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

 
Last edited by a moderator:
Kholas Abalyshevska


Location: Basement

Mood: Pissy

Mentions: @Spectre of the Fade

CS Link
With every ounce of willpower he possessed, Kholas ignored the comments that followed his snappish outburst. Generally, he excelled in ignoring people, but for whatever reason, the goblin was currently struggling to tune the others out. Vainly trying to mentally block out the conversation that stirred back to life, Kholas grabbed the coarse, woolen blanket from one of the less-damaged beds that had been concealed behind various crates and pieces of furniture, and vigorously shook it. It wasn't in particular need of dusting off, but his hands were in dire need of something to occupy them, lest he tear into something more important.

Slowly, he managed to slog through the mental siege he'd waged on himself and managed to pull his temper back under control. Or he had, until the solider, Malik, approached him.

For what seemed like an eternity, the man stood silently behind him. Kholas, continuing his assertion of ignorance, refused to acknowledge his approach, wishing for the ability to stare a hole into the far wall through which he could escape-- or that the man would simply leave.

Sadly, neither of those things happened.

The goblin gritted his teeth when Malik finally addressed him. For one, wild moment, Kholas considered leaving-- throwing the blanket at the man and bolting up the stairs, screaming obscenities at the lot of them and disappearing into the gloom. He could go to Briar Glen and work treating venereal diseases, drinking himself into oblivion until the end of the world.

Instead, he curled his fingers tightly in the dark fabric, crimson eyes staring daggers at the worn and dusty floor.

Why?

What about anything that had just happened made this fool think he wanted to talk right now?

"Apologies," he said curtly. His voice was clipped, and it was likely evident he was striving not to sound overly bitter. "I am tired, and I…overreacted." The word barely escaped his clenched teeth, but he managed nonetheless.

"I assure you that tomorrow, everything will be sorted, but I am grateful for your concern," he said, still trying to force the remains of the venom from his voice. He turned slightly to give the ghost of an incredibly forced smile, his nails digging into the blanket he still held. More than offering a reassuring look, his expression seemed to say, "should you press this issue, there may not be a tomorrow, as I will personally murder every last one of you."

"Thank you," he paused, struggling to summon the right words, "for your unyielding..."

Optimism wasn't the right word. Wholesomeness? Goodness? Intrusion is what he wanted to say-- though a part of him knew the man did have a point in there somewhere.

"...dedication to this task."

Malik's expression didn't waver, and he certainly didn't step away. He didn't miss the clipped tone, or the hard lines of the goblin's expression, and from such a short distance, he couldn't miss how weary the man looked either. Kholas must be tired. Beyond tired, by the look of him. Empathetic pain twisted in Malik's chest, but he still didn't step away. This was important. Too important for squabbles, too important for bickering, too important for one of their leaders to snap at a man over the content of a toast.

He ignored the apology and the forced compliment entirely; he hadn't been the one yelled at, first of all, and second of all, there was no sincerity to either.

"If you will lead us," Malik began, tone as level as he could manage, "you need to do better." A blunt statement, but a necessary one. Malik was ultimately no hard heart, however, so he shifted a little on his feet, voice quieter when he asked, "How long since you last slept well?"

Nails dug further into the blanket until they were poking through the woolen fabric. "I wouldn't," he replied quietly. He'd since turned again to face the far wall, his back to the man, and he spoke just loudly enough for him to hear. "In fact, I would delightedly hand this entire operation over to you. To Linnae. To anyone else." A dry, rasp of a laugh escaped him. "Should we somehow succeed tomorrow, I will gladly hand over everything I know, all my documents, contacts, and research, and you may take over. Or Phineas. Or the blithering satyr for all I care."

Probably not what the man was wanting to hear. Honestly, Kholas didn't have the slightest idea what Malik expected or wanted from this exchange. He didn't need to be told he wasn't doing a good job-- he was already well aware of that. Part of him wanted to scream, part of him wanted to cry, and a small, somewhat more rational part told him that it didn't matter if this was fair, or that Kiernan should be the one alive and leading this task-- because the world didn't give two shits about any of them. It was what it was, and he needed to reconcile that.

Malik's expression softened some. Kholas was entirely unequipped for the stresses he was under, that was clear.

"You haven't abandoned this yet. Figure out why. Remember that. Focus on it. Purpose and anger'll keep you going when everything else is falling to shit," he advised, more gently this time. Kholas was a healer, wasn't he? A researcher. Familiar with the academy. Had he seen a battlefield? A question for another day, maybe, if Malik ever felt like asking. "As for the rest, a ten count and a deep breath before I speak helps me well enough." He wasn't Kholas, though - he was just a soldier who'd spent too many fucking years under the thumb of a tyrant. The man still hadn't answered his other question, though, and he felt it was important enough to ask again."How long has it been since you last slept well?"

Kholas flicked his ears in annoyance, thin shoulders still rigid, though he gave another incredulous laugh. "You advise anger but scold me for showing it? What do you think has kept me going these last months? Because it hasn't been a shining beacon of hope and purpose." That said, most of his anger and conflict was usually internalized, reflected only as dry snark and cynicism. Today was, apparently, an exception. Usually, Linnae was there to lessen the worst of his bad moods, and he sincerely wished she'd rescue him from this exchange now.

It was becoming apparent that Malik would not let the invasive query regarding his sleep rest, and Kholas finally gave a slight shrug. Most of the vitriol had gone out of him as he began to turn his anger inward again, pressing it down as far as he could. "Discussion of that topic will do nothing to help it." Once again, he was aware of his deficit, though there was little he could do in this regard. "If we survive tomorrow," he murmured, "perhaps that will improve. Now," he said a bit more forcefully, once again giving a glance over his shoulder, "if you are quite done, I think everyone else needs sleep before tomorrow as well."

Malik's expression sunk into a frown as the goblin spoke, only darkening further as the man continued his dialogue. Empathy and his best attempts at patience could only go so far.

"Everyone was here tonight because of you. All of us are gonna risk life, limb, and future tomorrow, for the sake of the fucking mission you and Linnae can't finish by yourselves. They deserve better than your shitty attitude."

The tension drained out of Malik after he finished speaking, posture slowly going slack. The anger burned out of him as quickly as it came, leaving only emptiness in its wake. He'd - Malik was a terrible communicator, but he had wished to help. He still wished to help. Childish scorn and Kholas' complete refusal to look him in the eye wouldn't keep him from helping; he was far, far too stubborn an individual for that. He would, reluctantly, admit that nothing useful would be accomplished tonight. Nothing useful would be accomplished if the goblin before him didn't take the rest he looked like he needed, either, though, so he crossed his arms and made a final comment.

"Pointless martyrdom isn't a good look on anybody," he added, quiet and firm. "You've got others to shoulder the burden, if you'd damn well let them. Let me."

"I never claimed it was," came the goblin's bland reply. The rest of his anger had finally retreated inward, leaving him with little more than dry exhaustion. "And I would sincerely hope people are here because they care about the fate of the world, regardless of my attitude. I believe I have already offered to turn this over to you. Once tomorrow is done, you may do as you then see fit. Now," he said, feeling the heavy weight of the metal discs shift in his cloak as he drew it about himself, the blanket still clutched in his other hand, "goodnight."

Not awaiting a reply, Kholas slipped off behind a stack of dusty crates, fully shielded from view.

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


Great, so the old man really did just move purposefully around while expecting letters to find him. With the atmosphere already tense enough, Atlak decided it would be best to contain his annoyance and exasperation to a really hard eyeroll as Pyre explained himself and his tendencies. "Ye, I doubt they will want to do anything else with us other than to arrest and execute and you don't need a mailman for that." He agreed as he thought of what the future might hold for them. Their chances weren't all that great but Atlak felt optimistic enough. They haven't been arrested just yet and their plan was so risky and foolish that he doubted the Empire was expecting anything like it.

Still there were a lot of things that could go wrong and he was fairly sure he would have to do a lot of running at one point or another, so he would be better off with some much needed rest. The fact that Pyre's hand made him momentarily lose balance reminded him of the many miles he had done in the past couple of days and the little rest he had gotten in between. He really ought to retire, but he didn't feel comfortable sleeping under the ground. He felt trapped and choking. He would rather sleep under open sky, but the weather and location were not in favor of that, so he would have to deal with a room at ground floor, if there even was such a thing.

----
OOC: feel free to have him go in the end of your post if it helps go forth with the timeskip :3
 

Kholas, Party, & Group One
22/3/1 193 TE | Night | Mostly Clear, Occasional Drizzle
@DinoFeather | @SkittlesAndSpike @Doctor Jax

Despite what hopes may have been, the rain resumed sometime in the small hours of the morning-- the deluge only serving to further muddy the streets. By midday, the storm had turned to showers and, by evening, a sparse, miserable drizzle. With the gloaming finally came respite, though the mud would still be a hindrance to any wishing to move at all quickly (or cleanly) through the city streets. But move they did, collecting at the designated place and attempting to maintain a low-profile air of nonchalance. The one upside of the dreary weather was that it all but ensured no one would be out late, walking about the city.

Save for the guards, of course. They, however, patrolled on a somewhat routine schedule and seldom did they have reason to wander into the back alleys so close to the academy. No, their patrols were largely reserved for the perimeter of the academy and palace, and mostly the latter.

It was no secret their plan was foolish, but the party was relying on the sheer nerve and audacity of it for success. The Emperor was sniffing out secrets as best he could, sending ears to listen for whispers in the furthest reaches of Aetheria. Rumour had it that, since Kiernan's discovery and execution, the Emperor now assumed treachery from every advisor and saw assassins in every shadow. While some whisperings were exaggerated, they did not belive the nature of the man. Paranoid as he war, perhaps the one thing Petros was not expecting was something as straightforward as a robbery.

Or so they could only hope.

For all they knew, the contact Kholas had in the Academy had already gone to Petros with the information. Or perhaps he really did wish to aid the rebellion. They had little way of knowing. They were also running short on time. The worse the world became, the smaller their chances of ever obtaining the shards of the guard stones, as abject denial from the Emperor would see them destroyed.

So here they stood, feet and hooves sinking into the squelching mud, huddled in the small space between buildings. When all were present and accounted for, each having gravitated toward their own groups, the smallest of the number stepped forward. Like most, his visage was obscured by a hood, from under which peered bright crimson eyes, just visible in the light of the shuttered lantern he held in one outstretched hand.

"Is everyone clear on what their assigned task is?" Kholas' voice was quiet and clear-- a far cry from the coarse tones of the previous night. There were no traces of anger or agitation as he spoke now, and he nodded to each group in turn. "If anyone needs to examine the map a final time, now is your last opportunity. I would again like to stress the necessity of a quick and quiet entry and exit and ask everyone to be prepared for anything. Should we arrive to find the academy filled with soldiers, escape by any means necessary. Our rendezvous point, should this go awry and we are unable to reconvene, is at Linnae's home outside the city on the northwestern outskirts.

Unfolding a map, he passed it to Melsinde and Rahne and held the lantern aloft so they could see it. Waiting for the map to make its rounds, Kholas took a few deep, steadying breaths. When the paper was handed back to him, he set down the lantern, refolded the map, and tucked it away into a small pouch at his waist.

Shuttering the lantern a bit further, he lifted it and peered out into empty streets, dimly lit by the light filtering through windows and from the occasional brazier. The city guard had made their way past about ten minutes prior, and it was high time to set their plan into motion.

Turning back to face Melsinde and Rahne, Kholas gave a nod. "Let's go, then," he murmured. Before making his way out into the street, he moved a few paces toward the third group and extended a hand up to Malik, which he shook briefly. It wasn't much, but it was his way of attempting to reconcile the previous night. Sparing a glance around at the groups a final time, his eyes briefly met Linnae's. "Be careful," he said quietly, "and good luck."

With that, he turned to follow the two women, slipping between the buildings and out into the street. As they turned a corner, feet churning the already-disturbed streets, the Academy loomed up before them, impossibly huge and suddenly unfamiliar. Despite needing only to navigate the north wing, it was still an immense maze of a building.

"Melsinde," he said quietly, falling into step beside the satyr, "when Rahne and I go to the conservatory to check the stone shards on display there, I'd like you to check a different room." Retrieving a key, he held the small metal object out to her. "I will tell you more once we're inside, as it will be easier to give direction that way."

"Rahne," he added, gesturing for her to fall back with them, "I'm sure you saw on the map, but the inside of the Academy can be a bit of a maze. We should try to remain together, but we must also be quiet. Most everything in there is stone and sound tends to carry. That said," he slowed as they drew nearer to the building, "if we need to run, run-- and don't worry about the noise. I'd rather have the two of you alive."

Coming to a stop, the goblin stared up at a large but rather plain wooden door that served as one of the side entrances. There were weathered carvings, but nothing so intricate as to warrant much attention. Checking the streets around them and finding no one, he lifted his free hand and turned the latch. The latch opened with a soft click and the door swung slowly outward. Silently, he ushered his companions into the building and pulled the door gently closed behind them.

Inside, stone corridors stretched away from them, lit only by the occasional wall-mounted torch, the flames casting wavering shadows on the floors. Heavy wooden doors lined the halls, some inscribed with names and titles. Faint voices could be heard coming from behind one of them, interspersed with the occasional laughter-- not a conversation of interest.

"Well then," Kholas breathed, the words scarcely audible, "let's get this over with." Slowly, he stared down the hall before them.


 
Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae
Date | 22/3/1
Time | Night
Weather | Mostly clear, occasional drizzle

  • The small group turned their backs on the rest and faded out of sight down the narrow street towards the side entrance of the Academy. Linnae gripped the lantern in her hand with more force than necessary. Panic started to stir the contents of her stomach as visions of their failure filled her mind. All of their heads in wicker woven baskets, no different than any other traitor to the Empire. What if they didn't make it? Her grip on the iron handle tightened before she realized she still hadn't extinguished the flame. Straining to keep her expression neutral, she slowly lowered the lantern to the floor, kicking dirt into the fire to put it out. She couldn't afford to be weak, not now, she was supposed to be leading the backup. Kholas needed her to do that. Could she do that?

    Linnae inhaled and closed her eyes. It didn't matter if she could. She had to. The nymph exhaled and let her worries wash away with the light rain.

    "We wait here." The nymph's hushed voice betrayed her, shaking as the words came out. She cleared her throat and started again. "Quarter of an hour, no less. Then we follow. Malik?"

    "Ma'am." It was more of an automatic response than a question.

    "I have something for you, should we not return." Linnae rummaged within the pockets of her cloak and revealed a neatly folded scrap of parchment tied with a piece of frayed twine. "If Kholas or myself do not emerge within the hour, this letter must make its way to Wyndfel. Do you understand? It cannot be left behind, this is our last resort. Do I make myself clear, Malik? Give it to Atlak, whoever can go, and run."

    Her voice had steadied but in place of the stuttering fear, her ruby eyes were wide with horror. The weight of the parchment in her hand grew heavy as the magnitude of their quest settled in her gut. There was no going back now that Kholas was inside, and she had to trust that the soldier would deliver one last promise. For Kiernan. For all of them. The light drizzle was cold on her skin and began to blot the letter with faint drops of rain. She waited for Malik to take the paper before letting out another long breath of air she didn't realize she had been holding inside her chest. Linnae was ready to leave the city. Her body was tired and ill from being so far from the tree for too long. If they had to stay much longer in Taithros, Linnae imagined she would only become a permanent fixture as a dead house plant. A morbid thought.

    "Pyre, Pan, Kacius-" Linnae addressed the three men she would be following within the walls of the academy. "Remember, it is of the utmost importance we are not seen. I can hypnotize a few surprise guests if need be, but I would prefer not to have to resort to using magic." It was more so for her health than anything, but she kept that information to herself. "Pyre, you know the Academy better than I do, if I had to guess. If we get turned around I'm trusting you will help us meet with Kholas."

    There was nothing more to be said. Linnae gripped a fistful of her cloak at her chest and nodded to the trio with all the confidence she could muster. She normally wasn't one to be so nervous. After enough time had passed, signaled by the dull and distant noise of the chime of the Academy's clock tower, Linnae waved for her companions to follow. She didn't have any words of encouragement beyond what Kholas had already said, 'good luck', and the pointless prayer didn't fill her with much hope.

    "I hope to see you again, Malik, Atlak, Phinneas." The nymph nodded as she called their names. "Ready?" She turned to the three men. "Let's go."
  • The Plan:

    The first group
    , and the only group that our contact is aware of, will consist of me, Melsinde, and Rahne. We will break into our component groups after this to discuss our task in further detail over dinner, as I'm sure many of you are hungry. We will be the first in and will, hopefully, collect the shards and leave without needing the second group. We will enter here and make our way into the North Wing. The stone shards were moved to a small study near the central conservatory for safekeeping. About here. We plan to leave the same way we entered, but there are alternate routes out, which are here, and here. As a contingency, group two will follow us in a few minutes after we enter and will serve as a backup, should something go wrong. Group two will be lead by Linnae, and will include Pyre, Kacius, and, ah-- Pan, I think. These groups will need to work quickly, quietly, and, I cannot stress this enough, discreetly. We want to be in and out without incident, if at all possible."


    Lastly, we need team three to remain outside. As luck would have it, we appear to have a convenient courier for the stones. We had planned on carrying them, however, using a runner seems safer, as we seem to now have the option. As soon as we get them to you, Atlak, you will get them out of the city and to a safe destination, which will be explained to you in detail tomorrow. Should the situation take an unfortunate turn, we will need you to deliver a letter to a contact in Wyndfel. We will also need people outside to deter any patrols. We will try to work between them, and it isn't often they enter the academy, but they do routinely check the doors. We don't want any unexpected visitors in the North Wing of the academy while we're inside or trying to make an escape. Considering your experience and skills, group three will consist of Atlak, Phineas, and Malik. Malik, if you are not opposed to it, I'd like you to be the leader of group three, as I believe you're experienced with patrols and soldiers.


    The Groups:


    Notes and Noises:
    • Assuming Group 3 has Group 2's back, they will enter without problem.
    • There doesn't seem to be anyone immediately inside, however, the sound of footsteps can be heard down every hall. It's impossible to tell if someone is coming or going. It could be Kholas, but it could be someone else.
    • There is a light coming from a room near the door where the group entered, you can hear a hushed conversation, but it doesn't sound important.
    • Assuming everything is going according to plan, Kholas should be further inside the Academy and near the shards.
    • There is a large map on the wall detailing scrapped expansionary plans for the city.
  •  
 
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Atlak
Forest Centaur | 24/Mail Centaur | Taitele/Kelna


Despite what there was to come, Atlak had managed to get a good night's sleep once the briefing meeting had ended and everyone had retired. He had been so tired from his journey that it was 'lights out' as soon as he had closed his eyes. Now he was cloaked and ready for whatever was to come, his bow was strung up and concealed under the heavy woven cloak and his arrows safely at his side in a satchel that was currently loosely tied shut. He was focused and he was calm. This was just a hunt of a different kind. He had to see it that way otherwise he would've been as anxious and as scared as their leaders were. Granted the tension in the air did make him flick his tail and stomp his feet nervously from time to time. It was hard to ignore the million things that could go wrong.

Having been briefed on his destination once he got the stones, there were little else he felt like he needed to know, so he had remained quiet, wishing Kholas and his team good luck as they slipped into the Academy. "We will be waiting for you. Safe hunting." He wished the Nymph. His team had, perhaps, the worst part of this task. They had to wait, not knowing what was happening and hoping for the best. Patience was a virtue in hunters, but in this scenario, no amount of patience could help all that

 
PAN TALL-BONES​
x

Thip. Thip. Thip.

Raindrops smashed against the oiled rain skin Gilda had given him, and Pan ground his teeth unhappily. It was very distracting sound, and annoying to boot; at least when the rain hit skin or fur, there was no sound. But the Horned had seemed exceedingly put out to be asked to wash the Satyr, and she had gone to great lengths to rid or at least cover his stench.

'Least it smells a bit like rosemary, he mused. He'd been willing to put up with anything to avoid her stern gaze again. He'd kept his head down almost the entire time he was getting washed, in shame.

But she was nice. After the bath, Gilda had at his insistence explained the paint, rings, and other decor she wore, and had moreover detailed her job. In a fair amount of detail more than he might have otherwise liked.

He enjoyed it, though, in retrospect. Being shown what it was she did for a living. Yigwit would shake his head but smile, and Peri- no, it wasn't her business. Certainly not a first for him, it was perhaps the best so far.

A piece of parchment being shoved into his hands brought him out of his revelry, and he shook his head to clear the cobwebs. Pan's eyes narrowed as he focused on the map. There; he made note of the markings. And the path inside. Not quite laid out as predictably as mining tunnels, he felt strangely confident; for all his lack of education, he rarely got lost in the branching paths of the mines.

Then Kholas, Melsinde, and his lifting busy Rahne were gone. He gave the latter a thumbs up, trying to remember to stay quiet but also wanting to wish her the best of luck. Not too long after, it was his turn; well, his and his team. Linnae waved them on. Pan turned to obey.

He stopped suddenly, spinning around to face Phineas. Grinning, he tossed three coins to the man.

"'I'll give'm a this count' she said. Dunno what that means, but there's three left over she said tah give ya. She tells good stories, an' gives bitchin' backrubs.

"Ya probly knew that. Said you was her fav'rite."

Pan's voice was touched with an edge of humor, and the grin hadn't left his face. He eyed the others, flashed Phineas a thumbs up, and ran off after them. He shrugged as he did, feeling the comforting weight of his axe under the rain slick.

He hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

 
Kacius was at ease as he waited for enough time to pass for his group to go. Much more at ease than most others, it seemed. The others should have availed themselves of the fine services of the Randy Gander, then they probably would have been feeling as relaxed and confident as he did. Or, well, maybe half as confident if they only spent the evening with a single courtesan, but Kacius supposed not everyone could be expected to be up for that much fun. Pan at least looked, and more importantly smelled, like he'd spent the evening with some company, so that was a good start.

As his thoughts wandered, so too did his eyes. Both froze as his gaze fell upon a map hanging on one of the walls of the room. It wasn't the one Kholas had showing the plans, it was something different. It was a map of Taithros, but some things were off. There were a lot of parts out along the edges that didn't match up with his memory of the city, or of maps that showed the current city for that matter, so it had to be some kind of hypothetical map. Someone's idea of how the city might grow, perhaps? Maybe even an official map of future plans for expansion? It was hard to say for certain, but there was one thing that Kacius knew without a doubt: that map was his now and would be added to his collection at the earliest opportunity. Linnae was saying something to Malik about a letter as Kacius quickly and quietly pulled the map off the wall, rolled it up, and carefully stuffed it into the center of the bedroll hanging from the bottom of his pack. Once the treasure was secured and he had his gear back in order, the talk about the letter was already done and Linnae was calling for their group to head out.

With a few hurried steps, Kacius caught up to Linnae and gave her a couple reassuring pats on the shoulder as they walked. "No need to worry," he murmured quietly enough that the others hopefully wouldn't hear, "we're going to be fine. You've got me on your team, after all." He flashed her a broad and confident grin for just a moment, enough to show her that he was feeling great enough about their chances to more than make up for her obvious doubts and worries, and when he let the grin go he still looked positively cheerful and not at all concerned about the possibility of imprisonment and execution. He'd stolen from people who would do much worse than just chop his head off if he got caught, so as far as he was concerned this was just another day on the job. Kacius had to refrain from humming the tune of one of the songs that had been played in the Randy Gander last night as he strode fearlessly forward, hands swinging at his sides but ready to start throwing daggers at a moment's notice should any trouble arise.
 

GM Post
22/3/1 193 TE | Night | Occasional drizzle
@DayDreamer @Kuno @Spectre of the Fade

  • One by one, familiar and unfamiliar faces disappeared down the dreary street and towards the Academy. They had words of luck for one another, but not much else was said aloud. Nothing else could be said to relax the tense atmosphere that had settled over the group, thick in the air like the heavy gray clouds overhead. By conspiring to steal the shards each of them had already committed treason and whether or not they continued to aid Kholas and Linnae didn't matter. If they were caught, it was their heads that would be on the chopping block.

    Once the second group had departed for the side entrance, it left Atlak, Malik, and Phineas alone in their chosen hide out spot. They had been instructed to wait, just as Linnae had, so that their presence wasn't too suspicious near the Academy. The guards were the only thing that they could predict with any certainty, as the patrols ran like clockwork every thirty minutes around the building.

    When the time was right, Malik solemnly stood, and motioned for the others to follow.
  • The Plan:

    The first group
    , and the only group that our contact is aware of, will consist of me, Melsinde, and Rahne. We will break into our component groups after this to discuss our task in further detail over dinner, as I'm sure many of you are hungry. We will be the first in and will, hopefully, collect the shards and leave without needing the second group. We will enter here and make our way into the North Wing. The stone shards were moved to a small study near the central conservatory for safekeeping. About here. We plan to leave the same way we entered, but there are alternate routes out, which are here, and here. As a contingency, group two will follow us in a few minutes after we enter and will serve as a backup, should something go wrong. Group two will be lead by Linnae, and will include Pyre, Kacius, and, ah-- Pan, I think. These groups will need to work quickly, quietly, and, I cannot stress this enough, discreetly. We want to be in and out without incident, if at all possible."


    Lastly, we need team three to remain outside. As luck would have it, we appear to have a convenient courier for the stones. We had planned on carrying them, however, using a runner seems safer, as we seem to now have the option. As soon as we get them to you, Atlak, you will get them out of the city and to a safe destination, which will be explained to you in detail tomorrow. Should the situation take an unfortunate turn, we will need you to deliver a letter to a contact in Wyndfel. We will also need people outside to deter any patrols. We will try to work between them, and it isn't often they enter the academy, but they do routinely check the doors. We don't want any unexpected visitors in the North Wing of the academy while we're inside or trying to make an escape. Considering your experience and skills, group three will consist of Atlak, Phineas, and Malik. Malik, if you are not opposed to it, I'd like you to be the leader of group three, as I believe you're experienced with patrols and soldiers.


    The Groups:


    Notes and Noises:
    • No one is supposed to know Malik, Atlak, and Fin are watching the door
    • The letter is tied poorly, I wonder what it says? Linnae didn't exactly say they couldn't read it, but it was only in case of an emergency.
    • Guards pass through the area every half an hour, best to stay hidden when possible and not to interact with them.
    • Atlak can have the letter, as he is the runner.
  •  

 
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Kholas Abalyshevska


Location: Academy - North Wing Corridors

Collab With: @Doctor Jax @SkittlesAndSpike

CS Link
Mel had arrived to the rendezvous with equal parts trepidation, excitement, and focus. The previous night had been spent largely sleepless, in due part because of the knowledge of the next day's treasons, and partly due to good company, Phineas' copious wine cabinet, and night long chatter. Now that she was here, the early morning chilly with rain, she felt her heart race.

This was it. She gave Phineas a quick look. Already she had stated simply what a pleasure it had been, should this mission go awry, to have known and befriended him. A similar letter had been flown to Blaine, in perhaps more intimate terms, along with instructions to destroy evidence of his involvement with her. Hands tense, she deftly reviewed the map, much of the Academy's maze-like halls proving familiar, though the part of the building they would be infiltrating was not.

While Rahne had enjoyed the night before, she couldn't deny the anxious energy bubbling inside of her after hearing the plan. Her sleep had been okay, good even, but she found herself waking up several times in the night from equal parts fear of being unprepared and excitement. Only after rendezvousing with everyone else did she feel better. She felt more focused, and after having her turn with the map one last time, she felt she was ready for anything.

Before she departed from the rest with Melsinde and Kholas, she gave Malik a light slap on his shoulder, a grin on his face. "Ah'll be seein' ya on ta' other side. Ya' best take care a' everyone else." And with that, she departed with her team.

Then, as if in a blur, they were away. Kho drifted back as they headed to the side door of the building, and a key was handed to the satyr. Her eyebrows lifted in question, but she kept her mouth shut, only nodding as she tucked the key into a pocket in her leather jerkin.

"Only give the word, and I shall be right on it," Melsinde agreed, deciding discretion was best, compartmentalization likewise. He sped to Rahne, and she sighed to herself softly. Hopefully the soldier proved both cautious and suave.

"Aye, Ah'll make sure not ta' make even a wee noise, no worries!" Rahne whispered in response to Kholas's words, making an "OK" sign with her fingers. She threw a nod towards Melsinde, giving her the same sign before following the goblin into the halls, moving slowly but surely.

As the trio made their way slowly through the stone corridors, Kholas worked to steel himself for what might be to come. So far, they had not encountered any signs of Jarlin, save for the door actually being left unlocked for them. Not that he'd take it as a good omen of sorts, but at least they hadn't needed to fight their way in and, at the moment, he'd take any victory, no matter how small.

When they arrived at the first junction of corridors, he tipped his head to the right and proceeded forward, somewhat more slowly now. As he walked, the goblin began to slowly sweep his gave left and right, his ears erect and swivelling-- searcing out any sound that might indicate trouble. Another junction saw them turn left and creep quietly onward past more closed doors. Linnae's group would be following them in any moment now, though he hadn't heard any disturbances, slamming of doors, or worrying conversation. Still, a fine sweat had begun to prickle along the furred sides of his face.

As they arrived at the next junction, Kholas slowed to a stop. Looking down each of the dimly-lit halls and finding only closed doors, he motioned for Melsinde and Rahne to draw closer.

"Okay," he breathed, carefully and quietly extracting the map from the small pouch. Gingerly, he unfolded the paper and moved nearer one of the torches. "We're here," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Melsinde, you need to continue down the corridor this way," he traced a straight line down the hall on the map with a long nail. "When you get to the first intersecting hall, turn right. On your left will be a series of ten doors. This key will fit the third one." Gods willing, his information was correct. Tennin had vanished shortly after getting him the key and informing him of the shard transfer to the study.

"So far as I know, this room is currently disused and largely serves as supply storage. In it, there is a wooden cabinet containing glass phials and the like. Search that cabinet as thoroughly as you can. The shards may be concealed in something or stuck to the bottom of shelves or whathaveyou. Now," he straightened and tucked the map away once more. "Give us about a minute head start, as you can see down several corridors from the conservatory and I don't want you spotted, should someone be around. Let us get there first. We'll be approaching the conservatory from another direction. Should you find the shards, take them and get back outside. If possible reconvene with the others, but do what you must to get to the rendezvous point. With any luck, we'll be able to catch up with you shortly."

With that, he turned to Rahne and gave the woman a long look. "If we do encounter Jarlin-- or anyone else-- give no indication we have more people with us. Oh, and act surprised to see him."

Slinking past Melsinde, Kholas led Rahne down the hall to their left. Another intersection and they turned right, headed for the conservatory and whatever lay within.

Melsinde meanwhile watched after them with a look of concern, hopeful that Rahne could protect Kholas - and that she found what they were looking for. She would have to be swift. On quiet cloven feet, she began at a soft clip towards the intersection, praying to whatever divinities might exist.

"Aye." Rahne whispered back to Kholas after giving Melsinde a parting nod. Don't mention the rest of their group? That would be easy for her. The others weren't even on her mind, her focus was entirely on her team's task at hand.

 
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The nymph, Linnae seemed to be doing worse than before, almost as if she was wilting right on the spot. She reminded him of the potted plants he had in his own office, wilted and withered after a decade of absence. No one had seemed to expect the firemage of all people to have plants, after all.

Pyre supposed the studies on the nymphs being reliant on the survival of the tree were right after all. Their bodies reliant on magic were decaying, just like his own fire was growing unpredictable.

Giving an affirming hum to Linnae's question Pyre made his way down the hall, following the group as he stuck to the back. The nymph seemed to know where to go and Pyre didn't want to risk losing a member (Pan) in the halls of the Academy and alert a guard.

How often had he walked these paths? Usually students and faculty members alike could hear Pyre from many turns beyond, infamous as he was for the booming sound of his step that announced his march. It was a first, however that his boots didn't bother to make a sound when walking through the halls. As changeable as the little details such as the curtains, or the ropes that strung around the hall showing off the Academy's prestige.

"Ah, a moment," the man suddenly halted, whispering to the group. To the side a wooden door with his name on the plate stood proudly. Taking out a brass key and with the help of a little fire the man opened his door, stepping into his office.

Dusty and untidy as it was the office very much held the air of his personality. Scrolls with maps of his travels were discarded to the side, sometimes hastily rolled open to be attacked by the light and consumed by dust, others ignored in a corner. What interested Pyre the most was a small package on his table, a neat stack of papers that he pockets into the inner pocket of his jacket before turning to the group with a raised brow.

"All done," he spoke casually, confident in his way and appearance and unafraid of getting caught. As if the whole mission didn't exist with its dangers and risks. Though his step suggested otherwise.

"Proceed," the professor spoke quasi-formally to the group as if leading a group of students on a tour through the school and merely showing off his office.
 
All his affairs were in order. He could not have asked for a more perfect start to their venture.

Somewhere on the Eastern roads was a de Pemos carriage bound for Kelna. He'd sent it out early in the day with some of his belongings and a missive to have his estate prepared for his eventual arrival. Should anyone question his absence, he was quite sure his servants - and perhaps even his nosy neighbors - would be quick to tell them he'd left that morning. Phineas was known for riding separately on horseback; the fact he had sent his things ahead of him while he stopped to smell the roses would not be questioned. Then there'd been his morning appointment, his lunch with Madame, et cetera, et cetera…

The mud clung to his boots, squelching wherever his foot happened to find ground. It was a small mercy the noise was muted; Phineas, for all his intent to remain quiet, could not stand still. He listened listlessly as their leaders gave final instructions in their huddle. The goblin was remarkably different in temperament. Stoic, calm, without malice - he had transformed overnight. It was for the best; he hardly believed their plan would go well if even one of them refused to be cooperative with the other. When it was time for the first group to go, Phineas caught the look Mel gave him. In return, he winked. Always the cynic, that one. He'd teased her about it last night, hoping to soothe her nerves for the coming day. It was true she served in one of the most dangerous roles. But he was confident Rahne and the second group would do well to protect them. He had told her so. Repeatedly.

The minutes passed, and the next group soon made ready to follow after Kholas. All but Pan, who abruptly approached the older man with a large smile and coins, apparently, the latter of which fell against Fin's cloak as he struggled to catch them. One coin slipped through his fingers down to the mud. He didn't spare it a second glance.

"'I'll give'm a this count' she said. Dunno what that means, but there's three left over she said tah give ya. She tells good stories, an' gives bitchin' backrubs.

"Ya probly knew that. Said you was her fav'rite."


Phineas chuckled. "Did she now…" Gilda had been too generous by far. He returned the satyr's thumbs up with a smile, unable to resist Pan's contagious grin. At least the kid had enjoyed himself.

"Stay safe," He called quietly as the three went out, disappearing ultimately into the night. Only the third group remained.

He turned to the other two, following after them as Malik began moving. Both appeared ready for anything; Malik, with his soldier's stone-walled demeanor, and Atlak, tensed as a drawn bowstring. Phineas, in comparison, looked like an overeager child going out to play with his friends. The nobleman clasped his hands together, rubbing them with all the frenzied energy of a cricket. The suspense was exhilarating.
 
Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae
Date | 22/3/1
Time | Dusk
Weather | Raining


  • Linnae really should have been keeping a better eye on the tallest cloven foot stranger, but she was far more curious as to what the mage wanted. After all this time, he didn't have a spare minute to pick something up from his office? He had to do it during the middle of their operations? The nymph made an audible huff of discontent and crossed her arms as she waited for Pyre to emerge from his office.

    Her hard, judgemental looks were only broken to pout, quite pitifully, at the dying plants in Pyre's office. They appeared as if they hadn't seen water for the better part of a month, even longer! Brown leaves, far beyond wilting and much closer to turning into dust rather than anything fruitful, a pot here a pot there. The healthiest thing in his office was a very common succulent. It required virtually no water and it somehow managed to be wilting, too. Given how she'd laid her initial bias aside after some smooth persuasion, the nymph did her best to stomp out the angry embers rising in her belly.

    "It's very quiet." Linnae stated the obvious. "This is probably a good thing. Best we continue to stay out of sight, unless you have any other detours?" The last remark was meant for Pyre, as Linnae turned to face him.

    "Nah- couldn't be. Pyre!"

    A booming voice filled the hall. Heavy and uneven footsteps followed soon after, and the bumbling frame of a man could be seen rounding the corner with a flask in hand. He quickly stowed it in the folds of his untidy robes, bright purple with cream lace clinging to the fraying edges and tattered seams. It looked to had once been a very fine robe, if it could be called that now. Dark stains covered the front here and there, some food, others only the divine knew. A deep stain near the front pocket was quite literally oozing.

    That distinct form, bouldering voice, and sharp smell of alcohol and sweat could only be one; professor Gragas. Sweet drunk, foolish Gragas wasting another good night drunk. Once the man had been but a shy lad, a decade ago until he met Pyre. After it only grew worse, even in the absence of the firemage as Gragas was unable to stabilise himself even, going left and right and seemingly not noticing the group Pyre had with him.

    "Gragas, how long it has been," Pyre spoke curtly, quickly stepping out front so that the drunk wouldn't have to start noticing the rest. "And drinking as well, it is a beautiful night for that," the man continued with a smile, though his expression was obvious; he wanted the man gone. Stuffed in a can of wine if possible. The drunk was more alcohol than human anyway.

    "Pyre!" Gragas slurred on a repeat, waggling by closer as he put an arm around the taller man. The smell of alcohol growing more distinct as Pyre resisted the urge to set his breath on fire right there.

    Though that all flickered away when the man started to sob, shoulders shaking and arms clenching around Pyre. "I have missed you so much, Pyre!" Gragas started to bawl and Pyre's eyes widened, an apologetic look going towards Linnea and the rest.

    "Come now, it has only been a decade. Besides, you didn't water my plants," Pyre responded as kindly as he could, though he still tried to pry the arms off him. He didn't have time for this.

    "No one to drink with, everyone in the faculty avoids me for some reason. And then my dear left me as well. O' it has been so awful," Gragas continued to wail, ignoring Pyre's attempt.

    "No wonder really, I'm starting to reg—"

    "What are you mumbling, Pyre? Come. Drink. Like the good old days!" his colleague pulled the unwilling pyromaniac away down the hall, though Pyre stronger and more stable resisted.

    "Not tonight. I have business to attend to," Pyre spoke, finally pushing the arms off him and taking three steps back. "Besides, it is no fun drinking when you're already drunk. Come back sober," and hopefully I will be gone by then, he finished his sentenced in mind.

    Taken aback Gragas gaped at Pyre for a good few moments before mumbling to himself incoherently. "Oh, ye, figured. I suppose that makes sense you being here and all," drooping his shoulders like a disappointed child being denied his candy the man then turned around, slumping down the hall as he trickled a trail of alcohol after him.

    "Do I feel like setting that aflame," Pyre mumbled more so to himself than to anyone else. Turning around he clasped his hands giving Linnea the widest and most apologetic smile he had.

    "I'm done with detours. And drunks. Isn't Gragas lovely? He becomes so ill-observant when wasted," the man spoke, his eyes crinkling into a mischievous laugh that he held back in his throat.

    "Let's go."

    Linnae could only stare, wide eyed and internally screaming, as Pyre attempted to return some order to the group. Someone had seen them. He knew they were inside, and what was worse the man was drunk. The man, Gragas, reeked of booze even down the hall, or maybe it was just the lingering odor he'd left on Pyre. Either way, Linane didn't want to simply let him off the hook.

    "Pyre." She said seriously. "He knows we're here." Her eyes darted to the liquor trail leading down the hall. He couldn't have gotten far. "If I go after him, can you get to Kholas on your own?"
  • The Plan:

    The first group
    , and the only group that our contact is aware of, will consist of me, Melsinde, and Rahne. We will break into our component groups after this to discuss our task in further detail over dinner, as I'm sure many of you are hungry. We will be the first in and will, hopefully, collect the shards and leave without needing the second group. We will enter here and make our way into the North Wing. The stone shards were moved to a small study near the central conservatory for safekeeping. About here. We plan to leave the same way we entered, but there are alternate routes out, which are here, and here. As a contingency, group two will follow us in a few minutes after we enter and will serve as a backup, should something go wrong. Group two will be lead by Linnae, and will include Pyre, Kacius, and, ah-- Pan, I think. These groups will need to work quickly, quietly, and, I cannot stress this enough, discreetly. We want to be in and out without incident, if at all possible."


    Lastly, we need team three to remain outside. As luck would have it, we appear to have a convenient courier for the stones. We had planned on carrying them, however, using a runner seems safer, as we seem to now have the option. As soon as we get them to you, Atlak, you will get them out of the city and to a safe destination, which will be explained to you in detail tomorrow. Should the situation take an unfortunate turn, we will need you to deliver a letter to a contact in Wyndfel. We will also need people outside to deter any patrols. We will try to work between them, and it isn't often they enter the academy, but they do routinely check the doors. We don't want any unexpected visitors in the North Wing of the academy while we're inside or trying to make an escape. Considering your experience and skills, group three will consist of Atlak, Phineas, and Malik. Malik, if you are not opposed to it, I'd like you to be the leader of group three, as I believe you're experienced with patrols and soldiers.


    The Groups:


    Notes and Noises:
    • Assuming Group 3 has Group 2's back, they will enter without problem.
    • There doesn't seem to be anyone immediately inside, however, the sound of footsteps can be heard down every hall. It's impossible to tell if someone is coming or going. It could be Kholas, but it could be someone else.
    • There is a light coming from a room near the door where the group entered, you can hear a hushed conversation, but it doesn't sound important.
    • Assuming everything is going according to plan, Kholas should be further inside the Academy and near the shards.
    • There is a large map on the wall detailing scrapped expansionary plans for the city...Kacius stole it.
  •  

 
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PAN TALL-BONES​
x

Pan followed the others closely through the Academy building, wide eyed and mouth agape. To say that this construction was the most opulent building he had ever seen was by far a massive understatement; the Goblins at home were highly utilitarian, finding no time for creating frivolous decor, short of a polished gemstone here or there. Seeing the way this culture here celebrated knowledge and those that pursued it with huge wooden beans and tapestries and glimmering chandeliers was overwhelming.

"Shoulda asked tah stay outsahd," he muttered to himself.

The machinations of the two other men in his crew went largely unnoticed, in large part as they served little interest him. Yet the Satyr's ears were pricked at the shuffle of approaching feet, and his hand raised to free his axe. It lowered again at the slurred greeting to their Fire Mage, and he turned his gaze from Gragas to Linnae and back again. What were they to do? Would they be outted? Would they have to-

Pan swallowed hard at the thought, yet it seemed he shouldn't have worried. At a dismissal from Pyre, the drunk had shuffled off again, leaving the four of them in peace. But Linnae was not satisfied.

"Pardon me, ma'am. But yer the leader. You gots to make sure the job gits dun." He jammed a confident thumb in his chest with a smile. "I kin follow'n thump 'im and toss 'im in a closet. Taint too hard. Nor's findin' mah way back; I kin navigate a strange tunnel like a badger, and this place ain't really no diff'rint."

Without waiting for affirmation or, more likely, curt refusal of his generous offer, Pan rushed off after the drunk as quickly but as silently as he might. The soft clack clack of hoof on floor grew muffled as he rounded a corner, and soon it faded from hearing.
@Lillian Gray


 
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With near silent steps, Melsinde found the room she was looking for - a storage closet. How quaint, that the world's panacea would be housed in such humble confinement. However it quickly became apparent once she opened the door that this would be a challenge, for all its lowly storage. The place was indeed full to the gills with tables, chairs, general bricabrac furniture without a room to call home in the building. Mel sighed slightly, closing the door behind her quietly, though not before making a second check that the cost was clear.

Now, the real trek was to be had. Ah, the humor was not lost on her, that she would have to spring like a mountain goat across all this to get to the cabinet on the other side. She blithely hopped atop a chair, easily perched, and a chuckle escaped her as she shook her head. This was not what she had expected her role to be this... athletic.

Across the myriads of settees, tables, and shelving, she clambered, managing to somehow stay somewhat quiet. Albeit, she nearly toppled loudly, but she figured speed was key in this endeavor, to get in and out. At last, she managed to sneak into a space by the cabinet, heart pounding as if seeking egress. Open came the case, and there were the phials she had been warned about...

Deft hands searched the inside, moving glasses as necessary. It wasn't until she reached into the underside of the very top shelf that she managed to find something - a small bag, silk, tucked on a hook. She pulled it down, her eyebrows furrowing.

Could... this really be all? She opened the bag hesitantly, and inside slivers as big as a finger rested in the gloom. Her eyes softened as it dawned on her that this was their whole hope in her hands.

So small...

She put them inside of the lining of her tunic, tucked to her side, and she put everything back as well as she could manage, in an attempt to allay suspicion of intrigue or theft. Now, to get back to the other team...

@DinoFeather
 
Kholas Abalyshevska


Location: Academy - North Wing Conservatory

Collab With: @SkittlesAndSpike

CS Link
As Kholas and Rahne split away from Melsinde, the lone pair now treading quietly down the halls, a bright light grew steadily more visible. Though not overly familiar with this particular wing of the academy, Kholas knew the sight. Though the conservatory they were nearing was the North Conservatory, it was an identical, though mirrored image of the one in the South Wing where Kholas had occasionally spent evenings reading. Full of exotic plants and night-blooming flowers from Ventha and Luras, the fragrant smell was just beginning to reach them, and it struck a pang of nostalgia in the goblin, though he quickly pushed it from his mind. Fond times here were best forgotten.

The light was growing brighter and Kholas slowed his pace to a careful, creeping step, motioning for Rahne to keep behind him. On nights the moon was visible, the conservatories would be awash in the pale moonlight. Tonight, however, there was no moon and numerous torches had instead been lit and their light flickered pleasantly against the glass walls. In any other conditions, it would've been a welcoming atmosphere.

Slowly, carefully, Kholas stepped from the corridor and approached the opening in the glass that served as one of the many conservatory doors. It was framed in intricate silver metalwork, which shone warmly in the firelight. Inside, he could see the numerous pedestals boasting the Academy's collection of artifacts. Or replicas of them. Narrowed eyes scanned the expansive room, flicking over foliage and chairs until--

"Good evening, Kholas."

The goblin tensed, his ears standing fully erect as he gazed at the form of a young man lounging in one of the plush settees. This hadn't been unexpected, but this was certainly going to put a damper on their situation.

"Good evening, Jarlin," Kholas replied, his voice steady. "I see you couldn't resist coming to watch."

"And I see you were fool enough to actually show up." Jarlin laughed as he stood from his chair, brushing off his robes as he did so. He was a tall, trim man with messy brown hair and a wispy sort of beard that only scarcely aged his youthful face. Smiling, he made a show of stretching, then stifled a yawn. "I was beginning to worry you had caught on and weren't planning to show up, but here you are." He laughed again and shook his head. "Clever Kholas, finally outsmarted. Oh," he added as he caught sight of Rahne, "but I see you brought a friend."

Taking a few measured steps further into the conservatory, Kholas let his gaze fall onto the pedestal that supported small shards of what looked to smokey, iridescent glass. "Why?" He asked, not looking up from the glass case enclosing the shards. "Why are you doing this?" He was surprised at the sincerity in his own voice, and apparently, so was Jarlin.

"Isn't that obvious?" The man laughed and shook his head. "Can you even imagine the reward for turning you over to the Emperor? Gold, titles, a research hall, and all the funding I could ever want. I'll be lauded as a hero and," his eyes again fixed on Rahne, "I'm sure they'll give me a little something extra for your girlfriend here."

Melside had damn well better find those shards, because if listening to this prat ramble on was all for nought...

"I really can't believe you fell for this. I mean, you must really be desperate if you're willing to risk breaking into the Academy. Though she's a considerable upgrade from Kiernan, don't you think?"

A half involuntary snarl curled the goblin's lips and a low sort of growl issued from his throat as he glared at the man, his ears laying back against his head.

Jarlin arched a brow in amusement. "Hit a nerve, have I? And here I thought you were incapable of emotion. Always so snappish and irritable. But I suppose I should've known-- if you were willing to believe my little act about joining the rebellion, there must be something more than bitterness in there. Or maybe it's just idiocy."

Reining in his temper, Kholas spared a glance over at Rahne, then flicked his gaze around the room. The longer he could keep this ass talking, the more time Melsinde had to search. "And you plan to capture us alone? " He asked, lifting one hand to gesture around the otherwise-empty conservatory. "I wasn't aware you possessed any kind of magic useful in such situations-- or any magic at all, for that matter."

A frown creased the corners of the man's mouth very briefly before he replaced it with the same smug smile. "Well, I considered soldiers," Jarlin said, examining the nails on his left hand, "telling them everything that we'd planned and all, but what if you didn't show? I couldn't risk that. But if I just happened to catch you while out on a nighttime stroll, and we managed to overpower you…"

Ah, "we," here's the catch…

"Gentlemen, if you would be so kind." Jarlin gestured at Kholas and Rahne as two men, one bearded and one mostly concealed under a hood, entered the conservatory from a corridor to their left, wearing smiles identical to Jarlin's. "Restrain them-- use whatever force is necessary."

"But Ah'...but..!" Rahne started to speak and stopped, a harsh glare on her face. Oh, how she would love to get her hands on this Jarlin guy and wring his neck just a little. All they were trying to do was save everything, and he'd rather line his pockets and pad his resume. He was everything that made her defect from the Military in the first place.

"Ah'll take tha' flunkies. Ye can have the bastart'." Rahne told Kholas, drawing her sword as she stepped forward to meet the two men. Kholas looked like he was far more pissed off with the treacherous twat than she was. Besides, she was the muscle. If she couldn't handle this fight, what good was she to the rest of the rebels? Sure it was a two on one, but they were trying to capture her and Kholas. She, however, was going for the kill, and she wasted no time with that.

Letting a battle cry free from her throat, she leapt forward, immediately swinging her sword for one of the soldier's throats. She didn't fully expect for it to land but she was still surprised when her blow was deflected by the sudden appearance of a runic shield, causing her to stumble backwards slightly. The soldier that summoned the shield took the opportunity to attack with his own sword, but she used the momentum from her stumble to move away, raising her sword to block his in the process.

Instead of immediately joining the fight, the hooded man reached for the nearest lantern, dousing it in the soil around the plants. It took a moment for Kholas to understand why, until the now-flickering shadows began to stretch and bend around them, elongating toward the clashing fighters. Jarlin, too, reached for a nearby torch, and Kholas took the opportunity to lunge for the pedestal bearing the shards. Immediately, Jarlin abandoned his reach for the torch, throwing himself at the pedestal and colliding with it and nearly toppling it. Bracing the stone display with his body, Kholas seized the glass case containing the shards and attempted to wrench it away from the other's hands.

Seeming to think the fight for the shards would be a brief one, the hooded man's attention remained fixed on the sword fighters, enveloping them in what seemed to be a thin veil of darkness. As swords clashed and the bearded man stumbled backwards, two figures joined him on either side. Neither were well-defined, though the both stood as though holding swords, poised and ready to strike at Rahne.

 
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Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae


Mentions:

@DayDreamer
@Kuno
@Nemopedia
(See notes and noises)
@Red Thunder
(See notes and noises)

Date | 22/3/1
Time | Night
Weather | Mostly clear, occasional drizzle


  • "Pan, wait!" Linnae hissed after the satyr.

    As the sound of his hooves clacking faded down the hall, Linnae had to hold in a frustrated cry so as not to attract any attention. What could have been avoided was now a full-blown disaster as they were now separated from the odd satyr. The only solace Linnae could find in the situation was the direction he ran, which was back towards the door they had come from. Even with the maze of halls, there were only so many places Gragas and Pan could go.

    The nymph had sincere doubts about Pan's ability to navigate back to their location. All she could do was pray that he did have some kind of mystic badger sense and that was the most absurd thought that had passed through her mind in decades.

    They were in trouble.

    She cursed under breath and pressed her hands to her face. What now? Going forward was the whole point. To meet with Kholas and then get the hell out of Taithros before anyone caught wind of what they were doing, that was the impossible goal. Chasing after Pan was the exact opposite of what Linnae wanted to do. That meant returning outside and abandoning Kholas in his mission. She couldn't do that to him. Her ruby eyes darted between the only other options she had. Sending Pyre wasn't a bad idea, but she didn't know what he'd do once they caught up to Gragas. There'd be a lot of noise between the two old friends. Sending Kacius seemed easier. At least Linnae held some idea of what the rogue might do. He was quiet. Kacius wouldn't have a problem putting down Gragas if it came to that. That would have to be enough for now.

    "Kacius." Linnae called, having made her choice, "Go. Catch up to them and do what you have to. No one can know we're here."

    The horned man nodded with a cocky grin and was gone in an instant. Linnae returned her focus to the fire mage. She wasn't entirely sure she trusted him but that was the situation that had played out and she would have to roll with the punches. The nymph waved him forward.

    "Come on, we need to hurry." She said urgently. "Let's get straight to the conservatory. We are too far behind."



    The rain had picked up in the short time the first two groups had been away. No longer a light drizzle, dark clouds loomed overhead - bringing with them a steady rainfall. The few stragglers who had been walking the streets hurried to get home as the dirt turned to mud under their boots. Not that there were many people still out and about. The only constant presence was the guards that stalked the streets on their routine patrols. There was no longer any excuse to be standing around in the dark, and the chance of being apprehended only increased with the declining weather.

    From the back door where Linnae and Kholas had disappeared, Gragas came bumbling out. He had the flask held up to his lips and his head was tilted far back so he could get every last drop from the bottom of the vessel. His arm swung lazily at his side without a care in the world. He didn't notice the three strangers standing in the rain until he had all but bumped into Phineas with his robust gut.

    Looking wholly unabashed, the professor peered at the trio, seemingly unbothered by the rain. "Sorry 'bout that," he slurred at Phineas, "didn't expect t'run into anyone out 'ere." Then, as though the thought suddenly dawned on him, he narrowed his eyes slightly as though looking through a haze. "What are you three doin' out 'ere? You're not professors, are you? Don't look familiar t'me."

    A heavy silence settled for a moment, the only sound the steady drum of rain.

    Finally, Malik cleared his throat and said, "uh, good evening, sir. And no, we're, uh-..." Obviously at a loss for words, the soldier turned a rather severe gaze on Phineas in a silent demand for some kind of explanation. They needed to avoid drawing attention to themselves at all costs and starting a fight in the street really didn't seem the best option. The guards were due to come by on their patrol soon and he didn't want to be caught in the middle of some kind of misunderstanding with one of the academy professors.
  • The Plan:

    The first group
    , and the only group that our contact is aware of, will consist of me, Melsinde, and Rahne. We will break into our component groups after this to discuss our task in further detail over dinner, as I'm sure many of you are hungry. We will be the first in and will, hopefully, collect the shards and leave without needing the second group. We will enter here and make our way into the North Wing. The stone shards were moved to a small study near the central conservatory for safekeeping. About here. We plan to leave the same way we entered, but there are alternate routes out, which are here, and here. As a contingency, group two will follow us in a few minutes after we enter and will serve as a backup, should something go wrong. Group two will be lead by Linnae, and will include Pyre, Kacius, and, ah-- Pan, I think. These groups will need to work quickly, quietly, and, I cannot stress this enough, discreetly. We want to be in and out without incident, if at all possible."


    Lastly, we need team three to remain outside. As luck would have it, we appear to have a convenient courier for the stones. We had planned on carrying them, however, using a runner seems safer, as we seem to now have the option. As soon as we get them to you, Atlak, you will get them out of the city and to a safe destination, which will be explained to you in detail tomorrow. Should the situation take an unfortunate turn, we will need you to deliver a letter to a contact in Wyndfel. We will also need people outside to deter any patrols. We will try to work between them, and it isn't often they enter the academy, but they do routinely check the doors. We don't want any unexpected visitors in the North Wing of the academy while we're inside or trying to make an escape. Considering your experience and skills, group three will consist of Atlak, Phineas, and Malik. Malik, if you are not opposed to it, I'd like you to be the leader of group three, as I believe you're experienced with patrols and soldiers.


    The Groups:


    Notes and Noises:
    • Pan will appear soon, since he followed Gragas out. @Red Thunder
    • By the time Linnae and Pyre catch up to Kholas, the fight will have progressed. @Nemopedia
    • Several guards are about to round the corner to find the scene unfold.
  •  

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


Atlak wasn't sure how much time had passed since the others had left, but it had been enough for the rain to force him to wear his cloak again and for the mud to begin caking his hooves again. Things had been quiet so far, but the rain threatened to blow up their cover. Everyone who didn't have a serious purpose for being out had, more or less, found shelter. Now it was just the three of them and the patrols.

A drunk man, tumbling out the door their friends had gone in from, blew up their cover first. Malik seemed at a loss for words and before the silence could become more awkward and suspicious than it already was, Atlak stepped forward. "I am a courier with a delivery for Proffesor Pyke's office. These two men were kind enough to make a detour from their way home to point me to the right direction. You wouldn't happen to be Proffesor Pyke, would you?" He asked, feigning ignorance as to who Pyke actually was.

He looked at the drunk man expectantly, hoping he was actually drunk enough to not ask anymore questions or find holes in his hastily made lie.
 
The satyr began down the hallway once more at a slightly sedate pace, as if she were on a short stroll through the building. Should anyone ask about the reason behind such a late visit, she could always say that she was finishing up some rather arduous research topics. Her library was not far, and she was a typical sight about the building late at night as it stood. Even knowing this did not stop her palms from sweating, her eyes from darting a bit as she walked towards the conservatory --

Only to hear the sound of a kerfuffle. Voices. And then, the characteristic ka-gling of steel against runic shield, of booted feet against the flagstone floor. Her heart leaped to her mouth, though outwardly she remained unmoved. Briefly she paused, staring down at the conservatory where she was supposed to meet Kho and Rahne, the shards far too light at her right side within her tunic....

...No. She could not chance it. If she was tangled in that fray, she might risk losing the stones, and they could not risk that. Her gut twisted at the thought of leaving comrades behind, of allowing them to potentially be caught--

A head thudding into a basket. His eyes still stared.

-- but there were larger things at stake, and it would only make Kho furious anyhow. And heaven knew the last thing they needed was to raise the poor little goblin's blood to boiling.

With a heavy heart, she began to walk, instead, towards their planned exit, to where Phineas, Malik, and Atlak the courier would be waiting. If at all possible, she would give the stones first to Atlak so they could escape from the city. She feared what would happen should she keep it in her possession, as she was a bookworm, and a pampered bookworm at that. She was a traveler, yes, but her place was at a desk.

After what seemed an age, she reached the door into the alley with little fanfare. It was hard for her to believe she had even managed this far without a hiccup. She knew that the third group would not be huddled at the door, but further down the alley, so there was still some ways to go. She cracked the door--

There was a saying her adopted mother always used to state when she made mention of things going to plan. Speak not of the tiger, lest you step on his tail. It seemed the tail was indeed stepped on. A professor - oh, Gragas, that drunken fool - had waylaid them, asking what they were doing there at such an hour, and Mel held her breath as she kept an ear out at the door cracked ajar. Atlak quickly saved their hides with a quick excuse, but would that be enough to allay suspicion?

Perhaps they needed a nudge. Especially if there were guards headed near.

"Excuse me, but are you.... Atlak, by any chance? I'm looking for a courier who was supposed to meet me. I apologize for the late hour."

The voice came from a tallish satyr with blonde hair and a beard, looking as real as life with a voice to match. The projection was very realistic, down to the clip of hooves against the cobbles as it walked towards them, slightly wet with a crisp edge. Even a close inspection would reveal individual follicles, pores, slightly crooked teeth. Perhaps the only thing Mel could never quite get right were the eyes. She always forgot to have them move more often...
 

"How quaint. Now that the deer has found his goat, perhaps we can attend to Imperial business."

The dry quality of the voice was very much unlike Phineas - not to mention the blatant racism - and should the others turn to see, they would find that Phineas was no longer there. An older man of a considerably leaner build had replaced him, the golden crest of the Empire emblazoned at his shoulder.

"Homep Tal. Perhaps you've heard of me."

With that, the hood was pulled back, and the hard-lined features of Petras' goon came into sharp focus. He smiled toothily, though it did not reach his eyes. Smiles never did.

"You're a hard man to find," He mused, "Suppose I had been less kind and simply set the guards on you instead?"

Phineas' association with Homep Tal was a bit complicated. Homep Tal was an individual that only persons with either excellent luck or terrible luck ran into; unfortunately Fin fell into the former group, and so had been forced to entertain Homep Tal occasionally for the family. Tal was an overzealous underling of the Emperor who sought to dig out hints of treason anywhere it happened to take root. It didn't matter where or when; he'd come running at the first report, and Phineas' contempt for the man was palpable, but that did not stop him from donning the glamour as Malik and Atlak attempted to remedy the situation. Even with the addition of what he suspected was a projected satyr - the entry could not have been more perfectly timed - trouble was still afoot.

"Trouble" took the form of the poor man who had just stumbled out of the Academy's doors. A professor no doubt, and unfortunately the next hapless victim. He hated to do what he was going to do next, but it was the only way to ensure the man would go away, and preferably stay away. Ignoring both Atlak and the conjured satyr, Phineas drew closer to the professor, now bony fingers lacing together in front of him.

"You've been running your mouth a lot these days. Saying stupid, irresponsible things...some would even say treasonous things." Phineas clucked his tongue with the same emphasis Tal would. "The Empire's asked me to investigate. This dull horse here has given me some excuse to visit at such a late hour. And you know what I've found?"

Homep Tal delighted in watching his victims squirm. Everything he did was engineered to strike fear into others', down to the infuriatingly lengthy periods of silence he let fester in order to spur impromptu confessions. Phineas fought back his own internal irritation as he let a long pause drag out, beady eyes boring a hole into the professor's skull.

"I think you're a drunken fool. Certainly not some rebel mastermind that I've been told about. Insurrection requires intelligence, which I doubt you have at all. I'm inclined to let you go and wallow away in whatever piss-poor shack you call home. Or…Perhaps I should inform the next patrol that you should be taken in for treasonous behavior? Or Michael here can beat you until I'm satisfied you've learned your lesson? If I'm not convinced otherwise..."

His eyes were the black of an endless pit, cold and unforgiving.

"Which is it, professor? Are you a traitor or a fool?"
 
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PAN TALL-BONES​
x

Traitor.

Are you a traitor or a fool?

Traitor.


Pan watched the goings-on from the doorway to the Academy, carefully concealed in the shadow least the alcohol have given the professor some supernatural ability of detection. Things had … progressed, or maybe regressed, in a very interesting direction, and the simple act of cracking a skull didn't seem terribly simple anymore. Across the way, he spotted Malik and Atlak, two of Kholas' crew members, speaking with two strangers who the young Satyr couldn't place. The one, another Satyr of more yellow features, seemed harmless enough; he was just trying to get Atlak to take something for him.

But the other…

Traitor, he called Gragas. Traitor or fool. Would the drink be taken in on suspicion of betrayal? Would he then sing like a canary, divulging all he had witnessed of their incursion? Had he seen enough to warrant any precaution against him, such that any might think a recognized patron of the Academy bring accompanied by a Horned and a Satyr was all that odd?

His brow furrowed, head aching at the mental gymnastics he was requiring it to do. Why wasn't there a simple option? Pan had not expected the professor to get this far, and certainly didn't plan on his running into … whatever crowd one could call this. His hooves clacked softly against the stone floor as he shifted weight rapidly, his legs trying to maintain pace with his brain. If Rahne were here, Pan felt certain-

Wait. Rahne was a soldier! And so was Malik! Gragas had his back to Pan; Malik looked more or less to be facing him. He felt sure that Rahne would understand his gestures, and since Malik was also a soldier, it only made sense that he would, too!

Pan stepped forward a step, leaving the shadow just enough to be seen. He lifted his arms above his head and jumped up and down a few times to get Malik's attention. Feeling that maybe he had it, he gestured obviously to Gragas, exaggerating a small drunken stupor to be certain he was understood. Last, he smashed one fist into his open palm before pointing at his head.

There; if that didn't take care of it, then nothing would. Deciding that he'd done all he needed to, and honestly all that could be done, Pan turned and hustled back into the Academy to find his companions.