Fantasy The Kingdom of Shadows

[Javax]

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"As infuriating our shiressven may be, mia abbein, I do not think it wise—nor possible—to poison the man," she chuckled, then continued quietly, "Though it would certainly bring me much joy."

The briny air stung her cheeks as they strode through the crowd to their next destination, a foreboding chill washing through the city and heralding its promise for a raging storm. Traveling would become difficult once the clouds arrived and dumped their sheets of rain and rocks of ice down on the land, and Roxii could only hope that whatever gods continued to mock her would allow them to leave next morn with little trouble. But knowing their tendencies and her previous encounters with noblemen and their trivial parties, this night would go far from smoothly.

For now, she and the lorethven would prepare. Don pretty clothes, captivating makeup, and masks that would transform them into truly enigmatic characters—shiny, silvered daggers hidden in plain sight, prepped to strike down the host in front of his friends and enemies alike. A spectacle that would no doubt spread like wildfire.

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Hours of wasted light and a hefty tab to rival the assassin's bounties later, Maedor and the velglorn found themselves walking down the now-near-empty path towards the sound of floaty music, clinking glasses, and the familiar lilted yet restrained laughter of the wealthy.

They had gathered the last of their orders shortly before last light, and their belongings were deposited back at the Sun & Cider where they dressed themselves in their spoils. Roxii felt rather exposed without the comfort of her weapons, but they would only give her away, and her cane would be too much of a hassle in a crowd to keep up with. The darkness also seemed to be against her, as the full moons shone brightly with white faces that bathed the city of an impenetrable, ethereal glow. The shadows came to her call, but they were slow and scarce as if it were day. The oncoming storm clouds could not come quickly enough, but the gods seemed to laugh at her as the winds had died down to a crawl a few hours ago, just after they had washed away what little cloud cover hung overhead. Rain still smelled far away and would not reach them 'til dawn.

Despite the taunting of deities that sought her misery, Roxii could not help the excitement that bubbled in her gut. A navy gown hung tight around her chest and hips before hanging loose like a flowing river. Tiny jewels and gems glittered in the moonlight, mimicking the shine upon the ripples and waves of a lake. Long sleeves and a choker-styled collar were made to hide the more defining characteristics that would make her easy to point out in a crowd, such as her caethas and sadisla. Her hair was done up in a way that allowed her to wear a veil that hid her ears and flowed down her back, and a silver, jeweled mask with mesh cloth in the eyeholes covered her burn scars. The top off the outfit, she wore a handful of jewelry: dangling silver earrings, a couple rings, and a navy droplet gem that hung from a silver chain in the space of exposed skin above her beasts.

Her fingers toyed with the invitation rolled between her delicate fingers before she forced herself to hold it out to her companion. "Perhaps it best you lead the conversation at the door," she proffered. "Men like these do not fancy a woman that speaks."

▸ ♫ ◂​

Addressed
Maedor Taellaris

Mentioned
Cyran
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▸ ✵ ◂​

Health: 100%

Status
Healthy

Location
Dagh Farum

Outfit
Refer to CS

Inventory
N/A

Miscellaneous:
‣ Formal Invitation
​

▸ ∞ ◂​

Notes
L'yrathi Elvish Translations:
‣ Shiressven ➙ Supporter/Benefactor
‣ Mia Abbein ➙ My Acquaintance/Ally
‣ Lorethven ➙ Healer
‣ Velglorn ➙ Assassin
‣ Caethas ➙ Traditional L'yrathi tattoos
‣ Sadisla ➙ Collar, generally marking a subordinate

[Character Sheet]
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His troubled thoughts raced alongside him as the sorceress shared her knowledge on the history of the Panther, feeling an odd sort of connection with the story—a connection that he didn't necessarily feel proud of. The wind sapped the color from his face and left a wash of pink on his ears, and whispered words of torment past the rushing blood in his head. He could've sworn he caught glimpses of the dæmons that followed him amidst flames of green and white between the trees that whirred by like fence posts, but he paid them no heed. Let them scamper through the shadows he refused to face. He would ignore them, just as he had for the past decade.

Until it inevitably bit him in the ass, he supposed.

Squinted against the cold that bit without discrimination, Aeren's eyes inspected Esadora as if seeing her for the first time. He knew that not all sorcerers were malicious, but there was something enlightening about her recognition of the Panther's unforgivable crime. As if she would approve of the mindless arson that ripped through homes and businesses and families with a hunger that knew no end. The sorceress' actions toward the knight led him to believe that she were inclined to be so cruel to a world that hated her for being, and yet... He felt a fool to think that she would be so brainless and callous. She hated his guts, that much was certain, and the other knights were men she would not think twice about slaughtering, but Aerendal had not witnessed even the slightest evidence of ill-intent focused towards the innocent. A shred of humanity laid bare before him, one that he had refused to acknowledge for some time now, he realized.

A thought surfaced, singular and tiny, rising to the forefront of his mind atop a shaky pedestal of guilt and fear:

What if I was wrong?

A twisting in his gut, like a poison dagger thrust deep and severing his organs from their rightful place, and he was met with the true understanding that a woman with unimaginable power at her fingertips and a moral compass that would undoubtedly condemn him for his past choices rode beside him with nary a clue of who he truly was. Did she have even an inkling of an idea? Who he was, that would be easy enough to figure out. He was never a good liar, and certain people—people like Esadora—would see through his ruse as easily as peering through glass. He supposed she could've found some holes in his stories, put together some clues that he no doubt left behind. But if that changed her opinion of him, made her hate him more, she did not show it, but the half-elf didn't necessarily believe she would—a knight is a knight is a knight, no matter their owner.

But did Esadora know who he was? What he did? Surely not. The treason that occurred in those castle halls—the truth, dark and twisted and full of evil—could only be known by those present, and a tight-knit group that was. Someone like the sorceress beside him could never know the truth, couldn't even dream of it being a possibility. He cast another wary glance her way.

Surely not.

"When it comes to law and court," he spoke plainly, "much lies within the shadows behind closed doors."

A cocked brow was thrown towards the sorceress. He nearly laughed at the coincidence. Two men using the same woman's powers to search for the key to their missing person. If he were a poet of some kind, he would spin it into a story, but he held no skill in such things.

"And the plot thickens. It mustn't be very common you get caught up in contracts like these, no? Searching for someone so that they may search for someone else." The mere thought of the complexity of the contract, much less two of them, and the consequences and risks that would come with them was enough to blossom at the front of his mind in the form of a mild headache. Aeren shook his head lightly. "A complicated affair. One that I hope ends sooner rather than later."

▸ ♫ ◂​

Addressed
Esadora de Levoran

Mentioned
N/A
​

▸ ✵ ◂​

Health: 100%

Status
Healthy

Location
On the Road

Outfit
Refer to CS

Inventory
‣ Elven Longsword

Miscellaneous:
‣ Canteen | A Family Crest is Engraved on the Side
‣ Whetstone
‣ Pouch of Gold
​

▸ ∞ ◂​

Notes
N/A

[Character Sheet]
​

 

[Melpomene]

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A touch of autumn chill slid down Maedor's spine.

The face of decadence shined upon him. Swept in silks and crushed velvet he walked with the air of a prince. The nobility pumping through cut veins spilled pure silver as his royal look returned to him. The burnt umber silk of his shirt swept down in a deep V down to his navel exposing pale golden skin beneath that glimmered with the lost desire of sunlight. Amber glowed against his chest, buffeted by silver. Hanging just atop it was the golden sun disk harkening to a land long unknown to those in the party. He was certain. Most would just see a decorative piece, unknowing of the God it hailed to. The thread of it suffused itself throughout his outfit, from the seems of his shirt down to the edges of his leather trousers. The Panther mask sat secured in place just against his swept back golden hair. A tinge of kohl about his eyes, a dash or rouge upon his cheeks, a dab on his lips until he looked a prince fresh from drinking the day into sensual night. Within and without his mask he was unrecognizable as healer and consumed in the air of nobility.

A trickle ran through his mind. It sank until the float turned behind his eye and then dissipated. He had grown unused to parties of this land. The clinking of glasses and delicate balance of power a stark difference from the boisterous laughing during the festivals of Mevara. The ear heavy and damp and the skies darkened, the sound of intermingling voices acting as new beacons against the music of the night was not settling. Maedor stood at the edge for a moment and then turned to Roxii to take the invitation and slip it into his own hands.

"How troublesome. I wonder if they complain of not being able to understand their wives while denying to hear women's voices as well." But he still assumed the position all the same. Head raised and dangling silver earing brushing just against the edge of his shoulder. His breath was light, the heat of it intermingling with the cool air. When would the frost form on the edges of his lips and dissipate into the cold winter? Seasons had begun to blur in his mind, time was loose.

He became the proud nobleman. Head held high. Eyes sharp, mouth coiled up as a snake with a forked tongue, the desire for a goodtime and the promise of trouble. A leery-eyed lacintious brat the guards had seen a dozen times. He walked with a swagger.

The manor was decadent from outside. Not a crack in the brickwork existed as the cobblestone road twisted through carefully kept green grass and bright flowers that still found their shine in the black of night. Red torches lined their paths and ensured light could be found from one stretch of the land to another. The manor near bordered on a palace as though built for a King of Names, desiring to show his wealth. His power. Quincy Pierson was a powerful man. Or rich. Enough that the target rested within him as though an elk was painted on his face.

Two guards stood at attention, swords on their hips and eyes casted bored towards the emptiness before them. Their gaze shifted as the two approached, though hardly could be called alert. Languidly they looked over the two. Rich, dressed in silks and jewels, unrecognizable but that was hardly a problem. These people liked rich and powerful looking. They would pretend to know who he was when he got in.

"Halt, who approaches." The older of the two said with a heavy sigh, standing up straighter as he held out a hand for the invitations.

Maedor scoffed and shoved the papers into his waiting hands. "It's a masquerade party, you aren't supposed to know who I am."

The guard glanced down at the invitations. He grimaced. His dark eyes lifted, heavy between Maedor and Roxii. It seemed he had heard the same speech before.

Good. That meant Maedor blended in with his chosen demographic. Overeccentric rich boys that had never needed to learn how to respect others. Father's money did that for them. And with the weary glance of the guard who did not wish to deal with another fight as began to wave him onward he felt a sense of triumph.

It seemed he still knew how to work a guard.

"Better. Remember yourself next time." He sniffed haughtily and stalked past the both of them.

Perhaps he had judged too soon. This may be a fun night yet.

​

There was something different about his stare.

The cutting ice that peered from beneath his brow glided over her smooth, yet differently. Hatred she held in her hand. Lust she sought. But there was an expression anew she did not yet know and she did not chase. It was not disgust. It was nothing bad. So she could not punish it. And she did not cause him discomfort for it. Men were allowed to look as they pleased, it was only when they came to bother her that she took issue. And those who knew her well knew that how many parts that man left with was all settled within the inclinations of her day. Aeren likely came to understand that her mood was usually never gay enough to lead her into being forgiving. But, she supposed, hardly foul enough to maim without reason.

Though her reason seemed to differ from others.

A scoff escaped her. "Oh, I am well aware of the machinations of court. You see how well I get on with the Hawk Prince. I don't like taking part in it - it's dreary and idiotic. Their deceit often only makes my head ache rather than impress me. And the posturing men attempting to show whose sword is larger grows dull. Even Vra'sali falls into such a dismal cycle. They just compare wing size." Her lip curled, an edge of levity coming to her. "Are you familiar with the court, dear Aeren? Don't tell me I walk next to a High Lord or Prince and have not given my proper respects."

She let out a laugh. He may have been assumed to be slightly smarter if he came as a prince rather than a shambling knight. But he came here all the same and she could see an edge of noble birth in his eyes. High enough to be among the elites of the court seemed to be out of the question. Despite his secrets, he seemed too stupid to be able to engage with those tangled webs. She was certain he was nothing more than a pawn in a larger game. Perhaps she was being too presumptuous and his oafish outward appearance hid a cunning mind that was playing all the strings from the start.

That would make things far more interesting.

"Now this... this is curious." She said after a beat. A hand came to rub just beneath her chin. "This one is... particular. The Panther seems to have relations with the woman we are seeking. Enough so that she would come out if he was the one that sought her. Funnily enough... It seems out of love." She glanced down for a moment and shook her head, dark hair tangled in the wind. "The poor girl. Likely entwined herself with a beast. Believing she could change him, seeing the good where there is only more blackness. Perhaps it is a blessing that Vesilir has a need..."

She sniffed and shook her head. "It isn't the norm. But, in this case, I see the merits of it. When one is well hidden, sometimes only a goodwill effort to find them will work. And if Vesilir is anything, it is resourceful. I may keep an eye on how this falls... I am interested in seeing how Merava fares as these new... developments settle into place."

 

[Javax]

The party explodes in a ball of flame, and Essie laughs over the embers. She stabs Aeren. "You're an idiot and I hate you," she exclaims.

The world burns. All is dead.

The end.