in return, “The fourth return ended in failure. The wood elf king Lethoriel proved to be stronger than the dark lord himself.”

Eqbal retorted, “Yes, and by that the mortal realms are even less inclined to fall behind the rising of the dark lord.”

Jagvir turned with a wicked grin back towards his brother, “And that is our opportunity. What a wondrous time we will have in crushing all those who resist his rule.” And eventually ours, Jagvir thought.

The other brother along on the journey Mohan just gave a small laugh, “Your ambition does bring wonders. We’ll find a way to work on the Raj.. whether he finds the will to kneel or is consumed by the wonders of spice.”

As a kraken rose from the waves to take hold of a galleon ahead, Jagvir looked on in curiosity, “It seems omens of his return are imminent.”

Mohan shook his head behind Jagvir, “A foolish creature to take free manpower away from the dark lord.”

Eqbal spoke in return his own hand moved to his curved dagger upon his side, “Be wary, that kraken might be not yet full.”

Jagvir nodded in agreement to his brother turning around. He marched back towards the main deck of the ship. Atop of it stood a group of his nightstalkers. “As you can see men, the perils of Lohshar” He gestured to the kraken. “Be on your guard, if the dark lord is set to test our mettle we will be ready!”

The nightstalkers responded with a beat to their fists to their chests. The alertness of the ship was maintained although they didn’t need it. As they pulled to port a relief fell among the sailors in the job finally being done.

Jagvir along with his two brothers traveled following the knight. A small contingent of his nightstalkers followed behind as an honor guard. Jagvir wouldn’t allow himself to be caught unaware. The murder of his father had taught him of paranoia, always being a reasonable course of action. One must always be prepared for the opponent's next move, even if on the same side. The Raj court politics assured of such. It must be at an even greater scale here in the heart of darkness.

The group tramped along at a steady pace. Although they could travel quietly, and were trained to do so. It was good to allow your foe to underestimate you.

Eqbal spoke in a hushed tone to Jagvir as they passed the decayed state of Lohshar, “It seems the Raj has been better for ware.”

Jagvir gave a nod in agreement. Even as ambitious as he was, the work would be coming from the subjects. The Dark Lord would be a uniting force of various ambitions. Opportunities to take in his name were what really spurred this along. He was not so different, the Kohar’s had always been loyal in the wars past. Yet his loyalty was not out of a naive devotion to one man, but to the vision of rising to be the greatest warrior. Jagvir could finally sate his lust for killing under a new war.

As the witch queen spoke Jagvir eyed her up and down as if a predator. One might presume his gaze lustful, however he looked for weaknesses and openings in how she presented herself. A natural habit of his, a healthy addiction. Alexandra had known Kohars before, but never had she met his father. He wondered if she viewed his grandfather in the way it had been recounted in clan histories.

He observed as others paid their respects. First a madwoman, although Jagvir wondered if that was merely a disguise. A feign of madness could lead to others revealing their openings. Next came a necromancer, the lady seemed one who he could crush with his bare hands. Then the greetings of a captain and lord seemingly married. A valued strategic alliance, one he would seek to find himself at some point. The fact that none of the Rahksha clans had a woman suitable with the attributes needed to continue the greatness of the Kohar line was disappointing. But he had rarely considered marrying into other species. He shook his head at the overthinking, both he could take in combat.

Jagvir then directed his eyes to the bowing of the boned skeletal warrior. Jagvir couldn’t seem to get a read on him, too much uncertainty. Next came a mercenary Saukkonen. Although he admired the courage of the man, Jagvir believed the man looked he would soon regret his alignment with the dark lord.

Jagvir then took sight of the dark elf introducing herself as the last of the Valghemore line. The woman carried a poise that reeked of danger. And the knights following made him consider her as a possible threat. There might have even been something of them in his histories, if he'd have cared to pay attention. Lastly, a hag who seemed all too familiar with the witch queen herself. He found a slight humor in her words but wouldn’t let a smile come across his face giving a small kick in the shin to his brother Mohan as he saw the same temptation start to creep into his mind.

Together the three brothers along with their contingent honor guard would bow to the witch queen.

Jagvir and his contingent would then raise their heads clearing his voice and speaking proudly, “Jagvir, of the Kohar Clan. Come to heed the rising of the Dark Lord as we always have. This time for eternal victory.”

He would raise his fist then beat his chest with his men and brothers doing the same motion. The strength of the men in the company giving a solid sound to their solidarity.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

The sea was a maddening place. Lucafiel had little care for it, as few Vestati did, as they had lived upon the golden winds and blazing sunrises with the knowledge that they were, in effect, the rulers of all that was below. But this was a lie in some regards, not even known to some of the elder Vestati who clung to the old ways with rabid insistence. The Vestati did indeed rule the lands beneath them - once upon wings, now upon feet - but they had never ruled that which reigned below the waters of any great ocean. Angels had no reason to swim, unless it was within the gilded hotsprings and crystal pools of great palaces. Many in those ancients days thought it was the winds of a great tempest that rendered wings difficult to utilize; rather, it was the lashing weight of water soaked upon every feather, turning that which enabled flight into a pair of weights strung upon sculpted backs. To delve into the ocean was thus as pointless as it was deadly, and to sail upon one a method of hindered mortal minds.

Lucafiel sa Helendal was not ignorant of what they had become and were forced to endure. Gathered upon the topside decks of the central castle of their ship, he and everyone else was forced to put up with the rolling of the waves, the spray of the salty water upon the deck. Most of the accompanying Vestati that were not within the central parlor took likewise central positions on the upper deck, gathered around their prince away from the edges of the ship where the water was at risk of splashing their attire. Indeed, as high up on the ship as they were, there were times Lucafiel thought he could taste the damp through his soulmask - and there was no wonder why, for as far as the eye could see there were darkened waters all around.

Except for that which lay ahead. Lohrsahr, isle of the true Dark Lord and their impending destination. "I'm surprised the sea has yet to claim it," one knight remarked, their hands wrapped upon the hilt of their greatword, the tip dug into the deck. Lucafiel nodded, his hands clasped before him as he surveyed the other ships sailing about them on the turbulent waters. A few floors below, he noticed some Yakal sailors - dutiful, wonderful beings of such talent - waving back at figures on a nearby ship. He smiled to himself as he noticed the distant pair, though he canted his head to his companions around him. "You are right. It is something of a surprise. It pains me to see this place of importance undone by the misery of these waters, but it is as it shall be. Perhaps one day again the future we shall stake claim to a realm that is more... agreeable," Lucafiel said. Some heads glanced upwards as if they could see the ancient heavenly realm their race had been born into, now a dead graveyard of black skies and seas of blood ruled by a dying, frightened beast.

Landfall was conducted precisely and neatly, with Yakal sailors joined by human slaves - lower than their auxiliary masters who served much higher in the social hierarchy - taking care to prepare a dry ramp for the delegation. Lucafiel departed alongside a small cadre of veteran crusaders, fellow Vestati who were as ancient as he was, adorned in armor and robes that were perhaps older than some civilizations within this mortal plane. The weapons within their hands or strung about their backs had seen the death of more civilizations than what currently reigned upon this land, and the deaths of these entire races echoed in the reflections of light off these ethereal metals as if lost souls had been trapped within.

As battle-ready as these knights were at all times, they were less a force for security and merely a party of fellow minds, come to see, witness, and enjoy. Minds to form opinions and take observations. Minds to converse with in warm parlors of silk and blankets, to make the stay a little less dreary. Indeed, should there be any amount of bloodshed, Lucafiel was certain anything would be finished by the time his lifeward and confidant had unsheathed their blade. Zaharai was, like the Yakals as a whole, a shadow to their Vestati masters, always by their side in any manner of labors of body and mental exertion. Though unlike Lucafiel, Zahari as a Yakal preferred more native attire - bronze circlets about the arms and neck, a bronze belt and a gold-studded loincloth for the sake of modesty. Some adorned themselves as the Vestati did in encompassing armors, robes, and cloth, but not all.

The assembly of heralds was almost an amusing sight to behold, for among the new faces - and some old that Lucafiel noticed with exasperation - a few seemed almost out of place compared to previous disciples which have walked these hallowed rocks. His predatory glaze, his gleaming eyes behind his ivory soulmask, swept over those he had not seen before. The otterkin folk seemed perhaps the most out of place to him, brought here by desperation and no inherent sense of loyalty to the cause outside of what it brought them - though this in itself was the usual quality to all of those gathered, the Vestati included. His gaze lingered for a moment on the more intense, if quiet, figures of Sharyx and the blindfolded Seith. The ferocious Jagvir and his kin earned a few more lingering looks from the masked Vestati assembly, and Lucafiel allowed their passive leering without second thought as he eyed each of the other newcomers. The great perilous duo that were Cordia and Illifis were somewhat known to him, and good to see, for such a power upon the ocean would be an invaluable asset. The caterwauling of a peculiar jester-like figure did elicit a quiet, soft hiss, his tongue finding his fangs in his mouth as he saw what could only be a broken vessel - a thing lower than all castes, even slaves. A woman of noble disposition with a fortitude for necromancy, on the other hand, earned his curiosity, for he knew such beings to be fickle.

Of those who were familiar, he was somewhat exasperated to see that the old Voyka was still alive, a figure who was a matter of some mild irritation. The skeletal Voivode was with her, an admirable figure, though he did not see what they did in the dread witch. She, not unlike the jester, were vessels of ill-repute. Too unagreeable, too difficult to manage. Still, they were, for the time being, an ally in the war against an even more disliked foe - the forces of light and their horde of fools.

Most introduced themselves, the manner of which brought Lucafiel back centuries to the time as a youth, a sword acolyte in a marbled courtyard not dissimilar to where he stood now, standing tall among crusaders that were now long dead and other students.

"Lucafiel sa Helendal," he remarked lightly, his voice a confluence of soothing and imposing, light and heavy. This was not his first time in this place nor seeing many of these faces, though it would be quite rude to leave the newcomers out of the bond they now were sworn into by stepping upon this land. "A pleasure, as always, to answer the call. I can only hope that all are well this blessed day. And we bring gifts, for new and old alike," he remarked, raising a dainty hand at nothing in particular, revealing his slender white gloves etched in gold, buffeted by a singular ring on each finger. Several Yakal wardens amid the cadre of Vestati crusaders hefted small chests and trunks, no doubt filled with little treasures to be bestowed at a later time; most was likely to be tribute to the Dark Lord and First Sinner, no doubt.

 

[Crocodile]

Thalarion had quietly watched the others, a few faces he knew while others were not ones he had recognized. His golden mask always impassive hid his features from view, concealing any emotion he might more openly display. It felt strange to be coming back here after all this time, to know that the Dark Lord was to return again and that he would be needed as the Voice of Darkness. He clasps his hands behind his back, maintaining a more authoritative pose for the time being, more posture than anything as he wasn't fully sure of all those who had taken up the banner and call.

It was not wise to question the will of the First Sinner, so he refrained from doing so. Instead he was quietly assessing and considering those who would lead the march against the Light. He was no great warlord himself, having spent much of his time and effort forging something more practical in his hidden lair out in Turegia. Forgeheart thrummed with life and power, its magic foundries prepared to churn out countless arms and items to serve the greater goals of Darkness. Admittedly his Empty Legion would swell over time as well, countless enchanted armors and golems that would march beneath his banner as he made Turegia his own dominion.

That would all come in time. What mattered at this very moment was the summons to witness the restoration of the Dark Lord. To see the will of the First Sinner made manifest again so that he might have a greater purpose to his own workings again. The Voice of Darkness would have to go forth and lure many back to the banner. It was a glorious purpose to serve and the challenge itself was thrilling to a man who sought something to stimulate himself beyond his great works of magical artifice.

He had departed from the vessel with the same calm he had carried himself throughout. There was no rush to this moment, no race to prove who was the most loyal. He had proven himself before and when the call came, he had answered again. He was admittedly irked to see Alexandra Rhomavion on some level, but that was perhaps more his ego which he promptly quashed. He was patient and he didn't need her position to wield power. He was still the Voice of Darkness. His words could shift the destinies of entire peoples and nations if he whispered into the right ears. That was power. The power of words where steel and magic could falter.

"Thalarion."

He looks towards Alexandra and on some level there was another pang of annoyance. This place had been allowed to become more dilapidated than he liked. Perhaps it was intentional? To create some feeling of defeat for any who could dare come here to spy upon the very heart of Darkness. If that was the case, he might understand as deception was a useful tool in their work. If that wasn't the reason? Then he felt a very intense degree of disdain for his supposed superior in the hierarchy of their service.

"This place has seen better days," Thalarion stated flatly as he shifts his gaze from his compatriots to look directly at Alexandra. His hands still clasped behind him in that posture of confident authority. They were both servants to greater powers and his leash didn't need tugging, which left him feeling the urge to point that out. A quiet demand for explanation.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

"Hi mom, or dad, do you have any more paper? Also, whose parent are you, why is it so dark and dingy here? You should hire me as a decorator here, this place would be so much prettier if you let me spend a little time on it. Also who are these clowns, they're gonna look at me funny and think I'm weird and I don't like it"

Alexandra looked upon the strange harlequin standing in front of her. Her behavior was as puzzling as her attire. How did this low-bred creature sneak onto the Black Ship? Did none of her entrusted guards notice this bizarre cretin sneak in?

Alexandra kept staring at Yz once she was done talking, but then she let out a slight chuckle in response. "...Cute." She muttered before looking at her Dark Knight. "Put this lowly creature in chains and throw her into the warrens with the rest of the thralls. Execute the captain and crew for allowing her onto the island." As two Dark Knights standing next to her drew their blades, a knight that had travelled with Yz and the other Heralds step forth.

"My lady, wait a moment." he said, while putting a hand on his chest. Saluting the Witch Queen. "Forgive me for interrupting you, but the nature of this jester is sorcerous. It was noted when she kept moving across the ship, disappearing from one place and appearing in another."

Alexandra gave the Knight an amused look, before she turned her attention back at Yz. "...Is that so, ser knight?" Her eyes began to glow purple as she started into the darkened holes of Yz's mask. She was studying her magical aura, and she was amused by what she was seeing. "You are beyond human, no doubt of that... You reek of Fae, little Jester..." The Sorceress eyes scanned the jester from head to toe, and finally, she relented. "Pardon my hasted decision, little Jester. You might be of use after all... Please, stay with us, and you'll be rewarded for your trouble."

The two knights that had drawn their swords sheathed them, but Alexandra whispered something to one of the guards. "Stay close to her. If she tries anything, cut her head clean off with an iron sword. She is Fae and unpredictable." The dark knight nodded, and Alexandra turned her attention to another new arrival.

"Hildegard von Kappelburg, at the Dark Lords service. What is required of us while we await the return of his Darkness?"

Alexandra grinned lasciviously as she looked at the necromancer of Heiligstadt. "Oh my! I have heard of your accomplishments, Lady von Kappelburg. The maiden that had betrayed her order and embraced the dark arts, even killing her prosecutors." Alexandra then got even closer to Hildegard. A bit too close for some. "But I never expected you to be so fair. So... ravishing." Alexandra grinned as she examined Hildegard's expression. "I believe you'll be an excellent addition to our lords' army."

The Witch Queen then turned her attention to Illifis and Cordia. Two names she knew very well. She gave both an unamused look.

"Lord Illifis Blightspreader."
"Captain Cordia Dis, at your service."

"Lord Illifis, Baron of Samaria... The man who married an uncouth pirate." She looked upon Cordia with clear disdain. "I assume you are said pirate? Hmph. One would expect a Lord of Ozcura to have better taste in companionship." She then looked back at Illifis. "Now Lord Illifis, your taste in partnership aside, the Duchess sent you with an outstanding ovation, your service to the Corona Ozcura is quite impressive..."

In reality, Alexandra could not be picky about their allies. With both Illifis and Cordia leading sizeable armies, and with Lord Illifis' Death Knights being famous across the Duchy of Ozcura, insulting them might not be the best course of action, but among those who serve the Queen of Darkness, it was merely an attempt at asserting their power.

"I do however, hope you are capable of controlling your undead wife. If she jeopardizes our war effort, I'll personally have you thrown out of the Black Tower. You've been warned." She gave Illifis one last look, before turning her attention to Rekko.

"I am Rekko, son of Alvar. Mercenary by trade. I'm here to make a deal with your Dark Lord."

Mercenaries. Alexandra despised their type, and more often than not, she had them sent away into the keeps lower sections where an army of them amassed. Training, eating, and doing gods know what else down there. It was a cesspit of ill-bred degenerates from all over the continent. As she had told her men to let Rekko and his people enter the courtyard, it was not because she had heard great things about his martial or seafaring abilities, but simply because because of the novelty of it.

"Oh dear, aren't you an adorable little fellow!" she said with a rather childish grin on her face, bending over to look at the Otter man in what could only be described as disrespectful. "Dear me, I never seen your kind before! The warriors of the Wild North often come to us as mercenaries, but never your kind..." Then, the child like wonder on her face was replaced with a rather macabre grin. "I imagine the bears have been naughty... hmm? I heard what they did to Laketown. Men butchered... all by the blade of the Tsars son... tsk tsk, and the frost elves did nothing! How incredibly despicable."

Alexandra then petted the otter man, further disrespecting him. "Fear not, little creature. My liege will love to have an audience with you..." With that, she walked away from the Saukkonen sailors, who were silently hurling insults at her as she approached the Zeldorran delegation.

"It is an honor to serve, Sharyx Valghemora, the last of my name,"

"An honor to speak with you, lady Sharyx." she said respectfully, lasciviously glancing over the dark elf's features the same way she had Hildegard. She gave a similar look to the other elves in the delegation, including Seith. "Fear not. We've prepared chambers for you and your delegation. We have also prepared the best thralls to provide you a dignified service tonight."

"Now, if you'll excuse me..." she finished with a curtsy, before turning her attention to a rather odd woman standing nearby. She raised an eyebrow as she approached her as well.

"Sasha, a pleasure to see you once more, I see the title of 'temptress' still applies to you so many years later, Let's try to be a bit more formal for the start of a new war, no?"

Voyka.

Of course it had to be Voyka. The detestable witch of the Rogovci had resurrected once more after her pathetic encounter with Grand Master Darude. Yet, unlike her previous appearances, the Hag did not look like one. Instead, she looked like a young, and rather attractive, woman. She had to be fairly young, as well, as she hadn't grown her horn just yet.

"Voyka..." she said with a forced grin, as she pushed the cloth away from her. "I appreciate the gesture, but I am quite proud of who I am and how I look." she stated rather proudly. Few sorcerers managed to look the way she does. "But speaking of appearances... my, Voyka! You've experienced quite the glow up~!" The sorceress gave the resurrected warrioress an amused look. "I suppose we must thank Grand Master Darude for that. Wouldn't you agree, my old friend?"

It was obvious that she was mocking her. Yet, there was a certain degree of sincerity on her words, for she actually liked the look of this new Voyka.

She then looked at Izaak, the Voivode of Skulls. Not amused that he hadn't bothered to introduce himself to her. "Izaak... the Hero turned servant of the Dark... I have to introduce you now, as otherwise the others will never know about your pathetic existence." Alexandra gave him a rather irate look before walking towards yet another exotic delegation.

“Jagvir, of the Kohar Clan. Come to heed the rising of the Dark Lord as we always have. This time for eternal victory.”

Alexandra looked at the delegation of House Kohar with the same lascivious nature she had for some of the other envoys. She gave Jagvir a courteous bow before speaking, her eyes preying upon the tall Raksha warrior. "I do not believe that we are acquainted, Jagvir of the Kohar clan. I can tell just by gazing at you that you are a powerful warrior." Without even bothering the thought of asking for permission, the Witch Queen gently caressed Jagvir's chin. "I hope we get more acquainted soon enough."

Alexandra grinned, pleased with herself while walking away from the confused Raksha, who looked at their leader with curiosity. Walking past some other warriors of the other Heralds, her eyes lit up when she saw the adorned armors of the Vestati and their exotic auxiliaries. Could it be? she pondered as she walked towards them, and when her eyes locked with Lucafiel, her smile grew even wider.

"Lucafiel sa Helendal, a pleasure, as always, to answer the call. I can only hope that all are well this blessed day. And we bring gifts, for new and old alike,"

"Lucafiel sa Helendal, the Redeemer Prince," she said with a tone that hinted both admiration and respect, perhaps the only other Herald she appeared to like besides Sharyx and her lot. "It has been years since you've graced this keep with your presence, my divine prince," said the sorceress as she bowed down slightly. "It is always a pleasure to have you here, I am sure our dark liege will be most pleased to see you again." Alexandra grinned, knowing well that the Dark Lord always thought low of Lucafiel, but she always tried to maintain a good relationship with the Vestati. "Of course, we've prepared chambers for your delegation, but you are always welcome in mine, Lucafiel, like in old times."

"Before we catch up, my dear, I have one more person to speak to, but we will talk in the antechamber to the throne room... if you'll excuse me," she said, before her eyes trailed towards her rival and enemy, Thalarion, the Voice of Darkness.

"Thalarion." "This place has seen better days,"

"Thalarion," she spat with vitriol and venom. Her hatred for the man was only rivaled by the hatred he felt towards her; how could this lowly man, so much weaker than her, become the Voice of Darkness – the Envoy of the Dark Lord to foreign lands – while she has to serve as a glorified court wizard and steward? She stood in front of the Voice, her eyes looking straight into the dark gaps of Thalarion’s mask, his mockery of the castle not going unnoticed.

"As if you could do any better, you live in the ruins of a dead, decadent civilization and pretend you are a sultan of a new nation." She rolled her eyes dismissively. "And who lives in your kingdom? Petty wizards and walking armors? I've done everything in my power to maintain Lohrasahr as a powerful, fearsome, and impenetrable fortress to this day." She then turned around, not wanting to hear whatever poison the Voice was about to spat at her back.

The sorceress then ordered her men to open the main entrance to the castle. On top of the great staircase, she then turned to face all of the Heralds with a single studious gaze. "Now that I've spoken with each of you, Heralds, I shall allow you to enter the castle."

"You'll be staying here as long as you deem it necessary, but before I give you a tour of the castle, we must head to the Obsidian Throne." Alexandra's smile turned twisted and macabre as she looked at the Herald. "The ritual is almost ready, and the Dark Lord shall walk the realms of Kine once more."

"Follow me."

Now with the authorization of the Witch Queen of Lohrasahr herself, the Dark Knights that stood firmly by the staircase moved aside, allowing the Heralds and their entourages to enter the castle and follow Alexandra. After walking past an antechamber, they were welcomed by the rather luxurious banquet hall, where numerous tables of grandiose black stone sat awaiting the approaching guests. Each table was host to a banquet of silver plates, exotic foods, and other delicacies exported from around the world. The thralls tending to these tables looked much healthier and better than those endlessly toiling the lands outside on the desolate rocks.

When the Sorceress and the Heralds arrived at another set of towering doors, these no doubt hiding the immensity of the throne room beyond, a knight stood guard outside quietly approached the Sorceress and whispered to her. Alexandra nodded, her demeanor level, and she turned back to the Heralds. "My apologies, the ritual is almost complete, but it is slightly delayed." The doors behind her opened slightly, just enough to allow the Heralds a glimpse of the soulless husk of the Dark Lord sitting atop of a jagged throne made from jet black stone, a group of sorceresses standing around it, chanting some manner of dark magic while clutching esoteric and occult grimoires of arcane knowledge.

"Please, take a seat and enjoy the food, this is a good opportunity for you to talk with one another. After all," the Sorceress said, casting a look at Thalarion with a teasing grin. "We are all allies here, are we not?" With that said, the Sorceress entered the throne room, leaving the expecting Heralds behind in the banquet hall amidst the endless spill of luxuries meant only for their greatness.

 

[K0mori]

"An honor to speak with you, lady Sharyx." she said respectfully, lasciviously glancing over the dark elf's features the same way she had Hildegard. She gave a similar look to the other elves in the delegation, including Seith. "Fear not. We've prepared chambers for you and your delegation. We have also prepared the best thralls to provide you a dignified service tonight."

As Alexandra made her rounds, flattering, or even openly flirting with, some and insulting others, Sharyx was both relieved and empowered that the Witch Queen seemed to respect her. She tried not to react strongly to the woman's apparent interest in her body, either, but this was somewhat difficult; she wasn't used to anyone expressing interest in her, in a healthy manner or otherwise, and any attention felt like positive attention. The problem was that she didn't know what to do with it- to reciprocate felt far too bold, to ignore it felt rude.

As the Alexandra's eyes passed over her, she flushed a bit and her ears twitched. She looked away rather than making eye contact, and then regained her discipline as the Sorceress moved on to the others in her entourage. To hear that they would be well cared-for helped to endear her further to the Witch Queen and this strange land- it was just another reminder of the sense of belonging which she always carved, finally coming to fruition. She would go to any lengths to secure it forever, and never become an outcast again.

As for the others, she had already begun to form her own opinions towards them, but she was easily swayed by Alexandra's judgements. Lucafiel, of course, transfixed her immediately. His appearance was striking, and the implications of the Witch Queen's invitation were strong. To offend him would surely offend her hosts. But that seemed unlikely to happen, as the Redeemer Prince had a certain grace about him, and had even come with gifts... Another notion she was unaccustomed to. Whatever he planned to give her, she was elated to receive it and would endeavor to treasure it.

Hildegard and Izaak offered an interesting contrast. Both of them, like Sharyx herself, had been subjects of the Light and its reign in the past, but all three had rejected that path. Why, then, did Alexandra react so poorly to Izaak? Perhaps she had some reason to doubt his loyalty. Sharyx made a note to keep an eye on him. Hildegard, on the other hand, she knew was worth trusting.

Alexandra's open frustration with Thalarion put her ill at ease. She already knew from what she had been told by the dark elves that Thalarion was the Voice of Darkness. If the Dark Lord trusted him so, then why was the Witch Queen so openly hostile? In fact, she seemed to hold contempt for most of the Heralds. Perhaps she simply recalled better times in which the servants of the Queen of Darkness were both more plentiful and more powerful. These were bitter times.

Jagvir seemed to escape this harsh judgement. He spoke of longstanding loyalty, reminding Sharyx of her own lineage and her desire to return it to greatness. She would try to befriend this man, she decided.

Others, like the jester and the otter-like mercenary, seemed more like novelties than true allies. A bit disappointing, but perhaps she would be surprised.

The interior of the castle made Sharyx's heart flutter with excitement. Oh yes... Oh yes! She would do anything to serve such an illustrious place. It seemed to embody all the forbidden traits of Dark worship and rule that ran deep in her blood. She would commit terrible acts, acts which would bring her ever closer to the First Sinner and bathe her in blood and luxury! Her head was on a swivel as they walked along, nearing the throne room, taking in every detail along the walk with glee and adoration.

And then, suddenly, their tour guide disappeared beyond the door, advising the Heralds to talk to one another while the ritual of the Dark Lord's resurrection could be finalized. There was a momentary silence as they reacted to the abrupt delay, but Sharyx's bleakly bubbly demeanor wouldn't be tempered so easily.

"Heh... Heh heh heh heh heh!" she began to laugh quietly, her voice like a violin drawing a sour note. "Shall we? I'm certain I'm about to enjoy the most delectable food I've ever been offered. Such a wonderful place... Come, Seith, let us have a seat, then," she gushed, pulling back a chair and seating herself. Her table manners would prove to be quite proper and aristocratic, which did not match the nearly deranged look in her eyes. From the way her hands shook even as she carefully and delicately cut at the meats on her plate and stabbed at the vegetables, one could conclude that this was the only way she had ever been permitted to behave at the table, even if there was nothing to eat.

And the way tears appeared in the corners of her eyes, there must have been many nights where nothing could be eaten.

"I beg your pardon," she said, suddenly pausing. "I don't wish to be rude, eating before you all. Please join me, you are my betters, most of you," she said to the Heralds who were not new, like herself.

 

[joshuadim]

To be degraded and humiliated in such a manner, as if he were a pet of some manner, made Rekko clench his jaw and grind his teeth. His hands balled into fists as Alexandra made a mockery of his people's plight, envisioning himself whipping out one of his pistols and pulling the trigger as he shoved the barrel under her chin. The other two Saukkonen with him were also in disbelief, as they eyed their leader's reaction to all this and prepared for the worst. His pride demanded some form of retribution against this intolerable wench for this grave insult. Yet, some small part of him recognized that he could not afford to upend this opportunity - lest he be impaled on a spike and his fur turned into someone's coat. What good would that serve his people? If he were dead, they would remain scattered and divided. He was their only chance.

As much as he hated it, Rekko swallowed his pride as one would a bag of stones and remained silent. Though his gaze remained as sharp as it had been before, filled with unspoken words. He had humiliated himself times before when prostrating himself to the Light and its supposed upholders, dragging himself through ceremony and conduct only to be rejected time and time again. This time was no different, except he was dealing with arguably worse figures; though, his chances at this point were greater than they had been prior. And so Rekko kept his tongue still, following wordlessly along as Alexandra led everyone towards the Dark Lord's throne room.

The man of the hour was still not among them, but there was a variety of food. Yet Rekko held no appetite for the foods of land loving longshanks. He was here to make a deal, not participate in festivities for the rise of a cruel and dark being. He cared not for the Darkness save for how it could finally provide the support he needed to reclaim Järvimaata. Taking his seat, he remained silent while observing his "allies" and their doings. Apparently the so called Redeemer Prince held a gift for him, though he was hesitant to go and claim it - wondering if it was cursed in some manner.

 

[Damian0358]

"Voyka..." she said with a forced grin, as she pushed the cloth away from her. "I appreciate the gesture, but I am quite proud of who I am and how I look." she stated rather proudly. Few sorcerers managed to look the way she does. "But speaking of appearances... my, Voyka! You've experienced quite the glow up~!" The sorceress gave the resurrected warrioress an amused look.

Voyka cackled. "It's not like you haven't seem me youthful before, Sasha," she remarked, given that one of her previous reincarnations was not a hag either.

"I suppose we must thank Grand Master Darude for that. Wouldn't you agree, my old friend?"

Voyka only gave her her infamous grin in return. No matter how much she might like this incarnation of hers, she wasn't about to tolerate that name drop, unless it turned out she knew more about what the wizard had been up to since.

Returning back to the others, she continued paying mind to Alexandra's remarks to the others, particularly the newcomers, attempting to glean from her more about them. But soon enough, such remarks ended and it was time for them to head within the castle.

The interior of the castle, in contrast to the exterior, seemed to have at least been maintained better, though she wondered whether the secret entrance she had built during her third reincarnation and used for her last still existed, for it was the greatest proof of her continuity. The state of the thralls within reminded her of the need to ask for forces in Lohrsahr, given her status rendering her far less prepared for the upcoming war than previous incarnations.

With things not quite ready yet, she decided to partake in the offered food. She hadn't had a proper meal since fleeing, given her working class status at La Matanza kept her only at subsistence level, so she was going to indulge as much as she could (all while trying to keep herself from complaining about quality like a baba does). She instead shifted her gaze towards the newcomer Sharyx. She still didn't have much of an idea of who she was, though with the name of Valghemora one could come to many assumptions, but watching her eat made it very clear what kind of person she was. Earlier she had been spinning like a top watching the interior, and here she was taking initiative on the meal and acting somewhat deranged whilst cutting meats and vegetables. Voyka grinned, as she leaned towards her.

"...you won't be able to cut cleanly through with such shaky hands, Sharyx," Voyka said with a tone that sounded like both a granny trying to help her grandchild and an instructor teaching someone to kill.

 

[Breadman]

"Lord Illifis, Baron of Samaria... The man who married an uncouth pirate." She looked upon Cordia with clear disdain. "I assume you are said pirate? Hmph. One would expect a Lord of Ozcura to have better taste in companionship."

"Bitch." Cordia's assestment of Alexandra's character dropped out of her lips like a bag of hammers. "Oh was that me?" She faked surprise, looking to her husband with a hand near her mouth as she looked around.

I do however, hope you are capable of controlling your undead wife. If she jeopardizes our war effort, I'll personally have you thrown out of the Black Tower. You've been warned.

"I'm sure she'll behave." Illifis' gave his own curt answer. Both of them looked and listened to the Witchqueen as she made her rounds to the other heralds. She clearly favored some more than others.

"Her spellcasting better be better than her wit or we're all in deep water if we are to ever rely on her." Cordia commented as she listened to Alexandra go on and folded her arms.

"She's quite adept at it as far as I know." Illifis answered as he motioned for his wife to follow him inside the castle. "Perhaps why she believes she can speak to us the way she does."

"She better be." She glanced to the Witch queen one more time "If I had a copper for every insult thrown my way by some wastrel, I'd finance the coming war myself."

The pair followed the others inside the castle. The lord and his lady had no previous experience with their Dark Lord, so to them even the faded glory still had some splendor to it. The interior decorations still captured their imagination as to what dark deeds were done and which plots were hatched within these halls. The delay of his arrival was dissapointing, but a minor inconvenience. They could wait.

As they moved to their seats on the tables so they could sit down and enjoy the banquet that had been prepared for them, Illifis took off his helm and handed it to one of their entourage. The ceremonial piece had its uses, but for a simple wine and dine it would only serve as a hinderance. Cordia didn't seem to mind. In fact she prefered him not carry that thing around as often as he did, but even death knights are perticular about their armor. The two would find their place on the table, although sitting next to each other, they clearly had divergent interests for who they wanted to know first. Cordia watched Voyka teach Sharyx table manners. Cordia slightly smiled as she heard the guiding words.

"Don't concern yourself too much with decorum." She spoke as she poured wine into the goblet "Function dictates form, not the reverse." The captain reached for the platter of shish kebabs and rather than pulling the piece of meat, mushrooms and vegetables from the blade with a fork and placed on her plate as polite society expects, she bit down on it like a dog chewing on a bone.

At the same time,Illifis looked to the regal angels in the room.

"I have to admit I have a burning curiosity to see what your gifts are, you excellency." He said as he cut through the meat in his plate. "It's not every day a legend declares his intent in your presence. Certainly not someone of your stature."

 

[Infab]

My, my! The witch queen is a bold one! Openly flirting with some, while outright insulting others. I guess with her status, she's earned the right to. Not a good idea, though, for someone desperate for allies.

Seith watched as Alexandra finally approached and spoke to Sharyx, with Seith's master introducing herself. Alexandra's gaze was lust filled, her eyes inspecting almost every inch of his lady's form. Almost like Sharyx was a slab of fresh cut beef prepared for Alexandra's enjoyment. He felt... something in regards to the way she looked at her. Was it anger? Disgust? A woman like Lady Sharyx wasn't to be eyeballed like cattle. That was worse than the way his own race had treated her, and they had treated her as a lesser-than and an outcast. Proper respect and care was due. She deserved that, and more. Far more.

Of course, Sharyx's physical reactions spoke volumes. Blushing, ear twitches, a diverted gaze to avoid eye contact. She enjoyed the attention, but didn't know what to do with it. Any of it. A mixture of being treated as she had been by his own race, as well as her general age. She was young and inexperienced. She'd learn, of course. In time.

As Alexandra's gaze shifted from Sharyx to himself, Seith noticed that she was giving him the same look she had given Lady Sharyx. Ahhh, so she's just... thirsty. Yes, a polite word for it. On any other occasion, he'd be happy to oblige, but the Lady came first. Her wishes and needs above all else, as per the Matriarch's will.

Seith flashed a hand gesture in the shape of a heart to Alexandra. Best to stay in her good graces, however. His grin shifted to a smile, as she soon diverted her gaze to the rest of the Dark Elves that had made up their group. Then, the Witch Queen moved on. Seith lowered his hands back to his sides, looking among the others as Alexandra made her opinions known.

More flattery and insults. In regards to the victims of her flirtations or insults, Seith took a moment to mull over each of them as his Lady was doing herself. Mercenaries fought for coin, and coin alone. They were the least trustworthy of warriors, likely to cut and run if the fighting got too bad or the other side paid more. The otter-man and his men would need to be watched. Hildegard and Izaak were trustworthy, Hildegard moreso. The same could be said for Jagvir.

Alexandra's exchange with Thalarion almost made Seith laugh. There was a true rivalry there, one that deserved watching. His attention soon feel on Lucafiel, however. The Redeemer prince, as beautiful and striking as he was... unsettled him. Something bothered Seith about him, but he didn't know what. Maybe it was the mask? Or rather, what lay beneath both his mask and the others of his group? As for the gifts mentioned, Seith wasn't particularly interested. Lady Sharyx seemed to perk up at the thought of it, however, so it wouldn't hurt to take a gander himself.

Then, it was time to proceed into the castle. The interior was far more beautiful and extravagant than the exterior. The thralls had done quite well. The grin returned to his face as he watched Sharyx excitedly take everything in. Like a child in a confectioners shop. However, the group would not get to enter the throne room. Their Dark Lord wasn't ready for visitors. Not yet, anyway. Instead, they were given a feast and a chance to talk amongst themselves.

"Heh... Heh heh heh heh heh!" she began to laugh quietly, her voice like a violin drawing a sour note. "Shall we? I'm certain I'm about to enjoy the most delectable food I've ever been offered. Such a wonderful place... Come, Seith, let us have a seat, then."

"I do wonder what the wine is like." he commented, pushing Sharyx's chair into place before taking his own seat next to her. As he prepared his plate, he took note of Voyka offering some guidance to Sharyx in regards to cutting meat.

"Very true. Shaky hands lead to rough cuts... though the rough cuts are sometimes more preferable." he added, flashing Voyka a grin before simply smiling at Sharyx. He then glanced to Cordia as she offered her input before viciously chomping down on her food.

"Now there's a lady that just goes for it!" he said with a chuckle, before carving a piece of meat on his own plate with his knife. Is this venison? It IS! Delicious! I wonder how long they marinaded it?

 

[Damian0358]

"Very true. Shaky hands lead to rough cuts... though the rough cuts are sometimes more preferable." he added, flashing Voyka a grin before simply smiling at Sharyx.

"Very true. Sometimes, a message has to be sent, but when you're in the midsts with a singular goal in mind and unsure of total success, clean cuts get you through faster," Voyka responded, maintaining her previous tone.

"Don't concern yourself too much with decorum." She spoke as she poured wine into the goblet "Function dictates form, not the reverse."

Voyka chuckled as Cordia went dogwild on the meal, before responding. "I was speaking of function, captain, not decorum," Voyka retorted, "the starving and thirsty went faced with raw ingredients find greater success with a sharpened blade than with their bare hands, for they lack the strength to rip and tear. Let's take this piece of meat for example," Voyka said, as she grabbed a piece of meat with her fork.

"Notice how, unlike the other pieces, it doesn't appear to have been cooked evenly," she pointed towards the surface of the flesh details that revealed as such, "so this end would..." she grabbed one end and, with her thumb pressed into it, ripped into it simply; tender as ever, "...come apart easily, but as we head to the other end, now I can't do so. But it's still cooked enough that..." she reached for her knife and made a very wobbly cut into the flesh, with the knife able to cut through simply enough, "...even a dullish knife could break through. But this end is so raw that I wouldn't ever dare to try cutting it like so, however..."

Using the sharpest end of the knife, Voyka precisely cut through the raw end of the meat with one clean cut, almost sounding like a thud to the rest at the table. She seamlessly split the cut open using just the knife for all watching to see how raw that end of the meat was. "...a clean strike cuts through all," she chuckled, "and when you know you only have little time to eat, you'll be as efficient as necessary," she finished, as she stabbed the knife into one of the raw pieces and tossed it into her mouth. Anyone watching noticed how her face contorted slightly afterward.

"...never was a fan of raw meat."

 

[K0mori]

While the others debated the merits of clean cuts over rough ones, the food on Sharyx's plate dwindled, until she finally speared the last piece of meat with the tip of her knife and ate it. At some point along the line, her hands stopped shaking and the mistiness in her eyes dissipated, as her body began to accept the bountiful food supply as something which was safe and secure, not something which could disappear at a moment's notice.

"If everyone is done speaking in metaphors," she said, setting her utensils down and glancing between Voyka, Seith, and Cordia, her smile fading to something akin to sadness as her ears drooped, "I suggest to not make too many assumptions about my personality or my capabilities based only on how much a proper meal excites me... Seith can attest to the fact that my swordplay is as acute as anyone's. I can toss an apple into the air and peel it before it hits the ground. Nevertheless, forgive me if I seem vulnerable. I'm not accustomed to hospitality. Thankfully, I won't encounter it from the Light."

Then, Sharyx took up her utensils again, and, to prove her point, took up a piece of meat that she didn't intend to eat. Her hands, sure and steady, cut the roast repeatedly and methodically, slicing and dividing the portion this way and that. She then lifted her plate and dropped the meat back into the serving platter. "...It's easier when it's not for me," she said quietly.

 

[Damian0358]

Voyka chuckled in response to Sharyx's remark. "Dear, you misunderstand. At no point did I ever assume anything about your capabilities. Letting first impressions color your view of someone will get you killed in the end," she stated bluntly.

"I just wanted to remind all of a crucial lesson, whether it be with food or in combat. I haven't even gotten into the fact that different races, just as with different meats, differ in how they cut through. Even the most skilled need reminding of basic lessons, and I know that from experience. After all, I've died four times before," she continued to speak straight with Sharyx. "You have nothing to prove to us, and everything to prove to the Warriors of Light. So don't concern yourself over appearing vulnerable, this is where you can be as you are, and no one can stop you as long as you ensure victory."

Voyka grinned. "Take it from the Butcher of Heilbad," she remarked, as she grabbed a roast piece with a cordial nod.

 

[Infab]

"...Nevertheless, forgive me if I seem vulnerable. I'm not accustomed to hospitality. Thankfully, I won't encounter it from the Light."

Seith sipped some of the wine he had poured into a cup, his head tilted as though he were looking in his master's direction. The apple comment was true; He had watched her peel an apple in midair with her sword. A tasty snack on the road. He was about to respond, before Voyka continued speaking herself. Eventually, as Voyka finished, Seith spoke up.

"You're not helping, 'Butcher of Heilbad'." stated Seith rather bluntly, before shifting his attention to Sharyx. "My Lady, there's nothing wrong with being vulnerable. Especially in the company of those of similar mind. Be yourself. The true, real you. The ways of the aristocrat can be a headache... So many rules, no room for fun!"

He took the pitcher of wine, pouring more into his cup before pouring some into another cup. He then set the second cup beside Sharyx. He flashed her another smile afterwards. "Enjoy yourself."

He then decided to change the subject a bit. "So!" he said, "Opinions on our resident Witch Queen? I'm curious about the general consensus." He then chuckled slightly. "I do like her sense of fashion. Certainly draws the eye, and its quite fresh compared to the drab robes I've seen on other witches and sorceresses. Especially among the chaos worshiping kind."

 

[Abstracty]

A wicked grin formed on Hildegards lips as the knights were ordered to put the jester in chains, causing her to hold off on the paper delivery for the moment. Alexandra certainly didn't hesitate to make decisions, but she also reversed them with similar swiftness. Thus, Yz would be tolerated and after a tiny hand gesture the paper was handed to her. The necromancer soon found herself under close examination by the Witch Queen. Some would have called in too close, but Hildegard didn't mind it at all and she retreat an inch, instead grinning in a similar manner. "And I believe so as well.", she chuckled confidently, before getting slightly closer herself. "Though one really shouldn't take all tales at face value. Some things...", she took a pause to raise the black rose still in her hand to her face so as to take a small whiff of it. Due to how close they were standing, the stem gently, sensually running along Alexandras bare skin of which ample was on display. "...shouldn't just be talked up, they need to be experienced to be believed.", she concluded, not shy about her words at all. With another bow, she then finally retreated slightly, as Alexandra went on to greet the next herald.

Hildegard observed each encounter, hoping to learn a little more about who she would be dealing with for the forseeable future. Some of the heralds were clearly familiar with each other, whilst others were new like her and there already were some clear opinions in Alexandras mind about most of them. Humiliating the Saukkonen mercenaries was certainly a bold move, but as far as the sorceress was concerned it was better them than her. She then also recognized some of the names and what a strange ensemble they were. At the very least, the forces of darkness knew to offer proper hospitality. She would have liked for the castle to be in better condition, but the banquet certainly lifted her spirits and when she could take a peak into the throne room, everything else was already forgotten. At that moment, Hildegard knew that she had come to the right place. She would have loved to rip the grimoires straight from the sorceresses hands, but the wait would be rather sweet. Thus, she bowed again as Alexandra disappeared into the throne room, maintaining eyesight on the jagged black throne for as long as possible. And with that, she smiled as she turned towards the banquet. Her undead court had to stand back, for it was only meant for the Heralds and so they waited in frozen silence in the antechamber.

"We shall.", Hildegard agreed with Sharyx, politely letting her take the first seat, before not so politely grabbing the largest decanter of red wine and swirling it casually. But it wasn't an act of greed, instead the sorceress took her sweet time examining it and strolling around the table, carefully pouring wine into a crystal glass for each ally. It gave her some time to listen to the conversations and when she sat down herself, she selected the finest fruits and vegetables she could spy onto her plate, avoiding the meat entirely. "Four times already? Forgive my indiscretion, but I do believe we should talk about that some time. What fascinating insight.", she spoke softly as she inserted herself into the conversation with Voyka. She was unsure what to make of Sharyxs insecurities, but did appreciate Seiths distribution of more wine towards the dark elf. "Quite fashionable indeed. I can see the trend spreading.", Hildegard agreed with him about the Witch Queen, before grinning. "Do you have experience in dealing with the chaotic kind?", she focused on a different part of the subject, not revealing much more about how she thought about the Queen. As she spoke to Seith, the last slice of meat Sharyx had previously cut slowly wiggled its way off the platter. The roast moved around as if pulled by invisible strings and dramatically perished near Sharyxs plate as it tore itself in two. The small display of necromancy was meant to amuse the other herald and show that she knew that whatever foe she had cut would have stood no chance - though Hildgard had no idea if her idea of humor was shared. Of course, Lady von Kappelburg didn't want to leave a mess and so the flesh decayed away entirely within a blink, leaving nothing behind.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

The Redeemer Prince bowed his head slightly to Alexandra, his arms crossed before him in a manner where his hands were concealed within the volume of his gilded sleeves. As another figure that was masked his expression was naturally lost, revealed only by the currents of his voice and flicker of his eyes behind the slits of his mask; his demeanor, like that of the other Vestati, was difficult to read. Covered head to toe, no other flesh was revealed, for his hands were gloved in gentle white and the hem of his robe-like habit stretched a mere few inches from the ground, high enough that it could never get caught beneath his feet, but low enough that his inner form remained a fleeting guess.

"You are too kind to me, Alexandra," Lucafiel said as he recovered from his bow. "I strive to walk among all worlds. Both will find me, I suspect, in time."

The sorceress' attitude towards the other guests did not escape his notice, however, and he drank in her behavior with the placid expression of one who was an experienced observer - if not with the preternatural grace of a predator, given his stillness and ability to move decisively in silence. It seemed that, for those who often looked upon him, he would be looking away, yet out of the corner of their eyes the Redeemer Prince would be regarding them, motionlessly, his ivory eyes unreadable within the edges of kohl highlighting them. For a figure with such elegance, it was difficult to miss the monstrous aspect that seemed to be held back by the finery of good clothing and manners, as if he were an abyssal demon sporting a kindly ribbon and fresh apple to dine upon. The Vestati could not be mistaken for mortal born, after all. The countenance of fallen angel was no mere label to be applied in a generalized manner, for to be considered fallen in the eyes of the Light was to be unique. It was an escape from the tormented diktats of contemptuous gods, indifferent to all but the magnificence of their own worship. To be Vestati was to be neither demon, angel, nor fae - it was to be all three, a crime in the eyes of the Light which demanded only obedience, and a celebration in the eyes of Darkness which lauded such differences.

It was too early to tell much about the other Heralds he had yet to meet, but they all seemed, in their own ways, promising to him. All had their place, certainly. Yet further than even that, all had their own uniqueness that the Redeemer Prince wished to sup upon, to drink in like a fine wine and savor.

He listened with intent as the conversation at the grand table nearby unfolded, the Heralds all joining to partake in the finery assembled before them and converse like old allies. Fates willing, this would hold true in time as their bonds would be tested within and without. As he listened and watched from some few feet away with his entourage, he would cant his head aside to speak silently to an auxiliary Yakal, who would depart to the small chests brought with them. Each would take the item they were directed to, and then towards the intended recipient, so that each gift could be presented by the aforementioned Yakals, clad in bronze, golds, and jewels over their lithe, muscular bodies, dressed in silken loincloths and shawls.

To Rekko, an aged war-horn was presented. The device was sizeable enough that it seemed to require both hands to heft, the bone ancient and uncertain of origin - dragon, perhaps? Or some other great beast? It was ringed in black iron studs, and a single bolt of ragged gold streaked across the yellowed bone like a glimpse of lightning. "This horn has not known defeat," the Yakal presenting it said, "and was born by the Death Legions of Zecano'rah."

Captain Cordia Dis and Lord Illifis Blightspreader were presented with a peculiar item, once which had to be held over carefully with both hands by an auxiliary. "The fabled Sunweaver and her crew." The item in question was none other than a glass bottle of a wispy blue shade, worn and ancient, corked with red twine, twisted silver, and crimson wax. Within the bottle was none other than a small schooner, an adventurer's ship that had gone missing over a century ago, alive only in the stories of children and old men. The vessel seemed trapped in a perpetual storm, sailing dark waters, attended to by the green-glow hue of ghostly specters clinging to the ship.

To Voivode Izaak, a sword was given. A traditional gift for many a knightly figure, this sword was forged of meteoric ore, the blade itself a hue of shifting purple specked with flecks of trapped bronze, sparkling like the night sky. The balance was deft, the ornamentation exquisite yet not decorative. This was no piece made to be mounted upon a wall, but to be wielded, to taste blood at its owner's pleasure. "May it find you safely through all perils," the Yakal presenting it intoned.

The dreaded Voyka was given a plant, placed before her upon the table. It was none other than a Lifedrinker, a form of rare flora born from the corpse of a being who had perished with immense anguish - often said to be the result of, at the time of death, the inability to fulfill some great deed. The plant was unable to - and would die - if presented with water to drink, and instead only sipped a carefully curated diet of tormented blood. The very bark of the small, almost miniature tree seemed to be shaded and gnarled with the faces of these very souls, crying out for redemption in the face of their failures in life.

Jagvir Kohar and his clan-fellows were presented with a weapon of war - a whispering glaive. Such a name emerged from the fact that, when wielded, the sharpness of this weapon seemed to cleave the very air with a "whispered scream," audible enough to unnerve a foe who was unaware of such qualities. It was said that many who had fallen to a whispering glaive were often dead before they realized it, for the cuts were so vicious and swift their minds could not comprehend their own death fast enough - even as they lay beheaded upon the ground. Blessed sigil ribbons streamed from the cross-hilt of the glaive, crowned with a diamond upon either side.

Thalarion, Voice of Darkness, was approached by a Yakal hefting a small wooden box that was warded in arcane runes. The lid was opened, and within was none other than an Emerald of the Eclipse, a mythical jewel that could only come to creation during a total eclipse by the workings of immense alchemy, study, and power. Such an item was putty in the hands of a master artificer, for within the sparkling confines of this emerald was the power of the celestial spheres, trapped in minuscule. Many sought to use such jewels as magical bombs, to release cleansing power for eradication. The knowledgeable knew to use such items to power delicate - and dangerous - machinery, weapons, and constructs.

Hildegard von Kappelburg would find herself given a tome - a Vestati tome of old necromancy, written by the hands of long dead ancient scribes. It was, to her trained eye, a copy of an original tome, but the value was clear and the sentiment genuine. A vessel of true learning, to bolster skill or buffet an imagination with the boundless freedom of necromagicks. The grand book was bound in the traditional form of leathered-skin from a sapient creature to lend strength to the dark words within.

The wild being Yz was approached by an almost hesitant Yakal, for Yz was known among the Vestati to be a chaotic vessel, an entity to be disdained. Regardless, the auxiliary bowed, and handed over to the jester-creature the carving of a wooden duck, capable to be fit upon the palm of one's hands. It had been hewn by the hands of an auxiliary on the travel to these shores, and chosen not by the merit of its creation, but by a decision at random - a gesture of chaos to chaos, in a way. This auxiliary did not wait around, but departed with polite haste.

To the noble Sharyx Valghemora, an auxiliary presented two small objects: the first was a small leather case boasting two pearl-like earrings, capped in gold; the second was a sheathed dagger with an ivory handle, the immaculate blade and hilt covered in thousands of minuscule runes that it was evident years went into carving each character perfectly. "This is marble, your grace, from the home realm of the Vestati - pure marble of otherworldly make, and not desecrated with blood from the Great Rebellion," the Yakal said, a slight tremor noticeable as they held the items out. "And a guardian dagger, wielded by officers."

Seith Voidsinger, perhaps to the man's surprise, was likewise approached and given an item of interest - a guiding stone. Such a mineral was another rarity, valued by many who were magically inclined, though such objects were difficult to construct and imbue with power. This particular one was a shimmering opal in the literal sense, for the rainbow-like colors moved by their own accord. This guide stone, like many others, was meant to ground and anchor dangerous delves into powerful magicks - particularly for those that come from beyond the darkest veils of existence. Further still, Seith would know - and know that the Vestati knew as well - the old legends of opal guide stones being used to create behelits at the exact instance a god was slain.

Once with all items handed out did Prince Lucafiel deign to join the table, his chair prepared for him by a Vestati knight. He did not move to eat or drink, however, merely sitting politely as if awaiting a presentation of cards for a parlor game. The Vestati rarely removed their soul masks among others, least of all in places that were not of their own creation. "I do hope my gifts find fertile soil. Not all I was capable of bestowing with foresight; so many new faces to be seen pleases me," Lucafiel said when opportunity allowed. His head craned around in a startlingly owl-like maneuver towards Illifis, who had addressed him earlier. "I am no legend, but a humble prince," he intoned. "But I accept your words most graciously."

He then decided to change the subject a bit. "So!" he said, "Opinions on our resident Witch Queen? I'm curious about the general consensus." He then chuckled slightly. "I do like her sense of fashion. Certainly draws the eye, and its quite fresh compared to the drab robes I've seen on other witches and sorceresses. Especially among the chaos worshiping kind."

Lucafiel made a gentle humming sound, a gesture of amusement as he traced a finger beneath his own chin against the porcelain of his mask and the golden coif which surrounded it. "She is a woman of many colors, there is no doubt to this. Though allow me to say," he intoned, sweeping his gaze over the table and the rest of the Heralds nearby, "I was disheartened to hear that some of her words were carried in a most disagreeable manner. A harsh climate upon these rocks creates a harsh and hungry mistress."

The prince watched with what was - presumably - more amusement as a small bit of steak wriggled around the table as a result of Hildegard's necromancy before it dissipated. This held the Vestati's attention for a moment longer before he reached out for an apple in a small basket before him, and turned towards Sharyx. "You ate quite swiftly, my lady. Perchance you would enjoy an apple? It is fresh," he said. Then, with the gentle swipe of his gloved thumb across the red apple, the fruit began to glisten and shine with renewed health and vigor. It wasn't merely fresh - he had restored it to the point of being a pinnacle delicacy as if it had just that moment been plucked from a tree.