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Fantasy The Kingsword Will Stand (OPEN)

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THE SELLSWORD


Myara Etyana Valar


Female - 28 - Gay



Myara's red eyes flashed dangerously when Vail ordered her to put the elf down. Blood debt or not, her job was to keep Vail alive, and she doubted if he knew exactly what kind of danger he was in now that his origins had been revealed.

She rolled her eyes at the bit about 'not making a scene'. As if his ridiculous entrance hasn't already done that, she thought irately. Her eyes flashed again as Aenwyn chimed in, irritation now bubbling at the pit of her stomach.

There were entirely too many people telling her what to do for her taste and, though she'd been successful in the military partly due to having a healthy respect for the chain of command, none of these people were her commanding officer, and she had a job to do.

At the rogue's suggestion about having this conversation away from prying eyes and ears, Myara grunted her assent. Leaving her breakfast behind (and secretly hoping Vail would have the sense to grab it for her), she yanked the elf after her as she left the bar, climbing the stairs to the room now solely occupied by the group's gear.

She tossed her captive bodily onto the bed, not much caring that it would now be covered in glaze and a mess of crumbs, and crossed her arms over her chest with the dagger still held in evidence in her fist.

"Talk," she instructed, her eyes leaving no doubt about what would happen if he didn't.


Location: Bedroom | With: Kash | Mood: Intimidating



Myara's red eyes flashed dangerously when Vail ordered her to put the elf down. Blood debt or not, her job was to keep Vail alive, and she doubted if he knew exactly what kind of danger he was in now that his origins had been revealed.

She rolled her eyes at the bit about 'not making a scene'. As if his ridiculous entrance hasn't already done that, she thought irately. Her eyes flashed again as Aenwyn chimed in, irritation now bubbling at the pit of her stomach.

There were entirely too many people telling her what to do for her taste and, though she'd been successful in the military partly due to having a healthy respect for the chain of command, none of these people were her commanding officer, and she had a job to do.

At the rogue's suggestion about having this conversation away from prying eyes and ears, Myara grunted her assent. Leaving her breakfast behind (and secretly hoping Vail would have the sense to grab it for her), she yanked the elf after her as she left the bar, climbing the stairs to the room now solely occupied by the group's gear.

She tossed her captive bodily onto the bed, not much caring that it would now be covered in glaze and a mess of crumbs, and crossed her arms over her chest with the dagger still held in evidence in her fist.

"Talk," she instructed, her eyes leaving no doubt about what would happen if he didn't.
 
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THE ORACLE
Nimue
Female - 22 - Bisexual


Nimue remained silent. So much was going. To be honest she was a little frightened. All of these people had clearly seen battle or extreme strife in one way or the other. How would she be of any worth to them if all she could do was prophecy and then be temporarily disabled because of it. She knew in her soul that she had to go with them. She was to act as a guiding light and show them the way, otherwise they'd be lost. Silence was a habit of hers when she was nervous. After hearing Julian's suggestion, she picked up her plate without a word pushing herself back from the table.

She turned around and walked towards the bottom of the stairs. She admittedly didn't mind if the group didn't follow her. Sure, she would probably suffer for it and so would they. But maybe they'd still be able to go on about their lives and live until old age. Happy perhaps. Although Nimue didn't COMPLETELY understand what was going on from her visions. Of course, they were clear, but they seemed outlandish and irrational. Besides, everyone had thought the same earlier. She knew that at least Vail would be in TERRIBLE danger. She didn't want to lead him, nor anyone else in the group on such a path.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, it occurred to her. They'd probably be in danger regardless. You could never know who was listening or watching. Nimue stopped in her tracks, standing up straight. She turned to the group, with a small, tired smile. "C'mon." She requested, beginning to ascend. As she walked up the stairs there was a ringing in her ear. Nimue stopped once more and popped her head below the stairwell opening. "Myara's already brought the last of us. Let's go save him." She chimed playfully, admiring Myara's sense of duty.

Location: The Tavern | With: The Group| Mood: Frightened/Avoidant



The Oracle - Nimue
Location: Tavern
With: The Group
Feeling: Frightened/Avoidant


Nimue remained silent. So much was going. To be honest she was a little frightened. All of these people had clearly seen battle or extreme strife in one way or the other. How would she be of any worth to them if all she could do was prophecy and then be temporarily disabled because of it. She knew in her soul that she had to go with them. She was to act as a guiding light and show them the way, otherwise they'd be lost. Silence was a habit of hers when she was nervous. After hearing Julian's suggestion, she picked up her plate without a word pushing herself back from the table.


She turned around and walked towards the bottom of the stairs. She admittedly didn't mind if the group didn't follow her. Sure, she would probably suffer for it and so would they. But maybe they'd still be able to go on about their lives and live until old age. Happy perhaps. Although Nimue didn't COMPLETELY understand what was going on from her visions. Of course, they were clear, but they seemed outlandish and irrational. Besides, everyone had thought the same earlier. She knew that at least Vail would be in TERRIBLE danger. She didn't want to lead him, nor anyone else in the group on such a path.


When she reached the bottom of the stairs, it occurred to her. They'd probably be in danger regardless. You could never know who was listening or watching. Nimue stopped in her tracks, standing up straight. She turned to the group, with a small, tired smile. "C'mon." She requested, beginning to ascend. As she walked up the stairs there was a ringing in her ear. Nimue stopped once more and popped her head below the stairwell opening. "Myara's already brought the last of us. Let's go save him." She chimed playfully, admiring Myara's sense of duty.
 
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THE FEMALE DRUID
Antigone
Female - 29 - Straight
Everything happened so quickly. One moment Vail was sitting down and giving his heartfelt apologies to Nimue and admitting she was right, the next, there was a young blond elf crashing to the floor near them after trying to get Vail's attention. Before she could stand, Myara was on her feet and hauling the young man off his feet, demanding to know who he worked for. She opened her mouth to ask the warrior woman to take a moment and consider how unlikely it was anyone else knew Vail's true identity before now, but Vail and Aenwyn beat her to it, Vail with slightly more tact than the healer. Antigone sighed and closed her mouth. It wouldn't do anyone any good to add her two pennies to the pile.

When Myara snarled and hauled the newcomer upstairs, at Julian's suggestion, she reached out to touch Vail's arm. "She's only trying to keep you safe, even if it may be a little overzealous. You do understand, as word spreads, you will be in danger from those who currently hold the thrones, don't you?" she asked softly.

Vail nodded. "You're right. She is. Both trying to keep me safe and overzealous." He smiled softly and sighed.

Antigone stood up. "All right, then. Let's go upstairs so we can at least have the illusion of discussing this in privacy." She looked around, trying to figure who, if any, of the other guests pretending to not be interested in what was going on, would try to sneak upstairs and try listening in. She looked at Marnie thoughtfully. Marnie was a sorceress. Maybe she had a way to stop people from eavesdropping. She would ask when they got upstairs.

Grabbing her mug and plate, she smiled brightly. "Life with you lot is certainly not going to be dull, that's for sure." She said brightly, then followed Nimue up the stairs.
Location: At the table, then heading upstairs| With: everyone| Mood: concerned, mostly


The Female Druid - Antigone
Location: At the table, then heading upstairs
With: Everyone
Mood: Concerned, mostly

Everything happened so quickly. One moment Vail was sitting down and giving his heartfelt apologies to Nimue and admitting she was right, the next, there was a young blond elf crashing to the floor near them after trying to get Vail's attention. Before she could stand, Myara was on her feet and hauling the young man off his feet, demanding to know who he worked for. She opened her mouth to ask the warrior woman to take a moment and consider how unlikely it was anyone else knew Vail's true identity before now, but Vail and Aenwyn beat her to it, Vail with slightly more tact than the healer. Antigone sighed and closed her mouth. It wouldn't do anyone any good to add her two pennies to the pile.

When Myara snarled and hauled the newcomer upstairs, at Julian's suggestion, she reached out to touch Vail's arm. "She's only trying to keep you safe, even if it may be a little overzealous. You do understand, as word spreads, you will be in danger from those who currently hold the thrones, don't you?" she asked softly.

Vail nodded. "You're right. She is. Both trying to keep me safe and overzealous." He smiled softly and sighed.

Antigone stood up. "All right, then. Let's go upstairs so we can at least have the illusion of discussing this in privacy." She looked around, trying to figure who, if any, of the other guests pretending to not be interested in what was going on, would try to sneak upstairs and try listening in. She looked at Marnie thoughtfully. Marnie was a sorceress. Maybe she had a way to stop people from eavesdropping. She would ask when they got upstairs.

Grabbing her mug and plate, she smiled brightly. "Life with you lot is certainly not going to be dull, that's for sure." She said brightly, then followed Nimue up the stairs.
 
THE TRUE SOVEREIGN
Vail Fairfax
Male - 84 - Bisexual

Vail reached down for his and Myara's plates when Nimue's remark hit him. The last of us? He wondered. Is the strange elf supposed to be here? Well, it was certainly a memorable entrance. Perhaps a little too much so.

He watched Nimue climb the stairs, then smiled at Antigone when she touched his arm and tried to reassure him about Myara's actions. He liked to think he knew her fairly well after traveling with her over the past few months, and it was clear to him the revelation of his status as the heir to the throne of a unified Kalais had her concerned, to put it lightly. He wasn't naive enough to think they could keep this a secret with Nimue telling them they must...what? Kill the False Sovereigns so he could be king? They would be hunted, by both people wanting to help them, and stop them. He just found a fast trip to the Three Kingdoms most wanted list, and so did the rest of them, by simple association.

"You're right" He said to Antigone as he carefully balanced his and Myara's drinks on their plates and carefully picked them up. "She is. Both trying to keep me safe, and overzealous." He sighed softly and made his way to the stairs, nimbly weaving his way through the people gathered for breakfast and heading up the stairs with Antigone.

She raised her eyebrows. "Not a drop spilled. Impressive. Was this an old job of yours back home?"

Vail shook his head. "No. Daily training with my father for more than 70 years." He said softly.

"Oh." Antigone glanced at him and shook her head. "I'm sorry. "

"No, it's fine." Vail didn't dare look at her. He didn't want to see the pity there. Or compassion. There would be time later for grief. He cleared his throat and laughed lightly, "You know, I had more success having an undisturbed meal on the road than in this inn."
Location: On his way upstairs| With: Everyone, then Antigone| Mood: Pushing down the sadness


The True Sovereign - Vail Fairfax Altaine
Location: On his up upstairs
With: Everyone, then Antigone
Mood: Pushing down the sadness.

Vail reached down for his and Myara's plates when Nimue's remark hit him. The last of us? He wondered. is the strange elf supposed to be here? Well, it was certainly a memorable entrance. Perhaps a little too much so.

He watched Nimue climb the stairs, then smiled at Antigone when she touched his arm and tried to reassure him about Myara's actions. He liked to think he knew her fairly well after traveling with her over the past few months, and it was clear to him the revelation of his status as the heir to the throne of a unified Kalais had her concerned, to put it lightly. He wasn't naive enough to think they could keep this a secret with Nimue telling them they must...what? Kill the False Sovereigns so he could be king? They would be hunted, by both people wanting to help them, and stop them. He just found a fast trip to the Three Kingdoms most wanted list, and so did the rest of them, by simple association.

"You're right" He said to Antigone as he carefully balanced his and Myara's drinks on their plates and carefully picked them up. "She is. Both trying to keep me safe, and overzealous." He sighed softly and made his way to the stairs, nimbly weaving his way through the people gathered for breakfast and heading up the stairs with Antigone.

She raised her eyebrows. "Not a drop spilled. Impressive. Was this an old job of yours back home?"

Vail shook his head. "No. Daily training with my father for more than 70 years." He said softly.

"Oh." Antigone glanced at him and shook her head. "I'm sorry. "

"No, it's fine." Vail didn't dare look at her. He didn't want to see the pity there. Or compassion. There would be time later for grief. He cleared his throat and laughed lightly, "You know, I had more success having an undisturbed meal on the road than in this inn."
 
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Aevar.png


Aevar Istedir​
Aevar grunted in agreement as Julian suggested they head upstairs. Though no doubt people would already be talking about what had just happened here. And a few would stick around just to see what happens. They needed to start moving as soon as possible. On the road to wherever this prophecy that oracle saw for them. Then again, prophecies, from what he understood, tended to happen whether you wanted them to or not. But he very much did not want to test it. After all, he didn't yet know what this important role he was supposed to play was. For all he knew, he was to kill Vail and take the throne for himself.

His meal already finished, he got up from the table, remembering to take his axe, and followed after the peeved body guard. Frankly, he kind of wanted to test himself against her. If she was so eager to fight anything and anyone, she certainly had to have some skill to back it up. But all of her skills must have gone to her blade work, for she certainly didn't have any in communicating. "Well I suppose being thrown into bed by a woman would get most men talking," he remarked flatly.
 
THE SORCERESS
Marnie Sapphire
Female - 84 - Bisexual

Marnie trailed after the others towards the stairs. She stole a few glances around the tavern, trying to see if there were any other eavesdroppers. But what did she know about spies? The patrons looked like any villager she had met. A good spy would have blended in among them. She resigned pattered behind the others.

Within moments, the whole scene at the table had become runaway yarn, with her, Vail and the others dragged along with it. Marnie was thankful of Myara’s quick reflexes, when the elf barged into their conversation. While she was glad that Myara hadn’t immediately spilled his blood all over the table, the lad had already exclaimed the two unmentionable words for nearby tables to hear.

She had considered how to deal the new elf. Would they simply make him swear an oath or silence? Or perhaps, she should make him forget the meeting? She had never tampered someone’s mind before, and never wanted to. Yet before she pondered further of the side effects and ethics of wiping one’s memory, Nimue said: "Myara's already brought the last of us. Let's go save him."

Relief washed over her, that she wouldn't need to tamper with someone's memory. Yet, she was curious of Nimue's certainty.
“How do you know that he was meant to join us?” she asked Nimue. The magic she knew was of molding and changing what was in front her, and of the druids with the bonds in nature. Precognition seemed to be an abstract ability. At the moment, to Marnie, it seemed as if Nimue’s connecting mismatched beads together on a string.



"talk talk talk"
think think think

Location: Tavern stairs | With: Nimue, Myara, Vail, and others | Mood: Anxious, curious

Marnie trailed after the others towards the stairs. She stole a few glances around the tavern, trying to see if there were any other eavesdroppers. But what did she know about spies? The patrons looked like any villager she had met. A good spy would have blended in among them. She resigned pattered behind the others.

Within moments, the whole scene at the table had become runaway yarn, with her, Vail and the others dragged along with it. Marnie was thankful of Myara’s quick reflexes, when the elf barged into their conversation. While she was glad that Myara hadn’t immediately spilled his blood all over the table, the lad had already exclaimed the two unmentionable words for nearby tables to hear.

She had considered how to deal the new elf. Would they simply make him swear an oath or silence? Or perhaps, she should make him forget the meeting? She had never tampered someone’s mind before, and never wanted to. Yet before she pondered further of the side effects and ethics of wiping one’s memory, Nimue said: "Myara's already brought the last of us. Let's go save him."

“How do you know that he was meant to join us?” she asked Nimue. The magic she knew was of molding and changing what was in front her, and of the druids with the bonds in nature. Precognition seemed to be an abstract ability. At the moment, to Marnie, it seemed as if Nimue’s connecting mismatched beads together on a string.

Location: Tavern stairs | With: Nimue, Myara, Vail, and others | Mood: Anxious, curious
 
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THE THIEF


Julian Valerius the IIIrd


Male - 25 - Straight



Julian watched with some amazement as, seemingly at his suggestion, the mercenary grunted assent and dragged the blond-haired elf bodily out of the room.

Furthering his surprise, Nimue silently picked up her plate and followed suit. At the foot of the stairs, she paused and turned back to them, beckoning them forward with a tired smile. At the bit about 'the last of us', Julian groaned aloud.

Him too? he despaired. Just how many people are actually in this damn prophecy?

When Antigone grabbed her plate and made to follow the Prophet, without being fully aware of what he was doing, Julian reflexively stood up and did the same, barely aware of Vail and Marnie joining the exodus.

He arrived in the large room just in time to hear Aevar deadpanning about the elf being thrown into bed by a woman, and turned his head to take in the truly comical sight of the blond indeed lying on the bed with the sweet glaze still steadily dripping down the side of his head, and the Sellsword standing over him looking menacing, arms crossed and dagger clutched in hand, clearly awaiting an explanation good enough to keep her from doing the elf consequential physical harm.

Julian had little concern with that at the moment- the mere fact that the elf was part of the prophecy meant that he would essentially be protected from the bodyguard's wrath so, choosing to focus on the more pressing matter at hand, he put down his plate, grabbed the pitcher of water by the wash basin, walked over to the bed, and dumped the entire thing on the elf's unfortunate head.

He could've been more subtle about it, but this was funnier, and he was hoping it might make Antigone laugh again.

Tossing the elf a towel before once more picking up his breakfast, he said "Dry your hair before you catch a cold and Aenwyn comes after me- I trust you can dry and talk at the same time."


Location: Room | With: Half the group | Mood: Amused




Julian watched with some amazement as, seemingly at his suggestion, the mercenary grunted assent and dragged the blond-haired elf bodily out of the room.

Furthering his surprise, Nimue silently picked up her plate and followed suit. At the foot of the stairs, she paused and turned back to them, beckoning them forward with a tired smile. At the bit about 'the last of us', Julian groaned aloud.

Him too? he despaired. Just how many people are actually in this damn prophecy?

When Antigone grabbed her plate and made to follow the Prophet, without being fully aware of what he was doing, Julian reflexively stood up and did the same, barely aware of Vail and Marnie joining the exodus.

He arrived in the large room just in time to hear Aevar deadpanning about the elf being thrown into bed by a woman, and turned his head to take in the truly comical sight of the blond indeed lying on the bed with the sweet glaze still steadily dripping down the side of his head, and the Sellsword standing over him looking menacing, arms crossed and dagger clutched in hand, clearly awaiting an explanation good enough to keep her from doing the elf consequential physical harm.

Julian had little concern with that at the moment- the mere fact that the elf was part of the prophecy meant that he would essentially be protected from the bodyguard's wrath so, choosing to focus on the more pressing matter at hand, he put down his plate, grabbed the pitcher of water by the wash basin, walked over to the bed, and dumped the entire thing on the elf's unfortunate head.

He could've been more subtle about it, but this was funnier, and he was hoping it might make Antigone laugh again.

Tossing the elf a towel before once more picking up his breakfast, he said "Dry your hair before you catch a cold and Aenwyn comes after me- I trust you can dry and talk at the same time."
 
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THE HEALER
Aenwyn
Female - 97 - Gay

Her eyes followed the purple-haired soldier’s form, as she apparently found the rogue the best to listen to. Aenwyn sighed, praying for patience as the dragged man disappeared from sight. There went her reputation in this town. Even if the man left this tavern whole and under his own power, if she follows--which she will--she’ll be implicit in any torture, real or imagined. If she remained, would it show trust her ‘friends’ would not harm him? She stretched her gaze over the onlookers, few in the early morn, but enough to be believed even if the tavernkeeper wasn’t right there at the counter. No, none of them assumed anything but the worst. A knife at the throat tended to come off that way.

Standing, she calmly pulled her pack on, then shifted to face the bartender. She didn’t bother with a smile--most of hers looked like grimaces or sneers anyway. “She’s always like this. Overreacting whenever anyone gets close to him. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. The sane ones will keep her in check. I’ll have him check in with you after.” Picking up her breakfast, she headed up the stairs, opening the door to her name. Glaring at the rogue, to make sure he knew not to joke about her, she shut the door, then joined the others surrounding the man on the bed…why was he wet?
Location: Tavern | With: Group | Mood: Irritated



Her eyes followed the purple-haired soldier’s form, as she apparently found the rogue the best to listen to. Aenwyn sighed, praying for patience as the dragged man disappeared from sight. There went her reputation in this town. Even if the man left this tavern whole and under his own power, if she follows--which she will--she’ll be implicit in any torture, real or imagined. If she remained, would it show trust her ‘friends’ would not harm him? She stretched her gaze over the onlookers, few in the early morn, but enough to be believed even if the tavernkeeper wasn’t right there at the counter. No, none of them assumed anything but the worst. A knife at the throat tended to come off that way.

Standing, she calmly pulled her pack on, then shifted to face the bartender. She didn’t bother with a smile--most of hers looked like grimaces or sneers anyway. “She’s always like this. Overreacting whenever anyone gets close to him. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. The sane ones will keep her in check. I’ll have him check in with you after.” Picking up her breakfast, she headed up the stairs, opening the door to her name. Glaring at the rogue, to make sure he knew not to joke about her, she shut the door, then joined the others surrounding the man on the bed…why was he wet?
 
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The Bard - Kash

This was it! Finally, all those hoops he had been figuratively, and literally, jumping through would finally bear fruit! To think this all had started because of a few funny looking mushrooms - what a tale this would be! Perhaps he could make a song out of it? It would need to be something upbeat and catchy, something that would draw the ear of whoever-

Hold on a second; did he just get taller?

Kash looked down to see that his feet were no longer touching the ground, and when he looked back up, he was staring into the red eyes of a rather upset looking woman who had just put a dagger to his throat. Most people would panic upon feeling the cold steel kiss their skin, but unfortunately for the tavern group, Kash was not like most people. Instead, the young elf found himself spellbound as he took in the sight of the woman before him. He found that no words would leave his mouth, even as his jaw hung limply open, and he didnt even register that she had asked him a question.

In fact, he wasn't even sure how long he had been doing it for until he was being unceremoniously dragged towards the stairs by the woman. Uncertain of just what was happening, the young elf's mind went berserk at the reason for such manhandling. A hand went to his cheek and he blushed brightly as the thought of her dragging him into her bed chambers invaded his mind...

But those thoughts were quickly dashed as the woman burst into a room upstairs and threw him onto the bed, the elf yelping as she did so. Kash quickly sat up, now realizing the sweet roll on his head still. As he quickly attempted to remove it, other members of the group began to file into the room. Kash's thoughts of something scandalous happening faded as the reality of the situation set in. He managed to remove the sweetroll from its place atop his head and placed it into his lap just as the stern woman demanded he started talking.

Well, where to begin? Perhaps with the mushroom thing first? Yes, perhaps that was best; the sooner they knew he meant no ill will, the better. However, just as he opened his mouth to begin, he found himself in a sudden icy downpour, courtesy of the man with the strangely shiny hair. Kash gave the man a half-lidded, annoyed stare before he spat the water out of his mouth like a fountain. His face was then violently assaulted by the towel he threw his way, and he sighed info the fabric before vigorously scrubbing his head. His clothes might be a bit damp for a while, but at least there was no more glaze in his air. As he set the towel down, Kash used a hand to slick his hair back, only for it to spring unceremoniously back up in its wild state before the drenching.

"Well, that's a fine "how-do-you-do"! Then again, I haven't been able to bathe in about three days, so...thanks for saving me a trip to the bathhouse!" He told the shiny-haired man before he tore off a piece of his sweetroll and began to munch on it, turning his attention back to the surly woman.

"The wizard told me to come here!" He began, his mouth still full of sweetroll. "I met him when I was traveling between towns. He said he'd help me along my journey if I brought him a special species of mushroom that grew in a bog not far from where he lived. Apparently they let him "see" things other people cant see! Amazing, right?! Magic folk never fail to provide such wondrous encounters!"

"So, I set out on a grand quest to fetch him his mushrooms, and boy, is it ever a tale to tell! Ill spare you the details, but basically I had to make a deal with the bear who guards the mushrooms, and when I brought them back to the wizard, he swallowed them whole and then began to draw this seal on a piece of parchment!" He continued, holding up the sheet he had shown earlier, thankfully having avoided the water. "He said this would show me the truth, and that if I wanted to know more, then I should come here, to this exact tavern, and wait for the one who would "become True Sovereign"! And I found you! Hooray!" He celebrated, throwing his arms up in the air momentarily before ripping into the sweet roll like a ravenous wolf. Within a mere fifteen seconds, the roll was gone, and the elf patted his stomach in content before he stood from the bed and gave them all a quick, flamboyant bow.

"My name's Kash, and its a real pleasure to meet all of you! Im, uh, not entirely sure what it is you all are up to, but please, you have to let me come with you! Its destiny! Mushroom-wizard destiny! A-And I can do whatever you need me to! I'm a bard after all, I can easily provide entertainment! Please? Pleaaaaaase?" He begged, folding his hands together and giving big, puppy eyes to anyone in the room who would look at him.​
 











THE MALE DRUID


Agathon


Male - 26 - Bisexual



Suddenly an elf appeared, comically wearing a sweet roll. While he shoved a parchment in front of the True Sovereign, Agathon tensed prepared to fight. It seemed that phrase now triggered his flight or fight instincts just as his and his sister’s deadnames or mention of their parents. Antigone had said he needed to be on the throne, so Agathon would protect him with his pathetic life as he did his sister. Though deep down, he acknowledged his sister would always come first.

So before doing anything more, his gaze settled on his lodestone. Her open mouth was likely to try and calm the situation, not defend. So he forced himself to sit back, and let the others calm down as he used the air currents to hear everything behind him. If any of those seemed to want to use this new information immediately, he’d be ready. As Vail and the healer tried to calm her down, though Agathon mainly thought she needed to learn subtlety, Julian had an idea to get away from prying ears. A good one, except the room upstairs limited their escape route. The stables would have been better. No one was better defense than Luna. But the previously silent guard apparently agreed, dragging the elf upstairs before any other words were said.

He waited as the others followed Myara, watching the patrons. His instincts twinged when Antigone was out of sight, but he knew it was better to know what the others thought. Most assumed she was crazy. But some wondered, why react that way if they didn’t believe it? After the healer tried to defuse the situation, Agathon stood and followed her up.

Once in the room, he silently drew up to Antigone’s side, automatically scanning her for any changes. Finding none, he let his attention move to the elf, claiming to be unhappy someone (Julian. It was likely Julian) got him wet. Though he was calmly eating his sweet roll, regardless that it’d been in his hair which was unwashed for at least three days…

Then he started to really talk. Nonsense. That Agathon was finding it hard to believe even if there shouldn’t have been time for enemies to find them. And now he wanted to join them. He, who just started the rumors of the True Sovereign, which someone would hear. And then send spies after them, just in case. He who has forced them to leave and use distance instead of stealth to evade their enemies. Yeah, Agathon said no. But it wasn’t his decision. Nudging Antigone slightly, he frowned at her, showing what his take on this was and asking hers. He’d support whichever she chose, though he was resigned it’d be the opposite.



Location: Tavern | With: Everyone | Mood: Tense, then resigned



Suddenly an elf appeared, comically wearing a sweet roll. While he shoved a parchment in front of the True Sovereign, Agathon tensed prepared to fight. It seemed that phrase now triggered his flight or fight instincts just as his and his sister’s deadnames or mention of their parents. Antigone had said he needed to be on the throne, so Agathon would protect him with his pathetic life as he did his sister. Though deep down, he acknowledged his sister would always come first.

So before doing anything more, his gaze settled on his lodestone. Her open mouth was likely to try and calm the situation, not defend. So he forced himself to sit back, and let the others calm down as he used the air currents to hear everything behind him. If any of those seemed to want to use this new information immediately, he’d be ready. As Vail and the healer tried to calm her down, though Agathon mainly thought she needed to learn subtlety, Julian had an idea to get away from prying ears. A good one, except the room upstairs limited their escape route. The stables would have been better. No one was better defense than Luna. But the previously silent guard apparently agreed, dragging the elf upstairs before any other words were said.

He waited as the others followed Myara, watching the patrons. His instincts twinged when Antigone was out of sight, but he knew it was better to know what the others thought. Most assumed she was crazy. But some wondered, why react that way if they didn’t believe it? After the healer tried to defuse the situation, Agathon stood and followed her up.

Once in the room, he silently drew up to Antigone’s side, automatically scanning her for any changes. Finding none, he let his attention move to the elf, claiming to be unhappy someone (Julian. It was likely Julian) got him wet. Though he was calmly eating his sweet roll, regardless that it’d been in his hair which was unwashed for at least three days…

Then he started to really talk. Nonsense. That Agathon was finding it hard to believe even if there shouldn’t have been time for enemies to find them. And now he wanted to join them. He, who just started the rumors of the True Sovereign, which someone would hear. And then send spies after them, just in case. He who has forced them to leave and use distance instead of stealth to evade their enemies. Yeah, Agathon said no. But it wasn’t his decision. Nudging Antigone slightly, he frowned at her, showing what his take on this was and asking hers. He’d support whichever she chose, though he was resigned it’d be the opposite.
 
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THE SELLSWORD


Myara Etyana Valar


Female - 28 - Gay



The prophet, one of the druids and Vail entered the room shortly after her, followed by the barbarian prince, who apparently had nothing better to do than make an insinuating remark.

They were followed in short order by the sorceress and the thief, the latter of whom decided to unceremoniously dump a pitcher of water on the blond elf's head, Aenwyn arriving at that moment and glaring at him for it.

As Myara watched the elf glare at Julian and vigorously scrub at his hair with the towel, only for the unruly mane to bounce back the second it was left alone, a silent snort of laughter escaped her before she could stop it.

He looks like a petulant child, she thought, amused in spite of herself.

The druid's brother arrived then, just as the blond started eating his miraculously still dry roll, appearing not to be fazed in the slightest- a warning sign if there ever was one. Myara schooled her features back into a menacing frown.

Don't be fooled, she thought. He's an elf- he's probably 100 years old and has had decades to perfect his 'innocent and harmless as a child' act.

As he started babbling about wizards and mushrooms and bears and other nonsense, Myara's lips pressed into an ever-thinning line.

He doesn't really expect to distract us with such an absurd story, does he? she thought incredulously, wondering what he was up to.

As he finished demolishing the sweet roll, popped up, introduced himself, and asked to come with them of all things, the sellword's eyes widened at the pure, unadulterated brazenness of this elf.

Stepping up to him and using the half inch of height she happened to have on him to full, intimidating advantage, she traded her dagger for her longsword and grabbed the front of his shirt again with her free hand, pulling him uncomfortably close.

"Listen carefully," she intoned, glaring into his mismatched eyes, "my job is to keep this person safe, and anyone knowing who he really is represents a threat. Therefore I will cut you open from navel to nose if you don't tell me what it is that you want with him, and this time," she added as the tip of her sword pressed up into the elf's ribcage, "I strongly suggest you not lie."


Location: Room | With: Everyone | Mood: Menacing



The prophet, one of the druids and Vail entered the room shortly after her, followed by the barbarian prince, who apparently had nothing better to do than make an insinuating remark.

They were followed in short order by the sorceress and the thief, the latter of whom decided to unceremoniously dump a pitcher of water on the blond elf's head, Aenwyn arriving at that moment and glaring at him for it.

As Myara watched the elf glare at Julian and vigorously scrub at his hair with the towel, only for the unruly mane to bounce back the second it was left alone, a silent snort of laughter escaped her before she could stop it.

He looks like a petulant child, she thought, amused in spite of herself.

The druid's brother arrived then, just as the blond started eating his miraculously still dry roll, appearing not to be fazed in the slightest- a warning sign if there ever was one. Myara schooled her features back into a menacing frown.

Don't be fooled, she thought. He's an elf- he's probably 100 years old and has had decades to perfect his 'innocent and harmless as a child' act.

As he started babbling about wizards and mushrooms and bears and other nonsense, Myara's lips pressed into an ever-thinning line.

He doesn't really expect to distract us with such an absurd story, does he? she thought incredulously, wondering what he was up to.

As he finished demolishing the sweet roll, popped up, introduced himself, and asked to come with them of all things, the sellword's eyes widened at the pure, unadulterated brazenness of this elf.

Stepping up to him and using the half inch of height she happened to have on him to full, intimidating advantage, she traded her dagger for her longsword and grabbed the front of his shirt again with her free hand, pulling him uncomfortably close.

"Listen carefully," she intoned, glaring into his mismatched eyes, "my job is to keep this person safe, and anyone knowing who he really is represents a threat. Therefore I will cut you open from navel to nose if you don't tell me what it is that you want with him, and this time," she added as the tip of her sword pressed up into the elf's ribcage, "I strongly suggest you not lie."
 
THE TRUE SOVEREIGN
Vail Fairfax Altaine
Male - 84 - Bisexual


Vail stepped forward and set Myara's breakfast down on a table, along with his own, listening to Kash tell his tale of a prophetic mushroom eating wizard as he ravenously devoured his somehow still dry sweet roll. It didn't sound likely, but up until last night he'd been Vail Fairfax, son of Aubric, an ex soldier-turned-guard-of-merchant caravans and Aisling, a weaver. Now he was Vail Altaine, son of the deposed Prince Ardreth and Princess Luirlan of Kalais, and the True Sovereign. That in itself was just as unlikely, but still true. Whether Kash was telling the truth, or not was immaterial, for now. Nimue said he was supposed to be here.

"Myara. Please stop. Nimue called him 'the last of us'. True tale or not, he's supposed to be here." Vail stepped up next to Myara, studying the disheveled bard. "Though I must say it sounds more like you ate some of these 'prophetic' mushrooms, yourself, Kash and had a pretty damn good dream."

He glanced at Julian, "I would like my comb back, please. It would seem the bard is in need of it more than you or I."

Location:Room| With: Everyone| Mood: Not very princely


Name: Vail Fairfax Altaine
Location: Room
With: Everyone
Mood: Not very princely

Vail stepped forward and set Myara's breakfast down on a table, along with his own, listening to Kash tell his tale of a prophetic mushroom eating wizard as he ravenously devoured his somehow still dry sweet roll. It didn't sound likely, but up until last night he'd been Vail Fairfax, son of Aubric, an ex soldier-turned-guard-of-merchant caravans and Aisling, a weaver. Now he was Vail Altaine, son of the deposed Prince Ardreth and Princess Luirlan of Kalais, and the True Sovereign. That in itself was just as unlikely, but still true. Whether Kash was telling the truth, or not was immaterial, for now. Nimue said he was supposed to be here.

"Myara. Please stop. Nimue called him 'the last of us'. True tale or not, he's supposed to be here." Vail stepped up next to Myara, studying the disheveled bard. "Though I must say it sounds more like you ate some of these 'prophetic' mushrooms, yourself, Kash and had a pretty damn good dream."

He glanced at Julian, "I would like my comb back, please. It would seem the bard is in need of it more than you or I."
 











THE THIEF


Julian Valerius the IIIrd


Male - 25 - Straight



Julian furtively made eye contact with the healer as she entered the room, registering the glare.

It isn't like I'm the one threatening him with a knife, he thought ruefully. Calm down.

He watched the elf's now-dry hair bounce back in an unruly fashion with a disdainful eyeroll. Amateur, he commented internally.

When the elf demolished the roll in a most undignified manner and then started babbling about wizards and bears and who knew what else, Julian quietly snorted into a hand.

Is he serious? There's no way he expects us to actually believe that, does he? he thought in bewilderment. At the bit about asking to come with them, the rogue rolled his eyes.

Buddy, you're in the prophecy- you're coming with us whether you want to or not, so you can quit it with the puppy-dog eyes.

He caught a quick silent exchange between Agathon and Antigone, but his attention was pulled back to the elf when Ms Grumpypants traded her dagger for her sword and proceeded to renew her threats.

Someone needs to stop her before she really does slice him open! Julian thought in horror.

As if on cue, Vail stepped up to do just that before glancing at him and requesting his comb back. Grinning, Julian tossed the fine implement to the mountain elf, knowing that on this, at least, they understood one another.

Walking over to Aevar then, he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered "So, what do you think of all this prophecy stuff anyway?"


Location: Room | With: Everyone | Mood: Curious




Julian furtively made eye contact with the healer as she entered the room, registering the glare.

It isn't like I'm the one threatening him with a knife, he thought ruefully. Calm down.

He watched the elf's now-dry hair bounce back in an unruly fashion with a disdainful eyeroll. Amateur, he commented internally.

When the elf demolished the roll in a most undignified manner and then started babbling about wizards and bears and who knew what else, Julian quietly snorted into a hand.

Is he serious? There's no way he expects us to actually believe that, does he? he thought in bewilderment. At the bit about asking to come with them, the rogue rolled his eyes.

Buddy, you're in the prophecy- you're coming with us whether you want to or not, so you can quit it with the puppy-dog eyes.

He caught a quick silent exchange between Agathon and Antigone, but his attention was pulled back to the elf when Ms Grumpypants traded her dagger for her sword and proceeded to renew her threats.

Someone needs to stop her before she really does slice him open! Julian thought in horror.

As if on cue, Vail stepped up to do just that before glancing at him and requesting his comb back. Grinning, Julian tossed the fine implement to the mountain elf, knowing that on this, at least, they understood one another.

Walking over to Aevar then, he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered "So, what do you think of all this prophecy stuff anyway?"
 
THE HEALER
Aenwyn
Female - 97 - Gay

Midnight Paragon said:
"The wizard told me to come here!"
Click to expand...
Aenwyn blinked did a second prophetic person increase the likelihood this was real or decrease it? But as the elf continued, she realized, oh he was just high. Mushrooms, apparently. Prophetic all on their own. Wonderful. As if there weren’t enough crazy people on this “adventure” already. She ignored the rest of his rambles, knowing well enough to not listen to what those on these ‘trips’ said. Instead, she set her bag on the floor and went through it. Pulling out a needle, she stood, seeing that the previously silent woman was threatening him. About to chide her for expecting him to say anything of sense, the True Sovereign (and the start of this mess) spoke up.
Caffeinated Joy said:
"Nimue called him 'the last of us'. True tale or not, he's supposed to be here."
Click to expand...
Well, that’s what they needed. Hopefully, he wasn’t addicted to whatever he’d taken. Walking over to the bed, she bent around the aggressive woman, with a stern glance not to attack her, then turned to the blond. “Just a prick.” She assured as she stabbed the needle into his neck, the green of her magic healing it as soon as it left the skin. She stood stepping back to her bag to stare at the bloody tip. First, she ran her magic over it, then with a frown, she popped the needle into her mouth. Taking it out, she reported to the others, “He should come down soon. Whatever “mushrooms” he took, they’re out of his bloodstream now."
Location: Biggest Room | With: Everyone | Mood: Matter-of-fact



Midnight Paragon said:
"The wizard told me to come here!"
Click to expand...
Aenwyn blinked did a second prophetic person increase the likelihood this was real or decrease it? But as the elf continued, she realized, oh he was just high. Mushrooms, apparently. Prophetic all on their own. Wonderful. As if there weren’t enough crazy people on this “adventure” already. She ignored the rest of his rambles, knowing well enough to not listen to what those on these ‘trips’ said. Instead, she set her bag on the floor and went through it. Pulling out a needle, she stood, seeing that the previously silent woman was threatening him. About to chide her for expecting him to say anything of sense, the True Sovereign (and the start of this mess) spoke up.
Caffeinated Joy said:
"Nimue called him 'the last of us'. True tale or not, he's supposed to be here."
Click to expand...
Well, that’s what they needed. Hopefully, he wasn’t addicted to whatever he’d taken. Walking over to the bed, she bent around the aggressive woman, with a stern glance not to attack her, then turned to the blond. “Just a prick.” She assured as she stabbed the needle into his neck, the green of her magic healing it as soon as it left the skin. She stood stepping back to her bag to stare at the bloody tip. First, she ran her magic over it, then with a frown, she popped the needle into her mouth. Taking it out, she reported to the others, “He should come down soon. Whatever “mushrooms” he took, they’re out of his bloodstream now."
 
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THE SORCERESS
Marnie Sapphire
Female - 84 - Bisexual

One thing after another, bringing more questions than answers. Marnie had expected some relief, being away from the other tavern patrons. Instead, she found herself watching a circus unfold. Marnie walked in the moment Julian poured a jug of water on the new elf’s head? Was it some form of torture? Though a pitcher of water would only be an annoyance.

The elf on the bed then went on a rave, claiming a wizard had told him to come here. Another prophet? Or perhaps the events unfolding were so certain that it creates a strong vision? Aenwyn had set her bag by the bed. Then proceeded to move herself as best as she could around Myara and Vail, who were towering over the poor elf.

Marnie sensed a light use of her healing magic through the needle. The healer then frowned. It seems whatever she was looking for wasn’t there.“He should come down soon. Whatever “mushrooms” he took, they’re out of his bloodstream now."

Would he? If the bard’s high-strung attribute wasn’t caused by mushrooms, perhaps that was how he’s always been. Marnie shuddered.

“You’ll catch a cold with those damp clothes and bedding,” she said quietly. She stepped beside Vail. With a simple wave of her fingers, she removed the remaining dampness from the bard’s clothes and bed. The water obeyed her. Droplets separated themselves from the fibers of the sheets and wool, and flowed into the used water basin.

"talk talk talk"
think think think

Location: Big room | With: Everyone | Mood: Concerned

One thing after another, bringing more questions than answers. Marnie had expected some relief, being away from the other tavern patrons. Instead, she found herself watching a circus unfold. Marnie walked in the moment Julian poured a jug of water on the new elf’s head? Was it some form of torture? Though a pitcher of water would only be an annoyance.


The elf on the bed then went on a rave, claiming a wizard had told him to come here. Another prophet? Or perhaps the events unfolding were so certain that it creates a strong vision? Aenwyn had set her bag by the bed. Then proceeded to move herself as best as she could around Myara and Vail, who were towering over the poor elf.


Marnie sensed a light use of her healing magic through the needle. The healer then frowned. It seems whatever she was looking for wasn’t there.“He should come down soon. Whatever “mushrooms” he took, they’re out of his bloodstream now."


Would he? If the bard’s high-strung attribute wasn’t caused by mushrooms, perhaps that was how he’s always been. Marnie shuddered.


“You’ll catch a cold with those damp clothes and bedding,” she said quietly. She stepped beside Vail. With a simple wave of her fingers, she removed the remaining dampness from the bard’s clothes and bed. The water obeyed her. Droplets separated themselves from the fibers of the sheets and wool, and flowed into the used water basin.
 
Aevar.png


Aevar Istedir​

"I think," Aevar began, "true or not we're, going to have our parts to play. If it is real and true, no use trying to fight it, only make it worse. If its not, first mistake they make we tie them up and turn them in and get whatever we can from them." However, from the mushroom wizard to making a deal with a bear of all things, what the boy was saying didn't make much sense. Then again, he was told to come here to meet the True Sovereign. So perhaps there was some truth to it all. But what was that sigil all about?

"Myara, please don't kill everyone who knows who the True Sovereign is, I'm sure the world would be a duller place without you in it." He said first to the silver haired swordswoman before turning his head towards the healer.

"Or there were none in him to begin with. Some people simply are that way."

"Kash, is it? If I were you, I'd take a deep breath, calm down, and thank Vail here for saving you from being gutted by his trusted guard." He spoke as the water elf did her magic and dried him. "And then perhaps you can help us find a way to make this look like we didn't bring you up here to kill you, and then threatened you to keep silent."
 
THE FEMALE DRUID
Antigone
Female - 29 - Straight

Antigone looked around the room, taking stock of everyone.

Myara resolutely held her sword to Kash’s throat, in spite of more than one person asking her to stop. Antigone understood her reluctance, given the strange elf’s rambunctious entrance. Vail was remarkably calm, and level-headed, given the danger this potentially put him in. Nimue, the poor girl, was looking rather shell-shocked, and fragile, as if she would break into a thousand pieces if startled. Julian, typically, didn’t seem to be taking any of this seriously, concerned more with appearance than anything else, and when he soaked the bard, and the bed with water, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. At least he somehow managed to miss the sweetroll so Kash could eat it. Then the healer jabbed Kash with a needle, evidently testing him for these mushrooms.

Antigone watched with interest as Marnie drew the water from Kash’s hair and clothing. It was fascinating. Similar to what her brother could do, but different in method. She wondered if Marnie would be able to help Aggie with the water aspect of his elemental magic. She was honestly proud of what he had done earlier today. Slowly but surely, he was realizing his own potential. Aevar spoke up then, suggesting to Kash that he thank Vail for saving his life. Frankly, the situation here was becoming a bit of circus. As much as she wanted Myara to put her sword away, the last thing the swordswoman needed was someone else telling her what to do. One thing Antigone could do, was put everyone’s mind at ease about these mushrooms, and she also had an idea; one she hoped would help everyone relax a bit so they could determine for themselves if Kash was telling the truth. As strange as it was, she believed him. It was just too strange to be made up.

She met Aggie’s gaze as he nudged her and saw the look of disbelief there. She raised her eyebrows in response and reached out to pat his arm reassuringly. Whatever happened, or whatever any of them believed, Nimue said this strange, new elf was supposed to be there, so they had to make the best of it.

“The mushrooms are a real thing.” She announced to the group. “In fact, as hard as they are to find, they’re commonly used by seers and hedge witches or hedge wizards to open their gift to whatever messages they’re supposed to receive. You, Nimue, are among a unique few who don’t need help from hallucinogenic fungi. Your visions come to you without them. This is good, because they’re very addictive.” She stepped forward, to a spot with more room, reaching into her bag for some wheatgrass she had stored there. Her fingers sifted through them carefully for the best ones. Everything in her bag was grown by her, and still clung to a bit of the life she had magically given them. They would work, just fine. “Kash isn’t under the influence of these mushrooms. He’d be hard pressed to even stay upright if he was. Half the reason why you can barely understand anything most seers say is because they can hardly speak, and when they come down from their high, they don’t remember much. Now. I have an idea, but I must do something first. Give me a moment, and, please, don’t interrupt me, whatever you do.”

She knelt on the floor and took a deep breath, letting it go between pursed lips, then focused her magic into the long blades of grass in her hands, forcing the strands to lengthen and grow stronger, while maintaining their flexibility. Her tattoos glowed with a soft light, helping her focus her power. Doing magic like this was a bit like walking a tightrope. It was a fine balancing act. Make it too supple, and it wouldn’t hold strong, make it too strong, and it wouldn’t bend enough to be of any use. She had done this several times since coming into her abilities, but she still had to concentrate. Her fingers gently pulled at the greenery, guiding it into long, rope like strands, while her lips moved soundlessly in a druidic chant, until she had two coils of thick, strong, green rope in front of her.

“Here.” Antigone held them up to whoever would take them, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her face and shoulders. “Tie him up. Hands and feet. This won’t break easily. He’ll have to be a lot stronger than he is. Then, he can’t escape, and Myara can put her sword away until you are satisfied he’s telling the truth.”
Location: Room| With: Everyone| Mood: Mother Earth, grant me patience.


The Female Druid - Antigone

I am here: Room
With: Everyone
Mood: Mother Earth, grant me patience.

Antigone looked around the room, taking stock of everyone.

Myara resolutely held her sword to Kash’s throat, in spite of more than one person asking her to stop. Antigone understood her reluctance, given the strange elf’s rambunctious entrance. Vail was remarkably calm, and level-headed, given the danger this potentially put him in. Nimue, the poor girl, was looking rather shell-shocked, and fragile, as if she would break into a thousand pieces if startled. Julian, typically, didn’t seem to be taking any of this seriously, concerned more with appearance than anything else, and when he soaked the bard, and the bed with water, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. At least he somehow managed to miss the sweetroll so Kash could eat it. Then the healer jabbed Kash with a needle, evidently testing him for these mushrooms.

Antigone watched with interest as Marnie drew the water from Kash’s hair and clothing. It was fascinating. Similar to what her brother could do, but different in method. She wondered if Marnie would be able to help Aggie with the water aspect of his elemental magic. She was honestly proud of what he had done earlier today. Slowly but surely, he was realizing his own potential. Aevar spoke up then, suggesting to Kash that he thank Vail for saving his life. Frankly, the situation here was becoming a bit of circus. As much as she wanted Myara to put her sword away, the last thing the swordswoman needed was someone else telling her what to do. One thing Antigone could do, was put everyone’s mind at ease about these mushrooms, and she also had an idea; one she hoped would help everyone relax a bit so they could determine for themselves if Kash was telling the truth. As strange as it was, she believed him. It was just too strange to be made up.

She met Aggie’s gaze as he nudged her and saw the look of disbelief there. She raised her eyebrows in response and reached out to pat his arm reassuringly. Whatever happened, or whatever any of them believed, Nimue said this strange, new elf was supposed to be there, so they had to make the best of it.

“The mushrooms are a real thing.” She announced to the group. “In fact, as hard as they are to find, they’re commonly used by seers and hedge witches or hedge wizards to open their gift to whatever messages they’re supposed to receive. You, Nimue, are among a unique few who don’t need help from hallucinogenic fungi. Your visions come to you without them. This is good, because they’re very addictive.” She stepped forward, to a spot with more room, reaching into her bag for some wheatgrass she had stored there. Her fingers sifted through them carefully for the best ones. Everything in her bag was grown by her, and still clung to a bit of the life she had magically given them. They would work, just fine. “Kash isn’t under the influence of these mushrooms. He’d be hard pressed to even stay upright if he was. Half the reason why you can barely understand anything most seers say is because they can hardly speak, and when they come down from their high, they don’t remember much. He’s far too energetic and clear in his speech. Now. I have an idea, but I must do something first. Give me a moment, and, please, don’t interrupt me, whatever you do.”

She knelt on the floor and took a deep breath, letting it go between pursed lips, then focused her magic into the long blades of grass in her hands, forcing the strands to lengthen and grow stronger, while maintaining their flexibility. Her tattoos glowed with a soft light, helping her focus her power. Doing magic like this was a bit like walking a tightrope. It was a fine balancing act. Make it too supple, and it wouldn’t hold strong, make it too strong, and it wouldn’t bend enough to be of any use. She had done this several times since coming into her abilities, but she still had to concentrate. Her fingers gently pulled at the greenery, guiding it into long, rope like strands, while her lips moved soundlessly in a druidic chant, until she had two coils of thick, strong, green rope in front of her.

“Here.” Antigone held them up to whoever would take them, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her face and shoulders. “Tie him up. Hands and feet. This won’t break easily. He’ll have to be a lot stronger than he is. Then, he can’t escape, and Myara can put her sword away until you are satisfied he’s telling the truth.”
 
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THE HEALER
Aenwyn
Female - 97 - Gay

Aenwyn shrugged, unrepentant. “I never stop hoping to be able to fix them,” meaning those whose personality was…extreme. Besides, it provided her with a quick summary of the man. She knew he was dehydrated from his drinking last night and was partially annoyed he seemed to avoid the resulting hangover. Based on his blood, he’d likely drunk until he’d passed out. He’d never learn without consequences.

If she was going on this ‘quest’ then she’d need to get a baseline for everyone. As well as look out for those silent stressors. Nimue might be her main concern, with that curse. It may be the source of her visions, but Aenwyn refused to let it continue harming the girl. Surely there was a cure. Still, the others’ health mattered and she would not neglect her duty.

As Antigone confirmed the elf’s words, Aenwyn’s eyes widened. That sounded disastrous. Even with the mushrooms themselves did not addict, the desire to know would. The healer wasn’t sure knowing the future was that beneficial. Would one stop trying if they saw they’d succeed? Or what if they failed? Would they give up or try harder anyway? Shaking her head, she watched the girl kneel. The power emanating from her was beautiful. Aenwyn knew she was staring, but she could not help it. A blush settled on her face, and she attempted to ignore it as the druid offered the newly formed rope to the room.

Location: there | With: them | Mood: this

 











THE MALE DRUID


Agathon


Male - 26 - Bisexual




Agathon’s heart plummeted. He strove to keep his face neutral as he watched the previously untouched water happy to obey the sorceress’s magic. In seconds she managed the kind of dry one would usually only manage out in the sun for hours. For those moments, he knew he was soon to be replaced. Especially if all the elements came to the elf so easily. Forcing air through his lungs, he reasoned with himself. He already knew his weakness. It was a boon to have a more powerful mage to help protect Nimue as well as Antigone. It wouldn’t change anything. He’d already decided to give everything for his sister. And in turn, she’d never abandoned him, even when he was a more pathetic child. The least he could do was trust her.

Meeting her eyes brought a smile to his face, causing him to relax despite himself. More than powerful, Antigone was smart. It was thanks to her wits they even survived long enough to find the druids. He trusted her to calm this situation down. He was a very poor druid for not knowing the existence of these mushrooms, but once again she was just what was needed. He wouldn’t let her, but he wondered if she could fulfill this prophecy on her own. He scoffed mentally, no, it’d be too much like a role their parents played. She’d at least need Vail.

As she knelt, Agathon moved forward, casually placing himself between her and the others. He made sure to keep relaxed as if it was merely a habit that caused him to move. As if he trusted everyone. As expected, the growth came easily, her tattoos glowing under her power. He was no longer a jealous child, but he wished he could watch her. Instead, he studied each of his new companions, making sure they understood what an honor it was to see her work.

Wordlessly, he took the rope from her. Taking a few steps, he turned and offered the rope to Myara, “Would you like to do the honors, my lady?” He figured she wouldn’t be content unless she did it herself.


Location: there | With: them | Mood: this



Agathon’s heart plummeted. He strove to keep his face neutral as he watched the previously untouched water happy to obey the sorceress’s magic. In seconds she managed the kind of dry one would usually only manage out in the sun for hours. For those moments, he knew he was soon to be replaced. Especially if all the elements came to the elf so easily. Forcing air through his lungs, he reasoned with himself. He already knew his weakness. It was a boon to have a more powerful mage to help protect Nimue as well as Antigone. It wouldn’t change anything. He’d already decided to give everything for his sister. And in turn, she’d never abandoned him, even when he was a more pathetic child. The least he could do was trust her.

Meeting her eyes brought a smile to his face, causing him to relax despite himself. More than powerful, Antigone was smart. It was thanks to her wits they even survived long enough to find the druids. He trusted her to calm this situation down. He was a very poor druid for not knowing the existence of these mushrooms, but once again she was just what was needed. He wouldn’t let her, but he wondered if she could fulfill this prophecy on her own. He scoffed mentally, no, it’d be too much like a role their parents played. She’d at least need Vail.

As she knelt, Agathon moved forward, casually placing himself between her and the others. He made sure to keep relaxed as if it was merely a habit that caused him to move. As if he trusted everyone. As expected, the growth came easily, her tattoos glowing under her power. He was no longer a jealous child, but he wished he could watch her. Instead, he studied each of his new companions, making sure they understood what an honor it was to see her work.

Wordlessly, he took the rope from her. Taking a few steps, he turned and offered the rope to Myara, “Would you like to do the honors, my lady?” He figured she wouldn’t be content unless she did it herself.
 











THE SELLSWORD


Myara Etyana Valar


Female - 28 - Gay



When Vail asked her to stop and stated that this ridiculous elf was, apparently, supposed to be there like the rest of them, she groaned aloud. The others, I can sort of understand, but him? she thought incredulously.

She watched Aenwyn perform a quick test for whatever substance she imagined him to have imbibed. Myara watched the healer jab a needle into the elf's neck without the least amount of compunction, and her lips pressed into the thinnest of smiles.

Marnie removed the water from Kash's clothes with a flick of her hand and no small amount of skill, and Myara blinked slowly, features schooled into smoothness despite her wonder- magic had always both terrified and amazed her in equal amounts.

At the prince's comment about things looking like the elf was brought up here to be threatened into silence, Myara couldn't deny that that was precisely what she'd had in mind, but still- having this conversation in a private room had to be better than out in the middle of the bar.

When Antigone stepped forward to share information in that calm, assured manner of hers, Myara was grateful for the grounded balance she provided the group. She watched in amazement as the druid knelt and enchanted blades of grass into long, sinuous ropes, the tattoos marbling her skin glowing with earthly power.

Well, that's handy, the mercenary thought drily as the druid's brother handed her the ropes.

"Myara," she corrected him, unnerved by the use of a title as she sheathed her weapon and turned back to the elf.

"Don't struggle," she instructed menacingly. "Vail may not consider you a threat, and the prophet might think you belong here, but until we get your story straightened out I don't want you making any unnecessary movements- got it?"

She glared at the elf as she tied his feet together and his hands behind his back, being none too gentle about it.


Location: Room | With: Everyone | Mood: Grumpy



When Vail asked her to stop and stated that this ridiculous elf was, apparently, supposed to be there like the rest of them, she groaned aloud. The others, I can sort of understand, but him? she thought incredulously.

She watched Aenwyn perform a quick test for whatever substance she imagined him to have imbibed. Myara watched the healer jab a needle into the elf's neck without the least amount of compunction, and her lips pressed into the thinnest of smiles.

Marnie removed the water from Kash's clothes with a flick of her hand and no small amount of skill, and Myara blinked slowly, features schooled into smoothness despite her wonder- magic had always both terrified and amazed her in equal amounts.

At the prince's comment about things looking like the elf was brought up here to be threatened into silence, Myara couldn't deny that that was precisely what she'd had in mind, but still- having this conversation in a private room had to be better than out in the middle of the bar.

When Antigone stepped forward to share information in that calm, assured manner of hers, Myara was grateful for the grounded balance she provided the group. She watched in amazement as the druid knelt and enchanted blades of grass into long, sinuous ropes, the tattoos marbling her skin glowing with earthly power.

Well, that's handy, the mercenary thought drily as the druid's brother handed her the ropes.

"Myara," she corrected him, unnerved by the use of a title as she sheathed her weapon and turned back to the elf.

"Don't struggle," she instructed menacingly. "Vail may not consider you a threat, and the prophet might think you belong here, but until we get your story straightened out I don't want you making any unnecessary movements- got it?"

She glared at the elf as she tied his feet together and his hands behind his back, being none too gentle about it.
 
THE ORACLE
Nimue
Female - 22 - Bisexual

Once Nimue arrived at their bedroom, she saw Myara fling Kash onto one of the beds, knife on his throat and began her interrogation.

“Myara, he’s-”

Nimue parted her lips, about to speak, as Julian dumped water on the bard’s head. From there, one thing led to another, the silent room was now a cacophony of chaos. Their newcomer sprang up in animation, and told his tale of a wizard telling him to come here, to find the True Sovereign.

'Another sees the visions as well.' Nimue dreaded at the thought. If there were others with the same visions of the True Sovereign, perhaps they should move on from this tavern soon.

Aenwyn made a quick test to make sure Kash wasn’t under external influence, while Marnie helped dry his clothes, effortless displacing water from the fabrics to the basin. Nimue quietly placed her food by the table, unsure how to integrate herself into the scene as others had already decided their actions.

“The mushrooms are a real thing.”Antigone explained to the group. “In fact, as hard as they are to find, they’re commonly used by seers and hedge witches or hedge wizards to open their gift to whatever messages they’re supposed to receive. You, Nimue, are among a unique few who don’t need help from hallucinogenic fungi. Your visions come to you without them. This is good, because they’re very addictive.”

Nimue blushed. It was the first time someone spoke of her abilities in a positive light. Earlier Marnie had asked how she knew that Kash was meant to be with the group. She couldn’t answer, but it was one of the few things in her mind right now, that she was certain.

Antigone then went quiet. Slowly the blades of grass in her palm grew and thickened, transformed into rope, which was used to tie Kash up.

“Please, enough!” Nimue finally cried, her patience with the situation was wearing thin. Catching herself, she inhaled a deep breath. "You all may continue to question, Kash, but we shouldn't linger here any longer. I'm concerned that I may not be the only one with visions of the True Sovereign."

talk talk talk
think think think

Location: Big bedroom| With: Everyone | Mood: Anxious, afraid



Once Nimue arrived at their bedroom, she saw Myara fling Kash onto one of the beds, knife on his throat and began her interrogation.

“Myara, he’s-”

Nimue parted her lips, about to speak, as Julian dumped water on the bard’s head. From there, one thing led to another, the silent room was now a cacophony of chaos. Their newcomer sprang up in animation, and told his tale of a wizard telling him to come here, to find the True Sovereign.

'Another sees the visions as well.' Nimue dreaded at the thought. If there were others with the same visions of the True Sovereign, perhaps they should move on from this tavern soon.

Aenwyn made a quick test to make sure Kash wasn’t under external influence, while Marnie helped dry his clothes, effortless displacing water from the fabrics to the basin. Nimue quietly placed her food by the table, unsure how to integrate herself into the scene as others had already decided their actions.

“The mushrooms are a real thing.”Antigone explained to the group. “In fact, as hard as they are to find, they’re commonly used by seers and hedge witches or hedge wizards to open their gift to whatever messages they’re supposed to receive. You, Nimue, are among a unique few who don’t need help from hallucinogenic fungi. Your visions come to you without them. This is good, because they’re very addictive.”

Nimue blushed. It was the first time someone spoke of her abilities in a positive light. Earlier Marnie had asked how she knew that Kash was meant to be with the group. She couldn’t answer, but it was one of the few things in her mind right now, that she was certain.

Antigone then went quiet. Slowly the blades of grass in her palm grew and thickened, transformed into rope, which was used to tie Kash up.

“Please, enough!” Nimue finally cried, her patience with the situation was wearing thin. Catching herself, she inhaled a deep breath. "You all may continue to question, Kash, but we shouldn't linger here any longer. I'm concerned that I'm not the only one with visions of the True Sovereign."
 
The Bard - Kash

When the tall and angry woman seized his clothes again and pulled him in close, Kash couldn't help the frisson of apprehension that ran down his spine, despite the ridiculousness of the situation. That crimson stare just had a way of electrifying you- even if it was because the mercenary had a hair-trigger temper when it came to threats on Vail's life, and she was pressing the tip of her longsword uncomfortably into Kash's stomach.

The elf's absurd self-confidence prevented him from feeling any real fear, but he was nervous nonetheless, and grateful for Vail's even-tempered intercession in his favor.

He wasn't too sure what the mountain elf meant by him being 'supposed to be here', but he was relieved by it nonetheless. He was also grateful for the comb, useless as they tended to be on the bird's nest that sat atop his head- it was the thought that counted.

The stern-looking female elf with the dark hair then approached him, needle in hand. Kash didn't like needles, but he didn't have much choice in the matter as she pricked him perfunctorily in the neck to check that he hadn't, in fact, ingested the mushrooms the Heir had accused him of eating.

He was also quite grateful to the gentle waterelf for getting the water from his clothing, as he went from shivering slightly to feeling pleasantly fluffy and warm.

"Thank you," he murmured.

He then caught the voice of the impressive barbarian warrior, who seemed to be rather concerned with what the patrons of the bar downstairs would be thinking about their dramatic exit.

"Well, I'd assume that if you bring me back downstairs alive, that'd be likely to convince them," the Bard sensibly suggested.

He then turned at the sound of the druid's voice and the sight of her magic, eyes widening at the mention of a prophet, starting to feel that familiar tingle at the back of his head. There's an adventure here, he thought.

He was so busy staring between Nimue and Antigone in awe that he didn't even register that she was making a rope until the Mercenary had him trussed up like a sausage.

"Well, I must say," the bard quipped in spite of himself, "when I imagined a beautiful woman tying me up on a bed, this wasn't quite what I had in mind." Which, while it seemed to amuse one or two of the others, earned him a long-suffering look from the white-haired bodyguard.

"Uh, I mean, got it," he apologetically corrected, not wanting to anger her further.

It was then that he heard the supposed prophet speak for the first time- her voice was soft, like a breeze in the grass, even when upset. She seemed to think they were in danger, and should leave the tavern at once.

Kash felt a shiver of premonition down his spine- of actual fear, this time. He had good instincts about people and things- it was what made him so good at finding people with great stories to tell. And right now, based on the Prophet's pronouncement, his instincts were telling him to run.​
 
THE HEALER
Aenwyn
Female - 97 - Gay

Myara quickly trussed up the elf as efficiently as a chef did a chicken. Aenwyn already knew that sort of thing was not her kink, the woman’s efficiency definitely was. It was not as distracting as the druid’s magic though, so she focused on the oddly calm elf once more. Though she was rough in her knots, she didn’t cause undue harm. Blood could still flow into his hands and feet, and nothing was sprained as she forced the limbs into position.

It was a relief, though she knew it might simply be her lack of familiarity with Aenwyn’s gift. The healer often traveled alone, but the few times she had not, those companions had abused her gift. Trusting her to heal anything, threats were followed through more easily. Damage to others became meaningless to them. The sadists would enjoy the pain, and Aenwyn had to--

Nimue’s cry pulled her attention directly to her patient, the rest of the room ignored. Striding to her side, she placed a glowing hand on her forehead. “Did you have another vision?” Perhaps the curse let through painless sights. The seer had been quiet beyond her first protest against Myara’s threat. Had she frozen in a seizure then? She lacked the data to know what the norm was. Resting a hand against her forehead, she sent a soothing wave of her magic through her system. There did not seem to be inflammation of her brain like before, nor were the muscles strained as if locked.

Turning back to the masses, she supported Nimue’s protest. “We’re all trusting each other based solely on the chickadee’s word. Why not him?” She looked over the colorful figure, not caring if he joined or not. What she did care about was her reputation as a safe haven in this town. Merely coming down healthy would mean little, but “You’ll speak with the barkeep. I promised that on the way up.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair, messing it up. “But merely coming down healthy wouldn’t stop us from threatening you into silence. Though your lack of screams has helped. Even saying you’ll come with us, would not work; the townsfolk would assume you prisoner.” Whatever sounded the juiciest would spread the furthest.

If she believed in destiny, his frantic pleas of deciphering the sigil he had thrust into Vail’s face were likely connected. “Did his symbol mean anything to you Lordy?” She turned to face the future king to show who she meant. Maybe it would explain why they'd need a bard to join them on their "Saving the World" adventure.

Location: Big Bedroom | With: Them | Mood: So done



Myara quickly trussed up the elf as efficiently as a chef did a chicken. Aenwyn already knew that sort of thing was not her kink, the woman’s efficiency definitely was. It was not as distracting as the druid’s magic though, so she focused on the oddly calm elf once more. Though she was rough in her knots, she didn’t cause undue harm. Blood could still flow into his hands and feet, and nothing was sprained as she forced the limbs into position.

It was a relief, though she knew it might simply be her lack of familiarity with Aenwyn’s gift. The healer often traveled alone, but the few times she had not, those companions had abused her gift. Trusting her to heal anything, threats were followed through more easily. Damage to others became meaningless to them. The sadists would enjoy the pain, and Aenwyn had to--

Nimue’s cry pulled her attention directly to her patient, the rest of the room ignored. Striding to her side, she placed a glowing hand on her forehead. “Did you have another vision?” Perhaps the curse let through painless sights. The seer had been quiet beyond her first protest against Myara’s threat. Had she frozen in a seizure then? She lacked the data to know what the norm was. Resting a hand against her forehead, she sent a soothing wave of her magic through her system. There did not seem to be inflammation of her brain like before, nor were the muscles strained as if locked.

Turning back to the masses, she supported Nimue’s protest. “We’re all trusting each other based solely on the chickadee’s word. Why not him?” She looked over the colorful figure, not caring if he joined or not. What she did care about was her reputation as a safe haven in this town. Merely coming down healthy would mean little, but “You’ll speak with the barkeep. I promised that on the way up.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair, messing it up. “But merely coming down healthy wouldn’t stop us from threatening you into silence. Though your lack of screams has helped. Even saying you’ll come with us, would not work; the townsfolk would assume you prisoner.” Whatever sounded the juiciest would spread the furthest.

If she believed in destiny, his frantic pleas of deciphering the sigil he had thrust into Vail’s face were likely connected. “Did his symbol mean anything to you Lordy?” She turned to face the future king to show who she meant. Maybe it would explain why they'd need a bard to join them on their "Saving the World" adventure.
 
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THE TRUE SOVEREIGN
Vail Fairfax
Male - 84 - Bisexual

Vail watched Marnie pull the water from Kash’s clothing, hair, and the bedding beneath him. Everyone watched her with varying degrees of awe, and it brought a proud smile to his face. Her magic felt like summer’s spent in the lake, warm and flowing. He closed his eyes briefly to let the soothing, familiar feeling wash over him, remembering better times with her and their friends. The more events unfolded around him, the more he felt like, as cliché as it was, he’d wake up in his bed in Selone and find this was nothing but a horrible nightmare. His father would barely let him get dressed and downstairs before throwing a weapon at him for practice, followed by several hours of tutelage on subjects he couldn’t think of a reason why he’d need knowledge of.

He opened his eyes when he heard Antigone speak in a low, soothing tone, as if well acquainted with calming a potential riot. The mushrooms Kash rambled on about were apparently real. And addictive. No wonder every story he’d ever heard about seers and oracles made them out to be less than sane. He opened his mouth to ask if psychoses were a common side effect of this addiction, but stopped when he felt her magic. Curiously, he watched her pull and twist strands of grass, tilting his head as the smell of green, growing things filled the air, and the tattoos covering her skin glowed softly. He glanced at her brother, standing in front of her protectively, and wondered if he had similar tattoos, and if this was what the druids got them for.

“Remarkable.” He whispered softly.

When Agathon took the coil of rope Antigone suddenly offered up, and then offered it to Myara, he shook his head. “No, wait a minute…” he started, but Myara had Kash flipped over and hog tied before he could fully articulate his thought.

"Well, I must say, when I imagined a beautiful woman tying me up on a bed, this wasn't quite what I had in mind." Kash quipped.

Vail hid a cough of laughter behind his fist and cleared his throat softly. Once again, he opened his mouth to speak, but Nimue surprised them all with an outburst admonishing them all and expressing her concern for their well-being, considering his newly discovered identity was no longer a well-kept secret, thanks to Kash’s outburst.

“Nimue, you’re right, of course, about lingering, but I really don’t think there’s too much cause to panic, yet.” He said softly, taking a step toward her. “I don’t imagine much of this to be common knowledge among humans. The war that split Kalais was 700 years ago. It’s long enough for me. It’s the time of my father’s youth. For humans it was the time of their 7 times great grandparents. The story of the True Sovereign is, for most, just that. A story. We know it’s true but be honest with yourselves. Before today, if anyone mentioned ‘True Sovereign’ to you, most of you would have rolled your eyes and called it the desperate hope of the downtrodden.”

Aenwyn placed a hand on the oracle’s forehead. Her magic was warm, and comforting in a way Aenwyn didn’t seem to show outwardly, but Vail couldn’t imagine any healer lacking in either. Her actions gave her away in the way she attended to her patients. At least to him they did.

He blinked in surprise when she addressed him, laughing lightly, “Lordy?” he asked. “Well, I suppose it’s something I’ll have to get used to, though I’d like you all to called me Vail. That’s still my name, at least, even if my last name was always a lie.” He looked at Kash. “I didn’t get a very good look at this seal, unfortunately. First though, let me just say, as much as I understand everyone’s concern, I’m not at all convinced tying Kash up was completely necessary. Especially with Nimue confirming he’s supposed to join us. Aenwyn’s right. We accepted each other without question when Nimue said we had to work together. Why not him? So, Kash overheard us. He’s an elf. We have excellent hearing. If you don’t want an elf one or two tables over to overhear you, you need to whisper quietly enough to make it difficult for you to hear each other. Yes, he was a little exuberant in his approach, but we only drew more attention to us with our reaction.”

He looked around the bed, spotting the paper on the floor nearby, evidently discarded in the process of being tossed down and trussed up like a pig going to slaughter. He picked it up and studied it. It was a heraldic seal of some kind, displaying the intricate branches of an elvish oak tree, with a familiar sword in the centre. He studied the cross guards and made a soft grunt of discovery. “This is the heraldic depiction of Kingsword. Look.” He pulled his father’s journal out of his bag and flipped through it, stopping to stab his finger at a drawing of a sword very similar to the one on Kash’s paper, only more ornate. “This is the symbol of the Altaine royal family and would have been in their personal device in some manner. I could - very poorly - draw the device of King Eldritch, his wife and their children. My father drilled them into me, and I didn't ever know why. I suppose I do now. A simpler version is used by people in service to the royal family. Look, here are the dragons on the cross-guards.” He tapped the drawing, and then the seal, to draw attention to them both, then drew Kingsword to show them the sword he carried with the same cross-guards. “The oak, if I remember correctly, represents strength and endurance. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen this seal, but still, there’s something…maybe a story I heard? I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”

He sheathed Kingsword and held up the paper, “Kash. Where did you get this seal? Why ask me if I know what it is?”

Location: Big room| With: Everyone | Mood: Why is everyone staring at me now? Ugh. Right. Long lost prince.


The True Sovereign - Vail Fairfax
I am here: Big bedroom
With: Everyone.
Mood: Why is everyone staring at me now? Ugh. Right. Long lost prince.

Vail watched Marnie pull the water from Kash’s clothing, hair, and the bedding beneath him. Everyone watched her with varying degrees of awe, and it brought a proud smile to his face. Her magic felt like summer’s spent in the lake, warm and flowing. He closed his eyes briefly to let the soothing, familiar feeling wash over him, remembering better times with her and their friends. The more events unfolded around him, the more he felt like, as cliché as it was, he’d wake up in his bed in Selone and find this was nothing but a horrible nightmare. His father would barely let him get dressed and downstairs before throwing a weapon at him for practice, followed by several hours of tutelage on subjects he couldn’t think of a reason why he’d need knowledge of.

He opened his eyes when he heard Antigone speak in a low, soothing tone, as if well acquainted with calming a potential riot. The mushrooms Kash rambled on about were apparently real. And addictive. No wonder every story he’d ever heard about seers and oracles made them out to be less than sane. He opened his mouth to ask if psychoses were a common side effect of this addiction, but stopped when he felt her magic. Curiously, he watched her pull and twist strands of grass, tilting his head as the smell of green, growing things filled the air, and the tattoos covering her skin glowed softly. He glanced at her brother, standing in front of her protectively, and wondered if he had similar tattoos, and if this was what the druids got them for.

“Remarkable.” He whispered softly.

When Agathon took the coil of rope Antigone suddenly offered up, and then offered it to Myara, he shook his head. ““No, wait a minute…” he started, but Myara had Kash flipped over and hog tied before he could fully articulate his thought.

"Well, I must say, when I imagined a beautiful woman tying me up on a bed, this wasn't quite what I had in mind." Kash quipped.

Vail hid a cough of laughter behind his fist and cleared his throat softly. Once again, he opened his mouth to speak, but Nimue surprised them all with an outburst admonishing them all and expressing her concern for their well-being, considering his newly discovered identity was no longer a well-kept secret, thanks to Kash’s outburst.

“Nimue, you’re right, of course, about lingering, but I really don’t think there’s too much cause to panic, yet.” He said softly, taking a step toward her. “I don’t imagine much of this to be common knowledge among humans. The war that split Kalais was 700 years ago. It’s long enough for me. It’s the time of my father’s youth. For humans it was the time of their 7 times great grandparents. The story of the True Sovereign is, for most, just that. A story. We know it’s true but be honest with yourselves. Before today, if anyone mentioned ‘True Sovereign’ to you, most of you would have rolled your eyes and called it the desperate hope of the downtrodden.”

Aenwyn placed a hand on the oracle’s forehead. Her magic was warm, and comforting in a way Aenwyn didn’t seem to show outwardly, but Vail couldn’t imagine any healer lacking in either. Her actions gave her away in the way she attended to her patients. At least to him they did.

He blinked in surprise when she addressed him, laughing lightly, “Lordy?” he asked. “Well, I suppose it’s something I’ll have to get used to, though I’d like you all to called me Vail. That’s still my name, at least, even if my last name was always a lie.” He looked at Kash. “I didn’t get a very good look at this seal, unfortunately. First though, let me just say, as much as I understand everyone’s concern, I’m not at all convinced tying Kash up was completely necessary. Especially with Nimue confirming he’s supposed to join us. Aenwyn’s right. We accepted each other without question when Nimue said we had to work together. Why not him? So, Kash overheard us. He’s an elf. We have excellent hearing. If you don’t want an elf one or two tables over to overhear you, you need to whisper quietly enough to make it difficult for you to hear each other. Yes, he was a little exuberant in his approach, but we only drew more attention to us with our reaction.”

He looked around the bed, spotting the paper on the floor nearby, evidently discarded in the process of being tossed down and trussed up like a pig going to slaughter. He picked it up and studied it. It was a heraldic seal of some kind, displaying the intricate branches of an elvish oak tree, with a familiar sword in the centre. He studied the cross guards and made a soft grunt of discovery. “This is the heraldic depiction of Kingsword. Look.” He pulled his father’s journal out of his bag and flipped through it, stopping to stab his finger at a drawing of a sword very similar to the one on Kash’s paper, only more ornate. “This is the symbol of the Altaine royal family and would have been in their personal device in some manner. I could - very poorly - draw the device of King Eldritch, his wife and their children. My father drilled them into me, and I didn't ever know why. I suppose I do now. A simpler version is used by people in service to the royal family. Look, here are the dragons on the cross-guards.” He tapped the drawing, and then the seal, to draw attention to them both, then drew Kingsword to show them the sword he carried with the same cross-guards. “The oak, if I remember correctly, represents strength and endurance. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen this seal, but still, there’s something…maybe a story I heard? I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”

He sheathed Kingsword and held up the paper, “Kash. Where did you get this seal? Why ask me if I know what it is?”
 
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THE MALE DRUID


Agathon


Male - 26 - Bisexual




He nodded easily to the correction, “Agathon,” the druid said in return, attempting to ease the dismay he saw flash in those red eyes. He may not be as skilled with people as his sister, but he had learned to watch carefully for her safety. People's eyes rarely lied, unlike their lips. Up close, it was easy to see her unease then connect it to the title.

In hindsight, it was not surprising she did not like the moniker lady. ‘And she was anything but,’ he thought, recalling the poofy dresses and perfumes the ladies of his childhood wore. He remembered Julian, who even then primped as much as any lady and who'd even cross-dressed to great effect a couple of times, looking better in a dress than he had any right to and making several of the ladies green with envy.

He'd spent many an afternoon trying to convince Agathon (well, Declan back then) to let him work on him too, telling him that his natural beauty was wasted without care and the ladies would love it. Agathon had always refused- partly because he knew his sister wouldn't approve, but mostly out of a lack of self-confidence.

Then one day Julian had insisted so much and seemed so desperate that he had finally relented (it had always been harder for him to refuse Julian what he wanted than it was for his sister). Julian had wasted no time, either. He'd attacked Agathon's skin with a rough sponge, scouring away every speck of dirt and grime he could find.

It had been unpleasant, but complaining did no good, as every time he did Julian would simply respond with "Beauty is pain! As a man, you must endure!". He'd attacked his hair next- not just on his head, but everywhere else, and that part of the experience Agathon recalled more as torture than anything else, still wondering how on earth his friend could voluntarily do such things to himself on a regular basis.

After that came the clothes- a seemingly endless parade of outfits. With each one, Julian would have him stand in front of the mirror and evaluate him with a critical eye before sighing and saying "No, not this one," and tossing it to the floor. As the afternoon wore on it became difficult to see the carpet as it steadily vanished under an ever-growing pile of clothes, Julian becoming increasingly frustrated with every new attempt.

Finally, he had tossed a final outfit to the ground and cried out "Wait! I've got it! Wait right here!" before dashing out of the room, leaving Agathon standing there half-naked and very confused. He'd waited apprehensively for his friend to return, certain it could mean nothing good and, sure enough, when he finally re-entered the room, he had a brocaded, poofy dress cradled under his arm.

Agathon had slowly backed away at the sight.

"Julian, no..." he'd weakly protested as his friend advanced on him with the dress.

"I figured it out!" had been the enthusiastic response. "With your pretty face, this is going to look amazing on you!"

"I don't want to..."

"Oh come on, stop being a baby! I'll put one on too if it makes you feel better." And with that, he had fairly wrestled him into the dress. Even without resisting, Declan hadn’t known how to move to let him dress him. The garment was restrictive, and yet more open than a lot of the clothes he usually wore- the skirt had been an interesting surprise. After the initial shock, he'd meekly allowed his friend to deal with the numerous buttons and ribbons and layers that made up this complex garment, feeling a pang of sympathy for his sister, who'd been squeezed into one of these by their parents nearly every day.

It took so long to be done that he was completely lost in thought when Julian said, as if from far away, "And now, for the finishing touch..." He had turned his head to see, much to his horror, Julian approaching him with a makeup brush in hand.

"No, that's enough-" he'd protested. "I don't need makeup too."

"Oh come on, the look won't be complete without it. Now close your eyes."

"No, no way. And how do you even know how to put that stuff on anyway?"

Julian had just looked at him sardonically, and Agathon had realized that vain as he was, his friend had probably learned how to apply makeup as soon as he was old enough to hold a paintbrush.

"Now hold still..." he'd said and, before he quite knew what was going on, Julian had a hold of his face and had set to work. He had to admit the sensation of the soft, confident brushstrokes over his skin was quite pleasant, and he was able to lose himself in it until Julian released him and said "Okay, now you're ready, open your eyes."

Agathon had complied and let out a small gasp of surprise when he'd looked in the mirror. Looking back at him was not the scrawny boy no one ever saw (especially around his sister, who outshone all with her strength, her beauty, and her mere presence), but a beautiful girl with shining hair, perfect, beautifully painted skin, and a lovely dress. He'd blinked furiously a few times, wondering if he was seeing things, before catching Julian's grin in the mirror behind him.

"See?" his friend had proudly said, "you've always been beautiful- you just needed someone like me to help you bring it out."

And for a moment Agathon simply didn't know what to say. That moment didn't last long, however, as Antigone had then burst into the room in a towering rage- he had never seen his sister so angry before.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Valerius?!" she'd shouted, her rage directed at Julian. He'd put up his hands immediately.

"Look, I was just trying to show Declan how good-looking he is," he'd replied. "Help with his confidence a little." Antigone's eyes had glowed an iridescent blue, her powers tied to her emotions.

"You think you're going to help him with his confidence by teaching him how to cross-dress? Stop filling his head with your nonsense, Valerius- Declan doesn't need to be a baby-faced, empty-headed fool like you!"

And with that, she'd clamped her hand on Agathon's wrist and dragged him bodily from the room. Agathon had hung his head, suddenly ashamed.

"I'm sorry, sister," he'd been miserable. "I won't do it again..." Antigone had rounded on him then, and though he had known she was angry, he had seen another emotion in her eyes, underlying the anger. Fear. Even now he doubted his memories.

"Look," she'd sighed, her disappointment worse "I know you were just having fun, and I know Julian didn't mean anything by it, but you need to understand that, contrary to what that idiot would have you believe, there are more important things than the way you look, Dec." He had nodded, feeling foolish.

"I just don't want to see you putting stock in the wrong thing and misjudging your own worth," she'd continued in a softer voice as she released his wrist, meeting his eyes with her own. "You are beautiful, baby brother, but not because you can put on makeup or wear a dress. It's because of who you are, and I don't ever want you to lose that, okay?"

Agathon had nodded again, a lump in his throat, and had never let Julian near him with a dress or a makeup brush again. And all this time, he had tried to hold onto his sister's words even though, in his heart, he still had trouble believing them.

Shaking off his memories, he saw the soldier had tied the man up; efficiently enough that it must have been a practiced move. Was she a head hunter, capturing bounties as they came? Or did she regularly lose her shit over threats to Vail? Is that why the true sovereign seemed more resigned over her behavior? He didn’t like the idea of a loose cannon near Antigone, but if that protectiveness could cover his sister, then he’d approve of the help.

Nimue said:
“Please, enough!”
Click to expand...
The seer interrupted any future threats, with a warning. Instantly it felt like ice was piercing his veins, crystalizing his blood. With his heart pounding, but expressionless, he moved to the window. Leaning against the wall beside it, he surveyed the street below. It was starting to fill as the sun rose, leaving little space for idle folk. But he cared not for those who followed their daily patterns, he was looking for that specific movement of one with a mission. A hunter. Just as if they were looking for the fauna within a forest, a hunter of men moved the same. Purposeful and direct.

None stood out; few were even entering the inn, those who broke their fasts having started to leave. He relaxed his shoulders, letting his sister know they were as safe as they ever were, especially as close to their parents as they were. He leaned against the wall. He’d attract attention if he stared any longer.

He stayed silent during the discussion of how to make them come off as innocent as possible. His mind raced, but he did not know people well enough to form that lie. He raised his gaze to his sister, trusting she’d have an idea. Though the two of them would not have been stupid enough to attract such attention in the first place. Even as a useless child, he’d understood the need for discretion. It took him a while to get over his jealousy to see how safety came from unseen, but before they’d left he’d learned it.

A calming tone came from the new lord. He spoke of the general belief that his position was a story, to which he agreed. If it wasn’t for his sister’s connection to the earth, he wouldn’t have believed the slip of a girl. But what Vail seemed to not understand was how tightly the Kings and Queens held onto power. Any rumor would be checked, just to silence the tongues of the discontent. And with Myara’s reaction, questions would arise.

If Vail was already a lordling, it could be excused. Stopping someone thrusting their hand in a noble’s face was just kind: it’d make it possible for them to keep the hand, let alone their life. Could they pretend? He looked over the dark-haired elf. With that pretty face, likely. He already shone in his armor. Maybe the healer can gripe about the overprotective bodyguard of the noble wanting to experience the real world. But then why would they take Kash? Which he’d been resigned to ever since Antigone accepted him. Maybe the lordling wanted to apologize and buy his services.

He looked over the group. It’d only work if the barkeep was an idiot. They’d come in separately and no one else looked the part. He smirked, especially with Luna, Barrow, and Clover. A bear wasn’t exactly discreet. Never mind the ‘incident’ last night. Though being seen drinking with Julian probably helped that. Too bad they couldn’t solve Kash’s predicament with a night of booze.


Location: In his head | With: Everyone | Mood: This is going to fail
Special thanks to Ayama Ayama for writing the flashback and a bit more.



He nodded easily to the correction, “Agathon,” the druid said in return, attempting to ease the dismay he saw flash in those red eyes. He may not be as skilled with people as his sister, but he had learned to watch carefully for her safety. People's eyes rarely lied, unlike their lips. Up close, it was easy to see her unease then connect it to the title.

In hindsight, it was not surprising she did not like the moniker lady. ‘And she was anything but,’ he thought, recalling the poofy dresses and perfumes the ladies of his childhood wore. He remembered Julian, who even then primped as much as any lady and who'd even cross-dressed to great effect a couple of times, looking better in a dress than he had any right to and making several of the ladies green with envy.

He'd spent many an afternoon trying to convince Agathon (well, Declan back then) to let him work on him too, telling him that his natural beauty was wasted without care and the ladies would love it. Agathon had always refused- partly because he knew his sister wouldn't approve, but mostly out of a lack of self-confidence.

Then one day Julian had insisted so much and seemed so desperate that he had finally relented (it had always been harder for him to refuse Julian what he wanted than it was for his sister). Julian had wasted no time, either. He'd attacked Agathon's skin with a rough sponge, scouring away every speck of dirt and grime he could find.

It had been unpleasant, but complaining did no good, as every time he did Julian would simply respond with "Beauty is pain! As a man, you must endure!". He'd attacked his hair next- not just on his head, but everywhere else, and that part of the experience Agathon recalled more as torture than anything else, still wondering how on earth his friend could voluntarily do such things to himself on a regular basis.

After that came the clothes- a seemingly endless parade of outfits. With each one, Julian would have him stand in front of the mirror and evaluate him with a critical eye before sighing and saying "No, not this one," and tossing it to the floor. As the afternoon wore on it became difficult to see the carpet as it steadily vanished under an ever-growing pile of clothes, Julian becoming increasingly frustrated with every new attempt.

Finally, he had tossed a final outfit to the ground and cried out "Wait! I've got it! Wait right here!" before dashing out of the room, leaving Agathon standing there half-naked and very confused. He'd waited apprehensively for his friend to return, certain it could mean nothing good and, sure enough, when he finally re-entered the room, he had a brocaded, poofy dress cradled under his arm.

Agathon had slowly backed away at the sight.

"Julian, no..." he'd weakly protested as his friend advanced on him with the dress.

"I figured it out!" had been the enthusiastic response. "With your pretty face, this is going to look amazing on you!"

"I don't want to..."

"Oh come on, stop being a baby! I'll put one on too if it makes you feel better." And with that, he had fairly wrestled him into the dress. Even without resisting, Declan hadn’t known how to move to let him dress him. The garment was restrictive, and yet more open than a lot of the clothes he usually wore- the skirt had been an interesting surprise. After the initial shock, he'd meekly allowed his friend to deal with the numerous buttons and ribbons and layers that made up this complex garment, feeling a pang of sympathy for his sister, who'd been squeezed into one of these by their parents nearly every day.

It took so long to be done that he was completely lost in thought when Julian said, as if from far away, "And now, for the finishing touch..." He had turned his head to see, much to his horror, Julian approaching him with a makeup brush in hand.

"No, that's enough-" he'd protested. "I don't need makeup too."

"Oh come on, the look won't be complete without it. Now close your eyes."

"No, no way. And how do you even know how to put that stuff on anyway?"

Julian had just looked at him sardonically, and Agathon had realized that vain as he was, his friend had probably learned how to apply makeup as soon as he was old enough to hold a paintbrush.

"Now hold still..." he'd said and, before he quite knew what was going on, Julian had a hold of his face and had set to work. He had to admit the sensation of the soft, confident brushstrokes over his skin was quite pleasant, and he was able to lose himself in it until Julian released him and said "Okay, now you're ready, open your eyes."

Agathon had complied and let out a small gasp of surprise when he'd looked in the mirror. Looking back at him was not the scrawny boy no one ever saw (especially around his sister, who outshone all with her strength, her beauty, and her mere presence), but a beautiful girl with shining hair, perfect, beautifully painted skin, and a lovely dress. He'd blinked furiously a few times, wondering if he was seeing things, before catching Julian's grin in the mirror behind him.

"See?" his friend had proudly said, "you've always been beautiful- you just needed someone like me to help you bring it out."

And for a moment Agathon simply didn't know what to say. That moment didn't last long, however, as Antigone had then burst into the room in a towering rage- he had never seen his sister so angry before.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Valerius?!" she'd shouted, her rage directed at Julian. He'd put up his hands immediately.

"Look, I was just trying to show Declan how good-looking he is," he'd replied. "Help with his confidence a little." Antigone's eyes had glowed an iridescent blue, her powers tied to her emotions.

"You think you're going to help him with his confidence by teaching him how to cross-dress? Stop filling his head with your nonsense, Valerius- Declan doesn't need to be a baby-faced, empty-headed fool like you!"

And with that, she'd clamped her hand on Agathon's wrist and dragged him bodily from the room. Agathon had hung his head, suddenly ashamed.

"I'm sorry, sister," he'd been miserable. "I won't do it again..." Antigone had rounded on him then, and though he had known she was angry, he had seen another emotion in her eyes, underlying the anger. Fear. Even now he doubted his memories.

"Look," she'd sighed, her disappointment worse "I know you were just having fun, and I know Julian didn't mean anything by it, but you need to understand that, contrary to what that idiot would have you believe, there are more important things than the way you look, Dec." He had nodded, feeling foolish.

"I just don't want to see you putting stock in the wrong thing and misjudging your own worth," she'd continued in a softer voice as she released his wrist, meeting his eyes with her own. "You are beautiful, baby brother, but not because you can put on makeup or wear a dress. It's because of who you are, and I don't ever want you to lose that, okay?"

Agathon had nodded again, a lump in his throat, and had never let Julian near him with a dress or a makeup brush again. And all this time, he had tried to hold onto his sister's words even though, in his heart, he still had trouble believing them.

Shaking off his memories, he saw the soldier had tied the man up; efficiently enough that it must have been a practiced move. Was she a head hunter, capturing bounties as they came? Or did she regularly lose her shit over threats to Vail? Is that why the true sovereign seemed more resigned over her behavior? He didn’t like the idea of a loose cannon near Antigone, but if that protectiveness could cover his sister, then he’d approve of the help.

Nimue said:
“Please, enough!”
Click to expand...
The seer interrupted any future threats, with a warning. Instantly it felt like ice was piercing his veins, crystalizing his blood. With his heart pounding, but expressionless, he moved to the window. Leaning against the wall beside it, he surveyed the street below. It was starting to fill as the sun rose, leaving little space for idle folk. But he cared not for those who followed their daily patterns, he was looking for that specific movement of one with a mission. A hunter. Just as if they were looking for the fauna within a forest, a hunter of men moved the same. Purposeful and direct.

None stood out; few were even entering the inn, those who broke their fasts having started to leave. He relaxed his shoulders, letting his sister know they were as safe as they ever were, especially as close to their parents as they were. He leaned against the wall. He’d attract attention if he stared any longer.

He stayed silent during the discussion of how to make them come off as innocent as possible. His mind raced, but he did not know people well enough to form that lie. He raised his gaze to his sister, trusting she’d have an idea. Though the two of them would not have been stupid enough to attract such attention in the first place. Even as a useless child, he’d understood the need for discretion. It took him a while to get over his jealousy to see how safety came from unseen, but before they’d left he’d learned it.

A calming tone came from the new lord. He spoke of the general belief that his position was a story, to which he agreed. If it wasn’t for his sister’s connection to the earth, he wouldn’t have believed the slip of a girl. But what Vail seemed to not understand was how tightly the Kings and Queens held onto power. Any rumor would be checked, just to silence the tongues of the discontent. And with Myara’s reaction, questions would arise.

If Vail was already a lordling, it could be excused. Stopping someone thrusting their hand in a noble’s face was just kind: it’d make it possible for them to keep the hand, let alone their life. Could they pretend? He looked over the dark-haired elf. With that pretty face, likely. He already shone in his armor. Maybe the healer can gripe about the overprotective bodyguard of the noble wanting to experience the real world. But then why would they take Kash? Which he’d been resigned to ever since Antigone accepted him. Maybe the lordling wanted to apologize and buy his services.

He looked over the group. It’d only work if the barkeep was an idiot. They’d come in separately and no one else looked the part. He smirked, especially with Luna, Barrow, and Clover. A bear wasn’t exactly discreet. Never mind the ‘incident’ last night. Though being seen drinking with Julian probably helped that. Too bad they couldn’t solve Kash’s predicament with a night of booze.
 
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