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Fantasy underdog ambitions (chameleon & lightna)

Chameleon

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Roleplay Type(s)
UNDERDOG (800 x 500 px).png
genre: fantasy, medieval, romance, drama
song: local god - everclear
partner: Lightna Lightna

a recklessly ambitious pair of best friends decide to become rebellion leaders in a plot to overthrow their tyrannical monarchy. both familiar with the adversity that comes with living in the derelict parts of the kingdom having been born and raised there. they decide enough is enough when royal guards ambushed the slums in the dead of night, forcing people out of their homes and slaughtering anyone who opposed them. a cleansing ordered by the corrupt king himself. with a fire in their hearts and spirits filled with determination, the two set out to try liberating their people. but can their bond withstand the trials and tribulations that come with such a heavy responsibility?
  • Brevia: The kingdom of Brevia, ruled by their benevolent king, Elmundor Brevia. A vast, beautiful city with a flourishing forest in front of it, and captivating ocean view behind it. Clean streets, ample trade, prospering businesses, happy people. There's a clear distinction between the wealthy and the commoners. The city's climate favors those of money and nobility.

    The Verdant Isles: Surrounding Brevia, just on the cusp before its border, are The Verdant Isles. A pleasant name for an otherwise unpleasant place. These are the slums of Brevia. Those who could not find a place for themselves in the great kingdom are discarded here. Criminals, orphans, the unemployed, addicts. People who are down on their luck or shunned from society. It is overgrown and dilapidated. Buildings covered in blankets of vines, ivy, even moss. Houses built of rotted wood, mismatched stone, scrap metal, and tattered fabrics. Almost everything used or owned is likely picked up from the kingdom's trash pile, carelessly thrown out in the isles.
 
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EIDEN RIOS
running up that hill (a deal with god) - loveless

73adf191-4b58-4ebc-98c2-c6be11b48cf6.png



  • appearance: five feet and ten inches tall with a build sculpted by fist fights, climbing places he's not meant to, and running from guards. hands and wrists constantly wrapped in bandages. sharp-toothed grin. nape-length brown hair, some of it oftentimes pulled back by a red ribbon. tanned skin scarred more from accidents of his own making than anyone else. bright auburn eyes that immediately give away when he's thinking of causing trouble.

    β€’ β€’ ● β€’ β€’

    name: eiden rios

    age: 19 years old

    gender: male, he/him

    miscellaneous: prone to accidentally breaking things whenever he enters a room.



coded by BELIAL.
 
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ENNA
icaran - former vandal

enna rpn version.png


  • appearance: Although Enna stands at a solid six feet tall, one would never tell from his terrible posture, born from a life-long habit of hunching over his collection of scrolls and books. Life in the slums provided little shelter from the elements, and the consistent sun exposure has led to tanned skin (and amusing tan lines). His body is relatively average, if on the thin side. Growing up in the slums may have taught him how to hold his own in a fight, but he does not utilize his strength nearly often enough to develop any notable muscle mass. Enna's eyes are as green as emeralds, and just as hard. They are hooded and have slight eyebags from late nights reading. His curly, dark brown hair nearly reaches his mid-back, and he keeps it pulled back in a ponytail. He wears typical peasant's clothes consisting of a beige undershirt, a blue-grey kaftan tied off with a belt, and a simple pair of pants and shoes.

    β€’ β€’ ● β€’ β€’

    name: Enna
    age: 19
    gender: Male (he/him)
    miscellaneous:
    • Makes a living by using his literacy skills to help others in the slums
    • Tends to be paid in physical goods rather than currency as a result
    • Has an extensive collection of scrolls and tomes that he fiercely protects


coded by BELIAL.
 
EIDEN RIOS


In Eiden’s humble opinion, he had scant qualities to be prideful of. To him, written words were more anomalous figures than things of substance. To him, rules were more suggestions of a preferred conduct than finite orders. He lived loud, impulsively, and at the behest of his heart’s whims. There was one attribute, albeit troubling, that he championed doubtlessly; his ability to take a beating.

Bare fists, wooden planks, steel-toed boots. Eiden had endured it all and beyond. He’d been thrown into walls, trees, and dirt more times than he had bones. It was nothing short of a miracle, or perhaps divine intervention, that he hadn’t found himself in an early grave. In any case, many would argue that Eiden was so bullheaded he’d never allow himself to die. Even if death had come to collect its due, the spitfire wouldn’t surrender without leaving a bruise.

It was that scorching resolve of his that kept his legs steady against the four men who had double crossed him that morning.

Tariq was running a fever, and not the kind that could be slept away. His skin was drenched in sweat, yet his body trembled as if he were cold, his lips were dried and pale, and the skin beneath the bandages of where his leg used to be looked red and inflamed. The raid had been weeks ago, but its ramifications still loomed over the Verdant Isles like a dark, roiling storm cloud.

Eiden had run to the apothecary’s hut mindful of the snakes that hung along with the vines that barricaded it. He had a petty sum of money but was prepared to sacrifice it all in addition to whatever hours of service the old woman might need. She provided him something to numb the pain and requested her payment be a favor instead.

After the raid, her shelves were nearly wiped clean. If Eiden could bring her the right herbs and medicine she needed, she’d nurse Tariq back to health. Without hesitation, Eiden set out. And after a few twists, turns, whispers, and deals around the isles, Eiden wound up bloody and beaten with no medicine and no money.

In his tunnel-vision desperation, it hadn’t occurred to him that the men who claimed to have what he needed were liars. They asked him to bring a large sum of moneyβ€”nearly his entire savings. The meet-up location was a cave tucked into a part of the forest where the sun shied away from. The parts that he’d hesitate to explore when he was younger, even with Enna at his side. Enna, who throughout this whole ordeal, Eiden wavered asking for help because his friend lost his mother during the raid.

The fight went about as well as one might expect. To Eiden’s credit, he managed to knock two of the men down in his frenzy. But he wasn’t superhuman, so the match-up of one blinded-by-rage-youth against four calculated and experienced assailants had a set winner.

When his eyes opened again, he wasn't sure how much time had passed, but his rage still boiled as strongly as it did before he lost consciousness. Angered, defeated, and helpless, Eiden's thoughts mustered the name of the person he drew his strength from; Enna. Slowly, he excruciatingly rose to his feet, wiped the blood from his nose, spit out the blood in his mouth, and staggered to where he knew Enna would be.

Eiden was fairly confident that he could successfully seek out Enna in a crowded room with his eyes closed. All it would take is the sound of his laugh, or the feel of his hands, or the scent of a freshly opened book. He'd found his way to Enna so many times the path had ingrained itself into his very being. So even with one eye closed from the blood that wept from a cut on his forehead, and the persistent throbbing on his lower back where a sharp stone had poked into him after he was thrown to the ground, Eiden stood at the entrance to Enna's home.

His hand went up to the door. One, two, three knocks. A pause. Then two more. A specific rhythm familiar to just the two of them. Carelessly opening doors to strangers in the Verdant Isles wasn't a risk worth taking. With some relief at having made it to his destination still breathing, Eiden deflates and rests his forehead against the door.

β€œJust so you know,” he started with a haggard breath, β€œthe other guys ended up way worse.” Not entirely true, but he hoped Enna would humor him for at least a couple minutes.
 
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ENNA


One would think the death of his mother would have little effect on Enna.

They were practically strangers. He was grateful to her, of course. She worked laboriously to keep him comfortable, and he would be cruel to not acknowledge it. It was clear she loved him dearly. However, her hard work left her with little energy to be motherly, and as a result, they did not have many opportunities to form a connection. She did take the time to teach him basic skills like reading, writing, cooking, and generally how to take care of himself, but there was nothing substantial about their relationship.

Things changed when she fell ill. After nearly two decades of nonstop work, the long days finally caught up to her. The old woman at the apothecary said she had nearly worked herself to death and forbade her from doing so any longer. She needed to take time for herself and rest. This happened around a year ago, and in that time, they had many stilted conversations and awkward attempts at bonding. Although things between them would never be the same as a mother and son who had been close from the beginning, Enna felt comfortable with his mother. He had hoped that over time, things would get better. Easier.

It seemed fate had a sense of humor.

When the soldiers raided the Verdant Isles three weeks ago, they slew many of the weak and ill and harmed several others. His mother's was not the only freshly dug grave in the cemetery just bordering the forest's edge. A rickety fence encircled it, a weak attempt at least somewhat protecting the deceased from wild animals. It had to be expanded after the raid, and Enna could see people working on it from where he was sitting. His knees sank into the earth; it was damp from recent rainfall. In his lap, he held a ring of wildflowers he had meticulously linked together. Their petals fluttered in the slight breeze that blew through the cemetery.

The gravestone was marked by a single name: Ailis. They had no surname. She had at one point, but it was a derivative of her former employer's--Enna's father's--and she lost it when she was banished to the slums. Such things mattered little out here, so she decided her name was simply Ailis and her son's was simply Enna. It worked well enough.

"Ailis," Enna whispered. "Mother . . . I-" The need to apologize welled up in him. One would think the death of his mother would have little effect on him, but he was bursting with guilt. If he had been a better son, he thought, she might not be dead. If he were stronger, he could have protected her. If he were proactive, he could have worked by her side and kept her from falling ill in the first place. Instead, he grew up carefree. He assumed she would always be there to support him and went about his days reading books and playing games. When the time came for him to support her, to help her, he had failed.

When Enna felt tears burning in his eyes, he decided it was time to go. Gingerly, he placed the ring of flowers around his mother's gravestone and stood, brushing the dirt off of his knees. For a moment, he shut his eyes tightly. He focused on the pressure, on the stars moving into his line of sight, before sniffing once and turning to go home.

It had maybe been five minutes when he heard the familiar knocking at the door. He took a deep breath before opening it to greet his friend. Eiden looked like shit. "Well, you're alive, so clearly you must have done some damage." He looked his friend up and down pointedly, raising an eyebrow, before retreating back inside. Most of his supplies had been depleted trying to help his friend's caretaker, but surely there was something around here to patch him up with.
 
EIDEN RIOS


Eiden wobbled on his feet after the door’s pressure was whisked off his forehead, though managed to stay upright by grabbing the frame. The first of what he noticed were Enna’s knees, the portion of his trousers there were damp and smudged with mud. The second of what he noticed was Enna’s aloof expression and further aloof comment. Eiden’s singularly opened eye narrowed at his friend when his back turned to him.

β€œOh no, Eiden! My dearest and only friend, who could have done something so barbaric and cruel to you?” Expressed with a mocking woe as he pushed himself through the entrance and shut the door with his foot. The back of his hand wiped away the blood that dripped over his closed eye. β€œFor the record, I did more than just some damage, alright?” Eiden marched through Enna’s home like it was his own. He posted himself against a table, leant against it with a begrudging hand using his shirt to dab the blood away.

Giving up halfway, Eiden crossed his arms and watched Enna. β€œWhat are you doing?” He asked despite knowing. All the parts his friend would linger were places where he knew them to keep their first aid supplies. Whatever little there was of it, anyways. β€œStop it, don’t waste your shit on me. I don’t need it.” It felt wrong. Enna had sacrificed plenty to help Tariq already. Making him give up more because Eiden didn’t think to be wary of his choices didn’t sit well with him.
 
ENNA


After taking a moment to observe Eiden out of the corners of his eyes, Enna decided it would be fine to ignore his whining. "Sit down," he ordered as he dug out some bandages. He understood the reluctance to be looked after. Supplies were limited, and Eiden was supposed to be acquiring more, not using them. However, Enna could not bear to turn a blind eye to his condition. Although he seemed relatively fine, the unsteadiness of his friend's gait was noticeable, and he sent a quick prayer that nothing was broken. Cuts and bruises he could handle, but a more serious injury was far beyond his basic abilities.

Enna walked over to his friend with an armful of supplies. "The least I can do is clean you up a little." He took a cloth and dabbed at Eiden's forehead, wincing once the cut was more visible. That would definitely need a bandage. His bangs were drenched in blood, but it proved useful as Enna was able to move them aside and keep them there. He looked down at Eiden's blood-soaked shirt disapprovingly. Why had he used it to wipe up the blood? "Take that off. It's nasty now."

He set the dirty cloth to the side and turned back to look at Eiden. "Now . . . Eiden, my dearest and only friend, what happened?" Enna thought he would parrot the man's words a smidge, hoping to lighten the mood a little. Clearly, things had gone badly. Even though Eiden made his entrance with some light-hearted quips, they had been friends long enough for Enna to know he was probably in quite the sour mood. With good reason.
 
EIDEN RIOS


Like a dog who’d barked and was scolded to be quiet, Eiden sat down with a bothered puff of air that flicked some strands of hair away from his eyes. He knew this wasn’t an argument he could win against Enna, there hardly ever was. Enna had always been the most sensible one ever since they were boys. Eiden could count the number of arguments he’d won against him on one hand, and that was after almost a decade of knowing him. Despite how his head initially jerked away from the cloth in a stubborn display, the troublemaker soon acquiesced.

Eiden grimaced at the sting whenever the cloth would dab anywhere opened or sore but kept steady throughout the process. Both eyes closed, he focused on Enna’s touch instead. The brush of his fingertips as they swept his bangs aside and examined his wounds. Anything to keep his mind off the pain and the anxiety that hounded his chest.

Auburn eyes peeked open again, curiously turned onto the bloody cloth to glimpse at the damage before landing on Enna, who echoed his earlier words back to him. The memory of the incident had a dark cloud stirred over top his head. He wouldn’t forget a single one of those bastard’s faces.

β€œTariq has a fever.” His hands moved slowly to the hem of his shirt, muscles aching more now that he’d had a chance to relax. β€œIt got really bad. When I went to the apothecary, she said she didn’t have everything she needed, but if I could get it for her, she’d help.” The shirt is pulled off, Eiden stared at the bloodstains. He hesitated to continue the story especially when he realized how stupid he was in hindsight.

His hand raked through his hair, and he looked away from Enna shamefaced. β€œI talked to a guy. He said he could get me what I needed, but it would cost me. And it did. Fucker brought his friends and all four of β€˜em ganged up on me, took my money, and left me there with nothing.” The hard-set glare on his face was a swirl of resentment and shame both at himself and his assailants. β€œAnd before you say itβ€”because I know you’re already thinking itβ€”I know it was dumb!” Eiden still hadn’t faced Enna again, not wanting to meet his gaze.
 
ENNA


Enna pursed his lips. Dumb was definitely a word that crossed his mind--alongside a few others. In some ways, he was used to seeing Eiden like this. He was no stranger to the occasional beating himself. However, any time his friend came to him in such a state, a cold sense of dread laid itself on his shoulders. There was always a possibility that someone would take things too far one day, and then what would he do?

He was quiet for a moment, focused on bandaging Eiden up. He forced his mind to a calm stillness, compartmentalizing those useless feelings. Although getting conned was quite the emotional blow, nothing horrible had happened. ". . . I am glad you found your way back," Enna said eventually, patting Eiden on the head and stepping away to return the supplies to their rightful places. The only thing that would help him now was to rest, but it would be foolish to assume the man would. Suggesting it would be a waste of time.

Instead, Enna turned his attention to Eiden's failed mission. Setting their sights forward on a new plan would surely put Eiden in a better mood. "Well, Tariq still needs that medicine." He grabbed his own chair so he could sit next to his friend. "Blindly trusting strangers worked about as well as usual, so we will have to look for other options." If you had asked me for advice, Enna thought, I would had told you that it was a bad idea from the start. Finding materials for the apothecary was clearly more difficult than Eiden had anticipated, so they needed a plan.
 
EIDEN RIOS


Enna's hand on his head, his friend's expressed relief at Eiden's safety. There was always something about Enna choosing not to scold him that disarmed Eiden and left his ears feeling warm. He hadn’t found the word to describe it yet and wasn't sure he wanted to. Having felt Enna leave his side again to put away his supplies, Eiden braved a glance at his friend's back. He remembered when Enna was shorter than him; the asshole just had to steal a couple more inches hadn't he?

Too late to look away when Enna turned around, Eiden's gaze instead followed Enna's path to the seat beside him. Arms crossed; his mind began pushing its cogs to think of a different solution to his problem. He was typically better at using his head when Enna was around, though it wasn't always a consistent pattern.

Forage for medicine themselves? No, it sounded like a sure way to wind up poisoned somehow. Steal the medicine back from the men who beat him? No, he didn't want to waste more time on those assholes.

β€œWould the city have anything?” he asked, voice small as if it'd only intended the words to remain a fleeting thought. The surprise was even evident on Eiden's face as it pulled away from the pensive hand on his chin. β€œThere's people in the city who could probably afford the cost of a second life,” said with bitter amusement. β€œSo, there's gotta be somewhere they buy it from.”

Eiden looked at Enna, a restlessness beginning to stir. No further words had to be exchanged between them. It was clear from the determined spark in Eiden's eyes that he wanted to take from the city. But how? β€œYou get your books from there all the time, right? Seen anything like the old lady's shop around?” If there was, Eiden doubted it would be something so informal.
 
ENNA


Enna nodded slowly, catching onto Eiden's line of thought immediately. That was a good point, actually. Going into the city would have never come to his mind. He was impressed that Eiden thought of it; the small smile on his face made that evident. He tilted his head back and stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind traveling through the few streets he'd seen.

"Honestly, they have something even better. Their priests use healing magic. I doubt anyone there gets sick anymore." His lip curled, bitterness staining his tone. There was an irony to this--his mother spent years working in the city only for her to fall ill and have to stay home in the slums. He shook his head. He had no time to think about that now. Going to a priest was out of the question, so there must be something else they could do.

Eiden severely overestimated how much of the city Enna had seen. As a child, he sometimes joined his mother at her jobs, but he was young and barely paid attention. Otherwise, he had only seen the shopping district and whatever roads led to it. "There are shops . . . but everything is organized differently. Not only that, medicine is expensive. They only deal in money, not favors." The care Tariq needed would probably be more than he could possibly afford.

Enna straightened up in seat and looked at Eiden directly, his gaze direct but a little wary. If they wanted that medicine, there was only one way they could hope to get it: stealing.
 
EIDEN RIOS


Healing magic. Hearing it still sounded surreal even with magic’s existence being common knowledge. A cheat code to good health they hogged all to themselves. Enna’s bitterness towards it didn’t stand alone. Where was all that healing magic when the people of the verdant isles were struck down? Conveniently all used up elsewhere, Eiden was sure.

The same wariness in Enna’s eyes didn’t reflect in Eiden’s. Instead, a wide decisive grin formed on his face. Dealing in money and not favors?

β€œIt’s a good thing the shortcomings of either has never stopped us before.” A flaming excitement lit up his eyes. An opportunity to steal from the uptight society that regarded them as trash? As if Eiden would let the opportunity slip away. β€œWe’re gonna haf’ta hurry, I don’t want to leave Tariq suffering longer than he already has. And I wanna make sure we get back in time for the old lady to actually do something.” Eiden stood, fighting back a grimace as he stretched his sore muscles.

β€œYou’re better at the sneaky talk-y stuff than I am, so that’s gonna be your job.” His hands dropped on Enna’s shoulders, slightly shaking him. β€œI’ll be making sure no fuckfaces see you, so you work your magic, grab whatever you think is best, and then we get the hell outta there.” A simple plan for a simple-minded guy. Eiden wasn’t the best at embellishing the details, running on improvisation when the need arose.

β€œI’m gonna use your washroom to get this blood off me and then we’re headin’ out, alright? Oh, and uh…” He lifts his discarded bloody shirt. β€œI need another shirt.” Said expectantly with a sheepish hint.
 

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