Heart of the World

kixinorbit

pigeons in a trenchcoat
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varies
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Prestige
  4. Adaptable
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  1. No Preferences
Genres
low/high fantasy, medieval fantasy, historical fantasy, sci-fi, cyberpunk, solarpunk, grimdark, gothic-horror, supernatural themes, limited fandoms, adventure
Heart of the World



  • A
    etheria: an ancient world wrought of mystery and magic. It is said that, during formation of the tiny planet, Aetheria was in turmoil. Unbalanced magic tore the world apart, pushing up mountains, shifting continents, and spitting molten rock up from the depths. The world burned, tremored, cooled, and was ravaged by wild magic again and again. And yet, despite the chaos, life endured. Perhaps the world took pity on the struggling creatures, or perhaps it's simply the way of magic, but the chaotic energy began to coalesce in the centre of the world and from it grew a tiny sapling.

    As the years passed, the sapling grew into a vast tree which would become the very heart of the world, stabilizing the chaotic energy to maintain balance and harmony in cycles of prosperity and dormancy. Civilizations grew and, eventually, all of Aetheria fell under the rule of the Taitellen Empire. Seeking to put an end to the periods of the land's dormancy, the Empire took away the protective stones that permitted the Heart of Aetheria to flourish.

    Now, the world has begun to wane and rebellion is stirring.
  • As a supportive party of the rebellion, you're well aware of the dangers that await, should you be discovered.

    Two months ago, a celebrated rebel leader was apprehended by the Imperial Guard. The man, Magister Kiernan, was a well-known scholar and one of the visionaries behind the rebel cause and his punishment adequately reflected his crimes against the Empire. An announcement was made, and Kiernan was publicly executed by way of beheading. If his imprisonment hadn't been enough to stifle rebellious tendencies, the execution surely was, and many rebels fled Taitelle to regroup in other territories. Rumours that had been circulating about another task Kiernan had begun were immediately hushed, and for two months no one has spoken of ancient Trees or dying lands.

    Until today, that is, when you discover a curious piece of parchment that could only be meant for a rebel supporter...




    5 Lekthas, 3rd Quarter of the Crone, 192 TE


    I regret to inform you that the rumours are true: the Heart of Aetheria is dying.

    I understand that a letter of this nature seems an unusual method of communicating this, but in the present circumstances, it is a necessary precaution: I cannot risk direct communication at this time. We are reaching a critical situation and action must be taken. As you read this, I am quietly assembling a group of scholars, mages, and soldiers who support the cause, and I must ask that this be kept secret, at least for now.

    We are now beginning to see the effects of our actions those years ago, and the situation is dire. Reports from coastal cities are steadily increasing, bringing messages of failing crops and emaciated cattle. Hunters are taking less prey and rates of wildlife predation have increased far beyond what is common in a dormancy cycle. Thus far, these reports have been kept quiet. The Empire was sending meagre relief efforts to the affected areas, though it quickly became far more than they could handle. The efforts are being halted, as the Emperor has decided the plight of these areas must be due to rebel sabotage and does not merit attention or aide.

    Fatalities are on the rise as magical instability increases- something I'm sure you have already seen. Where possible, these deaths are also being attributed to rebel attacks and, otherwise, ignored. They are refusing to see what is plainly before their eyes, and Aetheria and all her people are going to pay the price.

    As you know, fifty-one years ago, the Empire forcibly removed the guard stones from the Tree. In those fifty-one years, the Tree has been unable to enter dormancy and revitalize itself. The argument was that no dormancy meant limitless prosperity-- but our research indicates that without dormancy cycles, the Tree can neither regulate magic nor support prosperity in the land.

    Without dormancy cycles, I am confident the Tree will die.

    No matter how many times he is confronted with evidence, the Emperor refuses to listen. I worry he is so blinded by the threat of revolution and repercussions of what it would mean if our research is correct (which it is), he refuses to see the truth. The more we press him to take action, the more obstinate he becomes.

    Two weeks ago, our most outspoken scholar, Magister Avelissa, was sent to Portwatch to "observe the conditions there," and we have not heard from her since… I now fear the worst.

    The crystalline guard stones removed from the tree have been destroyed, save for the sample specimens that remain in our study. I plan to take these pieces, journey through the Forest of the Ancients, and return them to the Tree. Experiments with the crystals and bark samples taken from the Tree have given us reason to believe that even the smallest piece of crystal may act as a catalyst and restore what we so foolishly removed.

    This will not be an easy undertaking, especially when the Empire discovers what I am doing, as I have no doubt they will. However, it is a risk I am willing to take- and a risk that is necessary if we are to preserve the Aetheria we know and love. Should the Heart of Aetheria be lost, so too shall we.

    Please send return word using the same enchantment by which this message was concealed. If you are interested in furthering your support, I will then contact you with the date, time, and location of our first gathering to discuss options and concerns, and determine how best we may proceed.

    For dissolution, harmony, and a free Aetheria!

    - Kiernan


    6-3-1, 193 TE

    If you think we're giving up because of a little public execution, you are sorely mistaken. To those who wish to actually make a contribution to the world that enables your existence, be at the Randy Gander in the Taithros outskirts by sundown on 21/3/1. Request a room with Chasma-- and don't be a transparent fuckass. If you're followed, you're shit out of luck. Bring ideas, a pack, and a can-do attitude. No one else is going to save our asses.

  • Hello and welcome to Heart of the World!


    If you're looking for a fantasy save-the-world adventure with rebellion, a heist, and hippie communes, you've come to the right place! Take a look around and please be sure to read the rules! If you have any questions, let us know!

    GM
    - @DinoFeather
    co-GM
    - @Lillian Gray

    Rules and Guidelines

    Adept Writers
    - Please be able to produce several solid paragraphs with relevant content and demonstrate a knowledge of the English language.

    Active Players
    - We're asking for a minimum of one post per week to keep people active and interested! However, if something comes up and you need more time, or if you'll be inactive for a period but are still interested, please let us know-- real life always comes first!

    Respectful Players
    - Drama? In character only! We're looking for good attitudes and respect for others. It's okay to have conflict now and then, but it will be resolved in a mature and respectful manner, or you're outta here. If you have an issue, please come to us.

    GMs in Control
    - Please do not attempt to hijack the plot or attempt to spin the story to be only about your character. We aim to involve everyone, and if there is a special plot point you'd like to explore, please speak to us about it for approval. GM word is law.

    Player Autonomy
    - Do not control other peoples' characters! Also, please don't conflate what you, the player, knows with what your character knows.

    All Iwaku Rules Apply
    - If you are unfamiliar, please go review them!

    Creative Contribution
    - Want to help us flesh out the world by adding a bit of your own content? Awesome! Have an idea you think we should try? Let us know! We want to hear from you, but we do need to approve ideas before they're just added in to the world.

    Sense of Humour
    - While there will be serious moments, injury, and possibly even death, this is not intended to be a dark or "edgy" RP.

    Mature Players
    - Preferred* There won't be graphic sex scenes in posts and what-have-you (PM the person, if that's your jam), but there will be strong language, violence, and lewd allusions.

    And most importantly-- HAVE FUN!​



Characters
  • Ilex Cassine
    Nymph | 22 | Taithros
    Name:
    Ilex Cassine

    Nickname:
    None

    Race:
    Nymph

    Age:
    22

    Home Territory:
    Taithros

    Profession:
    A little bit of everything: lockpick, thief, sailor, skald ... He's truly a jack of all trades.

    Description:
    Ilex is a fairly average 5'10", with a frame more suited to running and climbing than lifting weights or clocking chins. His skin is almost deathly pale, his hair a shade darker than paper. Two, large green eyes are the main draw of his boyish face, followed by an ever-present smile. Upon close inspection, his skin is nearly papery, like a thin bark, and it is soft to the touch, but not the consistency of human skin. This is most evident at the bend of his joints, where it somewhat flakes away to reveal a fresh, greenish layer, with a feel almost like thick petals, while the callouses on his hands have a much harder, barklike consistency. He is very humanoid in comparison to his other nymph kindred, able to pass off as a human from a distance relatively easily. Depending on season, sometimes he has small, trumpet like flowers sprout under his hair.

    However, like the rest of his nymph kindred, his body is beginning to fail him. His skin is a less healthy white, instead shading to a shade of gray. It is obvious that this is a sick nymph, whatever his smiling face might say.

    Personality:
    Ilex takes almost nothing seriously. He is puckish by nature, prone to cracking jokes and enlivening others - and distracting them, as well. He is highly charismatic, with a slight flair for the dramatic, and he enjoys a good show as much as anyone else. He is likewise a fantastic liar and prank, finding it fun to watch others deal with the confusion he instills just for kicks. He does understand when enough is enough, however, and he is sympathetic to the sufferings of others. He has a little bit of a wild streak, tending to go off on his own and do a bit of a job solo, especially to sate his own curiosity, a near compulsion to know things which others wish to hide. That said, his myriad of jobs - many of them illicit - has granted him a rather cunning mind, always thinking several steps ahead.

    Bio:
    Ilex Cassine was born in the manner of most nymphs - through their union within a single tree. However, unlike most nymphs, he was not just born anywhere - he was born in the heart of the Empire, in Taithros - not from just any tree, but a datura. From the very outset, it seemed his parents had planned for him a purpose already in mind. That plan, unfortunately, was never articulated, as Ilex was left, orphaned, on the streets. He matured quickly and learned hard the world of the capital city. A nymph like him stood out, and without his parents to guide him, he was left to his own devices. The pecking order was not kind to him, as a sickly nymph with no one to look out for him, until one day he was caught stealing.... and offered a job.

    From that point on, he grew a reputation as someone who had... a particular brand of skills. The underground world of Taithros, of its beggar children, of its night women, of its contraband goods and its nobles with their wants, soon became his playground. To those willing to learn the ropes, so to speak, the doors opened were endless. Always there was crime to be had, needs to meet. He did a little bit of everything from that point, keeping his ear to the ground for better and better contracts, though nothing that would necessitate his hands getting too dirty. It was through this network that he first heard about Kiernan's Rebellion, their attempt to revive the World Tree and right the rocking ship they all happened to live on. Of course, despite his image and less-than-shiny background, Ilex had no desire to see famine sweep the land, for the continent to be plunged into lawless darkness. Instead, he decided to offer his... unique services... to the rebellion instead, knowing that eventually they might need someone who could smuggle them around.

    And on top of that... this may be a way to get back in touch with a people he had never known.

    Magic:
    Elemental earth magic (beginner)

    Skills:
    - Lockpicking/breaking
    - General person-to-person combat, with and without weapons
    - Strategy and planning
    - Networking
    - Juggling (just for fun)
    - Knot-tying (it is a surprisingly useful skill)


    Strengths:

    - extraordinarily even-keel even as plans fall apart
    - able to improvise
    - works independently very well
    - an amazing liar
    - good for morale

    Weaknesses:

    - tends to underestimate enemies and fortifications
    - currently not at his physical best
    - a fan of fancy plans -- which can get out of hand quickly
    - lets his curiosity get the best of him far too often

    Romanceable:
    No. c: Sorry.

    Artist:
    awanqi


  • Kholas Abalyshevska
    Goblin | 33 | Taitelle
    NAME

    Kholas Abalyshevska

    NICKNAME

    Kho
    Sunshine (Used exclusively by Linnae)

    RACE

    Goblin

    AGE

    33

    HOME TERRITORY

    Taithros, Taitelle

    PROFESSION

    Healer; Organizer of Rebel Remains

    DESCRIPTION

    Tall for a goblin, Kholas stands just over five feet in height, though he still is comparably small to most other denizens of Aetheria. His complexion is green-toned with darker markings over his head and back. Vast, bat-like ears protrude from the sides of his head, with his right ear bearing several piercings. Though he has a flat and rather serpentine nose, the rest of his features are sharp and angular, giving way to dark, silken fur around the edges of his face and jaw. Bright crimson eyes are often lined with kohl, a trend shared by many goblins from Khal Miras.

    Possessing a small and lightweight frame, Kholas highly favours dexterity over strength, though he certainly doesn't look the part of an athlete. Perhaps somewhat unbefitting a healer, he wears his clawlike nails long, though they are kept meticulously clean. Generally well-groomed, he is fond of darker, heavily-saturated coloured garments, which are sometimes accented with small "souvenirs" from his work. A large, carved wooden skull can generally be found lashed to his right shoulder, the enchanted stone inside serving as a magical reservoir of sorts.

    PERSONALITY

    Though not as callous as he might have you believe, Kholas isn't exactly overflowing with warmth and generosity. Perhaps the kindest word one would use to describe him is "incisive," though most would settle for something closer to "acerbic." Results driven, Kholas is tireless in his work, be it his practice of healing, his research, or his efforts with the rebellion. With a record of achievement he has no intention of relinquishing, Kholas is relentless in pursuit of his goals. Shrewd, clever, and confident in his own abilities, the goblin can sometimes come off as conceited, though he has the ability to back up his claims. He has little patience for those he perceives as close-minded or melodramatic-- and even less patience for those who cannot say what they mean. Though not the kindest or most morally upright individual, Kholas can always be relied upon for honesty or a practiced hand in matters of healing.

    BIO

    Born and raised in Khal Miras, Kholas was fortunate to discover his magic abilities early on. Tireless study and relentless practice saw him rise quickly through academies and gain entrance to the prestigious Magesteria Academy in Taithros, first as a student and again as faculty. While his main focus was magical medicine and healing, he also began extensive research in channelling abilities. Afflicted with an unknown ailment that causes periodic pain, fatigue, and weakness, he was sometimes forced to rely on others to provide him with magical energy when his skills as a healer were needed. Wishing to be more self-reliant and to contribute to the collective knowledge of the Academy, Kholas threw himself into his work on developing methods of storing magic.

    With a partial success, his research was deemed to be of great interest to the Empire, and he was given extensive resources and a team to help him further develop his magic "reservoirs." It was through his research that he discovered shards of the guard stones were still preserved in the Academy, and also how he first met Kiernan. Academic interest turned to friendship, and Kholas began aiding Kiernan in his efforts to better understand the guard stones' relationship to the Tree and its magic. When messages of blight and fading lands reached Taithros, Kholas was quick to back Kiernan's claims and support his rebel cause. Because of his staunch and outspoken support of the known rebel leader, Kholas was forced to flee the Academy when Kiernan was arrested, leaving his work behind.

    Though it took some time to regroup with Linnae, an unlikely friend introduced to him by Kiernan, Kholas vowed to carry out Kiernan's vision of restoring the Tree and eliminating the Taitellen Empire.

    MAGIC

    Restorative - Healing & Channeling

    SKILLS

    • Anatomy and medicine
    • Planning and information-acquisition
    • Innovation and problem-solving
    • Potion and poison-crafting

    STRENGTHS

    • Exceptional healer
    • Resourceful and quick-thinking
    • Relentless in pursuit of goals

    WEAKNESSES

    • Lacking physical strength and periodically enfeebeled
    • Routinely overworks himself
    • Sardonic and abrasive

    ROMANCEABLE

    Yes

    Artist:
    Nicholas Kole


  • Laceae
    Nymph | 45 | Taitelle
    Name:
    Laceae Magnolia Obovata Asiaticus

    Nickname:
    Lia
    Buttercup (by family)
    Maggie (by family)

    Race:
    Nymph

    Age:
    45

    Home Territory:
    the woods west of Thaemar

    Profession:
    Herbologist, Healer

    Description:
    At a quick glance, this nymph in her outerwear is easily mistaken to be human, though perhaps a short one. Her smooth, blush skin and her meager height, just a few inches above four foot, have tricked many into believing the young nymph to be a human adolescent. But just beyond her neckline, her petal-soft skin transitions first into a sensitive, leafy green and then into a rough, flaky bark around her extremities. Laceae's fingers are twiggish, with bark that splits around her joints to reveal the pale pith inside, and her bowed calves are even darker in color and somewhat thicker skinned. Like an exoskeleton, this bark also follows up her spine to the base of her neck. From there grow the thin branches framing her scalp from which bulbous blossoms grow in pale pinks and oranges. The flowers and their leaves weave through her white hair, which grows sometimes so thick that it smothers the flowers with its volume. Smaller flowers bud and bloom along her hands and legs, the same pale tone of her hair. Her eyes are amber in color.

    Laceae's bowed legs are only one of several physical defects she possesses, though they're perhaps the most obvious. Her spine has a slight curve and her shoulders uneven, though not enough to affect further affect her gait. Several of her fingers also lack the flexible interior pith and are instead tough, immovable bark. She suspects that she would be a few inches taller had she a straighter back and legs. Additionally, the greenish skin on her upper left arm and shoulder are dark and tough with scarring. She prefers to dress in lightweight clothes, as scratchy fabrics irritate her softer skin, and heavier ones damage the flora around the upper half of her body. One allowance she makes is for a gifted, sleeved cloak which she wears into large cities and cooler climates.

    Personality:
    At her core, Laceae is a mother. She carries strong maternal instincts that carry into her medical career, resulting in unusually fierce, protective behavior over her patients. Over time she grows to feel similarly about companions and friends, and treats those close to her like an extended family. This extended family is massive, and ever growing. Her interest in travel has shown Laceae all around the world, and she adds each new friend to her mental connections catalog, many of whom she loves like children, siblings or aunts/uncles. She loves easy, and hard, and takes betrayal very personally.

    What Laceae lacks in body she makes up for in zest. Shes an outrageously joyful spirit and a loud personality, which often manages to make her seem bigger than she is. Her strong presence is largely attributed to her confident manner of speaking--without yelling, she manages to project her voice in an authoritative way that manages to avoid sounding rude or commandeering. A bubbly and typically positive attitude give her a few more inches to boot. Since she was young Laceae was always an outspoken individual, even sometimes to her own detriment. She sometimes lack the foresight to hold her tongue, and holds the belief that honesty is always the best policy, even when the truth hurts. Abundant with confidence, she is fearless pursuing her beliefs and goals.

    Bio:


    Laceae grew up in a small grove near the woods west of Thaemar, occupied by herself, her mother and her many siblings. Her mother, unusually involved and maternal, was the glue that held their family unit together, teaching her children to garden and grow the many herbs she'd gathered on her adventures across Atheria. She would tell stories to Laceae of great adventure, where Laceae herself was always the heroine saving her mother's fictional worlds. When she began to grow ill, their family began to grow apart. Several of Laceae's elder siblings moved on to live more solitary lives, while her siblings with youth grew more separated from their previously tight knit family life. Their grove garden began to wilt. Desperate to heal her mother, Laceae first tried to use her weak healing magic to treat her mother, and when her efforts failed, enlisted the help of Thaemar's greatest healers, but none could slow the progression of her mother's illness, and she eventually died.

    Laceae was riddled with misplaced guilt, and helplessness. What good was her magical gift if she couldn't save her own mother's life? Distraught, she impulsively decided to return to Thaemar with one of the healers, who took her on as an apprentice in the city. Though he couldn't teach her much in the ways of magic, he began her traditional education in medicine. Not long after her arrival in Thaemar, she grew thirsty for more knowledge, and for more opportunities to help others in need. She began to travel from city to city, learning from the healers as she went and catching rides from caravans and messengers to save her the exhaustion of walking the roads with her ambling gait.

    Eventually her travels brought her to Tórlinn, where she settled down with a medical crew tending to the mine workers. Here she met Shaela, a young horned woman and single mother to a half human half horned daughter, Raycene. Their love was hard, and fast, and short; Shaela fell to black lung, and too stubborn to quit working, it became deadly too soon to be treated. Laceae did what she could, healing with her novice magic and with her homebrewed medicines, but after only a year together, she passed away, leaving Raycene in Laceae's care.

    Once more feeling like a failure, Laceae took Raycene with her to Taitelle, where she sought a proper magical education at the Academy. She met a small group of nymphs displaced from Eldan by the cropland expansion and took up residence with them. She found sweet commonality in living with working nymphs, and in sharing their pains over the slow poisoning of Alterra's environment. It seemed every day more people came to the city seeking refuge and food that there simply wasn't to be had. Laceae took to offering free medical care to such refugees, creating her own medicines from the herbs in her garden. She eventually found herself taking on a role more involved than that of nurse; unwilling to watch young children starve, she adopted several more youths into her shared home.

    In the capital, Laceae was introduced to imperial politics, and before long began to hear whispers of rebellion. At first, she vehemently avoided these whispers and the people who spoke them, unwilling to become involved and risk the safety of her family. It was when Raycene was arrested due to rebel involvement that Laceae experienced a shift of opinion. Her home became a halfway house for those wanted by the Empire, and she used her magical gift with earth to coax her garden into growing faster and stronger so that she could feed her many charges. Some of the Eldan nymphs she originally sheltered with supported her; but others disagreed with the risk she was taking, and left to live in Estura. Although it pained her, she sent several of herbadopted children away too to live with family in her homeland grove.

    Initially when Laceae received the letter, she felt skeptical. She was playing her own part, and couldn't abandon her children and family. It wasn't until a rebel refugee told her that her daughter Raycene till lived that she made up her mind to accept and take a role in saving the world. Her mother, she felt, would be proud.


    Magic:

    • Restorative: Healing and Enhancing
    • Elemental: Earth

    Skills:

    • Herbology & Botany: skilled with identifying, utilizing and growing various flora, particularly medicinal plants and herbs
    • Culinary: though a vegetarian, Laceae has a knack with food and a strong palette, particularly with pastries (though her sweet tooth isn't quite to everyone's taste)
    • Tinkering: when life gives Laceae lemons, she experiments with them! She often uses homespun tools to help her with life's everyday activities. Among her favorites are a glove to help her grip her sewing needle, and the "arm-extenders" she uses to cook while keeping a healthy distance away from the fire (one can never be too far away from a flame!). Not all of her gadgets are particularly sturdy, however...
    • Medicine: Laceae has been studying and using traditional methods of medicine since before she began to study magic. She has a strong understanding of physiology and pathology, making her particularly well suited to treating disease and infections, but is also practiced in tasks such as bone-setting, diagnosing and some surgical procedures.
    • Sewing

    Strengths:

    • Empathetic and motherly: Laceae makes a particularly good nurse to the sick and injured, not just because of her medical skills but because of her empathetic and caring attitude
    • Creative: being somewhat maladapted to the world, Laceae had to grow accustomed to finding her own solutions to everyday problems.
    • Natural navigator
    • Collected
    • Astute

    Weaknesses:

    • Maladroit: Laceae, unlike others of her kind, lacks physical agility and can struggle with dexterity due to her bowed legs and the stiffness of some of her fingers. While she still possesses stamina, she struggles with maneuvering obstacles unaided in unfamiliar environments, and walks with a visible limp. She refuses, however, to carry a cane or any sort of walking aid.
    • Gaps of knowledge: though a great doctor, Laceae is primarily accustomed to family medicine. She is not particularly skilled with poisons, curses or battlefield care and may struggle without her handy medic kit
    • Combat deadweight: that is to say, Laceae has never received combat training and doesn't want to. She will defend herself, but isn't inclined to carrying a weapon and would rather flee or hide than attack
    • Blunt
    • Pyrophobic

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    Lourdes Saraiva

  • Linnae
    Nymph of Aquifoliaceae | 75 | Estura
    Name:

    Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae

    Nickname:

    Holly
    Brambles (used exclusively by Kholas)

    Race:

    Nymph

    Age:

    75

    Home Territory:

    Outskirts of Caelora, Estura

    Profession:

    None

    Description:

    For a nymph of her species, Linnae is somewhat stunted in height, being only 5'3" from her heels to the branch like 'hair' on her head. She blames it on the current situation with the guard stones. Her skin is soft, and closer to actual skin than bark, and a pale olive in color. Linnae has dark ruby red eyes. At first glance, she does appear more humanoid than some of her brothers and sisters, although the supple twigs coming from her make it apparently plain that she is anything but human. During periods of growth, short green leaves sprout from the twigs and sometimes produce small holly berries.

    Do not eat the berries. Holly berries are poisonous and Linnae will be annoyed.

    Having spent so much time mingling within Taithros in order to stay close to Kiernan and the rebellion, Linnae grew comfortable with the idea of donning layer upon layer of the garments typical humans wore in order to blend in. Within any densely populated city, Linnae wears the long robes of a scholar, with a delicate mantle to cover her head - one of the few personal effects of the nymph's. Anywhere else, she prefers something that is easy to move in. Outside the city, Linnae will typically wear a sleeveless tunic tied at her waist, with leathers and flat sandals.

    Personality:

    Years of witnessing the destruction and vandalism of the Forest of the Ancients, and its precious Heart, have made Linnae wholly distrustful of all races and left her with vehement opposition to Taitellen rule. She regards strangers with skepticism and often times an air of hostility that does not go unnoticed. To friends and allies, Linnae is actually quite relaxed and temperate in nature, although it takes time before she considers a person to be close enough to be called as such.

    The Nymph is not cruel. She is guarded, cautious, and harbors feelings of disapproval not unlike those living within the larger capital cities of the five greater nations. However, it can be difficult to see past her initial persona. Once allied with Linnae, she is incredibly loyal and wants nothing more than to provide whatever assistance she can. Then - she is friendly, warm, and would do nothing short of take an ax to the arm to see her family safe.

    Bio:

    Linnae was born not long after the removal of the guard stones was deemed necessary, and was a young sprout of a nymph when they were removed from the innermost center of the Forest of the Ancients. She claims to have few memories of the event, blocking them out from the chaos within the communities of nymphs in the wooded areas around and within the forest. But that claim is a lie. Watching, feeling it in the dirt and in the trees, as men came and shattered the enigmatic stones. That kind of horror as the very world she knew fell apart bit by bit, those kinds of memories were impossible to forget. She could feel the effects in the years after whenever she ventured too far from the forest itself, and at first she brushed it off as nothing more than discomfort being so far from home. But the lethargy, the rumors from the far-reaching isles, Linnae found it too difficult to ignore. It wasn't until almost two decades later she met a most curious man, a teacher.

    He explained how he felt he had made a grave mistake in helping to remove the guard stones, and she felt inclined to believe him, but offered no help. Had less time passed, she might have held enough fury to end the man's life right then and there. Unfortunately, he was found and taken to Taitelle before he was able to carry out the vaguely detailed mission he had shared with the nymph. The then curious Linnae followed. In the years that followed she met his student, Kiernan, finding his company to be tolerable despite the city he hailed from. Linnae began to spend less time near the center of Aetheria, and more near the outskirts of the very city she hated. In time, she was introduced to Kho, and an odd friendship was formed. The rest, was history.

    Magic:

    ❧ Subliminal - Soothing & Hypnosis
    ❧ Elemental - Earth

    Skills:

    ❧ Gardening
    ❧ Botany
    ❧ Deception

    Strengths:

    ❧ Devoted ally
    ❧ Attuned with nature
    ❧ Physically strong despite small stature

    Weaknesses:

    ❧ Distrustful of strangers
    ❧ Declining health tied to the Heart of Aetheria
    ❧ Highly susceptible to heat and flame

    Romanceable:

    Sure if you want to bark up that tree...I'll be rooting for you.
    Yes. The answer is yes.

    Art:
    Credit to SEPHITROTH ART

  • Malik

    Human | 34 | Stillharbour, Ventha
    NAME:

    Malik Shendoa

    RACE:

    Human

    AGE:

    34

    HOME TERRITORY:

    Ventha

    PROFESSION:

    Previously, loyal soldier of the Taitellen Empire. More recently, deserter.

    DESCRIPTION:

    Standing at 6'2", Malik is on the taller end of the human scale, with a stocky build that even a year on the run couldn't quite diminish. His stature has traditionally been useful, what with the longer reach that comes with it, but he's gotten into the habit of slouching and keeping his head down since his desertion. Standing out in a crowd when one is a wanted criminal is bad, after all. A pair of old scars mar the right side of his face; one cuts through his eyebrow and curves uncomfortably close to his right eye, and the other slashes down his cheek and through his signature black-and-silver goatee. His eyes are a pretty blue-green, pale green around the pupil that shifts into blue around the outer edge of the iris. Black runic tattoos are usually hidden beneath the armor he wears far too often these days and the only other notable scars he bears are on his chest.

    PERSONALITY:

    Though the last few years have put a sizable dent in Malik's previously bold outward personality, there's no doubt that he remains an extrovert. He's patient and warm, the sort who makes a good listener and conversation partner...provided one doesn't mind his particular brand of blunt humor, of course. Malik was raised around sailors and dockworkers and spent his adult life surrounded by the common soldier - if someone is looking for politeness, manners, and a lack of cursing, they'd best look elsewhere. Something else that tends to come across soon after one meets Malik is his stubborn nature, as that stubbornness underlines many of the things he is and does. It makes him a dedicated ally and all the better at defensive magic. It also serves as the reason he spent so many years working for the Empire.

    BIO:

    Born to a pair of dockworkers in the ever-expanding port of Stillharbour, far in the south of Ventha, Malik had a simple and rainy childhood. When Malik recalls it, he usually tells of imagined adventures on the beach and watching all the comings and goings in the harbour with childlike wonder. When his parents recall it, they describe how adventurous and troublesome their son was with a fond sort of exasperation, and highlight his fascination with scaling Mt. Kinsae, which still looms threateningly over the island. Whichever version one chooses to believe, before Malik was twelve years of age he could tie an excellent whipping knot and had already collected a few scars.

    The pressures of adulthood began to press more on Malik as he grew into his teenage years. After eight months spent working on the docks with his parents, Malik came to the conclusion that life in Stillharbour wasn't quite right for him any longer. At age nineteen, he decided to enlist in the military. Serving the Empire that managed to remove the guardstones sounded like a truly excellent idea back then, and Malik is grateful for that chance to pursue magic, but sometimes...he wishes he'd thought to stay in the city of his birth.

    Four years after he joined the military, Emperor Ruslan died, and within a year the Sovereign Treaty was retracted by his replacement. Then only twenty-four, an apprentice Runic mage and a dime-for-a-dozen soldier, Malik had his first thoughts of rebellion. But he was a willful child that grew into a stubborn man, and he refused to abandon his choice of career. It took seven more years of carrying out Emperor Petros' increasing cruelties on the population for Malik to snap and abandon the banner he'd faithfully served for so long. He was lucky enough to trip over the Rebellion a few months after his desertion, and threw himself into proving himself to them with all the fierce loyalty he'd previously had for the Empire. Subtle he was not, but he was a fighter, intimately familiar with the Empire's tactics and training. A useful asset. Then Kiernan was killed, and everything fell to pieces.

    Malik has wandered for the months since, careful and cautious. It's dangerous to be a deserter in these times.

    MAGIC:

    Runic - Defensive, Warding
    Runic Tattoos
    - A set of three runes are inked across the outside of his left forearm to ease the summoning of his shield, and the backs of both his hands are each tattooed with a circle of defensive runes. The runes are functional, but artfully done; Malik likes to believe that form and function aren't mutually exclusive.

    Warded Amulet
    - Though it isn't so much an amulet as a smooth river stone hanging from a leather thong, it's marked with a ward which vibrates the stone whenever something moves within a short radius around Malik. He has to deactivate and reactivate it periodically to prevent the ward failing on its own.


    SKILLS:

    Magical combat, swordsmanship

    Ropework

    Planning and laying out fortifications & defenses


    STRENGTHS:

    Physically strong

    High levels of endurance and general sturdiness

    Dedicated

    Patient, nearly unflappable

    Considerate and empathetic


    WEAKNESSES:

    Too heavy for agility

    Terrible sense of manners and propriety

    Stubborn

    As subtle as a sledgehammer

    Worries about everything


    ROMANCEABLE:

    No

    ARTIST:

    Marccus, on Tumblr.

  • Melsinde Blackfinger
    Satyr/Female | 37 | Venthas
    Name:
    Melsinde

    Nickname:
    Melly, Mel

    Race:
    Satyr

    Age:
    37

    Home Territory:
    Venthas

    Profession:
    Chronicler; storyteller

    Description:
    Melsinde stands a petite 5'2", her horns barely pushing her to 5'5". Her build is best described as slender, with thin arms, spindly legs, and a swannish neck supporting a thin face. The satyr has a set of narrow hips, leading to a set of shaggy goat legs, as is the custom for her race. Her hooves are neatly kept, the fur a light speckled gray and black. Her skin is fair, with slight freckling and scarring from a storied life, and her coloring is light, with fawnish brown hair and light brown eyes. Her hair is often down, free-flowing around her face, falling to her shoulders. Melsinde's voice is a soothing, even alto, with a slight scratch from years of smoking a long pipe.

    She carries herself with regal, if a bit stiff, bearing, a countenance of confidence. Her clothing style is often in grayer tones, with flowing blouses and skirts covered by a well-worn, brown traveling cloak smelling heavily of tobacco smoke and earth. Her horns are well maintained, about two feet in length curving away from her face, often decorated with chains. Her fingers are ink-stained from long hours writing with quill and parchment. Her every move is languid, careful. Poised best describes her appearance.

    Personality:
    The single word that sums up Melsinde's personality is 'even-keel'. The satyr is calm to an almost catatonic degree, finding little to ruffle her feathers. Panic is not in her vocabulary, managing to keep her cool in trying situations. That is not to say she lacks emotion - merely that she processes events carefully and methodically, before finally digesting the events in question. Her sense of humor is wide, stomaching all manners of japes. There is little that offends her sensibilities. That said, she does have a deep, simmering anger when sufficiently disturbed, and she holds grudges for quite a long time.

    Bio:
    Melsinde is somewhat of an outsider, even among her own race. Hailing from around the Briar Glen, as a young satyr she was found by shepherds, alone and lost, somehow separated from her family. Moved by her apparent distress, the old shepherd couple took her into their home temporarily, knowing that there would no doubt be another group of satyrs to come through. However, time dragged on, and Mel soon became a part of their family.

    Yet, even with her adopted human family, there was a burning need to know what had happened to her biological parents. A wanderlust and desire to travel seemed inborn, faceted by the structure and discipline of shepherding with the couple that had raised her. When her adopted father finally died, she stayed for the funeral, though the rest of the family seemed unsure what to do with this additional member. Aware that she was an interloper in her own family, she chose to leave her elderly 'mother' in her foster sisters' and brothers' care, to search for her family... and perhaps run from a grief she had not totally processed.

    She traveled to Briar Glen at the age of seventeen, speaking to groups of satyrs in search of her family. However, so much time had passed, and she found the satyr almost as confusing as her adopted human kin. Eventually, she did find her lost satyr folk, and while they thought her as odd to them as they were to her, they accepted her with open arms, glad to have found a lost daughter. There seemed a lingering sadness in her, nevertheless, that would not abate. The lack of structure to satyrical life was difficult for her to adjust to, having grown used to often herding sheep, soothing sick animals, fetching hay and water. She eventually left them as an adult, feeling that there was still something missing to this life.

    Heading to the heart of the empire, she attempted to enroll in a school, and immediately she was enthralled by the act of penning stories, real and imagined. As part of the university in Taithros, specifically in the College of Annals, she soon found herself recording the rebellions and disasters going on in other parts of the empire, sojourning to bear witness to others' stories - but forced to write them in the Empire's favor, despite what she may see. She traveled, listening to and asking about the stories surrounding rebellion, loss, and hardship.

    This led to a vested interest in Kiernan's rebellion, hearing through the grapevine that there was a man looking to replace the Guard Stones that had been removed from the Tree. Painstakingly, she sought to build trust with the resistance force, feeding them information much sought after through the libraries she had access to, using her network of contacts to tip them off about patrols. In the meantime, she has helped to compile their information, curating the story of the rebellion - and the expedition to revive the Tree.

    However, a black cloud fell over when Kiernan was found out and sentenced to execution. Melsinde Blackfinger was requested to bear witness, to pen the proceedings and the event in question. She was present at his beheading, with a front-row seat and no choice but to pretend to be an impartial observer of the Empire. She can only hope that the presence of a friend gave him some little comfort.

    Magic:
    Subliminal: Illusory branch - Projection (only). Adept. She has been working on a way to store magical energy through a glass box that would later project events as seen through the eyes of the observing magician. It is a very slow process, however. She is particularly good at projecting memories, but only for short bursts of time. The effect is a bit like a vignette, with blurred edges and the most important or well-remembered elements standing out in stark clarity. She can also project multiples of herself within 20 feet.

    Skills:

    + Smooth Talking
    + Excellent audiovisual memory
    + Deductive reasoning
    + Can read and write


    Strengths:

    + Emotional stability
    + Great sense of hearing
    + Gifted in persuasion
    + Very good with maps
    + Perseverance

    Weaknesses:

    + Strictly non-combative
    + Easily distracted, especially by a good story
    + Little stamina
    + Physically average
    + Procrastinator/Perfectionist

    Romanceable:
    No.

    Artist:
    Aditya777


  • Miri Vaunea
    Horned/Human | 23 | Wyndfel
    Name:
    Miri Vaunea

    Nickname:
    None

    Race:
    Half human, half horned

    Age:
    23

    Home Territory:

    Wyndfel

    Profession:
    Silk merchant/Drug Dealer Psychedelic Fungi Seller on the side

    Description:

    Miri, like all half-breeds, takes after her mother, a human. She keeps her red, curly hair cut short to just below her chin because if she lets it grow longer, it tends to get out of control. She has light, freckled skin and wears large round glasses. From her father, she inherited two small horns that grow straight back from her temples, curling slightly upwards at the ends and blue eyes. Although her father was average height for a horned, her mother was fairly short. Miri is somewhere in between them around 5.5". She has 7 total ear piercings, 2 in each of her lobes, 2 in her left helix and an industrial in her right. Her body is covered in tattoos of various plants and animals, mostly on her back and legs. Most of them are kept covered except for a small tattoo of a mushroom on her left wrist and an opium poppy on her right.

    Personality:

    Miri somehow has an amazing memory and is extremely forgetful at the same time. She can recite a book word for word after reading it only a couple times but forgets things like appointments and important dates regularly. She gets distracted very easily and is extremely curious. Things about fungi pique her interest the most, but she loves learning about just about everything. In her free time, she enjoys cultivating her collection of fungi and drawing detailed diagrams. Cheerful and friendly, she tends to be overly talkative. Miri isn't afraid to say what's on her mind and can be very blunt. She is a very straightforward person and can have a hard time understanding people who are sarcastic and is a bit gullible.

    Bio:

    Miri's mother was the daughter of a wealthy silk merchant from Tumana. Her family often went on vacation in the Wyndel mountains near Tórlinn in the winter, which is where she meat Miri's father. She attended the Magisteria Academy, specializing in Runic enchantments and warding. After graduating, she turned down an apprenticeship and settled down with her horned lover in Wyndfel. The two of them love children. Miri has 9 younger siblings and the twelve of them all work together to keep their family business of selling enchanted armor, clothes and wards afloat. Miri proved to be horrible at both silk making and her father's trades of smithing and leatherworking. She did, however, have a talent in enchantments and wards. After finishing her work, Miri would often wander into the mountains around their home to avoid babysitting duty. She often spent several days at a time in them and soon, grew a special fascination for the fungi that lived there. Miri began cultivating her own mushrooms and soon became notorious among the community for selling psychedelics. Although she grew poppy, she never sold opiates. She only grew it because she found it fascinating that such an innocent-looking flower could produce such a powerful drug.

    As rumors of rebellion began, Miri's mother received a letter from an old classmate, asking for her help. Initially reluctant, she and her husband began secretly supplying the rebellion with enchanted items after seeing the effects of the crystals' removal on their home. After Kiernan's arrest, however, Miri's mother cut off all contact with the rebellion, afraid of putting their family and young children at risk. Her father reluctantly agreed and left the letter he received a year later on his desk unopened.

    Meanwhile, Miri, who spent much of her in the mountains, was among the first in her village to notice and voice her concerns about the dying vegetation. She began to become resentful of the empire. When Miri found the letter addressed to her father, it was the first time she had ever heard anything about her family being involved in the rebellion. She made the decision to join and left home.

    Magic:


    Runic - warding and enchantment

    Her poppy tattoo is a ward against subliminal magic. It doesn't make her immune but does help make her more resistant. Her mushroom tattoo is a ward against poisons. Unfortunately, she messed it up when making it and it also prevents her from getting high and drunk. Although she can do both enchantment and warding, her specialty is in wards.

    Skills:

    • Mountain survival skills
    • Growing and identifying fungi
    • Photographic memory

    Strengths:

    • Learns quickly
    • Skilled at Warding
    • Patient

    Weaknesses:

    • No combat experience
    • Easily Distracted
    • Can be forgetful

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    NA


  • Pan Tall-Bones
    Satyr | 21 years | Wyndfel
    Name:
    Pan Tall-Bones

    Race:
    Satyr

    Age:
    21

    Home Territory:
    Wyndfel

    Profession:
    Miner

    Description:
    Pan towers above his Goblin peers but is himself of unremarkable height at 5'7", though his profession keeps him solid and strong. His exposed skin tone tends to the light tan, while his fur tends toward a walnut brown. Scars shallow and deep etch his skin, as a smile perpetually etches his face.

    While he goes about in mining leathers on the usual, Pan does wear a mixture of hide and heavy bark armor to fend off the more territorial, mountain-dwelling creatures that occasionally seek to win back the caves the mining Goblins intruded upon.

    Personality:
    Pan is almost a prototypical 'good-ol-boy'. Raised to seek out those in need and aid them where he may, he is patient and trusting. That trust comes easily but is re-earned painstakingly, and he has no use for liars. His strong sense of justice has more than once prevented him from coming to a point of empathy, and bridges have been burned because of it, and sometimes literally. Mostly uneducated but a hard worker, and with an almost unerring sense of direction, Pan has made himself an asset to his adoptive family

    Bio:
    Raised from birth in the little-regarded Goblin mining village of the Heights in the Black Mountains between Estura and Wyndfel, Pan Tall-Bones was born to a refugee Satyr woman fleeing a fear she refused to ever name. He never knew her, she having survived his birth only long enough to wean him, leaving an old Goblin maester to adopt him and raise him with his daughter. Yigwit the Maester taught him as much as he could about mining, and Pan became valued in the community for his size, being therefore much more efficient than the average Goblin at their mining. Moreover, he was far a more threatening presence to the cave-dwelling predators and mountain stalking monsters than his fairly short family, which only made him more popular.

    Yigwit called Pan into his hut one day with a grave expression. The world was dying, he said, and its one vocal proponent had been killed for daring to say something about it. Pan, furious at this injustice, asked how it was Yigwit even knew about all this. The Maester, it seemed, had been in contact with Kiernan, the man in question, and being something of an expert on all things Stone, had been advising him on the subject. Moreover, Yigwit explained, Pan's foster-sister Periwinkle had discovered the week previous a metal that enhanced twofold the effects of runic magic that it was charged with. The rebellion, what remained of it, could surely use the material in their weaponry, Yigwit surmised, but they had to know about it. Pan accepted his task willingly, and packing his bag with two samples of the metal, one blank and one charged with defensive wards, supplies, and strapping an axe forged by Periwinkle to his back, he set off for Taithros.

    Magic:
    No magic

    Skills:
    Pan is a miner by trade, so his skill set mostly falls under that purview. He is also reasonably handy with weaponry, if never properly trained.

    Strengths:

    • Strength (literally; breaking and hauling rocks for a living will do that)
    • Agile climber
    • Proficient and creative cook (to a goblin palate, anyhow)

    Weaknesses:

    • Struggles understanding anything more complicated than a wheelbarrow
    • Uneducated and mostly illiterate
    • Ignorant of the world beyond his borders

    Romanceable:
    ...Yyyyyes?

    Artist:
    https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/asset...a-bonacini-schizzi-uomo-bestia.jpg?1492373841

  • Penelope Pexori
    Horned | 26 | Bard
    Name:

    Penelope Pexori
    [spoili]Prudence Hawthorne[/spoili]

    Nickname:

    Penny

    Race:

    Horned

    Age:

    26

    Home Territory:

    Tórlinn, Wyndfel

    Profession:

    Bard

    Description:

    Often times, you'll hear Penelope strumming a tune on her worn down lyre before you ever see her face. Her melodic voice is often described as being soothing, and pleasant to one's ear. She stands tall at an even 6'0" with sharp features and a permanent smile etched onto her face. She often wears the same deep purple coat, a gift she is sincerely grateful of. Otherwise Penelope can be most often seen wearing tunics ten sizes too large, cinched with thick belts to keep her figure about her. Two horns curl horizontally away from her forehead, tips pointing towards the sky. Her skin is an ashy gray tinged with a light blue color. From head to toe she is covered in minor scrapes and burns, the most obvious she keeps under wraps around her wrists and arm for when she is performing. Penelope has thick black hair with a few interwoven braids, and two bright blue eyes.

    Always at her side is a large black and gray cat named Jack.

    Personality:

    Penelope is good-natured at heart, an altruistic soul with the best of intentions and nothing to her name but the shirt on her back and the lyre in her hands. She'd give her last coin to a complete stranger for no better reason than because they'd asked. Although her generous nature makes many think the horned woman is a bit of a pushover, she is anything but. A girl still needs to eat, after all. Despite the open friendliness she displays, the horned woman never talks much about herself, preferring to keep her own life private.

    She tends to dote on her friends at every opportunity. And to Penelope everyone is a friend as soon as she knows their name. Penelope isn't one to display weakness, and has a difficult time accepting help from others. Call it pride, she just doesn't feel comfortable taking more than she needs. Considering her personality Penelope tries not to think about the obvious hypocrisy.

    Jack is the best. He's a sweet cat with so much love. Air biscuit master.

    Bio:

    Born in Tórlinn, Penelope Pexori was born Prudence Hawthorne to a well to do couple in support of the Empire. She spent the early years of her life in her mother's shadow, who worked the medical tents outside the larger mines and assisting those who had been injured mining or smithing. Her father was a soldier for the Taitellen Empire and his loyalty to the military was unquestionable. In time, he earned a promotion and the family was relocated to Taithros. It was during this stressful move in which Penelope first discovered her innate ability for healing. While her father was ecstatic, her mother showed signs of unease with every improvement the young girl made. At the age of fourteen, her father had her enrolled in the military to hone her abilities and support the Empire. Her mother didn't approve. Her parents constantly fought over whether or not it was appropriate for her to be enlisted at such a young age. Then, one day, her mother fell ill and within days lost her life to an unknown ailment.

    It wasn't until years later Penelope finally learned the truth. In a drunken episode, her father finally admitted he had poisoned her. It was for the good of the Empire, he had said, and that she was not a true supporter of their Emperor. When Penelope discovered her father was behind her mother's death, she was devastated. The last two years of her life she'd spent in the military on her father's order and decided she had to leave at the age of sixteen. They argued, they fought, and in the end Penelope stabbed her father in his sleep and ran without looking back. Penelope isn't sure if he's alive or dead. She hardly cares.

    It was on the road to nowhere she encountered Octavius and Beaumont. They were kind enough to let the starving girl travel with them, even going so far as to help her find a place in one of the many schools at Khal Miras dedicated to fine arts. It was Beaumont who encouraged her to take up the life of a bard after listening to her sing on the road. She dedicated her life to spreading joy and helping others, just as the two strangers had for her.

    There are very few people in the world who know of her actual history in Taithros. Penelope tells everyone she grew up in Khal Miras and her parents died when she was young to avoid the sensitive topic, and no one has questioned her otherwise.

    Magic:

    ❖ Restorative - Healing, Purifying

    Skills:

    ❖ Swordplay - Being in the military, even if only for a short while, came with some perks
    ❖ Identification of poisons and toxins - Training in the military has given Penelope the advantage of a wider array of knowledge of common poisons and toxins
    ❖ A variety of musical instruments, favors the lyre - She can play many instruments but this one is her favorite and the only one she owns
    ❖ Cooking - The young woman enjoys learning new recipes and is an excellent on the spot chef

    Strengths:

    ❖ Charismatic - friendly to anyone she meets and radiates confidence in her speech
    ❖ Purification - the branch of Restoration magic has always come naturally to Penelope
    ❖ Good natured - honest intentions, is always willing to go the extra mile for others

    Weaknesses:

    ❖ Hot headed - Hot tempered and foul mouthed, can be easily set off if one can find the right sore spots
    ❖ Lost - Directionally challenged despite her ability to navigate difficult terrain
    ❖ Reckless - Emotions tend to blind Penelope from rationalization, she has little regard for the consequences

    Romanceable:

    Absolutely.

    Art:
    Credit to WingBuffet Twitter

  • PHINEAS
    Human | 36 | Taithros, Taitelle
    Name:
    Phineas de Pemos

    Nicknames:
    Fin, Finny (for his lovers only)

    Race:
    Human

    Age:
    36

    Home Territory:
    Taithros, Taitelle

    Profession:
    Ghostwriter (and impromptu advisor)

    Description:


    Phineas is an impressive specimen of man, gifted with a stature of 6 ft and impeccably handsome features. His body is lean and in good form, though to say he was athletically built would be a generous statement. He is meticulously well-kept, with nary a hair out of place on his head nor on his face. His hands and skin are surprisingly soft, a key indicator of the pampered life he has lived up until this point. When he walks, it is with a slight swagger, limbs loose and relaxed as if he hadn't a care in the world.

    His outer garments often betray him as someone of wealth. Try as he might, his penchant for finer things prevent him from wearing anything of poor quality. He tends to wear long tunics and high-collar shirts, staying away from the over-the-top robes his contemporaries insist on wearing. A steel sword hangs always at his side. At the hilt of the sword is scratched out hole where the family emblem used to sit.


    Personality:


    Endowed with a spritely and vivacious spirit, Phineas is not one to remain stagnant in his persona. Loving both life and all that comes with it, he lives each moment to the fullest, with a heady energy hardly found in men his age. He is a passionate man, whether it be in his love, his work, or anything else he sets his attentions too. Perhaps passionate to a fault; in his pursuit to experience all that life has to offer, Phineas is susceptible to making reckless decisions on a whim. He fancies himself a heroic adventurer of sorts and does not seem to realize that he is not, in fact, invincible.

    But he can be quite chivalrous. Phineas' immense respect for the opposite sex has put him in the mindset that they must be treated well at all times, as one would care for their own wife. He loves all women deeply and is quick to pursue it; race matters little to him. His affection towards them has spawned him no small smattering of lovers (and perhaps children) throughout Taithros, although he does not confess to committing to any of them.


    Bio:


    Phineas has never worked a hard day in his life. Being born to the Pemos family name came with automatic merits: endless coffers, elite education, and the immense privilege of being part of one of the oldest families in Taitelle. His parent's specific branch of the family oversaw tax collections for the main district of Portwatch and its surrounding residences. As the youngest of three, it did not fall on Phineas' shoulders to continue the family empire. Instead, for a time he was pushed to pursue a career in the Imperial Guard. Back then, his skill with a sword seemed promising. Delighted, he felt his calling was to be a valiant knight and signed up with the Imperial Guard as soon as he was able to. The experience was tragically short-lived. He never spoke of what happened to anyone, but sources claimed it involved a sword, his foe's severed arm, and his face planting itself into the ground. Phineas wisely decided on another career.

    He moved on to his next best talent: writing. It turned out that many high-ranking army officials and politicians were quite lacking in literacy and paid a pretty coin for someone to write speeches and letters for them. They needed something to infuse their image with intellect and charm, both of which Phineas possessed in apparent abundance. The demand for his written art placed him in a social sphere close to the Emperor and his associates, and by his 2nd year living in Taithros, he had firmly established himself as a fixture in Taithros' elite society. Around this time, Phineas made a sizable contribution to the Magisteria Academy, where he would meet his soon-to-be good friend Magister Aona. He often attended her lectures on the guardian stones, and in private they discussed the state of the world and the wide scale corruption he witnessed when associating with his "high-class" friends. It was Aona who finally introduced him to the rebellion.

    Phineas took her invitation to heart. He accompanied her to a small meeting of five, and although met with open hostility, he quickly pledged his support. The rebel cause utilized him to write anonymous and highly discreet missive to try and rally further support for the rebellion. Further, he would incorporate their words into current works he published. A rebel could identify a coded message from other literary works by a distinct watermark in the bottom right corner; after performing a short spell, the true words reveal themselves. He continued this work up until Magister Kiernan was executed. After that, he sought out Aona at the Academy but found her nowhere to be found. She had disappeared without a trace, and Phineas feared for the worst. Two months have passed with no word yet from her. It is his ardent hope that he will find her safe from harm at the next rebel's meeting.


    Magic:

    • Illusory (Glamour) - Adept, middle tier skill. Something that has more than once saved him from capture from would-be foes and spurned lovers.
    • Repel Enchantment - This enchantment on his sword allows any debris--blood, flesh, dirt--to be repelled instantly from his sword, keeping it clean at all times. A petty thing to most people, but necessary for Phineas.
    Skills:

    • Grand Orator - His immense skill with both spoken and written words allows him to give voice to the cause, as well as provide rousing speeches for low morale.
    • Bladesman - Phineas is an average swordsman, although he hardly utilizes it, preferring to spare weapons until no other recourse can be taken. The blade at his side is mostly for show.
    • Blockhead - He has a higher tolerance towards subliminal magic than most, and can sense when someone is employing it against him. In addition, his skull is very hard. Avoid headbutting him.
    • Sharpshooter - As with most things, he was tutored in archery in his youth. Phineas still retains a high level of skill as an archer despite his reluctance to engage in battle.
    • Escape Artist - He's had much practice over the years of breaking free from constrainments. Armed with a meager lockpicking skill and flexibility, Phineas is able to worm his way out of most traps and cages set upon him by others.
    • Mirror Image - His most impressive skill is the ability to mimick the movements, mannerisms, and occasionally voice of a subject after quick study. Combined with his illusory magic, he is able to create a convincing doppelganger of another man.

    Strengths:

    • Wealth - Being of the Pemos family, Phineas possesses a considerable amount of money, as well as the deeds to certain holdings in the territory of Taitelle, as well as one in Estura.
    • Links - Both his line of work and his family have provided him with valuable connections with both government and army officials, although whether they will provide much use is questionable.
    • Humble - Despite his status in life, Phineas is reasonable in his view of himself, thinking he is no better than any other fool put on this planet. His lack of an ego allows him to function well in team capacities.
    • Renaissance Man - Having gained a general education of most studies as a youth, Phineas is a cultured, intelligent man. He retains knowledge easily.
    • Big Heart - Phineas is an affectionate man and loves freely. He is known to be a fantastic lover.

    Weaknesses:

    • Gore - Phineas has a strong reaction to anything bloody or gory. He simply cannot stomach it; he will swoon.
    • Magic-less - Offensive and defensive magic never quite took to him, so he's quite ignorant and ill-prepared for it.
    • Lustful Eye - Beautiful creatures, predominantly women, distract him, to the point of abandoning tasks entirely. His insatiable desire for companionship can be a hindrance to others.
    • Noncommittal - Phineas is fiercely independent and wayward. Nothing can tie him down permanently, which makes him a flight risk if a situation turns hairy.
    • Rich Boy - Having lived a life of ease, he is unused to hard work and rough, poor travel. He stands out easily as someone of higher birth no matter how hard he tries to blend in.

    Other Info:

    • He's an absolutely atrocious flute player, but will insist on playing at any given opportunity. His response to criticism is that he's still "learning"-- despite the fact he's been playing since childhood.
    • Phineas is currently engaged to a rich heiress from Portwatch. He has been dodging the wedding for years now, which has moved his would-be bride to hire men to hunt him down and retrieve him. They have yet to succeed.
    • The Pemos family is widely despised by the common people for their widespread corruption and their collection of taxes for the Emperor. Although Phineas is cut from a different cloth, he often refrains from admitting his true identity upon first meeting individuals, especially fellow rebels.

    Romanceable:
    Yes, in every way

    Artist:
    (Include credit for FC artist, if applicable.)


  • Rahne O'Braoin
    Human/Female | 25 | Wyndfel
    Name:
    Rahne O'Braoin

    Nickname:
    None.

    Race:
    Human

    Age:
    25

    Home Territory:
    Wyndfel

    Profession:
    Ex-Soldier

    Description:
    Rahne stands proudly at a rather modest height of 5'4,the average for someone of her age. She has a strong, lean, well-muscled figure that screams fighter. As if they weren't enough, her body has various scars, across her arms and even the bridge of her nose and eye. It's quite rare to see her without some sort of injury. Her somewhat fair skin is often marred with bruises, or her fingers wrapped in bandages. Her hair is a salamander shade of orange and is kept straight and somewhat long, descending just past her shoulders. Her eyes are teal blue.

    Personality:

    Rahne is not the most intelligent person. She leaves much to be desired as far as formal education goes. She can handle the most basic of maths (so long as she can use her fingers), and she can read, though she isn't the fastest. Beyond that, she knows nothing, and even within that, she finds herself struggling often. She finds herself struggling when it comes to the nuance of social interactions, often misunderstanding a situation entirely, or even being fooled.

    But for what she lacks in intelligence she more than makes up for in ferocity, conviction, and heart. She's a stubborn and unyielding girl who, when convinced that she's right, is nigh impossible to convince otherwise. When she commits to something, she commits wholeheartedly, sticking with her decision until the end, even when the going gets tough. She always says what she means and means what she says, even if it comes across as offensive. She means well and tries to do right by everyone when she can.


    Bio:

    The eldest child born to her parents, Rahne was born and raised in Rola. As a child, she would go outside to play and often come back with scrapes and bruises from fighting with other kids or trying to do something dangerous to impress others as well as herself. This worried her parents to no end, and eventually resulted in her father to bringing her to assist him with logging, making her use her energy for something more productive than scrapping with other kids or pulling some dangerous stunt. The work was tough, but it was simple and rewarding, and Rahne quickly grew to appreciate it. But as she grew, her appreciation for the work was dwarfed by a sense of wanderlust, a desire for adventure.

    As Rahne grew older she began to grow bored with her life in the small town. It was pleasant, but it was repetitive. The days began to run into one another and she found herself unhappy with her life. It was on her 19th birthday that she made the only decision she could think of to get out of Rola and explore: enlist in the military. Unfortunately, her first few years as a soldier weren't what she thought they would be. While she was no longer bored with her life, it was far from how she thought it would be. While she had always pictured her life as a soldier as one of heroics and adventure, the cruelty of the empire did not sit well with her, affecting her sleep and even her appetite despite never partaking in the actions. Just sitting idly by and working with those who would follow through with any order, no matter how cruel was enough to make her regret her decision to enlist. She lasted only three years in the military before she defected.

    It wouldn't be long before she found herself shacking up with the Rebellion. To her, it was an easy choice to make. What the empire had become could not be allowed to stand any longer. If rebellion was the only way to bring about change then so be it. The only thing she could offer was her sword and skill, who would turn down another body to throw at the enemy?

    Magic:
    Runic - Offensive.
    Runic Belt - The runes engraved on her belt increase her physical abilities, allowing her to be stronger, faster and resist fatigue longer than she normally would. She can even take a few more blows than normal so long as the leather belt is wrapped around her waist.


    Skills:

    Swordsmanship
    Hand-To-Hand Combat
    Intimidation

    Strengths:

    Sturdy and Enduring
    Dedicated and strong willed
    Bold and unyielding
    Open and honest
    Agile

    Weaknesses:

    Rather stupid
    Terrible leader
    Speaks mind without thinking of the consequences
    Stubborn as a mule, not very flexible when it comes to opposing viewpoints
    Headstrong and rash
    Prideful

    Romanceable:
    Yes.
    Artist:
    Art is by Morry!


  • Eulalia Belemoux
    Lamia | 28 | Southern Luras
    Name:
    Eulalia Belemoux

    Nickname:
    Ula

    Race:
    Lamia

    Age:
    28

    Home Territory:
    Southern Luras

    Profession:
    Jeweler

    Description:

    When standing upright, Ula stands at an average height of 5'7" with a slim build. Her midnight-black hair falls past her waist and is often pulled back into a loose braid when she is working, revealing a pair of pointed ears. Her peachy skin is often decorated in various necklaces and jewels, a sign of pride of both her family and her own work. The toned muscles of her stomach slowly give away to iridescent black scales that seem more blue in the right light.

    Her full lips hide sharp teeth that she flashes liberally when irritated. Freckles span across the bridge of her nose. Her bright emerald eyes are narrow, framed by long lashes and dark eyebrows that are often raised in silent judgement.

    Personality:

    Ula had learned quickly that people didn't like her based off of her family line. Who could blame them? Her family had profited off of the Empire for generations. She wears this prejudice like a badge, keeping her chin high and never apologizing for the family that she was born into. Her pride is often her downfall, as she refuses to admit that her family was in the wrong for opening up trade with the Empire.

    Her enemies would describe her as two-faced while her friends would describe her as resourceful. She is fiercely loyal to those who gain her favor. Her allies' enemies become her enemies. When she isn't playing a part, she truly enjoys the company of others and finds it easy to relax around those that she trusts.

    Bio:

    Ula had always been ambitious, even as a child. Half of her time was spent watching her father twist shining metals and jewels into beautiful chains and bracelets while she spent the other half studying magic with her estranged cousin.

    Long before Ula was born, when Merizoc surrendered control to the Taitellen Empire, her family had been one of the few to benefit. They had taken their fine jewels and carefully crafted silks and begun to send those most comfortable with leaving their home territory to Taithros to trade. Their business had gone as far as providing carefully crafted jewelry for officials in the Empire. Her father had been the one to take their goods to the capital, a job that was to be passed onto Ula one day. As a young lamia, she'd accompany her father on long expeditions to Taithros to trade. She'd been fascinated by the Aetherian Market, from the different species that dwelt there to the wide variety of goods.

    It was when her father was falsely accused of conspiring with the rebellion and promptly arrested that the market lost its luster. She'd been 19 and unable to convince the guards that her father was innocent before she was forced to return to Merizoc.

    Upon returning home, her cousin approached her with an offer to join the rebellion and save her father. Her association with the rebellion began as a way to get her father back but slowly became a cause that she was loyal to. She hadn't realized that the Empire's actions had truly damaged the rest of the world. While the search for her father didn't yield any results, she did find a sense of belonging in the rebellion.

    She continued her father's craft of creating beautiful jewelry to sell, only this time she used her constant traveling to deliver messages for the rebellion. Despite her father's arrest all those years ago, her family still remained a renowned trader in the Aetherian Market. Her facade as the vain and materialistic daughter of the Belemoux family served her well, allowing her into upper class circles.

    Although she fights for the rebellion, in the end her loyalty is to her family and to making the Empire pay for taking her father from her.

    Magic:
    Subliminal - Alteration


    Skills:

    • Metal working; Ula is very good at creating accessories and light ornamental armor.
    • Gem identification; Ula can properly identify and work with most gems and precious metals.
    • Hand to Hand Combat; Ula learned how to defend herself once she realized that playing the role of a spy can be dangerous.

    Strengths:

    • Charisma; Ula's tongue is as silver as the metals that she works with.
    • Speed; Ula is fast and relies on this heavily during fights.
    • Adaption; Ula is very good at 'shedding her skin' and becoming whoever she needs to be for different social situations.
    • Connections; Ula has many connections from her time at the Aetherian Market.

    Weaknesses:

    • Endurance; while Ula may be fast, her stamina keeps her from maintaining her speed for too long.
    • Cold Climates; Ula cannot handle cold climates and finds it difficult to accomplish anything, even if she is wearing enough layers to be warm.
    • Ranged Attacks; due to her nearsightedness, she cannot see ranged attacks until they are literally upon her.
    • Pride; Ula does not take criticism about herself or her family very well and is not easily swayed on her opinions, even if she's wrong.

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    wlop

 
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"Well said! Well said by all."

Uncharacteristically silent the entire meeting, Phineas spoke with geniality, a pleasant expression on his face. He had heard the sayings of his fellow rebels and felt their convictions, happy to note that so many were willing to give their all to a nameless cause. But in truth, he'd only been half paying attention. Every step on the stairway had drawn his eye, and he'd stifled the disappointment that came when Magister Aona did not materialize before him. Every person in their group had spoken; the one named Kholas had moved onto the first step of their enterprise. The clock had moved to the next hour, far beyond a time Aona would venture out.

And yet, he'd waited. Until the servers had made their way down, and Phineas had realized without a doubt that Aona--should she have the means, will, or autonomy--was not coming. The mystery remained unsolved. He knew he could not keep silent any longer, unless he wanted the other rebels to regard him as a suspicious character.

He focused back on the present, clearing his throat.

"I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" He straightened in his seat, looking at first Kholas, then Linnae, gaze steady as he made sure to meet the eyes of every member of their party. "I am Phineas. Or Fin, if that's more to your liking."

He paused.

"I am a writer of sorts. Though I can not confess to be as skilled as the lovely Melsindre, I have dabbled here and there in published works of poetry, stories, and the like. I give voice to the Emperor's most esteemed associates through whatever avenue they choose. Speeches, letters, eh, advice…In so doing, I am a man of some means and talents, should the rebel cause request it. Ask, and it shall be given."

More than once, Phineas' eyes scanned the faces of those around him. There were several identifying details omitted from his introductory statement, but, not wanting to inflate his own image, he'd willfully failed to mention them. Not to mention the comfort he took in his relative obscurity. He shrugged.

"So. A pleasure to meet you all."

If they had been expecting him to say more, they were sorely disappointed. Or perhaps not; the smell of food was tantalizing, and he was sure more than a few were more concerned with what was on their plates than the pompous words of a stuffcoat. More than fine by him. Pulling his chair over closer to the table, he leaned towards the goblin seated near the end, keeping his voice low.

"Kholas, was it? I must ask about the letters you sent out. Has one, by chance, been sent to another contact at the Academy? A Magister Aona, of elemental air studies? She has taught there for nearly twenty years. Sometime around the execution she...disappeared entirely. I was wondering if perhaps you or your friend had heard anything? It's just..."

Phineas forced a light laugh, making a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Well. I do worry."
 
Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae
Date | 21/3/1
Time | Dusk
Weather | Raining


As the blue mist dissipated in a hazy outline that clung to the Satyr's frame, Linnae couldn't help but sigh. She had been hoping to avoid confronting Pan directly about how ripe the smell of his own wet fur was among the group of rebels. All he had to do was hold the ball of mist, but she had only herself to blame for not explaining the small bit of magic. At least the remnants of dust were still there, just barely, giving off the faintest floral scent.

She listened, lips moving wordlessly as Kholas explained the plan from the table, many parts of it she'd heard before. The groups formed nicely, the skills aligning better than Linnae had hoped for. She was grateful for their stroke of luck.

Linnae opted to stand as Moysei approached with two plates of food, separated by diet. She knew she was approaching the situation all wrong, but realizing she was acting the fool only served to irritate her more. The pleasant smile on his face, the calm words which were so reasonable, the Professor appeared so sensible compared to the fervid nymph. Linnae pursed her lips into a thin line and lowered her eyes shamefully. It was the innate hatred of fire that made her blood boil every time she looked at his face. It was men and women like him, who with the snap of their fingers, who were responsible for the destruction of so much of the Forest of the Ancients in the first place. But still, that didn't mean he was responsible, Moysei Pyre, and Linnae forced herself to smile in return.

"If it means anything at all, Pyre, it's nothing against you personally." Linnae spoke quietly from under her hood as she glanced to the mark on his chest. "Although perhaps sometime we ought to get to know one another before getting too far ahead of ourselves."

Balancing a plate on his lap so that he could help himself to the food presented Pyre choose something filling. Potato meat and cheese, all collected into one bite. Just how he liked it; practical and tasty. Upon hearing Linnae speak the professor smiled ever so warmly.

"I'm not asking to be friends, but a chance would be nice," he couldn't stop himself from winking, feeling a need to lighten up the mood.

The nymph finally pulled the hood away from her face, finding it served no real purpose now that everyone was acquainted and chatting amicably around tables of food and drink. She pulled up a broken stool and made room around the small space where Pan, Moysei, and Kacius had gathered, taking up a small handful of blackberries to eat.

Nymph! The lowered hood had given Pan a better view and therefore a better understanding of just what she was. Not sick with those red bumps; a Nymph! He grunted quietly to himself; she still looked strange. Keeping the thought to himself, though perhaps his face was somewhat more forthright, Pan gathered another plateful, mixing and matching food groups apparently at random.

"Now, we can either get to business before or after everyone has eaten. Axes and opinions aside..." Linnae stated matter-of-factly. She popped a blackberry in her mouth. "We have time after all. I know that Kholas has explained many details, but should you have any reservations about the task at hand..." Her thoughts shifted primarily to Pan. "I would encourage you to speak now."

"Reservations? What's the good'n bein' sneaky if'n you gotta make reservations?"

There was a pregnant pause as Pan swirled a slice of cheese and a small carrot in a bowl of mashed squash. He chowed down, comprehension finally dawning on him as to what Linnae had actually meant.

"Oh! Well, I ain't about to bury my axe. Sorry, er, Mister Pyro, sir." Pan hastily swallowed his bite before finishing with a shrug. "But Mr. Yigwit's word is right good. He said what y'all did was right, so I ain't questioning no more; jus' spoke my piece in case no one else had thought of it, was all."

Pan's response however managed more than enough when it came down to breaking the mood. Though Pyre suspected the satyr had no intention to do so. Blinking the man sat perplexed for a while, wondering how someone could misunderstand so hard. He tried to understand, but as a man of education Pyre couldn't imagine being so mistaken about everything.

"You can keep your axe, Pan," Pyre spoke gently, wondering if he was to treat Pan like the youngest pupils in the Academy. "Just don't swing it at any of us and I'm sure we will be friends," he continued, trying his best to recall how exactly he dealt with children again. Needless to say, Pyre was rusty and feeling a little impatient. Pan had a long road if he hoped to keep up.

Kacius had already wolfed down a plateful of food by the time Pan spoke and settled into his own meal. The explanation behind the naive statement regarding the morality of the job didn't really do anything to convince Kacius that the satyr was fit for the job, but he figured as long as Linnae and Kholas didn't have any problems then the straightforward fellow must be good enough for this group. Nobody else seemed especially eager to speak, so he jumped right into it.

"I'm guessing there's some kinda plan for the first group to get the stone things quickly and quietly, since I'm not part of that group despite my thieving skills. I'd like to know whatever there is to know about that, just to be sure we're dividing our abilities as best we can. I don't mind being part of the backup group, but I figure with the right set of people in the first group there shouldn't be any need for a backup group, you know? You gonna eat that?" Linnae had her mouth open, ready to reply, but he easily cut her off. Without waiting for an answer, Kacius grabbed a small handful of berries off of Pyre's plate and popped them into the mouth, continuing to speak without paying any heed to the juice dribbling down his chin. "Other than that, nah, no reservations. I wouldn't be here if I was gonna have issues with a little stealing and whatnot."

The horned named Kacius seemed not to mind anything at all, just the fact that he had been backup instead of front with his obvious talents. Gobbling up a handful of berries Pyre remained quiet as he eyed the nymph in the hope that she would answer. Not that he could provide with anything but assumptions.

Linnae lowered her arm, not realizing she had raised it in trying to retort to Kacius' comment on his not being included in the first group. Kholas had his reasons. Either way, she wasn't entirely sure what Kholas was thinking anyways. She only knew they needed to get in and out. Perhaps she'd mention it to Kholas before they left. Perhaps keeping the capable thief a secret was the better plan. They only had so many allies, and they would likely know just as well as Linnae did that keeping your identity a secret could mean your life.

And that answer seemed to form within her mind, but the doubt in Linnae's eyes also showed that she was unsure as well. It seemed that Kholas hadn't bothered to share all of the details with his partner. Sighing Pyre picked up another bite of potato, meat and cheese before speaking after swallowing.

"Perhaps Kholas is anticipating on a failure of sorts? Either group could end up as distraction for the guards and I'm sure you are as talented should it come to that," he shrugged his shoulders at the made up conclusion. Pan would certainly make good distraction. Besides, it had been a little while since Pyre had last set a wing on fire.

"It is very possible." Linnae admitted. Why lie? What they were doing was very dangerous. "I may be older, but Kholas is wiser, in his own ways. It's likely he is keeping Kacius with us in the event that…" The nymph trailed off. She had already lost Kiernan just a few months prior, she didn't want to think about the outcome of the heist should Kholas fail. "Keeping Kacius in the dark, with us as backup, gives us our only shot at a second chance."

Kacius busied himself with chewing on a mouthful of cheese as first Pyre, then Linnae spoke up in response to his question. He mulled it over, considering the merits of being the key player of the first try or the emergency second try, and the conclusion he came to was satisfactory. "So we're keeping the actual thief secret and hidden in case the amateurs can't grab the stones on their own. I guess that makes sense. I wouldn't mind messing with some guards, either, if it needs doing." Kacius carved a large chunk of meat from a slab he'd put onto his plate and speared it with his knife, eating it directly from that utensil without bothering to use a fork.

"So long as you don't anyone caught." Linnae smirked. She had somehow dulled the memory of Kacius' self confidence in the time she hadn't seen him. It wasn't arrogance or the boasting of a common, unskilled pocket thief. No, Kacius could back up the bravado. It was almost comforting, considering how long it had been since she had seen her friend. Could she call him that?

She was just happy he was on their side, and on her team no less.

"But please, remember, we are supposed to be backup. If everything goes according to plan we should be alright. We shouldn't need to mess with too many guards..." She placed particular emphasis on the word.

"I can, too."

Pan had watched the discussion with close consideration, if in fact little comprehension. He tried; he did. There were things people excelled at. Planning, contriving, machinating, those were these other people's strengths. His? He glanced down at his open hand, and smiled. Pan could mess up some guards.

"I don't like bullies. And the guards sure is that."

"Oh! And I was supposed to give this stuff to, uh, Khol. But uh, Ms. Linny, you're the leader with him, right? So, I guess-"

"I wouldn't exactly say that." Linnae grimaced. "Well, I wouldn't say that at all."

Carefully, Pan removed two heavy flat round things from his pack. The color of the Moon on Aspen leaves, each was approximately a hand's breadth in diameter and a finger width in thickness. One was blank, save for the marks of forging and refinement, while the other bore the carefully chiseled marks of magical runes on one face. To anyone with any education in the matter, it would be clearly plain that a defensive ward had been placed on the metal through them. Pan proffered them to Linnae.

"Supposed to be good for defense or summat. Maybe making magic better, I dunno. Yigwit magicked me this bracer, though, same as what these are."

"Are those runes?" The nymph's eyes grew wide with fascination.

Linnae dropped the few berries remaining in her hand on Moysei's plate, ignoring all else so she could study the strange material. It was a metal, she thought, it certainly had the appearance of it. She half rose from her seat as her pale hands instantly moved to hover over the chiseled item between the pair. Then, she moved to brush her fingers over the bracer on Pan's left arm. Her skin never once touched the cool metal, but she could feel the strange energy emanating from the marks.

"Pan, what-" Linnae started. She couldn't help but continue her brief examination, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Someone forged these? And the runes here, I think they-- Ah. I'm not certain. Professor Pyre, Kacius, would you excuse us a moment?"

The nymph stood and bowed her head politely, all twiggy and stiff. She held out her open palm towards Pan, intending for him to rise, to follow her, implied by excusing them both. Although she also wanted to examine one of the flattened pieces more closely.

"Please, Pan, we should show Kholas before the night grows any later."

Pan, quietly stammering something about his unfinished meal, still followed Linnae's gesture, marked and unmarked metal pieces in hand.
 
Last edited:
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Basement
Mood: Pensive

Collab With:
@Doctor Jax
@SkittlesAndSpike
About to excuse himself from his place at the table, Kholas paused as Phineas approached. He lifted his brow only slightly in acknowledgement as the man pulled his chair closer. Half-expecting some pretentious nonsense, he was surprised when the man lowered his voice to speak. Drawing the cloak tighter about himself, the goblin regarded the man for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.

"No," he said quietly, "I'm afraid not. We've been informed that Magisters Avelissa and Riel are dead. Magister Tennin is missing as well, though we don't know if she is dead or on the run." After another pause, he issued a soft, terse sigh. "I understand your worry, though I would not put much stock in hope these days. I'm sorry."

Once more getting to his feet, Kholas slid his chair aside. "If you'll excuse me," he said, then slipped away.

With the others gathering food and settling out into their groups, Kholas moved nearer the old iron stove that was fastened against the rough stone of the wall. Lack of sleep had left the goblin feeling somewhat colder than usual, despite the comfortable warmth all around them, and he sank down onto a worn wooden stool to wait beside the stove. It was an interesting fixture to see in a basement, and the pieced-together pipe serving as a chimney running up and out suggested it was an afterthought. Likely, this space once served as quarters for either Randi's family or her courtesans.

While the food smelled wonderful, he couldn't quite muster the desire to eat. The collective stress of the past weeks, months, even had left him with very little appetite and thinking of food made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

This region had yet to see severe effects of the blight, but how long would they be spared? And how many others suffered while the Empire turned a blind eye, feigning ignorance?

As Rahne and Mel finished assembling their plates, Kholas lifted a hand and made a quick gesture in his direction, indicating they should join him. They probably had questions, and he wanted to speak with his teammates either way, especially Rahne. He knew Mel well enough to trust she wouldn't make too much of a mess and, while the soldier seemed competent, more information was rarely a detriment.

If Rahne hadn't seen Kholas's gesture, she would have dug in then and there, standing or otherwise. She hadn't realized she was hungry until the food had been brought in, and now her stomach was beginning to complain. So she compromised, stuffing a bread roll in her mouth as she approached Kholas, seating herself with him. " Ah'm ready ta' hear the plan!" She announced to the goblin, mouth full of bread.

"Sorry if ah' make a mess, the food just smells 'an tastes so good." She apologized in advance and she finished the roll, chewing and swallowing rather quickly. "Ah'm all ears, though." She was excited, to say the least. What they were planning to do was big. Save the world big. She also couldn't help but feel somewhat cheeky, being in the same squad with their leader. To her, it was like an honor, as well as a chance to prove herself.

The satyr - after loading her plate and very quietly laughing at the strange little play-by-play occurring around her kinsman - took a seat near the stove as well. A rough stool served as her seat, her plate perched upon a set of thighs while she picked at the bread. She, likewise, seemed to have little appetite. Rahne's enthusiasm made the woman smile, her eyes flickering to Kho.

"Yes - I'm quite interested in what you have planned, myself. As ever you are aware of my contacts, people we might call upon for aid. Those fragments are… under quite heavy armament, if I am not mistaken," Mel said, her words growing quieter as concern began to creep in. This would not be a light task. She was beginning to see the wisdom in Kho and Linnae's delegation of tasks. A runic mage with offensive capabilities would best serve the purpose of brute-forcing a way forward. "I have never attempted to glean any more information on their exact location, for obvious reasons."

Watching as the two women approached with their plates and drink, Kholas arched an eyebrow at Rahne's somewhat muffled apology. "Actually," he said under his breath, "you appear to be all mouth at the moment." Not that table etiquette was particularly important for the task at hand. Honestly, he wasn't offended by the behaviour, but the words had slipped between his pointed teeth before he could catch himself. Always knows what to say, indeed.

"Oops," A sheepish grin spread across Rahne's face, "Sorry, Ah' just couldn't wait." Even while apologizing for speaking and eating at the same time, she was doing just that, blissfully unaware of her own folly. "But ah'm exci- one sec!" She caught herself, swallowing her food before continuing her earlier speech. "But ah'm excited to work with ya! I'm on the A-team!" Her eyes bounced back and forth between Kholas and Mel. "Ah'm sure we ain't gonna need the second team, it'll go smoothly!" She was oozing confidence, despite not knowing the plan, or even the layout of the location necessarily. In her mind, they were going to succeed because they had to succeed. That, and she was on the team. As long as she didn't screw up, they'd be fine!

"But uh...Ah' don't wanna mess anythin' up for us, so any other details you might be havin' to share?"

Merely shrugging off Rahne's apology, and not wanting to subvert her confidence as they were sure to need it, the goblin turned to Mel as she sat, studying her for a moment. "Yes," he said, finally, "in a sense. They're now located in a study near the inner conservatory, as I said. Fortunately, I have a key to said study." Something his contact at the Academy didn't know. He wasn't willing to wager his life and freedom, or the fate of the world, on another damn academic. Looking between Melsinde and Rahne, holding the gaze of each for a moment before continuing on.

"My contact, Jarlin Tinsdale, is set to unlock the northern door just after the ten o'clock tolling of the city bells. We'll enter the academy then, as there should not be a patrol for the better part of an hour following. The second group will give us about five minutes, then slip in after us and do their best to remain unseen. Jarlin is, presumably, going to be gone by the time we get to the study. He claims he wants no part in this and doesn't want his reputation on the line." Pausing, he flicked an ear, his expression drawn. "I do not trust him. Not fully. While he seems sympathetic, I doubt his sincerity. It is possible the door won't be unlocked at all and we'll need Rahne to break a window and possibly a few doors down along the way."

Glancing over at the former soldier, Kho gave her an inquiring look.

"Needless to say, that will be noisier than I'd like to be. The North wing should be empty at the time we are removing the guard stones, but enough commotion will draw attention. If we let guards surround us while we're inside, it's going to be hellish getting out. And I'd really like to come out of this in one piece."

"It is also possible that Jarlin is planning to double-cross us, so we need to use caution and keep our wits about us. We may need to fight for an escape, or even to acquire the stones, so be prepared for that eventuality. If it does come to a fight, or worse, we will have the second group waiting to assist." If they weren't successful there wasn't much else to say in that regard. "Once we have the stone shards, we hope to leave through the same way we entered. If that isn't possible, I have other methods of escape marked on the map, which I ask you thoroughly examine when you are finished eating.

"It is important to note that most people in the academy believe the display in the conservatory houses the guard stones. It's in a central location and easily observable. The actual pieces, if my information is correct, are in the disused study nearby, concealed by the mundane, in a way." He was sincerely hoping that Jarlin wasn't aware of this. Honestly, the whole plan and arrangements they'd made were tenuous at best, but they were doing the best with what they had.

"I know this isn't an ideal situation. It's not even a fair situation, but we're short on time and allies. If we don't do this soon, the stones may be moved or even destroyed. Or we could be found out and executed." There were really too many possibilities of failure to warrant listing them all out. Again. "I understand if you have reservations about this, so if you do, please speak now."

This time, Rahne took the time to swallow her food before she responded to Kholas, doing her best not to smack her lips. "Alrighty, sounds simple enough." Don't trust the contact, don't alert the guards, bust open windows and kick down doors if needed, and get out in one piece. As far as Rahne was concerned, that was the simple part. The hard part would be memorizing the map. She could do it, she'd just have to study the damn thing really hard. And she would. There was no way this mission was gonna fail, and if it did, she damn sure wasn't gonna let it be because of her! "Ah'll keep my guard up and my eye on this Jarlin guy."

Mel was likewise pensive. Unlike her counterpart, she was very familiar with the Magisteria grounds, but this conservatory was not her usual haunt, nor was Jarlin an acquaintance of hers. While the unknowns irked her, she knew they had little choice.

"I think we can definitely work with that. Worst comes to worst, I may even be able to finagle a key out of someone. No breaking and entering necessary. I could even cast a fairly good projection, pose a distraction somewhere," Mel suggested, pensively chewing a piece of bread. "I'll throw my cloak in on it. Here's to hoping all moves smoothly - and the second team is not necessary to start."

"The problem is," Kholas said, shaking his head, "there's no one really to finagle. Those who could help are either dead, missing or on the run, or too cowardly to step up. And the fewer who know what we're doing, the better. However, I expect we will need your skill in projection. We will see."

He wanted to hope the second team wasn't needed, but he was inclined to take the advice he'd given Phineas about hope.

Noticing Linnae and Pan's approach, Kholas excused himself from his small group and stepped forward to meet the pair, a curious expression turning his features as he noticed the metal Pan carried. "Is now the best time to discuss this?" he asked quietly, sparing a glance around them.
 
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Atlak, Malik Shendoa, Phineas de Pemos
Collab between @DayDreamer, @Spectre of the Fade and @Kuno
Atlak had given a funny look at the satyr who suggested he stayed on his spot on the bed until he dried. It wasn't like he was completely drenched, his cloak had taken most of the damage and that was already next to the other wet clothing carelessly tossed over one of the bed frames. He didn't have time to say anything in response as his nemesis of a client was so happy to see him. An annoyed, deep chuffing noise was Atlak's only response to the point of travelling according to Pyre. However the ease with which he caught the payment from the rather awkward angle he had when it came to facing Pyre would have been a good indication of his reflexes to anyone paying attention to the exchange.

Following the goblin's explanation of the plan, he nodded here and there in understanding. He didn't know much about such undertakings, but what he was charged to do, he could do it more than just fine. "You can count on me." He had said calmly and confidently once Kholas had finished explaining his part in the plan.

After Kholas finished describing the third group and its members, Malik straightened in his seat and gave the goblin a firm nod.

The task was simple enough. Keep an eye out for patrols, keep any patrols out of the Academy itself, ensure the runner got away. Malik would dare assume Atlak was the centaur who came in late then threw a pack of letters in the old pyromancer's face, and Malik knew Phineas was the human who'd seemed so familiar to him earlier.

Right, well. First order of business, sit down with those two. Both of them arrived after he did - only right to introduce himself, especially if he was to be leading the pair of them. Standing lookout should hardly require much of him as a leader, but still. Better to get acquainted as soon as possible. Malik shifted his attention off of Kholas, sitting up with his eyes trailing over the other faces in the cellar.

That was when Kholas mentioned the magic word - "dinner".

Malik's gaze was dragged back to the man, and he couldn't quite help but wait for the food to arrive. It'd been a long journey for Rahne and himself; hardtack was nothing interesting to live on. Real food was far too much of a temptation.

Atlak had also perked up in the mention of food. He had been running on an empty stomach since this morning, dinner sounded like a really solid plan in his opinion right now.

Unfortunately, this was not so in Phineas' case. He had eaten far too much at the earlier gala to stomach another bite. He could only look at the remaining spread with some regret. Captain John's food had been fine, but not quite as appealing.

Kholas' words weighed heavily on his mind. To hear he'd heard nothing from Aona was worrying, but he did not share the goblin's pessimism. He couldn't. Not when he'd combed through the list of executed rebels himself--after much needling from the court guard, mind you. But something serious must have happened. Phineas frowned. The mystery would remain unsolved for now.

After he'd put together a sizable plate and collected a tall tankard of something that smelled delicious, Malik finally turned his attention to gathering up his group. Finding each of them in the cellar, he tapped them both on the shoulder and nodded toward a section of table that hadn't been claimed by anyone just yet.

That done, he went to his chosen spot with his food and waited until both men had joined him.

"My name's Malik Shendoa," he offered after swallowing a bite. He tacked on an additional bit of introduction, mostly for Atlak's benefit. "Runic mage, defense and warding. Used to be a soldier for the Empire."

"Yes, yes you're quite the swordsman, aren't you? We're in good hands, I see," Phineas replied readily, settling into a seat across from Malik.

Names often slipped his memories, but faces never did. It'd taken him no small amount of study to try and piece where he remembered Malik from, but the mention of his former military service made him quickly connect the dots. The man was his former bodyguard, an excellent one at that.

Phineas leaned back into his seat, giving Malik a knowing look. "So, you've grown tired of guarding pompous noblemen, have you? Good on you."

Malik gave Phineas a serious look at that - after a moment or three, the words clicked, and suddenly the soldier remembered where he knew that face from. A specific afternoon in which he'd spent no less than two hours searching the market for a certain noble only to find the man in a tavern in an entirely different district came to mind.

"Says the most pompous of the lot," Malik retorted easily, a genuine smile spreading across his face. It was a strange and welcome comfort to see a familiar face, especially with the current circumstances.

Shoveling a bite into his mouth, the soldier shifted his attention toward the young courier. He wasn't a curious person by nature, but he did wonder what the centaur had to say for himself.

Atlak had followed his new teammates to the chosen section of the table once he had filled his cup with some really sweet scented mead and an assortment of pies and other food. He was really hungry so he had been munching on a loaf of bread as he made his way to the other two men. Finishing his loaf as the two men spoke, he felt a little apprehensive about Malik. Apprehensive and impressed. A mage and an experienced soldier made Atlak feel safer in case of trouble, but the fact Malik once served the Empire did trouble him a bit. However, just like his father used to say, second chances exist until you blow them. Malik apparently was on his second chance here, so Atlak kept those thoughts to himself and decided to properly introduce himself to his group.

"Good to meet you. I'm Atlak. I'm a courier, but I am also a skilled tracker and archer." He said, patting meaningfully one of the larger satchels on his reindeer back that concealed his bow and quiver. He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself so he had decided to hide his weapons while in the capital. "Forests are my specialty, so I thought you could really use a guide to safely reach the Heart Tree."

"Glad to have you with us, then," Malik offered with an approving nod. Archers were always useful, especially if Malik was to be the only defensive mage. He hadn't yet given much thought toward the actual journey to the Heart Tree, to be honest, but he'd worry a little less knowing someone like Atlak was along for the trip.

"Right. So. Tomorrow." Malik took a drink from his tankard, clearing his throat before continuing. "I'd rather not kill anyone I don't have to, so Atlak, you and me can keep out of sight. Better stay in range of the gate, though, in case. Fin, you up to guiding away any patrols that might want to poke around the Academy, or has old age dulled your charm?"

Phineas didn't miss a beat.

"Certainly not! As you say, I'm an experienced charmer. I daresay we'll have no need of your sword or your arrows," He replied cheerily, gesturing with his glass at Atlak. He welcomed a simple task, and knowing that his hands would not be bloodied, thanks to the welcome ranks of Malik and Atlak, galvanized him further. "You can count on me, sirs. You have all but to lead the way."

Atlak gave Phineas a funny look briefly. He wasn't used at the pompous ways of the capital, or of humans in general for that matter. However remembering he had to be polite, he tried to hide that funny look by quickly looking down at his plate and taking another bite before speaking up. "Stealth is what will keep us alive. We're not in our hunting grounds and we are certainly not a strong pack. It's like asking a lone wolf to overcome a pack in its territory by brute force. That would be suicide." He shook his head, pleased with knowing that his metaphor would be more than enough to get his point across. Poor fellow had no idea that hunting analogs might sound strange or funny to other people. "Besides, I'd rather save my arrows for the forest of the Ancients. We're bound to have a bumpy ride once the Empire discovers the stones are missing."

"True enough," Malik acknowledged, nodding. There was always room for worry in his mind, but the courier made a good point, even with the awkward metaphor. It was the Forest and the race there that would be difficult. Even with the risk of traps, the risk of discovery, the danger they were all in, this theft looked easy by comparison. Heaving out a sigh, Malik let go of his worry for the future for the moment and gave one last look toward each of his people. "Unless you've got any other questions for me, you're dismissed."

With that done, he shifted his entire focus toward the food before him; he wanted to ask about room arrangements and wanted to wish Rahne luck since she was with the vanguard, but both of those things could wait until after he'd finished his first plate.
 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Basement
Mood: Concerned

Collab With:
@Lillian Gray
Having worked herself up for, what exactly? Linnae looked between the pair of smooth discs in her hands. She recalled hearing something about a special metal, forged in a hidden village in the far north. Forgotten mostly by others, a small clan of goblins chipped away at the inside of a deep cave. Just thinking of the story she had heard made it sound made up and just that, a story. Some tale she heard passing on the street but, no-- it was Kiernan. Linnae convinced herself it was important and marched towards Kholas with renewed determination.

She resumed her place at his side and set the two objects on the table. Quietly, the nymph leaned over towards the goblin and murmured, "Kho, I know this is going to sound strange, but just-" She held up her hands, grasping at the empty air, "-did Kiernan ever speak to you of his contacts? I feel like I've heard something before, but I don't remember. Yigwit? I only remember bits, pieces, this far fetched story about metals that could make a runic mage a master overnight. Maybe I'm just desperate, Kho, I don't know but I-"

Linnae shook her head, mouth open as she tried to find the words. What? She sighed and waved for Pan to join them should he have wanted. Now that she was rationalizing her string of thoughts, it did sound crazy. Magic metal runes? What in the world was she going on about? She smiled and started over.

"Pan was meant to give these to you." Linnae explained finally, "We can discuss this later, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Ears flicked as Linnae spoke, and Kholas' expression slowly tightened as he listened to the nymph, feeling the too-familiar knot of worry tightening in his chest. What was she talking about? Of course he knew-- the two of them had discussed it with Kiernan months ago. They had recently received a letter from Yigwit and they had been expecting the Satyr to bring this unusual metal to the meeting. That was the whole reason Pan was even here...

"Lin," Kholas said quietly, crimson eyes fixed on her pale face, "I--ah… I think perhaps we should talk about this-- about a few things-- a little later."

Fuck, Lin. Don't do this. Not yet. I can't do this by myself.

With a renewed sense of dread welling in his empty stomach, Kholas turned back toward the main table, his eyes fixed distantly on the shining metal discs laid there. After a moment, he slipped them from the table and into his cloak. While he didn't exactly distrust the people present, he wasn't sure if now was the best time to announce this finding. He had already sent word to the only reliable contact they had in Wyndfel about the metal, who had agreed that if they escaped with the stone shards and if they made it to Wyndfel with the metal and the shards, perhaps something could be done to aid them. Should they fail, Kholas had arranged for Randi to send word back to Yigwit to take the metal there himself.

Indeed, this whole "plan" still seemed too rushed and relied on far too many external factors for his liking. It seemed like weeks of planning, reaching out to contacts who either declined or did not reply, scrapping plans and starting from scratch had really never progressed from rough ideas.

And now he was endangering everyone who'd shown up to this meeting, trusting him to have a solid, working plan for how they were going to accomplish this impossible task.

He wasn't a strategist like Kiernan had been, he couldn't motivate people the same way or inspire the same confidence. The only things he had on his side were a fading nymph, desperation, and a handful of strangers. He had spent so many nights worrying over what could go wrong with their arrangements. The small amount of reassurance he'd felt when so many had shown up for their meeting had slowly trickled away as the evening went on, not due to his lack of confidence in those who were present, but because it was very likely that every one of them would end up dead.

But what were their options? Kiernan was already dead and Linnae was, well, slipping. And soon, the rest of the world would be no better off.

Heaving a sigh, the goblin retrieved a fork and clanged it against the side of a metal goblet in a bid for the party's attention. Hopefully, no one noticed Linnae's comments or recognised them as anything unusual. They couldn't afford doubt right now.

"Now that you've all had some time to give cursory introductions to your group, I'd like to have your attention back for a few final notes. We'll review each group's plan again tomorrow evening, just in case. Those of you who are unfamiliar with the academy, I ask that you study the map I have marked." Pausing, he lifted a dark brow and gazed at them, half still finishing the last of their dinner. "For precautionary reasons, I ask that no one replicate the map or take notes with them tonight. I appreciate you all being here, but I don't trust someone to not let something slip or to not lose a scrap of paper with sensitive information."

Still surveying the group, he idly drummed his long nails against the scrubbed table, only half-aware of his fidgeting. "Randi has graciously agreed to let you stay here, should you need a place for the evening. There are two rooms upstairs, each with three beds. There are two additional places down here if we're short on space. Should you choose to partake in any services, or would like a private room, note that you are responsible for payment. The rebellion cannot and will not foot your bill for pleasure or privacy."

Clearing away dishes from a portion of the table, Kholas again withdrew the map and spread it out. "We will be meeting tomorrow just after sundown at the location indicated on the map. If you have further questions for any group, please see me." He winced inwardly at the inflection he put on the last word, but he wasn't sure if Linnae was currently up to the task. "If not, then you're free to leave, socialize, or solicit services. However, if anyone is rude to any staff or courtesans, you will be thrown out on your ass."

 
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PAN TALL-BONES​
x

Throughout Kho and Linnae's exchange, Pan had remained appreciably silent. He pawed the ground slowly, feeling very much like he was required to stay with the Nymph by virtue of her asking him to join her, but knowing that he had nothing whatsoever to contribute to this conversation. Out was like when Yigwit dragged him along to discuss with Periwinkle on the finer points of ore purification so that the boy would have some vague idea of what it was he was doing when he ripped the precious substance from the mines they found it in.

They told him it was precious, anyway, and Kholas certainly acted like it was. The Goblin gave Linnae a hard look, unmissed by Pan. But it was also a tired look, a look filled with the unexpected weight of the world. That look carried some resentment, it seemed to him: not at Linnae, but at- well, at what, Pan couldn't say. It was absolutely, though, the look of someone who'd rather be anywhere else.

But Pan was fine where he was. Fine in fact to bunk up where he was. It was nicer by far than the caves he usually spent his nights in, and here, they had ready board available. He watched open, sand rather obviously, as Kholas swept the two bits of runic metal into his cloak pocket, but offered no complaint; as far as Pan was concerned, those were the Goblin's. More pressing things weighed on the Saytr's mind: bunk and board. The matter of board was for now still being answered: once Kholas began speaking to the group once more, Pan had snuck back to his own plate to again fill his cheeks with sustenance. He therefore didn't actually see where it was Kholas was pointing on the map from his angle; only that he'd mentioned 'the Academy'. Pan shrugged inwardly; someone knew where they were going, so he could simply follow them.

With Kholas' dismissal, however, Pan was left to fend for himself. Still popping bites of fruit, vegetable, and cheese into his mouth, he scanned the small crowd from that human woman who had mentioned her strength in her introduction to the group. No, not that one; that human was all brown and wore facial hair. Ah, the red haired one. In the midst of finishing a mouthful of tomatoes and oranges, and still smelling mostly if not entirely of wet fur thanks to Linnae, Pan approached Rahne and held out a hand.

"Hi. I'm Pan. I hear ya like tah lift stuff."

@SkittlesAndSpike


 
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At the mention of a map, Kacius' attention was immediately diverted from his food. He was almost done anyway, but he simply dropped the last couple bites of a pie onto his plate as hurried to stand and make his way over to the map. Even before he got a good look at it, Kacius felt a familiar little itch in the back of his mind as an eager tension suffused his body. He was already pouring over the map, eyes devouring it just as his mouth had devoured the food, by the time Kholas' cautionary note sunk in. Kacius hadn't realized his fingers were already creeping under the edge of the map, but he halted them with a dejected sigh and stuffed his hands into his pockets. It wasn't a fantastic map, and it was marred by the markings made for the plan, but it was still nice. He could already envision where he would place it on one of his map walls at home, just right of the roughly sketched map of southern Luras and below the highly detailed map of the streets of Aneford.

Leaving the map on the table rather than quietly rolled up and hidden on his person was leaving Kacius feeling twitchy, but it had to be left alone. Kholas was right in saying that they couldn't afford for any of this information to fall into the wrong hands, so even those like Kacius who would never in a million years be caught by the enemy couldn't take the risk of carrying such a map. Not right now, anyway. After the job was done though? Well, nobody would even notice a missing map after its purpose was fulfilled. That thought was enough to take the edge off his urge to steal the map, and that in turn was enough to let him actually study the contents of the map for practical purposes rather than just coveting it. The meeting place looked simple enough to find, and Kacius figured he'd be able to recall the details of the map without much issue should they have need of that information tomorrow evening.

With his avid map viewing done, Kacius took a short step back and looked around, hoping nobody else had noticed his keen interest. Collecting maps wasn't exactly the sort of hobby a roguish fellow like himself wanted to let everyone know about, after all. Now, the ornamental knife collection, that was something worth bragging about. Maybe not now, but he was sure he could find a way to bring it up in conversation at some point, just so everyone knew he was a badass who collected knives. Yeah, that would definitely work. Kacius realized he'd been staring at the map again and quickly tore his eyes away, then hustled back over to his abandoned plate to finish his food and consider how best to distract himself from the thieving urges for the evening.
 
"No notes?" It made sense. They couldn't risk someone finding any information on their plans. If the smallest detail leaked through the cracks, and the Empire caught wind of it, then their mission would end before it had even begun. Still, Rahne couldn't help but wish she could at least keep a copy on her, just in case she did forget something. She'd just have to make due and hope that her teammates were much better with this stuff than she was. For now, she wanted more food. She'd waited long enough between servings, right? Everyone had to have gotten something already.

"Hi. I'm Pan. I hear ya like tah lift stuff."

She was just about to refill her plate when the Satyr approached her and introduced himself. "Yeah, Ah'm pretty damn good at it, too!" To emphasize that, she raised an arm, flexing its muscles with the proudest look on her face. "Anything that needs liftin', breakin' or someone's head needs tah' roll, Ah' got it handled for ya!" There wasn't much that Rahne was good at, but the application of muscle was her pride and joy, her bread and butter. Sure, anyone could do it. But not anyone could do it like her.

"Mah' name is Rahne, nice ta' meet ya', Pan." She ceased her flexing and took Pan's extended hand in a firm grip, giving it an enthusiastic shake. The stench of his fur was powerful, powerful enough that she was tempted to hold her breath, but such a tactic would only go so far when you were having a conversation. So instead, she defiantly inhaled deeply through her nose, refusing to be defeated by the odor. "You look like yer' pretty strong yerself'! Were you a soldier, too?" Unless her memory was failing her already, she wasn't able to recall him saying much, other than his name, about him.​

@Red Thunder
 
Mel continued to pick at her food as the night wore on. She chewed over the plan laid out ahead of them, turning over possibilities, trying to find ways in which she could be more helpful. After all - she and Moysei were Academy officials, people who were expected to be within its hallowed halls. Yet, Kho was correct in stating that even these guard stones were far beyond their paltry reach. Nevertheless, she did anticipate that perhaps her abilities in Projection may prove useful - if just to memorize that map he had laid out.

She did have to laugh a bit to herself, seeing Kacius obviously struggle over the map on the table. The poor man - she had traveled enough in his company to know he had an inordinate, inexplicable hunger for all kinds of maps. Perhaps it was the craftsmanship. Maybe it was the information therein. Or maybe... he simply liked them. Whatever the case, his thoughts were writ large on his face, and she did her best not to chuckle too loudly as she speared another strawberry with a tiny fork, daintily lifting it to her mouth. Gracefully lifting to her cloven hooves, she walked over as soon as Kacius was finished to take her own peek.

Contrary to popular opinion, even though she was both in the employ of and a constant presence at the Academy, she was not so well-versed in this area of the complex. Her domain was the libraries - the offices - and, less frequently, the laboratories. However, she had a cursory understanding of this area, housing the conservatory, and the map was very quickly memorized. It was a shame she hadn't known about this beforehand, otherwise she could probably have made a crystal for projection that only they could use...

She looked up at Kho and Linnae, her eyebrows meeting as she saw the weight on both. This was no easy task, and Kiernan... well, he was a good friend to both of them. They had trusted him, and... he wasn't here. Shaking the image from her mind, she made her way to another familiar face - Phineas.

"Oh? The victuals not to your liking? I guess something as humble as fruit and cheese wouldn't appeal to an appetite like yours," she chuckled at him, attempting levity for the first time that evening. Her expression softened considerably as she asked, "It has been too long. It is good to see you."
 
Black ink ran in rough lines across the map, leaving a faint residue on his fingers where Phineas pressed. He'd explored some of the Academy already, but a few marked locations were unknown to him. While their leader spoke, his eyes roved over the parchment. The school was larger than he'd thought. Something about the architecture disguised the immense space held within; magic perhaps, or an ingenious trick of design. His attentions shifted, his eyes blinking up at Kholas' closing remarks.

Phineas had no intention of staying--though he dearly wanted to. His morning held an appointment he could not miss, with a woman whose ire he'd prefer not to inflame. And though he had no current clients, certain individuals were bound to look into his affairs if he disappeared without notice. He needed the time between then and tomorrow to make arrangements for his estate. Depending on what happened after tomorrow night, he would need a plausible excuse for any extended absence, lest his friends and family believe he was being held hostage again.

Better that than seeing my head on the chopping block, he thought grimly. His gaze drifted towards their leaders, taking in the nymph's drawn countenance. Kholas and Linnae hadn't been optimistic in the least about their chances. Phineas was no fool; he was aware that their situation was bleak...but it was not impossible. He felt compelled to end their meeting on a positive note; perhaps then luck would follow them.

He was about to speak when a familiar face approached him. His features visibly brightened at the sight of his friend.

"Melsinde! A pleasure, as always, to be graced by your beauty." His chair scraped back noisily as he stood. He smiled impishly at her. "Is not staying in your presence enough to sate any man's appetite?"

Then, before he got too sidetracked--for his mind indeed was treacherous--the nobleman added, "I'm glad you've joined me. Now, if you would please raise your glass..."

He winked at her, knowing full she would be less than pleased by his next move. Some of the group had already splintered into side conversations. That did not stop him from knocking on the table in a bid to draw their attention.

"Gentlemen. Ladies." Phineas began. His fingers slipped around the neck of his goblet, and he raised it to eye-level. "If I may. A toast...to our mission.

"Tomorrow we endeavor to set right our futures by no mean task. Our lives will be changed irrevocably; should and when we succeed, we risk all that we have for the sake of our planet: life, limb, families, friends. But our sacrifices will not be in vain. We are bound together now; brothers and sisters in arms. With our combined talents, I see no failure in sight."

There was no trace of doubt in his voice. Two months prior, he'd had nothing: no hope, no allies, and no word from the rebellion. Now came nine rebels on the cusp of a new era, bringing with them the first working plan to move the guardian stones. Fate was in their favor; the man could not be convinced otherwise. He grinned broadly at the others.

"May each of us stay safe and unharmed. Focused and with purpose. Perfect...in all our functions."

His glass soared higher. "To the rebellion! And all who have died in its service."
 
PAN TALL-BONES​
x

"A soldier? No'm; I'm a miner! My sister 'n Yigwit been tryin' to learn me smithing, too, but I ain't got the 'finement for it."

When he'd introduced himself to Rahne, Pan hadn't the least idea what to expect; he certainly hadn't anticipated the enthusiasm for his favorite pastime she now exhibited! He returned her broad grin with one of his own as they clasped hands. It wasn't polite to try to crush someone's hand when you shake it, according to Periwinkle, but even though the redhead didn't, she was still very obviously powerful; he wondered vaguely if she'd be up for an arm wrestling competition later.

But that would have to wait. One of the humans, the male that took far too much care of his lip fur, was trying to get everyone's attention. He had a cup raised in the air, and mentioned... toast, for some reason. Last Pan had checked, they hadn't even been provided bread, much less toast. Pan's heart fell; the unfulfilled promise of toast was a terrible weight. Then, as if to add further to the young man's emotional burden, Phineas proceeded to remark upon the people who had died rebelling. Pan frowned, frustrated and confused as to why he would bring them up. It was bad enough that this mission of theirs was- well, morally ambiguous anyway, but no one wanted to think about dying while doing it. In an act of minor, and perhaps petulant, defiance, Pan crossed his arms and stuck his hands unfortunately in his armpits.

"But they're dead," he muttered under his breath. "They don't matter no more."

 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Basement
Mood: Angry

In the iron belly of the stove, fire crackled as wood split and settled, all but drawing the goblin back toward it as the others began to socialize. More than anything, he wanted to slip away into the oblivion of sleep, but settling by the stove would suffice for the time being. Silently, he mulled over the brief exchange with Linnae, trying not to dwell too much on her momentary lapse. She was tired-- they both were. She would be better in the morning, especially if she could get some sunlight.

Forcing his mind away from more morose thoughts, Kholas looked around at the various members of their diverse group, taking in each individual's appearance and general demeanour. Stopping on the horned, a moment passed in which the goblin nearly got up to intervene in what might've been the theft of the map, though Kacius seemed to think better of it. That one, Kholas decided, needed watching. After a long moment, he let his gaze slip away, passing over others until heavy accents drew his attention to the satyr and the red-haired soldier. Idly watching the exchange, Kholas, in spite of himself, arched a single brow as the woman flexed a powerful arm. How she-- or anyone else-- was enduring the insidious reek of wet fur was, however, beyond him.

Slipping a thin hand into his cloak, Kholas rummaged in a small pouch fasted at his waist, seeking out a few coins to help remedy the malodorous situation. Before he could proceed, a knock on the table dragged his attention to the moustached socialite, a groan already forming in his throat.

Was he really about to give a toast?

As Phineas spoke, the groan turned to a silent growl of frustration. Instead of lifting a cup, the goblin got to his feet, his brow furrowed in irritation. "Inspiring," he said flatly. "While we appreciate your positive outlook, let me make one thing clear. This is not some jolly little excursion with a guaranteed victory," he snapped, crimson eyes boring into the man. Flicking a hand, he turned to survey the rest of them, his ears laid back tightly against his head. "Talented people have died-- horrible deaths-- and we have a very real possibility of joining them. This isn't cause for celebration, and they didn't die to lend themselves to inspiring speeches."

Keen ears had caught the quiet comment from the satyr, and the goblin was at the end of his patience for the evening. Stalking toward Pan, Kholas curled his lips back in a tight snarl, no longer caring to put up friendly appearances. "They will always matter," he hissed. With more force than was necessary, he shoved the few coins at Pan's chest. "Go take a fucking bath," he murmured as he pushed roughly past him, heading toward the cluttered back of the basement.

 
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Human
Neutral Good
Aries
Stubborn as a motherfucker
The party's cool uncle - empathetic and warm, lots of stories, A+ storyteller, and he will laugh at you if you get yourself hurt then offer you a beer afterward

Runic magic - Defensive and Warding.
Defensive is his primary - he's got tattoos on his left arm to allow him to easily summon a round shield that goes where his arm does, and tattoos on his hands so he can easily summon a much larger area-protecting half-dome that requires both hands and c o n c e n t r a t i o n.
Warding is the nerdy thing his instructor touched on for like 2 secs in training but Malik was like "yes, this, I like it" and just. stubbornly decided he was gonna learn it properly.

Warded stone - a smol smooth blue circular rock hangs from a leather string around his neck, usually tucked directly against his skin. It's warded - vibrates intently whenever something moves in a couple-meter radius around Malik. He made it after Kiernan's death, as he felt supremely unsafe without the relative security hiding with the Rebellion offered. He doesn't sleep well unless he's got it active...or someone he trusts is on guard duty.
*He must deactivate it and reactivate it periodically.*

Born in Stillharbour, Ventha. Port city. Destroyed by a volcano 117 years before roleplay time - rebuilt.
2 entire living parents, 1 younger sibling, all currently unnamed.
Him and Rahne are acquainted and friends - she used to be apart of his squad and they ended up deserting together.

Equipment: 1 cloak, brown and plain. 1 set of armor, blue in theme, with all the emblems of the Empire removed. 1 longsword, plain but sharp and functional. 1 stylus, in case he gotta mark a ward or some such.



M
alik
S
hendoa
Mood: Tense Location: The Randy Gander, basement level Tagged: @errybody, specifically @DinoFeather and @Kuno
Character SheetThe Art Credit
Malik only passively observed events after turning his focus to his meal. He was still hungry, even with what he'd eaten during his discussion with Fin and Atlak, and the food was far too appetizing to resist. One of the satyrs approached Rahne, the other approached Fin. Nothing of particular interest to Malik - until Fin rapped on the table, an attempt to draw the attention of those gathered. Malik obligingly set down the bite he'd been about to take and gave the man his attention.

Fin was a fine orator. He could remember that well enough, from those months so long ago. Witnessing it, now, when all too vicious worries about what tomorrow evening may bring bit at the edges of his thoughts, was so very different than remembering it. Something swelled in the soldier's chest at the words. Fin was right; they had allies. Not only allies, but an entire group of people willing to lay down their lives for the mission they all were about to embark on. They would succeed. They had to.

"To the rebellion," Malik said, in firm agreement, raising his own near-empty tankard.

All one of the leaders - Kholas, if memory served - had to say in response was scathing remarks, however. That didn't sit well with Malik, and it didn't bode well for what they must do. Malik's expression twisted downward for a moment, then he shook his head once.

"They didn't die so we could sit in shit and misery, either." His words were direct and fairly calm, spoken with enough volume to carry across the room. He'd directed soldiers on a battlefield - speaking like this wasn't all that different, was it?

Malik sat up in his seat, blue eyes stuck to Kholas as he continued speaking, "Of course they matter. Their sacrifices matter. But their deaths brought us here. If we focus on what we lost, or the stakes, or the sacrifices we still gotta make, instead of taking room to breathe while we have it, we'll end up like them." With that, he leaned back in the chair, eyes flicking around the room before focusing on the remains of his plate. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. The swell in his chest had soured into something hard and painful, a squeezing pressure like grief. It wasn't often he indulged in missing his family, but even mentioning loss like he had dragged the thoughts to the fore.

No, he told himself firmly. Something to contemplate later. When he was away from others, preferably.

He stood suddenly, with unfocused purpose, turning his gaze toward Kholas again. He wanted - he wanted to talk to the man. Something about the goblin's comments unsettled him, and it was better to address these things before they got out of hand. Kholas moved toward the back of the basement; Malik hesitated a moment before following. He stopped when the goblin did, making sure to keep a respectful distance.

"Sir," he requested, standing with a certain military stiffness, then he waited to be acknowledged.
 
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Getting up to fetch another full plate for himself Pyre decided not to dwell around the map other than sparing it a quick glance. He knew the structure like the back of his hand, so there really was no need to. It was Pan who probably needed more than a look, which is why it was a good thing that all of the groups were accompanied with members who were familiar with the Academy building. One single night of studying wasn't enough, not for the academy.

When the satyr didn't even spare it a glance, however Pyre started to sweat it a little. Was that wise? Though there was at least Pyre in the group to lead the satyr around the man was hardly excited at the prospect of having to hold hands with Pan. Shooting glances over at his fellow mates he didn't seem to catch any worry from either Linnae or Kacius; both consumed in their own thoughts.

Maybe he could just casually light a fire under Pan's butt in case he did get lost. A fire charm that would activate if the satyr wandered off on his own too far. A panicked satyr with a burning bum would surely get all the attention, right? No time for questions, no time to run around looking for any possible lads, and hopefully Pan would be screaming bloody murder too much to even think of them. It would be the perfect distraction and they would only be one man down as the lead the rest out of the academy in the commotion.

Pyre didn't feel any guilt for thinking what he thought. Chuckling he suppressed the plan for now and parked it for later, mindlessly raising his glass at the nobleman that started to speak, not really caring for what was said. That moustache alone was enough to tell Pyre that it was something heartfelt and cheesy, and the pyromage chose real cheese over any of that any day.

The attitude of apathy changed when Kholas pushed himself through the crowd, however. Sitting up Pyre watched his fellow academic shove a few coins into the chest of Pan, mumbling something that didn't seem too nice before barging off. Raising a brow Pyre tried to look around the room to get a clue on what had happened.

Silence fell before the dark skinned man spoke. To Pyre it was enough to explain what had gotten into Kholas. Taking a bite from his plate the man chewed slowly, his lips pulled into a line thoughtfully while gulping.

"It is a sensitive topic, buddy. All the same, appreciated," Pyre sighed at the man before giving the original orator a shrug. The man couldn't have known that it would strike a nerve. No one honestly could unless diving into details. Though Pyre could take a wild guess if it was Kholas. The goblin would need to learn how to control that temper if he wanted to lead.






Professor Moysei Pyre
 
Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae
Date | 21/3/1
Time | Night
Weather | Raining


Kholas' words struck her oddly. Had she already known? The nymph finished off her drink and stared into the empty cup, puzzling over the bits and pieces of what she did remember. Odd metal, strange village, and a man named Yigwit. But when she tried to imagine the words coming from Kiernan's mouth, the image projected in her mind was distorted. It didn't sound right.

Linnae's attention was pulled away by the silent approach of Kacius. His eyes hungrily poured over the map, fingers twitching at his sides before he shoved them in his pockets. She smirked. While she couldn't recall the details of Yigwit and Pan, she could recall a distant memory of Kacius telling her about an old map as they sat in her humble cottage on the outskirts of town after a particularly difficult request. Drinking tea and listening to Kacius weave together tales of his adventures had always been a delightful event, even if she was hesitant to believe the exuberant stories he shared.

Now that he had returned to eat, Linnae took the opportunity to rejoin the small gathering. She smiled warmly and sat directly across from Kacius, picking at the fruit with feigned interest.

"Kacius, it has been some time since we've seen one another." Linnae's face lit with familiarity as she greeted the horned man. "I am so glad you were able to come. Thank you, oh-- and for the seeds as well." Her smile grew, "I hope they weren't too difficult to acquire, I would hate to bother you with such an odd thing. But, please, tell me. How have you been? You haven't been getting into trouble have you?".

Kacius swallowed a mouthful of apple before grinning and gesturing broadly with the fruit still left in his hand. "No more trouble than usual!" The mischievous twist to his smile made it very clear he knew perfectly well that this meant he had in fact been in a lot of trouble since he'd last spoken to Linnae. "Those seeds were pretty easy to get my hands on actually, just grabbed them from a field I was passing by. Or at least I think it was a field. It's still a field if it's got a fence around it, right? And if all the plants are in nice, neat rows? And if you have to sneak in at night to get the seeds so you don't get caught? Pretty sure those are still called fields. They're definitely not orchards. No trees, you know?"

In response to his seemingly innocent justification for the blatant theft, Linnae's thin brow rose and her lip turned up in an amused sort of half smirk. The narrative only got worse and worse, but it was just like the horned man. She hid her smile behind her curled fingers, resting her head in the crook of her thumb.

Rather than dwelling on semantics, Kacius rolled immediately moved on to other matters and casually ignored the well-dressed fellow giving some kind of speech a few feet away. "Let's see, since I last did some work for you I've been pretty busy. I went with Mel to a little village in Taitelle that was dealing with a drought, very boring trip but I got to help dig a well for the first time, so it wasn't all bad. Played guard for a merchant who was going from here to Aneford and back, pretty fun for the first half because of the bandits and then the really nice ma- uh, I mean, a really nice knife that I found and maybe kind of took without paying, then not much on the way back except for that stop to grab the seeds. Since then I've been taking a lot of jobs here in Taithros: I stole some fancy lord's cigar box, I made some merchants pay their gambling debts, I helped steal a bunch of armor from one of the barracks for the city guard, and I carried a bunch of messages and packages all over the place at night. Oh, and the best part! I got paid to fight in some lord's basement, and I guess he wanted me to lose because he was really mad when I pummeled his champion or whatever, but I made a lot of money because I bet my payment on myself. His fault, really, because he said we could use anything we wished to bring into the fighting circle and I brought myself and my magic and the other guy just had a sword, but I got out of there with most of my money. Mostly in the past couple weeks I've just been spending that gold and having fun rather than working, but that's kept me very busy anyway."

The long ramble was rounded off with a quick sip of water and an abrupt change of pace from excited chattering to concerned inquiry. "How have you been though? You look a little…" Kacius wiggled his fingers vaguely in her directly as he cast about for the right word. "Wilted? Have you been getting enough sunlight? Maybe not enough water?" From someone else the questions might have been rather patronizing to ask a nymph, as if they were a potted plant, but his face was filled with innocent concern and he even offered her his tankard of water in case that was what she needed.

Linnae didn't have to say much at all, Kacius rambled off what seemed like the past decade of his life to the nymph. She knew better than to assume it had been any longer than a few months, yet he had managed to accomplish an inspiring amount of mischief in such a relatively short time. Inspiring being the word if Linnae had been any more divided with her already gray morals.

She shrugged her shoulders, holding her palms flat out on either side so they faced the sky. In equal parts sarcasm and jest, she met Kacius' eye and flatly said, "Ah, yes, nymphs need to be left in direct sunlight for three hours each day with regular mists in order to keep from looking wilted." She held her bloomed pose for a few seconds longer before exhaling quietly and rolling her eyes. Had it been anyone other than someone close to Linnae she would have had a less patient reply, but it was Kacius and he was allowed to prod at the unusual association her entire species held with nature.

"Is it so obvious?" Was Linnae's sheepish reply. She lowered her hands and gave them a once over, casually flipping from palm to back to examine their color. The usual tinge of olive green had paled considerably over the last month to a pasty looking celery color. Alright, so it was becoming more apparent her health was declining, but she hadn't expected anyone to notice other than Kholas. Linnae took the tankard and sipped at the water, but only to be polite. Drinking water wouldn't heal her.

"I'm fine." She lied. "We've just been so busy, trying to find all of you. I probably just need a bit of sleep. I haven't been doing much of anything really, not compared to the great Kacius Liro."

"Nobody gets as much done as me, so that's not surprising." Kacius flapped a hand dismissively in the air as he said it, but his warm smile possibly took the edge off of the arrogance. "I don't think others would notice. I only did because I've known you for a while." Though he was indeed a masterful genius when it came to reading people, it wouldn't have taken a genius to see she wasn't being entirely honest. It was also very clearly a sensitive subject, so he let it lie and resolved to keep an eye on Linnae just in case it turned out to be something very serious. "You should probably get a good night's sleep to prepare for the mission, then. But before you do, what have you been up do? Anything crazy, maybe rebellion stuff?"

"I wish I had a more exciting answer to give you." The nymph pursed her lips before smiling sympathetically. There wasn't much to report aside from a few run ins with soldiers in the woods just West of Kelna. In the most recent months, it was all Kholas and Linnae could do not to be found out by the Empire as they hid on the outskirts of the city limits. "After Kiernan…" She paused. The words were still difficult to say even after a year had gone by. Grief still caught in her throat when she said his name. "-well, we had to leave the city. Kholas has been doing all he can to keep the rebellion together, but I've never been much for leadership. Yet, here I am. Trying to keep us all in one piece."

Linnae leaned back, folding her arms and pulling her cloak tighter around her thin waist. Her foot tapped idly against the basement floor, lost in a chain of events and memories. It had already been a year. It was hard to believe the days had passed her by so quickly. Living in secrecy was the new normal way of life for the nymph and her companion, but it hadn't been that long ago when she could freely walk about the city so long as no one bothered to ask why her hair was made of branches and twigs. Nymphs weren't that common in Taithros.

She peered back, hoping Kholas wasn't too upset. Luckily one of the new faces had joined him, settling her nerves considerably. Malik seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. A rational one. Still, she couldn't help but want to console her friend. With some amount of reluctance, Linnae sat forward in her seat and returned her gaze to Kacius.

"For a while I was on my own, found some cultists, put a few to their graves. You wouldn't believe how many radicalists live out near the edge of the Forest of the Ancients. Some want to burn it down, others just want to keep people out. Even me. I'm practically related to half of the woods in some way." There were too many memories of Linnae running, and not enough of her putting up a good fight. Continuing to tap her foot against the cold floor with her red eyes glued to a particular spot on the ceiling, she pondered the question until she found another decent tale. It had become difficult to remember things for the nymph as of late. "I did manage to slip something in with a passing grain supply. Emperor won't be too happy when it goes up in flames."

Suspecting Kacius might not understand the vague reference, she went on to explain, "Flammable seeds. Crushed up, looks the same color. Try to heat it up and-" She spread her fingers and mouthed a single word, "-boom. But I haven't heard of any grain storages blowing up, so I can't help but think it was found out. I thought you might even be a little proud to hear I did something dangerous."

"Well you thought right!" Kacius gave her a wide grin and waved a hand as if to brush away her doubts. "Doesn't matter if it was found out or not, you still did something dangerous that probably took a lot of courage. It's the thought that counts, right?" Though it was certainly not the right idiom for the moment, the Horned man said it with enough confidence to make up for any possible confusion. "Same goes for dealing with cultists. You've gotta be pretty good in a fight to deal with people who are so damned crazy. Sounds like you had a pretty exciting answer after all!"

"Had you asked me when I was younger- I sounded just like you. A bit of a braggart." Linnae snorted. The implication was left at that, not offering up tales from her youth. His overconfident aura was infectious and helped to put an uncharacteristically wide smile on her face. Naturally she didn't mean to insult Kacius, she was only poking at his inflated ego. "Seventy five years old and I'm boasting about fighting cultists and setting grain stores on fire. My mothers roots would be rolling in the soil if she could hear me."

The conversation had made Linnae oblivious to how much time had passed. She didn't want to take all of Kacius' time attempting to one up him with lame stories of bravery. Even if she embellished a bit here and there, her life was far less thrilling than the thief's.

"I'd best go check on my agitated friend." Linnae reluctantly admitted. "I'm sure there is someone else here who might love to hear about the great Kacius, world's best well digger." Snickering as she made to rise out of her seat, Linnae bowed her head and gave a small wave to the horned man. "We can talk more later. It is so good to see you again, truly."

"The best by far, and don't you forget it." Kacius bobbed his head to return her bow, but he remained seated for the time being as he reached over to spear some meat on his knife. "It's good to see you again too, and I expect we will. Make sure you get as good a rest as possible tonight. You wouldn't want to be tired tomorrow, right?" He managed to keep the concern in his voice mild enough to not sound like he was trying to mother Linnae, but it was present nonetheless. Kacius didn't wait for some kind of reply, not because he didn't care but because he was too busy tearing into the newly acquired meat to give her the kind of expectant look that might naturally follow such a question.

Despite his full attention on the impaled meat, Linnae still rolled her eyes.
 
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The reactions to his toast were not quite as expected.

His head swiveled first towards Pan, then Kholas, the latter's comments coming in concussive blows. If Phineas was not as thick-headed, he might have felt a sense of outrage at their leader's inexplicable ire. But he was a patient man, if not hopelessly optimistic in his perception of others. Phineas had received a much more hostile response from his first rebel's meeting just by being there. And anything was better than the Emperor's reaction to his brother's tax proposal last cycle. Kholas' anger was fangs without venom in comparison; at least he hadn't called for Phineas to be placed in stocks.

Still, the stinging rebuke pierced at his sides. He was a man of chivalry and civility; to be branded as insensitive offended him more than anything else the goblin could have said. The nobleman lowered his glass, spine straightening.

Malik took up the torch before Phineas could even speak. He had to give it to the man - he knew best when to jump into the fray. He was grateful for the support and quick to voice his thanks, although whether or not the knight heard was unclear. Malik was quick to follow Kholas' retreat over to the fireplace. Phineas watched him approach their leader, shaking his head lightly at the two. Kholas was certainly a prickly character. Better to let Malik handle the situation in undoubtedly a much better, much more diplomatic manner. He eyed the other dissenter, expression unreadable.

He'd caught the satyr's earlier offbase comment. From what little he'd seen and heard of him, the satyr did not seem too intelligent, though Phineas was hard pressed to write him off as an imbecile. It could be that he simply did not understand what a toast was. Not all races had adopted the human tradition as their own--clearly. He could hardly hold his ignorance against him. He was, instead, compelled to correct him.

Excusing himself from Mel, he approached the satyr. The others were right; the poor creature stank horribly. Though he did his best to ignore it, Phineas could not stop his nose from wrinkling up at the smell. What was this man's name again? Punt? Par? He remembered it had sounded like a cooking utensil.

"Pot? Or Pan, was it?"

Pan. It was most definitely Pan. Phineas cleared his throat, dismissing his blunder with a sweep of the hand. "I mentioned the dead to honor them. It is a human custom to raise our glass to honor others and wish them well. We call it a 'toast'. A gesture of good will, you might say."

Despite his wet fur, Phineas squeezed the satyr lightly on the shoulder, his eyes full of warmth as he regarded him carefully. On closer inspection, Pan looked to be rather young, if not considerably younger than most in their party. It was no wonder that the others shown him more than the usual consideration, yes, even Kholas' scathing command to go take a bath. Speaking of which...

"Pay no mind to Kholas. Like you, I am sure he has had a long day full of hardships and, eh, rough travel. Much like you, yes? You owe it to yourself to eat well, rest, enjoy a nice bath, and everything else the tavern has to offer. Even…"

He paused, absentmindedly fishing around in his pockets for a leather pouch. He rarely traveled with money on his person, preferring to leave it in the hands of his much stockier and much more intimidating bodyguards. But tonight he'd brought along a few coins just in case, and he offered them to Pan with a faint clink.

"Should you want company later. I think you would find Gilda very agreeable to spend your night with. She'll treat you very well."

@Red Thunder
 

Atlak
Forest Centaur | 24/Mail Centaur | Taitele/Kelna


After introductions and brief plans were made, Atlak had left his plate alone long enough to get a good look at the map. While he wasn't going to get inside the Academy he figured it would be a good idea to know what the enterior would be like. Any and all possible exits towards his side of the street or their general direction were marked in his mind. He wasn't all that well in memorising stuff but he was great at navigating. He only needed to get a general sense of the terrain and he could work off from that on the spot.

He paid little mind to the toasting, he didn't really toast where he was coming from. It wasn't the way of his people. He did pick up on the aggravation and the hostilities. He sighed as the others tried to diffuse the situation. There was no reason to add his piece of mind in this, it would only make things worse. So instead he finished his meal and got back on his feet. Scanning the room his eyes lingered briefly on the stressed, angry goblin they called their leader before finding his target. The old Pyromaniac himself.

Sighing in defeat, he made his way there and towered over the old man. "For my own sanity I will assume I never find you where you are supposed to be because you get lost all the time." He said with his arms crossed as he glared down on the man. "However try not to get lost this time around. It would be a pain in the ass trying to find you and the Stones."
 
PAN TALL-BONES​
x

The coins were like lead weights in his hands. They pressed into the Satyr's palms more painfully than any stone he'd ever moved from the mines at home had ever done. The man, barely eligible for that title, had felt his chest tighten at the Goblin's tone. So, too, apparently had his throat; for all his effort, Pan was unable up offer so much as a stuttering explanation or apology for angering Kholas, and he could only watch in bewilderment and some little fear as their leader stalked away.

The darker human, the soldier with the beard nearly worthy of a Satyr, looked to have intervened. There was no telling as to how much good it might actually go, but at least Kho's attention and therefore ire was no longer directed at Pan. Which left Pan with the thoughts in his head, such as they were.
A bath? Right: someone had mentioned that basic necessities were available. He examined the coins in his hand, head tilting in consideration. He could stand out in the rain and get a perfectly reasonable bath. Better, it would be free, leaving the merchant's fortune in his hands to be put to better use. A whetstone, maybe? Peri had neglected to send him with one for her axe, and though he'd only thus far had to use it for wood for fires, he was sure it wouldn't be too long before the fighting started.

Be frugal! The Satyr could hear his adoptive sister's mothering tone, almost as if she was in the room with him. It's a scary world, Pots! Money ain't everything, but it gets you lots of places having none won't!
It was, oddly, like she was speaking right in his ear. He could have sworn he heard that irritating nickname she had for him…

"Pot? Or Pan, was it?

Ah, no; not her. It was the mustache man, launching into some explanation Pan neither followed nor cared to. He pushed the small impatience at the unintended nickname back down even as Phineas squeezed his shoulder and offered apologies for Kholas.

"I didn't mean it meanly. Just that they're dead, so their wants don't really matter no more, I guess."

But Phineas had moved on from that line of conversation, and dropping more coinage into Pan's bewildered hands, offered suggestions on what to do with it. Pan blinked at it stupidly for a few moments before looking up at Phineas with a smile.

"She will? Thank yah, sir! I'm s'posed to get a wash, and scrubbing my back gets real hard, times." He grew pensive a moment before grinning widely. "Wonder if she knows any good stories, too? Or plays Siddles and Flicks? I gotta find out! Gilda? Great; thanks, sir!"

Happily, having evidently moved on from Kholas' words, Pan strolled across the basement and up the stairs.

 
He was still in the middle of enjoying his plate when Atlak shuffled over to him, seemingly looking like he was to apologise for his outburst earlier. Turning up his face with a look of surprise Pyre gave the centaur the stage, his mind mulling over responses like that the courier shouldn't worry about any bad reviews and that he understood the frustrations that came with the job.

The suggestion of Pyre getting lost was an absurd one, however receiving a look of genuine confusion instead of quasi.

"Lost, me?" he exclaimed loudly. Pyre nearly dropped his plate at the thought of him ever getting lost. That was nigh-impossible. Sure, he didn't have the habit to plan forward and stick to his itinerary, but by no means did he ever get lost. After all. He always found his way back.

"Well, well," Pyre clicked with his tongue, "lost is certainly not a word for me."

"It is the whole essence of travelling to be moving around. That I make a few adjustments to the plan is only natural for an academic like me," he continued as he put his plate down onto a table. He had long felt fulfilled, but was now simply eating because he felt like it. Free meals certainly tasted much better, especially with company.

"After all, there is too much research to adhere to a strict plan, in all honesty. Though I assume we are going to stick together for a long while until we fulfill our goal," at that Pyre put a hand to Atlak's shoulder, patting and shaking it. "And I have a slight suspicion that the Academy won't send me any letters after our heist tomorrow," he continued to reassure the centaur. The poor thing definitely sounded like he needed a change in career, or just a simple break from his job.






Professor Moysei Pyre
 
A COLLAB BETWEEN @Doctor Jax | @Kuno


Mel immediately noted the look in Fin's eye, and inwardly she groaned.A speech. The man couldn't help himself - not only did he absolutely adore the sound of his own voice, he needed to attempt to infect others with his rose-eyed view. He was incorrigibly an optimist, a stark contrast to Mel's blunt realism. She could not, however, deny that he gave a rather good speech - he was a professional, first and foremost - but it seemed such did not land with all in the crowd, notably Kholas and Pan, one expressing bitterness and the other outright confusion.

She nevertheless raised a glass and toasted to the living and dead, the wine glass momentarily stayed by a hesitant hand before a large drink. She envied him. If only she could consider their endeavor so easily won. Alas, this was not an easy task, and it rested upon her, Rahne's, and Kho's shoulders. If any were in danger of death, it were these three, and she doubted her death would be as dignified or as swift as Kiernan's.

Thump. A head, into a basket. Her eyes, to the ink. Write it down. Swallow the glass.

Another drink from her wine.

Seeing Fin approach Pan and offer him extra coin to… sate certain pleasures, the satyr quickly hurried over with a motheringly stern look. However, she need not have worried. Pan completely missed the intent of such a gift, and she grinned.

"I'm sure that Gilda could do this for you. I hope you enjoy that bath. You deserve it, for making it such a long way as a lone traveler," the satyr said, eyes cutting to Fin with a quirked eyebrow. Giving him the money to buy a lady of the night… The cad. She expected no less.

As the younger satyr scampered away up the stairs, Fin turned to Mel with nothing short of amusement in his eyes. The boy had a well-disposed attitude, in spite of his...challenges. He could only hope that Gilda would view his ignorance in the same forgiving light, more so for his own sake than Pan's. The nobleman sighed.

"He's a dullard, that one. Sweet, but...well…" Shrugging, he finished the rest of the wine in his goblet, setting it lightly on the table next to them.

"You seem somber, friend," Fin teased with a small smile. And indeed her expression was drawn, though he attributed that more to the late hour than anything else. "Well? Does mother hen disapprove? Surely I haven't upset you."

"Of course you have, setting such an innocent soul down your dark, twisted path. And he is a satyr no less. He's predisposed to such debaucheries," Mel stated with not a little bit of amusement, alto voice languid as she sent her empty wine glass beside his. His mention of whether something was wrong did make her eyes fall momentarily, though she kept hold of her pokerface well.

"'Tis a late enough hour, and this part of the city is dangerous for the fairer sex. I believe we have accomplished here all we set to do. It is up to the Divines now," the chronicler professed. "Care to walk with me?"

She picked up her cloak, and she cast her eyes towards Kho, giving a slight wave in his direction to signal her egress.

"But of course," He replied, frowning. He would not have done otherwise. Offering his arm to her, his eyes momentarily slid in Kholas' direction as well, though he did not copy Mel's gesture. Fin wasn't sure how well Mel knew Kholas. Some things were hard to tell with her; the satyr was largely unreadable, save for the small glimpses she let slip in front of him. And Fin was not one to pry; one of the reasons why he chose not to push his earlier inquiry further.

Cold air met them as their steps carried them past the bar and out the tavern doors, where an empty street awaited them. He was so used to riding horseback that the lack thereof disoriented him for a moment. Fin's eyes swept over the area wordlessly before coming to meet his companion's eyes.

"Might I...persuade you to join me at my estate tonight? You would be well-taken care of, if not pampered exceedingly by all Vern Manor has to offer."

Fin's words might easily have been misconstrued if not for the solemn expression on his face. It was something he'd offered before - to much rebuffing. But tonight he felt the weight of the mission they were about to undertake, as she surely did. What he offered was a paltry balm against the trials sure to come. Still...

"You never know. This may be our last night in Taithros for a good while."

Indeed, the unspoken weight of that statement did weigh on her momentarily. Very soon they were to put all their lives and livelihoods on the line. She considered the offer, and the look was one of sobriety, not playful lecherousness. Her smile was almost relieved. She could not put so much a weight on Blaine, but Fin was in the same boat.

"Have you a raven there? I, er, should inform my housemate I will be retiring elsewhere," Mel said with some chagrin. "Otherwise… yes. I would not mind a nightcap. Granted that it is just a nightcap."

Her eyes narrowed while her smile remained.

"Besides - I should warn him of the garish carriage set to unleash me on the morrow."

"Yes, yes, whatever you desire. Let it never be said a guest of mine was deprived of anything." Cheery once more, a pep returned to his step. "And worry not. You will have the most garish, outrageously painted carriage I own. Why…"

Down the street they went, their voices meeting together quietly as their figures waned, fading at last into the night.
 
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