Heart of the World

kixinorbit

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



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

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

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

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

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




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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    For dissolution, harmony, and a free Aetheria!

    - Kiernan


    6-3-1, 193 TE

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

  • Hello and welcome to Heart of the World!


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

    GM
    - @DinoFeather
    co-GM
    - @Lillian Gray

    Rules and Guidelines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    And most importantly-- HAVE FUN!​



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

    Nickname:
    None

    Race:
    Nymph

    Age:
    22

    Home Territory:
    Taithros

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Magic:
    Elemental earth magic (beginner)

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


    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Romanceable:
    No. c: Sorry.

    Artist:
    awanqi


  • Kholas Abalyshevska
    Goblin | 33 | Taitelle
    NAME

    Kholas Abalyshevska

    NICKNAME

    Kho
    Sunshine (Used exclusively by Linnae)

    RACE

    Goblin

    AGE

    33

    HOME TERRITORY

    Taithros, Taitelle

    PROFESSION

    Healer; Organizer of Rebel Remains

    DESCRIPTION

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

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

    PERSONALITY

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

    BIO

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

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

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

    MAGIC

    Restorative - Healing & Channeling

    SKILLS

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

    STRENGTHS

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

    WEAKNESSES

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

    ROMANCEABLE

    Yes

    Artist:
    Nicholas Kole


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

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

    Race:
    Nymph

    Age:
    45

    Home Territory:
    the woods west of Thaemar

    Profession:
    Herbologist, Healer

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

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

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

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

    Bio:


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

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

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

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

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

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


    Magic:

    • Restorative: Healing and Enhancing
    • Elemental: Earth

    Skills:

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

    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    Lourdes Saraiva

  • Linnae
    Nymph of Aquifoliaceae | 75 | Estura
    Name:

    Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae

    Nickname:

    Holly
    Brambles (used exclusively by Kholas)

    Race:

    Nymph

    Age:

    75

    Home Territory:

    Outskirts of Caelora, Estura

    Profession:

    None

    Description:

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

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

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

    Personality:

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

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

    Bio:

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

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

    Magic:

    ❧ Subliminal - Soothing & Hypnosis
    ❧ Elemental - Earth

    Skills:

    ❧ Gardening
    ❧ Botany
    ❧ Deception

    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Romanceable:

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

    Art:
    Credit to SEPHITROTH ART

  • Malik

    Human | 34 | Stillharbour, Ventha
    NAME:

    Malik Shendoa

    RACE:

    Human

    AGE:

    34

    HOME TERRITORY:

    Ventha

    PROFESSION:

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

    DESCRIPTION:

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

    PERSONALITY:

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

    BIO:

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

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

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

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

    MAGIC:

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

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


    SKILLS:

    Magical combat, swordsmanship

    Ropework

    Planning and laying out fortifications & defenses


    STRENGTHS:

    Physically strong

    High levels of endurance and general sturdiness

    Dedicated

    Patient, nearly unflappable

    Considerate and empathetic


    WEAKNESSES:

    Too heavy for agility

    Terrible sense of manners and propriety

    Stubborn

    As subtle as a sledgehammer

    Worries about everything


    ROMANCEABLE:

    No

    ARTIST:

    Marccus, on Tumblr.

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

    Nickname:
    Melly, Mel

    Race:
    Satyr

    Age:
    37

    Home Territory:
    Venthas

    Profession:
    Chronicler; storyteller

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Skills:

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


    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Romanceable:
    No.

    Artist:
    Aditya777


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

    Nickname:
    None

    Race:
    Half human, half horned

    Age:
    23

    Home Territory:

    Wyndfel

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

    Description:

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

    Personality:

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

    Bio:

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

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

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

    Magic:


    Runic - warding and enchantment

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

    Skills:

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

    Strengths:

    • Learns quickly
    • Skilled at Warding
    • Patient

    Weaknesses:

    • No combat experience
    • Easily Distracted
    • Can be forgetful

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    NA


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

    Race:
    Satyr

    Age:
    21

    Home Territory:
    Wyndfel

    Profession:
    Miner

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

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

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

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

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

    Magic:
    No magic

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

    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Romanceable:
    ...Yyyyyes?

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

  • Penelope Pexori
    Horned | 26 | Bard
    Name:

    Penelope Pexori
    [spoili]Prudence Hawthorne[/spoili]

    Nickname:

    Penny

    Race:

    Horned

    Age:

    26

    Home Territory:

    Tórlinn, Wyndfel

    Profession:

    Bard

    Description:

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

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

    Personality:

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

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

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

    Bio:

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

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

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

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

    Magic:

    ❖ Restorative - Healing, Purifying

    Skills:

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

    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Romanceable:

    Absolutely.

    Art:
    Credit to WingBuffet Twitter

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

    Nicknames:
    Fin, Finny (for his lovers only)

    Race:
    Human

    Age:
    36

    Home Territory:
    Taithros, Taitelle

    Profession:
    Ghostwriter (and impromptu advisor)

    Description:


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

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


    Personality:


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

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


    Bio:


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

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

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


    Magic:

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

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

    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Other Info:

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

    Romanceable:
    Yes, in every way

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


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

    Nickname:
    None.

    Race:
    Human

    Age:
    25

    Home Territory:
    Wyndfel

    Profession:
    Ex-Soldier

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

    Personality:

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

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


    Bio:

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

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

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

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


    Skills:

    Swordsmanship
    Hand-To-Hand Combat
    Intimidation

    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Romanceable:
    Yes.
    Artist:
    Art is by Morry!


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

    Nickname:
    Ula

    Race:
    Lamia

    Age:
    28

    Home Territory:
    Southern Luras

    Profession:
    Jeweler

    Description:

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

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

    Personality:

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

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

    Bio:

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Magic:
    Subliminal - Alteration


    Skills:

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

    Strengths:

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

    Weaknesses:

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

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    wlop

 
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Everything seemed to go downhill the moment Gragas had appeared and left. The nervous shift of Linnae, the offer from Pan. Pyre barely had his mouth open when the satyr already stalked off to do exactly as he had exclaimed to do earlier. Not soon after Kacius had been sent following splitting the group.

Shaking his head the man pushed his hands into his pockets. Gragas was a fool and lacked a backbone. Before the drunk would even sober up they would be gone, and by the time the man would realise what had happened they would hopefully be even further. However, stuffing him in a closet? That would raise more suspicion and sooner as well when the janitors would find the professor in the morning. No, waiting for the hangover to come and pass was a better idea, but no one seemed to remember how those worked.

Pyre decided to keep quiet, however, not wishing to agitate Linnae any further. He could have been more thorough in his explanations, perhaps said more than casually brushing it off. He knew the drunk, after all. The rest worked with (reasonable) assumptions. However, those were thoughts in hindsight. Could haves. There was no point in scolding or lingering on.

"I know a shortcut if you want?" Pyre spoke, a smile crossing his features as he hoped that it would calm the nymph down. "I doubt the satyr's ability to rejoin us, but let's wrap this mission up, shall we?" the man continued. The complications that they had already run into, barely three steps into the Academy spelled nothing good for the overall status of the mission.

"Let's hope that the rest has better luck in sticking to the plan," he chuckled still trying to maintain a calm posture. Though he feared the worst and while he pretended his expression gave away his worry, grave as it was as his hand reached for the pocket in which he had hidden the seals from earlier.
 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Academy
Collab With: @Lillian Gray @SkittlesAndSpike @Nemopedia
Behind him, swords clashed and one of the men swore loudly, but Kholas was focused only on Jarlin. It seemed the man didn't know these shards were, allegedly, fake. And, it seemed, as Kholas struggled to push the pedestal over onto the man, he was willing to stake his safety for the stone fragments. Initially, Kholas had told himself he'd have to fight in order to make a convincing display, but now he'd been thrust in the moment, he found that he didn't have to persuade himself in the least.

Feeling the glass sliding away from him, Kholas caught one of Jarlin's hands with his claw-like nails, digging them sharply into his skin. With a yell, Jarlin withdrew his hand, catching a glimpse of blood beading up from the gouges left in his skin and screaming profanities at the goblin. Not wasting the opportunity, Kholas threw himself against the stone pedestal and sent it toppling toward his opponent. The fine glass case slipped away as it fell, shattering with a crash and sending the faux shards scattering across the flagstone.

Jarlin had easily jumped clear of the falling pedestal, but he issued a sort of strangled shriek as he watched the case shatter. "No you don't!" He screamed, lunging at Kholas and catching him in the shoulder, sending them both to the floor. "You're done, Kholas," he panted, struggling to pin the other to the floor and clamp his hands around the goblin's throat. "You and your miserable little friends are done dragging the Academy down!"

Writhing and kicking against the weight pinning him, Kholas managed to free an arm, fingers feeling around on the floor beside him. "It's fucking fools like you, Jarlin," he rasped, voice strangled as he tried to kick himself free, "who are dragging this Academy down." His fingers finally found what he was searching for and they closed around a shard of glass. "Selfish cocks, the lot of you," he choked out, swinging the glass shard up and catching Jarlin along his inner arm. With another scream, the man dropped away from the goblin, clutching at his sleeve where dark red stains were blooming.

Panting, Kholas got to his knees, his cloak slipping from his shoulders and onto the glass-strewn floor. He could feel a stinging, wet sensation in his hand where the glass was cutting into it, though he didn't release it.

Linnae and Moysei were only a few paces from the darkened conservatory. The shortcut through several classrooms had been enough to keep them hidden from a handful of patrolling goons whose allegiance the nymph couldn't identify. Whatever their business, she didn't care. So long as they weren't around to see them leaving. The sounds of steel clashing on steel brought a certain haste to their arrival despite the noise it made. At the entrance to the conservatory, Linnae held out her arm to keep Moysei from moving past her. She ducked down low and poked her head around the corner to get a glimpse into the room and saw Rahne defending herself against two men. Her eyes continued to scan the room in search of Kholas. Among the shattered remains of a toppled display, she found the goblin with a shard of glass in his hand and a man staggering beside him.

"Kho!" Linnae inhaled sharply.

Without hesitation, she darted into the room and found a new place to hide behind the narrow trunk of a unique white cherry tree. Personally she found the whole thing quite dull considering the location of the discovery, but-- No. Linnae snapped her attention back to Kholas. It was hardly the time to be distracted by plants.

She didn't have enough energy to lash much further than her own reach, but she was desperate to get Jarlin's attention away from Kholas so he could get back on his feet, grab the faux shards, and go.. Linnae rocked on her heels, heart racing as she scolded herself for not doing anything. Finally, she placed her hand on the trunk and let it sink into the bark and fuse to the branches above her head. 'Stay down, Sunshine!" Linnae issued a single warning to Kholas. With a flick of her wrist, the sapling creaked backwards before unleashing a torrent of small white cherries and broken twigs towards the bleeding man. A harmless distraction really.

Before Jarlin had made it back onto his feet, more people had dashed into the conservatory and he spluttered at the two other men to attack-- only to be interrupted by a hailstorm of twigs and branches. "What the fuck is this?" he screeched, lifting his non-injured arm to cover his face and head.

Kholas did not waste the distraction granted. Dropping the glass, he darted forward to grab the nearest shard of the faux stone, slipping it into a pouch on his belt. Before he could collect more, however, a shadowy figure stretched toward him and he stumbled back, his bloodied hand dropping to grab the small knife at his belt.

Behind him, another length of shadow stretched toward Linnae.

As worried as Rahne had been about Kholas, she kept her mind focused on her fight. She knew that she couldn't afford to stress about the goblin, not when she was fighting two opponents at once. The best way she could help him was to kill the two soldiers first, then the tables would be turned. But the soldiers weren't exactly pushovers, at least not together.

Every thrust, stab and swing of her blade was, at worst, parried, and at best, nothing more than a glancing blow. Any failed attempt would lead to her being on the defensive as she tried to avoid the enemy's blade and doing her best to dance around the shadow magic. It was tiring, but more than that, it was frustrating. Thankfully, she heard Linnae call out Kho's name. Good. Reinforcements had arrived!

Rahne blocked another strike from one of the soldier's swords, but this time she wasn't quite able to pull away. The soldier leaned forward, putting his weight onto the lock to keep her in place, if not unbalance her entirely. Fortunately for Rahne, Linnae's appearance seemed to have distracted his ally, and Rahne wasted no time in pushing back against the soldier, using her magic to do so. With a deep breath she pushed her sword back against the man, letting out a yell as she did. The shove was enough to not only remove the soldier and his sword, but throw him off his feet into the air and into a wall.

"Yes!" She couldn't help but cheer for herself. The frustration from being tag teamed earlier was now melting away. Nothing felt better than getting to batter the very thing, or in this case, person, that was pissing you off. She tried to follow up with another strike, rushing towards the soldier with her sword raised as he hurried to his feet, but she was too slow, finding her blow parried once again by one of his arcane shields. He followed up by pushing back against her, forcing her backwards and allowing him to gather his bearings.. "Now ah'm fair scunnert." She scowled, feeling her frustration rise once again.

Two thugs on a struggling Rahne, three shadows on Kholas and Linnae. The situation couldn't quite possible grow any worse except from more guards barging in, or perhaps no firepower at all. For a moment Pyre contemplated betraying the group, leaving them to their fate as he retired and decided to stay retired from the whole complicated business of rebellion. However, he had already lost one precious student, and having to survive yet another wasn't Pyre's plan either. No, he was the middle-aged one and he would be damned if Kho somehow went out sooner than he did.

Besides, Pyre did go to his office to prepare in case of any similar mishaps. With Linnae rushing off earlier Pyre had wisely decided to stay behind to observe, knowing that someone at least had to observe the situation a little more. Reaching into his jacket Pyre pulled out one of the seals he had picked up earlier as he made a leap towards the shadowy attacker of Linnae.

Sending a ball of fire into the white cherry tree first Pyre caused the branches and the seeds to catch on fire, creating a storm of embers around the conservatory that lit up a sea of light in the rest of the lush greenery. With a slap to the back --that didn't do too much harm by itself-- Pyre stuck the seal onto the man controlling Linnae's attacker, before stepping away with a slight smirk and curious eyes.

The shadow mage collapsed to the floor after a few moments of confusion. Clutching towards their chest they seemed to be fighting something from within. Struggling to get out arms reached over to the back where the seal was, but Pyre's victim found that they couldn't quite reach. As the body started to contract into violent convulsions an agonising scream was unleashed with skin turning a glowering red. Chest heaving up higher and higher, and body crawling into impossible angles the fire finally burst out from the chest. Like a raging monster of fire, the magic screamed itself out of the body, sending organs alike through the room as it spread over; the fire looking to continue their lifeline by consuming whatever it could latch onto.

"Quite potent," Pyre noted as he moved through the fire of the conservatory. The accumulating heat in the conservatory didn't bother him as he reached for a scroll, lighting it up before he threw it up above his head where it exploded.

Unleashed was an orange pillar of flames on which Pyre quickly put his focus on to move it over his head, sending the fiery storm down a swirling path of havoc he directed.

While Pyre may have been quite content among the embers, Linnae suddenly found herself in dire predicament. She hadn't pulled herself free of the tree in time and when she finally released her hand from the trunk it was smoldering and black, the surface of her skin looked like cracked firewood near the tips of her fingers. The nymph gritted her teeth and prepared for the next wave of fire by diving behind the nearest planter she could. She landed awkwardly on her hands with her less than graceful dive to safety and a resounding crack came from her wrist that was not unlike a branch being snapped in half.

A burst of heat blasted past her on either side and Linnae cursed loudly. The fire would kill her long before anything else would. She peeked around the corner through the heat with a limp hand covering her eyes. They had to go, stones or not. But Jarlin and Kholas were still fighting halfway across the room, Rahne with her own problems. Linnae exhaled once, readying herself for a dash towards her companion. She grabbed a broken and burning branch from the tree and charged towards Jarlin.

In the confusion of the sudden introduction of raging flames, and subsequent explosion of the shadow mage, Kholas was forced to drop to the floor to avoid the worst of it. A blast of heat had caused him to drop his knife, but he managed to regain his feet long enough to dart forward in a crouch to the rest of the scattered shards. Several more had been added to the pouch, when a hand caught his and Jarlin made to grab the pouch at the goblin's belt. Having lost his weapon, Kholas struggled with the man before lunging forward to sink razor-like teeth forcefully into Jarlin's arm. With a scream of rage, Jarlin wrenched his arm free and aimed a fierce kick at Kholas' chest, sending the goblin sprawling from his hands and knees over onto his side with a yelp of pain.

Before Jarlin had even a moment to revel in his apparent victory, Linnae crashed into view, smashing him in the side of the head with a barbaric swing of her arm. Jarlin staggered, hands flying to his head in a shriek of pain, his form doubling over. And then he was howling in agony and terror, his robes and hair having caught fire, the flames licking at his shoulders and face. Flailing wildly, he collapsed as if in an effort to extinguish the flames.

Kholas ignored him, pulled to his feet by Linnae. They had to get out. Glass splintered and fell from all sides as the fire raged, the walls of the conservatory not designed to withstand such heat. The ceiling of the conservatory was the last to go, breaking apart in a cacophony of shattering glass, raining down on its inhabitants. The fire from the mage's seals and trinkets had nowhere to go but up, lighting the night sky with licks of bright red flame.

Screams and shouts now joined the roar of the fire as members of the Academy appeared at the edges of the burning conservatory, drawn out by the sounds of fighting and breaking glass.

"Go!" Yelled Kholas, pushing Linnae ahead of him through the shattered, empty frame of one of the walls. "Pyre, Rahne!" He screamed, his voice just audible over the chaos, "Go! Now!" With that, he sprinted after Linnae, breaking through the gathering crowd of shocked onlookers.

Rahne did not have to be told twice. "C'mon!" she called out to Pyre, sheathing her sword. The flames rolled and licked at her boots as she escaped the burning room, bursting into the crowd of people, shoving them aside as she forced her way through.

With all of his companions running Pyre let go of the tail of his fire, setting the dragon on a loose path into the conservatory before making an escape himself. The fire licked him, but his magic kept it at bay and from doing any harm, thus giving him ample cover away from whatever came looking and he hid within the crowd that had gathered.

 
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GM Post
22/3/1 193 TE | Night | Smokey
@DayDreamer @Doctor Jax @Kuno @Red Thunder

  • Malik stared past Gragas and watched as the satyr performed some kind of odd, ritualistic dance. Melsinde was crouched behind the door out of his way. What was he stumbling on about? The soldier's eyes narrowed with confusion as Pan slammed his fist into his palm. If his plan was to attack Gragas from behind it was the perfect time but he would have to act quickly before the next patrol came.

    Gragas' mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. His face was already bright red from the generous amount of liquor in his stomach but the accusation was enough to really make him glow. His cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment as Homep Tal suggested he was some sort of ally to the rebellion. All the reasoning in the world couldn't calm him down now. Gragas was too drunk to back down, or perhaps too drunk to realize he was making a foolhardy mistake.

    "W-why I never hear'sucha thing in my life. How dare ya!" Gragas slurred. He jabbed a meaty finger towards the disguised Phineas but missed and wound up stumbling into Malik instead. He threw his arms up with as much rage as a drunken man could muster. "Get yer hands offa me!"

    With Gragas' hollering causing a scene, a trio of armed guards rounded the academy just in time to see Malik attempting to hold Gragas up by his robes. Taking in the full sight of the group huddled around the back door only made things more peculiar. A mail centaur being accompanied by a run-down soldier and Homep Tal himself. The soldier was holding up the drunken Gragas by the stitching of his robes as he screeched and squirmed under his hold.

    "Halt! State your business, quickly now!" The first shouted. "What's all this then?"

    Two of the guards drew swords while the third lit an elemental sphere of fire in his palm. The second guard lowered his sword when he saw the face of Homep Tal, but paused as he considered something to himself before murmuring to his first cohort, and finally the third. Just as quickly as he had initially, he raised his sword back up and pointed it towards the odd bunch. It was the third soldier who snuffed out his flame and took measured steps back towards the direction they came from.

    "Speak!" The first guard ordered.

    "You'd do well to mind your tone. And your place, soldier."

    The hissed words, the simmering eyes, the twisted scowl - it was a perfect re-enactment of a moment Phineas had personally witnessed of Homep Tal. Granted, at the time the man was berating an advisor, but Phineas felt the reaction was appropriate for the time being. It was the first thing he could think to do on such short notice. It was all he had of Homep Tal - past encounters, secondhand accounts, and his own observations of the man. But it would have to do. It would have to.

    "This is an arrest. Clearly," He sneered, meeting the first soldier's eyes with an unflinching stare. "Of a suspected rebel ally. Based on a tip from one of his colleagues. Why they did not report it to you or your Captain is...suspect, but another matter entirely. It will all be handled in the end."

    "He claims to know nothing," He added over Gragas' loud protestations. He chuckled, a low wheeze devoid of air. "They always do."

    The three guards seemed conflicted on the surface. Such an odd gathering of men. They spoke quietly for a moment but ultimately lowered their swords to point at the ground rather than at Homep Tal. The first nodded to the third, and the mage turned and began to jog around the corner.

    "If this man is indeed a rebel we're calling for assistance. Who knows who else may be lurking." The first guard stepped closer. "I can take him from here, he'll be in a cell for the night until we figure out what to do with him."

    "Are you all mad?" Gragas blurted. "I am an ally to the- to the Empire!"

    Behind the door, peering through a nearby window, Melsinde slapped her forehead. Oh, it would have been so much easier had they only a fictitious satyr professor. An innocent man may just end up in jail because of them.

    Her illusion softly stuttered, "Well, now, I—"

    The guards were about to reply when a sudden crash called everyone to attention. A pillar of flame shot through the opposite end of the academy up into the sky and rising with it came shards of glass and stone shrapnel. Embers rained down from the sky onto the surrounding streets and coated everything in a ruby hot glow, threatening to send the entire block up in flames Thick black smoke began to fill the sky as the roof of the academy began to burn. Gragas was the first to retreat. Having pissed himself at the sound of the explosion and being intoxicated beyond most nights, he found it more appropriate to simply stumble home. Malik simply dropped the man and let him scurry away. The guards had even given up their arrest, turning on their heels to run in the direction of the chaos.

    They had been given orders. If they had the shards, they were to run with them, no matter the cost. If they didn't have the shards, a letter was to be delivered instead. While they still had time to wait now that all the attention had been drawn to the other side of the building, he had a critical decision to make, and an unpleasant one at that. Abandon his comrades, or cling to the hope that they were on their way?

    Melsinde! Malik threw open the back door where his fellow rebellion allies had gone, and was relieved to find that Melsidne was there, controlling the illusion of the Satyr that had appeared. He should have figured it out sooner. If she was here, then that had to mean the shards were safe. He'd bet his life on it.

    "Do you have them?" He asked, heart beating loudly in his ears.

    Mel stared, shellshocked by the noise, the commotion. She had known there was a fight— The shards! He was asking about them!

    "Yes. Yes! I have them with me, I-I have them."

    They just had to run now. That was it. This was supposed to be the easy part. The four of them would gather at the rendezvous point, and the rest would follow. Malik's eyes narrowed, trailing to the pillar of smoke still burning over the sky. If all had gone accordingly though, why hadn't they returned yet? Why did they feel the need to blow up half the building in the process when the point of their mission was stealth? Rahne was there, too, and it didn't sit right in his gut knowing he was leaving her behind. Malik turned back to the group and made the call.

    "I'm going after them, now get out of here." He ordered. "Run!"

    So much happened so quickly. Pan lifted himself off the floor, the explosion having sent the young Satyr to cover. The building was on fire, people were running around screaming, and he hadn't a clue what was going on. Even the guards-

    The guards! Pan spun, eyes searching for them even as he pushed down the queasy feeling rising in his gut. Where they arresting Malik and Atlak? What about the two strangers? And the drunkard? One answer, at least, presented itself. The dark form of Malik appeared in the entryway, asking a question to the darkness. His eyes narrowed: the other Satyr! From her to Malik, Pan glanced fearfully, terrified of the danger they were all in. And the others! His friends he'd left in the building! He should go after them! Hooves shifted to running. He needed to-

    "Run!"

    The command of a military leader, demanding unquestioning obedience. Pan didn't even stop to think. He shifted tack, and in one motion, lifted Melsinde off the floor, and sprinted back out the door toward the others. Stay safe, Rahne's friend, , he thought, eyes forward.

    It was time to leave.

  • 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.
    • Atlak can have the letter, as he is the runner.
    • The Conservatory is utterly destroyed from the blast. Guards are on the lookout for any suspicious persons fleeing the scene.
  •  

 
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PAN TALL-BONES​
x

Clack clack clack clack clack

It wasn't a long distance back to the others, but it was long enough. Well, 'to' was maybe generous; between the noise of fear and destruction, the flickering reds and yellows of the immolated carnage that hovered above them in the sky like an angry volcano, and the acrid odor of black smoke, Pan wasn't too terribly sure he was headed in the right direction. Terror, too, gripped his mind in a crushing vise, squeezing it into paralysis, and only his base instinct moved him forward. For the first time in his short life, the young man was in real, palpable danger, quite unlike the vague threat of unfortunate, untimely death he'd so often faced in the mines. One thought weaseled its way out of the more his mind sat in:

Ah don' like this uhtoll.

He stumbled, hoof catching on a cobblestone. Balance deteriorating, he shifted left, smashing against a wooden post before finding his feet again. Muttering an apology, he glanced to Melsinde in worry that he'd jarred her too roughly- and immediately shifted his eyes away again as his face flushed in embarrassment. She was still draped across his shoulder as he'd placed her, held in place by his left arm across the backs of her knees. Meaning he'd gotten a very unexpected look at her backside. Still blushing furiously, Pan rushed forward, as if to escape his embarrassment, and only by sheer luck blundered into his companions outside.

"Malik said tah go. Don' think he was foolin, neither." He grunted as he set Melsinde on the ground as gently as he could but pointedly avoided her eyes. "We oughta go."


 
Collab with @Lillian Gray

Off the beaten path in the woods on the Northwestern outskirts of the city of Taithros was where Linnae's home had been constructed many decades ago. It was small, with two rooms and an attic space used primarily for storage. Not that Linnae had many things to call her own. If one didn't know the exact location of the cottage it was easy to miss. Surrounded by a grove of purposefully grown fir trees, and several rows of prickly bushes, it was meant to be avoided by the average passerby. But with time and the decline in Linnae's health many of the trees had begun to dry up, and the bushes cracked and fell apart the longer she stayed away.


Miri stood behind a tree staring at the small cottage in front of her. It was a nice cottage, but more importantly, there was a plethora of things growing around it. Including, of course, a lovely variety of mushrooms. She had been standing here for the past twenty minutes, debating whether or not it would be a good idea to go out and collect a few samples. It didn't look like anyone was home. And they had so many, surely they wouldn't notice if she just took a couple. She fished out a coin from her pocket. If it landed on heads, she would continue on her way. If it landed on tails, she would collect some samples. She flipped the coin. Heads. Okay, that one didn't count, Miri told herself as she flipped it again. Tails. She smiled brightly. Obviously, this was a sign from the universe that she needed these mushrooms. She pocketed the coin and pulled out her little knife she used for collecting and walked out to the nearest mushroom, a beautiful brown specimen with pores instead of gills, and began carefully digging it out, humming to herself.


From inside the small cottage, Eirini glared out one of the dusty windows to the stranger stealing Linnae's precious plants. Granted, she didn't know what it was, nor did she know what, exactly, the stranger was stealing, but she was less than happy to find herself face to face with a thief!


Well. Face to back. The small sprite stared at the stranger's back from inside and contemplated whether or not the risk of being seen was worth it. Linnae was proud of her garden, and Eirini was loyal to Linnae. However, she knew that Linnae would be returning soon, so she had to make sure no one saw them coming. She huffed with indecision and backed into the small cooking space to find an ideal weapon. The pot was too large and too bulky for her to carry. All of the logs were burnt down to nothing but ash, so that wouldn't do. Finally, she eyed up a long wooden ladle and smiled, pleased with herself.


The sprite pushed on the window until it was open just enough for her to slip out. The hinges creaked quietly with disuse. She focused her gaze on the stranger and threw her arms back with ladle in hand. If she timed it just right…


Eirini hurled the ladle at the back of the woman's head with a high pitched cry.


After digging the mushroom out, Miri had pulled out her notebook from her pack. It was, to her delight, a variety of porcini. One of her favorites to eat. She squatted on the ground, holding the mushroom up in her right hand and furiously scribbling notes with her left, when she heard a cry behind her and felt something hit the back of her head. She cried out in surprise and lost her balance in her squat, dropping her precious specimen and falling on top of it. Miri quickly scrambled off the squashed mushroom, and frantically held it up, attempting to repair it, but the damage had been done. It was ruined. She held it out to show to her attacker, "Look what you've done!" She wailed in despair.


"Me?" Eirini squeaked. Her iridescent wings fluttered angrily and she hovered off the ground. "No, no, no-- look what you've done. Lin will be so mad you messed up her beautiful garden. Thief!"


The sprite flew to a tall leafy plant so she could see the woman more closely. She didn't look like a thief, but no thief ever did! Eirini crossed her arms and glowered at the woman. She certainly was an odd one. The thief had bright red hair and was speckled all over her face. There was something else there too, two odd glass discs that Eirini had never seen before. She vaguely wondered what their purpose was. More curiously she was confused to see the two horns sprouting from her temples, but no hooves on her legs! She had people feet.


"Who are you, thief?" Eirini asked with far less anger in her voice.


Miri stared at the little figure in front of her. It was her first time seeing a sprite. She started to protest when it called her a thief, but then remembered she was technically stealing. "I'm not… I didn't mean to..." She stuttered. "I was on my way to join… to uh… the city. Your mushrooms just distracted me is all. I've never seen them before." She held out the mushroom. "You can have it back. It's a bit squashed but you can still eat it. It's a lovely mushroom."


Miri gently laid the mushroom on the ground and stood up brushing dirt off the front of her dress. "My name is Miri Vaunea. I really am sorry for stealing. You've just got so many new fungi here I've never seen before. I must be going now. I've got a meeting to go to at the Randy Gander." Miri turned away to leave. She had started her journey late. But she knew the mountains well and was a fast traveller, and so, expected to arrive the night before the rebellion meeting. True she had gotten a bit distracted on the way, but she should still arrive on time. Probably. She turned back to the sprite, "You don't happen to know what day it is, do you?"


Eirini cocked her head to the side. This was all sounding rather familiar. Before Linnae had left, there had been several letters on her desk with that name. The Randy Gander. She had forgotten all about the mushroom, her interest piqued on the thief passing through Linnae's cottage.


"Are you going to see Chasma?" She asked innocently.


Miri brightened. "Why yes! I am! How did you know? Are you part of the rebellion?" She asked excitedly, "I'm here to join! I brought the letter. It's addressed to my father, but he had it hidden away so I assume he's not interested." As she spoke she dug through her pack and produced a crumpled piece of paper and tore it once in the process of smoothing it out. It looked like it had been dropped in water, with ink running all over the page and was barely legible. Undeterred, Miri held it out proudly, "I regret to inform you that the rumors are true…" She began to recite the letter from memory, as if to prove that she had gotten the correct one.


Eirini darted forward and placed both of her small hands on Miri's mouth to deter her from speaking. She hushed at Miri until she stopped reading the letter.


"Not so loud!" Eirini hissed. "Oh Ancients, you can't go saying that. They'll hear you!"


Before the sprite could explain who 'they' were she fluttered further away towards the back of the cottage. Her small hand motioned Miri to follow. There wasn't much difference as far as the foliage was concerned. Odd varieties and species lined the walls with no discernable pattern to the untrained eye. A small grove of saplings surrounded a small sitting space just beyond a small stone well. A few cushions were strewn about next to a pile of books with a single unlit lantern hung upon one of the branches. It looked to be an ideal nook to hide away in.


"Thi-- Miri." Eirini corrected herself, "We will wait together. Lin will come back, and cranky Kho. If you don't touch Lin's mushrooms you can look at them. Okay?"


She threw out her tiny hand for Miri to shake.

Miri grinned and gave the small sprite's hand an enthusiastic shake before promptly rushing over to the nearest mushroom patch, notebook and pencil in hand.
 
Fire rained down from the heavens. A blazing inferno raged from the opposite end of the building, tongues of fire licking out at surrounding structures. Plumes of black smoke followed, and soon came the embers, hot to the touch, plummeting to the streets below. A hellish sight.

It was destructive. It was wholly irresponsible. It was...

It. Was. Glorious.

Gone was the Homep Tal glamour. Having taken cover behind a stone fixture of sorts, the handsome nobleman peered out from around it, watching the smoke billow away into the sky with far too much glee for their current situation. Had he but pen and paper, and he would have committed the scene to memory. He hadn't expected a subtle exit from the first two groups - truth be told, he'd fully expected them to have to fight their way out. However, this far exceeded even his most wild imaginations. He paid no heed as Malik ran off, instead marveling at the chaos ensuing around them. He emitted a low whistle as the flames continued to build. Ah, if he had but been a fire mage...he and his little disguises could never quite compare.

"Nicely done, Pyre," He murmured to himself. "Nicely done!"

Cutting through the chaotic noise was the sound of someone running towards them. He heard the clopping of hooves first, before Pan's figure emerged through the gloom, the raging fire draping his body in light. He carried something across his shoulder. A bag? No, not quite. His eyes sharpened as the satyr drew closer. A body? Who--

No, wait; he recognized that backside.

"Good work, Pan! I see you've grabbed the assets...and the shards too, I hope."

Inappropriate? Perhaps. Timely? Absolutely. Funny? Of course. One day his future children would find him hilarious.

As Pan urged them to leave, once more echoing Malik's orders, Phineas turned away, eyes panning to the road towards the Academy's main entrance. The guards had sped off just as quickly as they'd arrived. A thought occurred to him: Would it not make sense for Homep Tal himself to follow, no doubt drawn by the act of rebel sabotage? Phineas was not keen to overdo the magic - for both his sake and the others. But wouldn't it be doubly suspicious for his sinister glamour not to investigate? Rumor had it that the real Tal was in Portwatch with his lover, so there were very little chances of the wretched man turning up and ruining his scheme. Then again, Tal was known to be incredibly unpredictable…

Ah, decisions, decisions.

Fortunately, time was running from them, and he was forced to go for the less risky alternative. Nodding to himself, Phineas glanced between the others quickly, his eyes gleaming in the night.

"Mm. Agreed. Mel, darling, if you have the shards, hand them over to Atlak. More guards will be coming; if we're chased, I'd rather he gets away first, with us splitting up if need be.

"And Pan," Phineas said sharply, throwing a pointed look at the young satyr, "If we're caught...Don't. Say. A word. Try not to draw too much attention to yourself, hm?"

That should have went without saying. But he had quickly learned with Pan that nothing could go without being said. Pulling up his hood, the nobleman took off at a brisk pace down one of the streets, motioning with his head for the others to follow.
 
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Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae
Date | 22/3/1
Time | Night
Weather | Mostly clear, occasional drizzle



  • A wall of bodies kept Linnae and her companions from safety, just beyond the walls of the city. Although it was the middle of the night all of the commotion had stirred the sleeping citizens of Taithros and brought them to the streets. It was both a welcome distraction and a cumbersome obstacle. The more people between her and the burning Conservatory, the better. It was easier to get lost in the crowd. However it was making it hard for her to find an easy path to freedom.

    She didn't once look back. Linnae sprinted down the old streets wherever there was an open gap in the masses with only the stars above to guide her. She could only hope that the footsteps she heard were those of Kholas, Rahne, and Moysei as she darted towards the outskirts of the city. It was down this road, she thought, right? None of the buildings looked familiar as she ran. Nothing did.

    After some time, Linnae did find the gates and she was free. Even the city guards were entranced by the billowing black smoke rising from the center of the city. They didn't seem to mind her presence, or notice it for that matter. She forced herself to continue up a small grassy hill and finally settled at the base of a tree. Panting, she nymph dropped to her knees and rolled onto her back. She could see the smoke covering some of the sky, red embers glowing in the peripheral of her vision.

    She picked up her arm and examined it. Scorched, but her hand would heal. It was a relatively minor detail if they made it out with the real shards. That being said she had to wonder...

    Who else made it out?
  • Notes and Noises:
    • So, Pyre set the Conservatory on fire.
    • Guards are on high alert, so be cautious when roaming the crowds. Once out of the city, you should be OK.
    • It's dark now, nearing the middle of the night, so be wary of where you're going and don't get lost.



    The Plan:

    Plan's gone to shit. Run for the hills.

    With the disappearance of Atlak, Kacius, Malik, and Moysei, Kholas' had given instruction just to get the shards out safely. Those who are able to make it out of the city were told to go to Linnae's home, previously shown on a marked map back at the Randy Gander. It is a few hours walk to the Northwest of Taithros.

    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.



 
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Before Melsinde knew it, their burlier associate had very abruptly scooped her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. With a slight 'oh!', the satyr chronicler attempted to keep as much of her dignity intact as she could as Pan made way with them away from the burning conflagration that was the Conservatory and, by extension, the Magisteria. Her eyes were directed towards the flames, the building in danger of catching. Her heart thudded vastly within her chest as she realized there were others inside, other professors and students working late into the night, but there was no time. Her eyes scanned the wreckage, keeping the details fresh, to pen later.

This.... this was one for the history texts, that was for sure. The day the Magisteria turned Taithros' sky a lurid, smoking orange. She swallowed as she patted the inner pocket she had stored the shards, their sharp outline a grim hope. Maybe it was worth the loss, but there was a deep keen in her heart for the history they had just thrown to smoke. That building was so, so old...

She gave another surprised yelp as Pan tripped, her hands out to catch her, but it seemed that he was able to right himself against a pole. Once it was clear they had made it some distance away, she was set down, and she nodded her head with a deep, troubled sigh, brushing her cloak and clothes with shaking fingers. That was quite a lot of excitement for one night. Her eyes tracked back to the column of smoke.

A distraction, if ever there was one.

"Good work, Pan! I see you've grabbed the assets...and the shards too, I hope."

Mel's gaze quickly went from wistful to unamused as she stared over her shoulder at Fin. The satyr put her down, and she gave a short 'thank you', missing the fact he refused to look her in the eye as she brushed herself down. Fin's next series of instructions were taken far more seriously, Mel looking behind her to hand off said shards--

--only to find that Atlak was nowhere to be seen. Malik, likewise, had disappeared into the fray. There was no telling where Linnae, Pyre, Kho, or Rahne were.

For all they knew, they three were the only ones left of Kiernan's rebellion. The thought was sobering and scary. She swallowed. It looked like she would be keeping the shards, at least for now. With that, she followed the other two.

"It seems.... it seems we may have lost some of our traveling party along the way. We should meet at the rendezvous, and perhaps they will meet up with us there," Melsinde suggested coolly, concealing her discomfort. "In the meantime, I... believe I will keep our souvenirs safe. That is, unless either of you want to carry them."

The city gate couldn't be too much farther. Soon they'd be out of the city, and then on to the meet up point. And if it turned out there was no one left.... She didn't deign to pay too much more mind to that thought. Better to consider it when it became much more relevant. Their mental energies were needed elsewhere.

@Red Thunder @Kuno
 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Linnae's Cottage - Outside the City
Collab With: @Lillian Gray
Mentions: @ItariChan
Run.

Around him, people were screaming. Glass was shattering and the roar of flames was deafening, and Kholas did not look back. People were stepping out into the corridors from all sides, bleary-eyes wide with shock at the commotion spreading through the Academy. More than once, the goblin heard his name uttered in surprise and rough hands tried to seize him, though he slipped through their grasp as he sprinted after Linnae.

Run, Kho. Get out-- get out, and continue our work... Please just go… I'm not going to let them take you, too…

Ahead of him, Kholas glimpsed Linnae dodging grasping hands as she pushed through onlookers and burst through the main doors and out into the night. No sooner had Linnae escaped, three people closed in behind her to block the doors. Without another thought, the goblin scrabbled to a halt and pelted back down the hall, veering off to a side corridor and toward the doors they'd used to enter the academy. Throwing open the doors, he ran without halting until he'd reached the blessed calm of the desolate back alleys near the edge of the city. Even here, he could hear the screams and shouts of the guards and those fleeing the destruction wrought upon the Academy.

Slowing to a stop, he leaned against the rough wall of the building, lifting a hand to cradle his injured side. It felt as though a hot knife had been thrust between his ribs, causing each breath to burn and ache. Likely, he thought, it was due to cracked ribs, but he could deal with that later. Right now, he needed to get to Linnae's and get the shards...if the others had made it. Ripping a strip from the bottom of his shirt, he hastily wrapped his bleeding hand and again set off, moving quickly and keeping to the shadows until he was out of the city.

Already, a patrol had been sent out the Northern Gates, looking to find any escapees and, doubtless, set them before the Emperor.

Part of him desperately wanted to stay, to search for the others and ensure that they had indeed made it out alive, but he knew there was no point in doing such. What could he do against the guards, should they find him? Pressing onward, the goblin ran as steadily as he could on the rough terrain, afraid to use the paths should guards be sent their way.

---

Breath coming in ragged gasps, his chest and lungs burning, Kholas staggered at last into the small clearing just before Linnae's garden and very nearly collapsed.

"Lin!" he called quietly, large eyes scanning the area for movement. "Lin, are you here?" Wiping the sweat from his face with a shaking arm, he slowly made his way toward the cottage door, halting just outside it.

"Who's there?" He called in a hiss, a sense of panic rising at the unfamiliar voices he could hear inside.

The quiet murmurs stopped. A small figure moved to the window and attempted to push it open with no luck. It stopped its little feet and huffed in frustration, turning to say something to an unknown presence inside. A hand pushed the window open with a slow creak and Eirini darted out to meet Kholas head-on. They had never once met but as soon as she saw his bat-like ears and his claw-like hands she knew who it was. Linnae was always talking about Kholas and Kiernan. Eirini steadied herself on his shoulder and grabbed one of his piercings to keep from tumbling off his small frame.

"Kho, Kho, Kho!" Eirini said gleefully. "Welcome, where- oh! You're bleeding! Come on, in we go."

The sprite floated down to his uninjured hand and wrapped her entire body around his arm. Dragging him forward was effectively useless, she didn't have enough power in her to move a twig if it was still attached to the tree. Her wings fluttered faster and faster until she sighed hopelessly and hung limply from Kholas. She pouted and whined, not sure what to do without Linnae there.

"Miss Miri! Lin's friend is here!" Eirini called loudly. Her voice didn't carry far and so she doubted the thief heard her. Eirini flew back to the window and slapped both of her small hands against the glass until someone inside let her back in. Then, the front door opened a fraction.

Every sense of urgency and panic the goblin had been experiencing ground to a halt as a creature flew from the window and landed on his shoulder. Too exhausted to do more than wave a hand at the tiny being, Kholas snarled as it landed on his shoulder and grabbed a hoop dangling from his ear.

"Who-- what--?" Turning to frown at the thing on his shoulder, he realized the creature must be a sprite of sorts… Likely a friend of Linnae's, seeing as how she knew who he was. Not that it made her more welcome at the moment. He hadn't the time to deal with over-enthusiastic hangers-on. Glaring at the small creature who was now wrapping herself around his arm, Kholas gave his hand another wave. "Get off," he snapped, then turned his attention to the door.

"Who else is here?" he hissed, following her to the door, his ears pinned back against his head, uninjured hand curled.

Not awaiting a reply, Kholas wrenched the door open and stepped into the cottage. "Who are you?" he demanded with as much force as he could summon, a low growl rising in his throat. "Show yourself. Now!"

 
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Waiting was Miri's least favorite thing to do. It always set the butterflies in her stomach off, either from anxiety or excitement. In this case, it was a bit of both. She had spent the better part of an hour keeping her butterflies at bay by admiring the mushrooms and taking notes. As promised, she did her best to keep her hands off, though she did prod a couple when she though Eirini wasn't looking. Eventually, Eirini had dragged her inside, where she had grilled the smushed Porcini (with Eirini's reluctant permission) and shared it with the sprite. After cleaning up, Miri sat at the small kitchen table idly chattering about random things. She asked about the rebellions, and who Lin and Kho where. By now her stomach was hurting quite a bit. Hopefully, the others arrived soon.

"Who's there?" Someone called outside as if on cue. Miri stopped eating and turned toward the door.

"Someone's here!" She whispered excitedly to Eirini. She wasn't exactly sure why she was whispering but something about the tone of voice from outside made her feel like she should be quiet. Eirini attempted to open the door but was unable to due to her small size, so Miri pushed open the window for her. Miri peeked out the window to see who the guest was and saw a small goblin with large ears. So this was "Kho." Miri heard Eirini announce the guest and quickly opened the window to let her in and went to open the door for him. Before she had opened the door more than a fraction of the inch though, the goblin flung it open.

"Who are you? Show yourself. Now!"

Now that she got a good look at him, she could see he was a cute little thing. But she didn't think he'd appreciate her telling him. Because although he was small and cute, he also looked very angry. One of his hands was curled in a fist. Was he going to hit her? Miri stood in the doorway unsure how to respond. She knew how to answer the first question but wasn't sure what he wanted from the second. It wasn't like she was hiding. Even if she did try to hide, the house was tiny. He would see her right away. Maybe he wanted her to present herself. To show that she was worthy of being in the rebellion?

"My name is Miri Vaunea! Sir! I'm here to join the rebellion! I may not be skilled in combat, but I have extensive mountain survival and navigational skills and my warding and enchanting are second to none! I also have a photographic memory. But my biggest strength is my extensive knowledge of fungi! Edibles, medicinal properties, poisons, and of course, psychedelics. Which, by the way, I think you could benefit from since you look so tense. I recommend these for a beginner." She pulled out a small drawstring bag from a pocket and held it up. It was at this moment, Miri realized that in her nervousness she had gone on autopilot into one of her sales pitches. Miri did not think this cute goblin was interested in her mushrooms and her face turned slightly pink from embarrassment but found that she was unable to stop. "They give a mild, pleasant high as long as you don't take too much. No hallucinations. Very little chance of nausea and vomiting. Although I can't join you on your trip, I'd be more than happy to act as your trip-sitter and assist you to end your trip should you find it unpleasant. I sell these for 2 silver for 3 ounces."

She opened the door all the way and stepped aside to let him in and then scurried away back to the kitchen table burying her face in her hands out of embarrassment. "You don't have to buy them." She said, her voice muffled behind her hands, "I don't know why I did that. Have some of the mushrooms though they're good."
 
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BEAUMONT BENEDETTI & PENELOPE PEXORI
mentions @Lillian Gray
The letters had been all too much, the lot of them practically ineligible while they shook in his grey hands. Beaumont Benedetti had been drunk that night in Khal Miras, groaning and shuffling around the space he had shared with Oct for so many years. The professor had tripped, his shoulder smacking into the wall and knocking something he was never meant to find out of its place. It was a beautiful sight at first--the cascade of faded white papers slowly drifting downwards to meet him on the floor--but from the very first sentence he managed to read it became clear all too quickly who had authored the letters.

And he cried. Beaumont cried like it was the night after the funeral all over again. He cried like he had while his beloved apprentice and her cat waited outside his locked door, unwilling to leave the professor alone all those years ago. But there was no time for such fragility in the present day. The remnants of his lover that had broken him down then had become the fire in his chest that kept Beau and his chin up now.

Octavius had a goal, a worthy one, and Beaumont would stop at nothing to see it realized. He was just grateful that he needn't face such a momentous task alone. So the professor turned to the bard at his side as they neared their destination and offered her a hit from his pipe.

"So where exactly are we heading again, Pen, my dear? It's been oh so long since I found myself in Taithros..."

Penelope Pexori turned and hummed in response to hearing her name. The hour was late, and the gates to Taithros were looming on the horizon. She could just make out the details of the large gate which separated the well to do from the rest of the masses. She accepted his pipe and brought it to her lips, tapping the stem on her lower lip as she contemplated where it was they were supposed to be going. Beaumont wasn't the only one with a history in Taithros, but Penny had seen to it to keep those memories distant the day she left. Dredging up so much as a common street made her skin crawl as flashes of her childhood came with them.

She took a long drag from the pipe and exhaled cooly.

"You're asking me?" She grinned. Her bright blue eyes glanced sideways at Beaumont. "Oh, Beau, I thought you knew me better."

Penelope shook her head in mock annoyance before offering the pipe back to her teacher with a shaking hand. If she held onto it any longer, she might have smoked it dry. That wasn't one of her habits and she preferred to keep it that way. Being back had her on edge.

"Some Randy Gandy? Goose? Ah! A gander, the Randy Gander." Penelope exclaimed. "I've no idea where it is but-"

In the distance there was a loud crack and suddenly the sky turned bright orange. Penelope yelped in reaction to the loud bang which sent shockwaves even beyond the gates they approached. Flames licked the sky as a pillar of smoke rose into the heavens. Penelope stared in awe at the horizon as something unseen caught fire within the walls of the city. It had been some time since she'd been in the city, true, but she didn't remember there being anything that was supposed to be on fire. The large black and gray cat which had been close on her heel fell flat in the grass with his ears pointed back, and hissed.

Whatever it was, whoever caused it, the moment of transition was an absolute sight. Beaumont could not help himself, it was in his nature to think first of beauty and second of cause and consequence. The flash, the flames, from where they stood the whole world seemed to bend to this moment. It was a sight like no other and it took the professor more than a moment to step back from his passion and think about the implications of such a sight.

"Oh dear." Was all Beau could bring himself to say before wordlessly bringing the pipe back to his lips for another hit. As he exhaled he made a motion to tuck the pipe away but a moment of thought deemed one more drag a necessity. When he spoke once more his breath was earthy and herbal, the gravity of the situation only truly settling in his gaze. "That can't be good."

Instinct told her to run from the danger. To pretend she was nothing more than a bard on the road with her teacher. Master and apprentice travelling for the sake of entertainment and knowledge. The letters in Beaumont's pack screamed otherwise. What were the odds that the ones they were searching for were related to the explosion of color on the night's sky? There wasn't a doubt in her mind. Penelope would have bet her lyre on it. Whoever had penned the mysterious letter, Kholas, was somewhere inside the city at that very moment and they had to find him, fast.

"We need to go." Penelope bent over and pulled her pack off her shoulders. She presented the open satchel to Jack, who happily curled on top of her travel supplies before Penelope threw her pack on once more. "This might be our only chance, Beau."

The phrase 'only chance' had such finality, such severity, that Beaumont could only acknowledge it with a firm nod. Beau took only a moment to fasten his belongings closer to his person, the grip he had on his harp case tightening. His old bones already ached at the thought of a sprint but as Penelope had already aptly put, there was little choice.

"I only ask that how I look when I run does not find its way into any of your rhymes or songs." He sighed. "Lead the way darling."

"Ha!" Penelope snorted with glee, "I'm already penning the first verse now-"

She skipped forward a few steps, turning back to sneer at Beau before darting towards the main gates of Taithros. There were plenty of people rushing about inside, struck by the horror of whatever it was that had caught on fire. It had been too long for Penelope to recall exactly what building it was, but as the finer details of the architecture came into view, she had to guess it was the prestigious academy Beau was always boasting about.

Penelope stopped just shy of the gate and her courage faltered. They had talked about the rebellion at length. Through tears and too many bottles of liquor, Penelope had listened to Beaumont recite Octavius' correspondences with unfamiliar faces well into the night, for many nights. She'd read the letters firsthand until the beautifully inked messages didn't sound like they were in her language any more. Save Aetheria, they said. The tree is dying, they claimed. In her heart the horned woman knew that facing the Empire was a bold act of defiance, but standing at the gates of Taithros had her feeling wholly unprepared for the consequences behind her allegiance. The moment of hesitation cost her, and the massive doors swung shut just in time for a single figure to slip out into the night. She was nimble, quick on her feet until she dropped at the treeline not twenty yards from the city walls. Penelope was about to scold herself for not acting until she spotted the odd arrangement of branches quite literally growing out of the woman's head. A nymph? What was a nymph doing in Taithros, Penelope wondered.

This was someone she recognized. Penelope moved towards the nymph with her arms held out, eyes unblinking as they kept their gaze on the woman's hand to watch for how she might react to the sudden appearance of two strangers. She must have heard her coming. The nymph sat straight up and attempted to crawl back, but fell onto her wrist and cried painfully.

"Stay back!" The nymph ordered. She clutched her broken wrist to her chest, the skin was black and blistered, likely from the fire in the city. "Take one more step and I will break you where you stand." The nymph's free hand sunk into the earth and the ground began to quiver, roots breached the surface of the earth as easily as if it were water.

"Wait, we've been looking for you!" Penelope threw up her hands and took a step back.

"I do not know you." The nymph spat.

"You're Lin- Linnae?" Penelope took a stab in the dark and threw out the only name that fit her description. A nymph with holly for hair and a deep distrust of strangers. It was in a letter a man named Kiernan had once written, a jovial warning to Octavius to keep his distance should he find himself in Taithros without the familiar mage's company.

Penelope took a measured step forward. At first, Linnae didn't respond. She was too startled by the fact that an apparent stranger knew who she was without them ever having met before. The second step she took, however, was met with agitation as Linnae issued a second warning.

"I said to stay back." She hissed with much less venom in her tone.

Beau followed his apprentice to the best of his ability… which wasn't much. He was paces behind by the time the gates were brought to close and totally out of breath by the time Pen had turned her attention to a nymph. Still right as the bard recognized her, so did the professor, and Beau's expression softened as he approached even if it was between labored breaths.

When he could bring himself to talk his gentle hand found Peneleope's shoulder and urged her to take just a single step backwards.

"She speaks the truth." Beau said simply, his tone serious but not unkind. For a moment he turned to scan the area around them, making sure that the three of them were alone in the clearing before lowering his voice and speaking once more. "We're a tad new to this rebellion business but my partner he… he used to worked closely alongside Kiernan."

The professor shifted uncomfortably as the name passed his lips but he continued all the same, hands raising with caution though there was confidence in the way that he spoke. "The empire has taken so many good people from us already, it'd be a shame if we let distrust between its dissenters take out a few more don't you think?"

His gaze shifted towards Penelope and back to Linnae. "Especially ones as cute as us."

Penelope's cheeks turned a bright red with Beaumont's words. She brushed his hand from her shoulder and huffed, flustered he would say something so embarrassing in front of someone else. And not just any someone, a prominent and established member within the rebellion!

Linnae looked to the city walls as if contemplating her options. Accept the truth the strangers had offered her, or face the odds fighting them off should it turn out they were liars. Something Beaumont said resonated in her, it was clear only in the brief moment which her ruby colored eyes darted to the ground with a glint of shame to them. The fist curled against her chest relaxed and the roots which she had conjured slipped back down beneath the earth once more. Penelope offered her hand to help the nymph rise and she responded by raising her own with a great amount of reluctance. Closing the distance between them, Penelope reached down and gripped Linnae's forearm, Linnae doing the same.

"Quickly, we need to move." Linnae's aura had shifted into something else entirely. Although not completely casual between the two strangers, she seemed to have less of an edge now. "This way. Go."

She ushered them into the treeline and waited until they were a few paces ahead before turning to follow. It was only then when Beaumont nudged his favorite apprentice ever so slightly, shooting the woman a wink as they walked just ahead of the nymph.

"I'm sorry about catching you off guard back there by the by." He whispered lightly. "It's just... you're the absolute cutest when you blush like that. I just knew Linnae wouldn't be able to turn us away after she caught a glance."​
 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Inside Linnae's Cottage
Mentions: @ItariChan @Lillian Gray

Whatever Kholas had been expecting-- it wasn't this.

As a young bespectacled woman scurried forward and began to rattle off what sounded like a badly-composed dossier, Kholas simply stared at her. She looked to be in her early twenties, horned of some variety, and wholly unfamiliar. Before he'd even processed exactly what had been said, however, she dived into what seemed like a sales pitch for psychotropic fungi.

At some point during her recitation, the goblin had opened his mouth, fully expecting her to pause for at least a moment. It seemed, however, she hadn't the same compulsion as other people to breathe when talking. Still staring bemusedly at the woman, Kholas closed his mouth, opened it again, then closed it once more, still unable to fit a word in edgewise.

What was even going on? Had he sustained a head injury at the Academy as well?

It was several moments after the door was opened completely for him that Kholas finally pulled himself together enough to move into the house. Cautiously, he stepped into the small cottage and clicked the door shut behind him. With some difficulty, he extracted a name from the torrent of words he'd been bludgeoned with, recognizing the surname Vaunea. Likely, this was the couple from Wyndfel's daughter, though he was afraid of what the reply would be, should he ask. He'd likely be dead by the time she finished her parents' biographies.

When the young woman, Miri, if he'd caught it correctly, had again seated herself at the table, the goblin gave her a searching look, blinked, then said curtly, "I'll pass."

Had this woman really just asked to join the rebellion then delved into a sales pitch in the same breath? Still reeling somewhat from the encounter, Kholas moved slowly past her to a bench against the far wall. It was possible, he supposed, that she was a spy-- a trap-- but she was either innocent or a very convincing performer. It all seemed too absurd to be a fabrication. Either way, the sprite had seemingly taken to the young woman, and he hoped that, at least for now, she would provide some distraction. And, he conceded as he sank onto the bench and slid a bag from beneath it, there was little else he could do at the moment. Already, he could feel the pull of fatigue and the slow creep of darkness at the corners of his vision. This was all just too much.

Opening the pack, he withdrew a plate-sized bundle which he carefully unwrapped to reveal a carved wooden skull, fashioned into a sort of pauldron, dull red light pouring from the eyes and mouth. Placing the wooden ornament down on the bench beside him, he proceeded to unfasten the clasps and gingerly peel away his shirt, revealing a thin, pale upper body, the left side of his chest and shoulder discoloured with bruising. Seemingly oblivious to what the newcomer might make of this, he carefully prodded along his ribs, wincing now and again. Content with his evaluation, he placed his left hand against the wooden skull and his right over his injured ribs. Slowly, the light from the skull faded and a soft green glow began to emanate from his right hand.

Leaning back against the wall, Kholas closed his eyes and issued a weary sigh.

"If," he finally said, his voice little more than a murmur, "you want to be of use, go out into the garden and quietly direct people in or something… Take the sprite with you." All of the anger and fear had gone of out him, leaving him with only with a dull, aching anxiety.

Please let them be all right…

 
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Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae


Mentions:

@DinoFeather
@ItariChan

@everyone

Date | 22/3/1
Time | Night
Weather | Mostly clear


  • It took longer than Linnae would have liked to find her small cottage in the woods. The woman, Penelope she had learned, was obsessively optimistic and far too noisy. She wouldn't stop humming the entire way. The man, Beaumont, was quiet but the nymph lost him a few times to some of the more scenic areas of the forest, small ponds otherwise cut off from the city and unknown to the population. These were effectively Linnae's woods. She knew of such places and they would have ample time to return after they found her home. There was no telling who could have been following them in the dark and she was starting to become irritated with their antics. She was simultaneously worried that she hadn't run into anyone else from the Randy Gander.

    Soon they stood among a dying grove of tall pines and crooked branches with thorns. They snapped easily underfoot, a sign of Linnae's declining health to those who understood the connection. The nymph led them through a safe path and straight through the trees until her small cottage was in sight. She exhaled with relief. Smoke was rising from the chimney. Someone was inside, or rather, her stove was being used.

    "Hello?" Linnae called loudly. She hurried to her front door and pushed it open with her shoulder, her two new acquaintances abandoned on the front lawn.

    Once inside she was surprised to see someone she didn't recognize sitting at her small table with a pan of grilled mushrooms. Eirini was fluttering around the woman's face chatting like they were old friends. That was unlike the sprite, did they know one another then? Linnae's eyes finally found Kholas sitting on the far end of the room with the carved wooden skull at his side. Bruises were plainly visible on his chest and his arm was covered in a scrap of fabric. It was dyed a deep crimson, nearly dried now. The glass from the conservatory had done more damage than she had realized.

    "Kholas, oh thank the Ancients." Linnae said breathlessly. "Ah, let me..." First, she turned to the stranger and pointed a single finger in her direction. "Eirini, you're to tell me why you've let someone into my home as soon as I'm done."

    "Ah, but Lin-!" Eirini squeaked.

    "Just wait." Linnae replied curtly. Eirini's wings folded down and she lowered her head. she wasn't used to being scolded, not that Linnae was too angry with her. There were more important matters to deal with first.

    The nymph attempted to gather a list of supplies in her head but her thoughts were blank. She didn't know what she had that could help aside from a good meal and a bath in the river. Judging from the tired look on the goblin's face, she doubted either of those were what he needed. Linnae grabbed for a rag and went to kneel before Kholas on the bench when she remembered there was a box of medical supplies in the attic. Of course.

    "Hello, sunshine." Linnae forced a smile and blotted some of the sweat from his brow. She turned her head partly and called to the sprite. "Eirini, there's a small white box in the attic. Can you please bring it to me?"

    "Certainly!" The sprite disappeared and Linnae turned her focus back to Kholas.

    "You look terrible." She noted. "You should lie down, we can talk when the others get here."

    The last statement was entirely too hopeful. If Kholas was here, then where were Rahne and Moysei? She wanted to wring the mage's neck for setting her hand on fire, but first she wanted to see him alive. What's more, they hadn't so much as seen anyone from the doors. Where was Kacius? Pan? So many names and not one had showed up at her doorstep. Linnae told herself it was only because they knew the way. The other's were simply lost.

    She continued to fawn over Kholas, not sure what she could do. At least they were alright.
  • Notes and Noises:
    • Currently at Linnae's home:
      • Beaumont
      • Eirini
      • Kholas
      • Linnae
      • Miri
      • Penelope
    • Currently wandering about:
      • Melsinde
      • Pan
      • Phineas
      • Rahne
    • So, Pyre set the Conservatory on fire.
    • Guards are on high alert, so be cautious when roaming the crowds. Once out of the city, you should be OK.
    • It's dark now, nearing the middle of the night, so be wary of where you're going and don't get lost.



    The Plan:

    Plan's gone to shit. Run for the hills.

    With the disappearance of Atlak, Kacius, Malik, and Moysei, Kholas' had given instruction just to get the shards out safely. Those who are able to make it out of the city were told to go to Linnae's home, previously shown on a marked map back at the Randy Gander. It is a few hours walk to the Northwest of Taithros.


 
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Precious Assets


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a collab between @Kuno @Doctor Jax @Red Thunder


The crackle of flame, the shift and break of wooden structures, the cries of Fire! filled Pan's ears even as the odor of ash and burning filled his nostrils. So much lost, and for so little. Were people still in the Academy, immolated and suffering as the fires roasted them on the spit of their entrapment? Would the others of Kholas' little troupe be okay, or had they misstepped even worse than he, running amiss with the guard as they attempted infiltration or escape? Would they themselves, their pitiful band of three, even escape from Taithros, using the chaos as a distraction, or were they, too, doomed to fall, and with them, the world? Pan stood gazing at the fire, mouth slightly agape and eyes unfocused in these considerations.

Pop!

The sharp sound of skin striking skin echoed through the alleyway, and the Satyr shook his head. Nothing like a good bit of reality to get one to focus.

"The...souvenirs?" Blinking in contemplation, he squinted at Melsinde. Oh, the souvenirs! The souvenirs for the tree! The souvenirs taken specifically for the tree! The tree's souvenirs!

"Eh, no thank ya." Pan contorted his face in disgust, as if he was happy to help with the task but wanted nothing to do with the actual shards. "You know how special they is; you keep 'em. Phineas, you keep 'er safe; I'll lead the way."

Hefting his axe, Pan turned and set off down the street. His claim to Linnae some time earlier had not been in jest: life in the mines necessitated an innate sense of direction, and he was soon on track to lead them quickly from the city by following the natural flow of topography and street planning, though the actual path to Linnae's house would be beyond him.

Pan was a quick and nimble thing. Phineas trailed after the satyr at a leisurely pace; not too hurried, but not too slow either, as he intentionally let the gap grow between them. It wouldn't do to clump all together, a trio of saboteurs racing towards the city gates. Whatever persons drawn out of their homes by the noise would surely take notice, and the last thing he wanted was some do-gooder citizen booking it to the city guard for a "tip".

Thankfully, the further they went from the Academy, the less people there were hanging about the streets. The dim lighting of the streets helped to cover their escape as well, though at times it was hard to tell where they really going. Phineas glanced about him, making sure that Melsinde was keeping pace--

"Oh!"

The nobleman came to a screeching halt as something hard bumped against him. Alarmed, he spun around, only to see a woman clutching a basket of laundry, panic plain on her face as her goods spilled out. Down to the ground she went, and so did he. Their voices carried over each others'.

"My goodness, woman, are you alright--"

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you--"

In the waning moonlight, Phineas could make out the features of a dark-haired woman in a low-cut top, a blush coloring her skin as she glanced at the man helping her. A servant girl, no doubt; only they could be called on to work such ridiculous hours. The taller man's countenance changed as he helped her to her feet, quietly asking again after her health.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. You are too kind, sir." She shouldered her burden once more, and Phineas' attentions were drawn to other aspects of her person. She murmured her thanks, eyes downcast. Phineas' eyes, too, were downcast, but not at the ground.

"Did you need help getting home?"

"Dearest, I think she is quite capable herself."

Melsinde swooped in, noticing Phineas' distraction. The satyr put herself between the mustachioed casanova and his would-be mark, quickly cottoning on to the source of her longtime friend's mental detour. Goodness, no wonder, she really was a beautiful servant, but that was neither here nor there. They had business to attend to, and of course Phineas would rather have his business with a side of pleasure if at all possible.

To think this man is engaged.

"My apologies, I know that he can overstep his bounds, as well as be quite the clutz," Melsinde said sweetly, not-so-secretly stepping on Phineas' foot with a sharp hoof. Whatever honeyed words the man had prepared were reduced to little more than a pained oof. It was enough to break the spell; the servant girl nodded quickly before moving away at a brisk pace, back en route to deliver her clean linen. Phineas was slower to break focus; when he finally did, it was to throw a comically peeved look at his companion.

"Come now, Mel.You break my heart more and more everyday."

Pan, meanwhile, ever quick and nimble, had clipped off ahead, trusting, perhaps foolishly, that his companions were swiftly behind them. Pedestrians passed, singly or in pairs, eyes turned upward to the hellish tower of smoke that rose into the air from the city's center. They shuffled hither and yon, seeking shelter in their fear or pressing inward to satisfy their curiosity. The Satyr with the axe, carried across his shoulders, was perhaps a sight to cause concern, yet none seemed to notice.

Save two.

"Hoy there!" Like stone across dead wood, a voice approached Pan from ahead. Blinking, he focused. His steps had carried him to the city gate, large and intimidating and most particularly closed. It looked, in fact, as though the guards standing with it had just made it so. One of them eased his spearhead forward in the Satyr's direction, though the butt still rested on the cobblestone. The other remained unmoving, though clearly on edge. "What's the rush, boy? And with a gods-damned axe?"

Pan stopped short. 'Boy'? Did he not see the others? He threw a glance over his shoulder. Gone! And in this insanity, who was to say where? His mouth opened, though his mind was slower on the uptake, and nothing came out. What was he to say? Firewood? Did- did he need firewood? Was it cold? It had rained, and everything was soaked. Items needed drying, yes. Drying.

"It's fer mah, erm, blankits. They's wet from tha rain. An' they needs tah dry."

The spear guard, a sergeant by his marks, narrowed his eyes.

"The gods you on about, boy?"

"Uhhh…" He'd neglected mentioning the wood, and his brain was shutting down in a panic. "D-d-dry-dryin'! An' an' an' tha rain! It's cold, yah see!"

The second guard stepped forward, hand on his sword hilt, at a gesture from his commander.

"You best give us that axe, boy," the sergeant said. "Someone might think you were up to something."

"R-r-righ'!"

Again, Pan's brain froze. And, absent any higher thought, such as he ever had anyway, he acted. Whistling shrilly through the air, the axe haft cracked the approaching guard on the head, ringing the metal cap and denting it deeply; years in the mines of the Heights had left the boy monstrously strong. Thus concussed, the guard fell. The sergeant dropped backward to defense. Most of the other soldiers were enforcing a perimeter about the Academy, in the hopes that they might find the arsonists. Yet here he was, facing what was likely one of them now, and alone. Still, he raised a call as best he might.

"Aid! To the gate! Enemies to the crown!"

And all the while, Pan sprinted ahead, bearing down on the man like an angry bull.

No, no, no.

Phineas' chest seized at the sight of the ensuing fight. The sound of raised voices had sent Fin dashing down the street with Pan nowhere in sight, until the gates had loomed ahead, revealing the young satyr and an unnamed foe. He watched, hidden in shadow, as the soldier side-stepped Pan's charge, letting the satyr run smack into the gates with a resounding clang. A groan built in his throat. Was he really taking on the soldier unarmed?

Blast his wandering eye. What the hell had Pan gotten himself into?

The sergeant's back went to Phineas as he leveled his spear for an attack. Phineas braced himself. It was now or never.

"Halt! What's going on here?"

Racing from his hiding spot, Phineas swiftly donned the appearance of a drab gate guard, his hand going to the sword at his side. The sergeant turned at his approach, his face flooding with satisfaction at the sight of an ally. Though it did not last long; his expression gradually changed as Phineas veered off-course towards him.

"Hold!" The man barked, his spear turning from Pan. "What are you--"

"Apologies, Sergeant."

Without further ado, Phineas seized the man by the shoulders. Rearing his head back, he brought it forward with as much force as he could muster, a sickening crack sounding as his skull collided with the other's. The sergeant collapsed to the ground like a felled tree; the nobleman, on the other hand, merely stumbled forward, rubbing his temple with a grimace.

"Oof. He's got a hard head, that one…Gods." Wincing still, he glanced over at Pan. "You alright there?"

Melsinde was much later to the scene, her legs far shorter than Fin's. The cries had not helped her anxiety as she realized that of course they could not make it out unscathed, and when she had cottoned on to the fact Pan was no longer with them - a certain maternal instinct was triggered, a deep-set worry, not just for their mission but for the dim-witted but well-meaning satyr.

By the time she arrived, Fin was approaching the guard in glamour, and realizing that Pan would, no doubt, assume an intruder once he came to, she hid in an alcove and closed her eyes.

Pan… do not panic. This is Melsinde. Only you can hear my voice right now. The guard ahead is Fin, in a… a magic costume. Do not be afraid--

She heard a great crack, leaning her head out and her eyes widened as she realized that Fin had headbutted the guard, wincing visibly with gritted teeth. That had to hurt. She trotted up the way, wondering if anyone else had seen.

"Are you both alright?" she asked, looking about for more guards. He had called for reinforcements, and others would come…. Unless… With a stare to her right, she projected a voice 'aimed' outwards. While it was originating twenty feet away, the sound would carry to the west, away from them, drawing the attention of any reinforcements to the wrong location.

"Aid! Enemies against the Crown! Over here, they're headed west!"

"We need to get this gate open," Melsinde said, quickly relieving one of the downed guards of a knife. Sword would be too conspicuous...

"I thinkit already's a bit cracked, anyways. That'r mah head is."

Bracing himself against the wooden slats, Pan pushed himself to standing, freehand gripping his ringing temple. Melsinde's warning about Phineas had been well received, and the panic that had instigated this whole affair was settling down, even in the presence of an apparent enemy. But he couldn't help eyeing the 'soldier' distrustfully anyway.

"Bu' yeah; I'm alrigh'."

Blinking to try to regain focus, he cast his glance about at the chaos around them. One soldier lay by the gate not feet from him, face half obscured by red that still flowed from his nose; Pan gave his unconscious form an unhappy kick in the side. Back along the gate's approach, another soldier lay, similarly unmoving, with the Satyr's precious axe as company. Stumbling over, Pan hefted it once more before sliding it onto the sheath on his back. Finally, he tramped back to the gate before stopping at the bar that lay across it.

"Fin," he coughed, his weary voice still laced with obvious suspicion, "gimme a hand an' le's git outta here."

Clearly amused by the satyr's reaction to him, Phineas fought back a smile as he moved over towards the other end of the gate, laying his hands upon the thick beam of iron barring it. There was the whine of metal grinding against metal as the two men, with much straining, dragged the bar back from before the gate, settling it at last across a bracket directly adjacent to the exit. Phineas wasted no time in rushing to grab hold of the gates, propping one side open with his body.

"Quick, now." He jerked his head at the other two, an urgent energy about him. "I'll stay behind to make sure you two aren't spotted. Once you're clear, I'll follow."

Melsinde, while unhappy with the plan given it left Fin exposed, possibly trapped, took a hold of Pan's arm and led him through the gate with her. Outside, the road was deserted, which in itself was not a particularly good thing. They would be easily spotted if they lingered too long.

"Fin?" Mel called back quietly, with soft anxiety.

There was no answer. After a beat of silence, the wooden gate was abruptly closed. A long moment passed before the gate creaked open once more, and the glamoured Phineas ran out into the night.

"It's me," He said instantly as he drew up alongside the two, not wanting to get taken out by their strong-armed friend. "Sorry. I checked the guardhouse just to be sure we were really alone. I dragged a...body in front of the gate. Should delay them some…"

He had not been expecting the sergeant's nose to be so bloodied. His face ashen, he shed his glamour as he took hold of both Mel and Pan's arms, as if to propel them onward. "Let's go. Once we pass the treeline, we'll be in the clear."



It took longer than expected to find the rendezvous point. Much of the pathways leading to Linnae's home were effectively useless, long spells of disuse allowing time for Nature to reclaim what was once hers. They could not risk extensive lighting for fear of being followed; they'd floundered forward in the darkness, not stopping until the outline of a small cottage rose into view. Exactly where it had been marked on the map.

A meld of voices drifted towards them as they drew closer, sounding much too soft to be that of the Empire's men. It eased his worries some, though his face was no less wary as he stared at the two Horned individuals hovering at the cottage entrance. He had never seen the man or woman before in his life, and his eyes flicked between the two of them uneasily.

"Guarding the fortress, I see," He joked lightly, though his expression was less than friendly. "Care to let us in?"

 
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Finding the cabin was only the second little adventure for Rahne. Getting out of the city was the first. In all the commotion from the heist, Rahne had gotten swept up in the crowd and lost sight of the companions that were with her when they evacuated the building. At that point, getting out of the city and avoiding detection while doing so had become more of a hassle than she cared to admit. She would have much preferred fighting her way out to sneaking about casually, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Once she was through the city gates, what was a hurried walk became a full-on sprint into the trees and beyond. Finding the cabin took more time than she thought. Exhaustion came, slowing her sprint to a walk, and once or twice she worried if she'd gone the wrong way, but she stuck to the path she was on. If she was lost, then she'd just have to walk through the entire forest until she found it! Still, she was relieved when eventually the cabin came into sight, and her look of relief became a gleeful grin when she saw Pan, Fin, and Mel arriving ahead of her. Seeing both her destination and her fellow rebels temporarily erased her exhaustion and the aching of her legs as she burst into a full sprint once more.

"Ah made it!" Rahne exclaimed as she reached the cabin, stumbling a bit in her steps as she attempted to stop. "Ah' made it! Damn feart Ah' was! Got lost on the way, but ah' knew ah'd make it! An' you guys did too!" Without any hesitation, she gave Fin and Mel an overly friendly playful punch to the shoulder before throwing an arm around the Pan's neck in a semi-hug, semi-chokehold. "Ah' was worryin' m'self to death, wonderin' if we all made it! Pretty much ran here the whole way! Mah' legs hurt like hell! I'm loused, not a drop of energy left in me!" She exclaimed, her demeanor and voice betraying her words. Hopefully, there was a bed and food waiting for them. She was about ready to eat Linnae out of house and home.​
 
Penelope Pexori
The nymph left both of the horned individuals standing at the entrance of the clearing and disappeared into a small cottage. At first they weren't sure if they were supposed to follow or simply wait for her to return. Really, it wasn't clear at all what the overall plan was. After a few minutes passed in relative silence, it became obvious Linnae wasn't coming back outside. There were others inside with her, so it would seem. Or this was some elaborate farce, and they were minutes away from being apprehended by the Empire.

There was a bit of relief when Penelope heard voices approaching. Now that they were safe, she didn't feel the need to ask who they were or what they were doing, oh no. She spun on her heel, throwing her arms out and preparing to pose herself with a drawn out salute. One hand reached for the strap across her chest to pull her Lyre to act as a sword, but she didn't get far enough for her fingers to so much as twitch against the leather.

Three people approached. One, a tall Satyr who held an axe the size of her head. The next was a small woman with a set of horns herself, another satyr. It was the third face that caught her off guard. Ruggedly handsome with a finely trimmed mustache, a human was the last in the trio and the one who had spoken. He seemed uneasy somehow. That was fair, Penelope felt like she was staring at a spectre.

Anything she was about to say died as a groan in her throat.

"Octavius, darling? Is that..." Beaumont whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse and hardly audible over the rustle of the trees and wind. The professor's hand rose to reach out to the ghost, to the man who looked just like Oct had that very first time Beau laid eyes upon him, but it fell back to his side as reason overtook him.

His whole being iced over. Beau had watched Octavius die, he had watched the life slowly slip from his lover's grasp over a course of months, to see him now so clearly in a man that simply could not be his dear Oct... it was sickening, it was cruel , it was wrong. Beau was nearly trembling when he spoke next.

"Fortress, cottage--I suppose at base they are both just a couple walls and a roof." He breathed, frozen in place and unable to tear his gaze away.

Penelope reached out and gripped Beaumont's wrist. She shook herself from her daze and offered a crooked smile. What a way to introduce themselves to a handful of strangers, by making utter fools of themselves. Her hand inched down, fingers reaching for Beaumont's in a meager attempt to calm him.

"Actually- Well- We aren't really guarding it, you might say." Penelope explained awkwardly. She didn't appreciate the man's unfriendly gaze. "More like abandoned at the gate. The nymph, ah, Linnae I think? She's inside and she kind of just-" Her explanation drifted off.

The polite smile on Phineas' face belied the utter puzzlement he felt in the wake of the two stranger's reactions to him. The Horned male stared with such intensity at the nobleman that he felt quite distinctly that he must have done something to the man. The woman, too, addressed him in an odd manner, and he glanced between the two of then, perturbed. Maybe it was the way in which he'd approached them. At the mention of Linnae, the mustachioed man finally felt something in him relax, and his expression warmed.

"Yes, well. I wasn't all that serious when I asked. Though I do appreciate your candor," Phineas teased, attempting vainly to defuse the tension in the air. He was used to such scrutiny in the Emperor's court, but to be put under the scope in a role with such anonymity…

Wait. Did they know him? The real him?

"I'm sorry, I never asked your names. I'm, uh...Fin. Phineas. Either or." His gaze went to the cottage door, to his other companions, then back, abruptly locking eyes with the older man. His voice lowered. "Have we...met before?"

"Nope! Can't say we have." Penelope said enthusiastically, a little too much so. She appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood and did her best to revert to her natural state of perpetual optimism and charm. "The name's Penelope Pexori, and this is my Professor."

Penelope slapped her hand on Beaumont's shoulder, hoping to draw him out of his stunned phase. She smiled pleasantly enough, feeling much better now that they'd introduced themselves to one another. Phineas though, the name rang a bell but she couldn't place it. Likely it wasn't anything important. That moment, Jack decided he had grown tired of hiding in Penelope's pack and jumped from her pack and onto the ground. He trotted happily towards the cottage door and pawed on it until it pushed open just enough for him to slip inside.

"Oh-- and that's Jack." Penelope added, jabbing her thumb towards the cat.

"Beaumont Benedetti." The professor then answered, his voice clearer than before but not back to himself entirely. He could not bring himself to look away from Phineas. The likeness was so fascinatingly close but also so painfully striking. The professor could only clear his throat before continuing to speak,. "I am keenly aware of how… awkward this meeting might feel. It's just…"

"Quite simply--Phineas dear--you look like someone I've lost. That Penny has lost. Forever. You look like someone who I loved dearly and can no longer, I see him in your face, I hear him in your--"

The professor shook his head, interrupting the thought because he knew it was not his place to bestow such a burden upon a man who was heartbreakingly nothing more than a complete stranger. When the professor spoke next, it was the closest Beaumont had sounded to his normal, witty, old self.

"I suppose it's just been a long day for all of us, rebelling against an Empire does that to one--or so I have heard."

"Yes, yes, quite so," Phineas chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. "At any rate, I'm sure you two will get your share of action soon enough. Me, I'm bound for Kelna as soon as I'm bid to leave. I doubt I'll be of much use anymore with so many willing hands."

As if on cue, he heard - and felt - Rahne arrive, and he grinned widely at the redhead's boisterous greeting.

"Impeccable timing! We were all just headed in, weren't we?" His attention shifted from Rahne to Pen before he winked at Beaumont. He propped the cottage door with his arm, making an over the top and silly flourish towards the others.

"After you."
 
"One more story? Pleaaase?" The tiny voice of little Angelina was difficult for Laceae to resist. She reached over and tucked the rough wool blanket around the horned girl's body, giving her a little tickle around the tummy and smiling at the giggles she received. Then she took the little cloth doll from the bedside table and tucked it into the crook of Angelina's arm.

"I don't think so," she said. "It's late."

"But Gea gets to stay up late!"

"Well Gea is also older than you," Laceae laughed. Much older. She bent over to give Angelina a peck on the cheek before feeling for the footstool below the bed and, holding onto the nightstand for balance, sliding off the side and hopping to the floor. "Goodnight, little one,"

She closed the door to their shared bedroom and made to the rickety stairs. When she'd moved in, they were hardly able to carry her weight, not to speak of Gea or Asteria's weight. Now, several young trees supported the steps from the parlour below, growing from underneath the building's foundation and wrapping their branches over the floorboards. Usually they would flower almost year round inside the warmth of their home, but today they, and the steps with them, sagged.

"I've a cuppa for you here, Lia," Gea called from their cramped kitchen. Like most things in the house it was hardly meant for two, not to mention the dozen or so individuals that resided there. They crammed a wooden table in the far corner, opposite the range, that only fit four chairs if they, and their occupants, were small, and had a makeshift pantry beside it, filled with canned produce and whatever dry goods they could get their hands on. A hefty sack of tea took up most of the space now, a gift from rebel. Laceae never asked why or how, and simply enjoyed the rare luxury.

"Many thanks," she said, taking a seat beside Gea. Her nymph friend looked exhausted--as did she, no doubt, though doubly so. Since the others left, Gea had taken up many of the responsibilities they'd abandoned, and even begun apprenticing beside Laceae. They held a shared belief in having a duty to the world beyond gardening or travelling, and Gea was one of the few brave souls Laceae had met inside the city walls. She was, in Laceae's eyes, simply a miracle, and was closer to a sister to her than any of her biological siblings ever were.

"Have you heard anything from--"

Gea cut her off with a head shake. "No. And I doubt we will. You know how dangerous it would be, Lia. For both of you."

Laceae sighed. "I know. I still--"

It was the sound of glass, but louder than anything she'd heard before, that interrupted them, accompanied by the rushing sound of--

"Fire," Gea breathed. In tandem the two nymphs leapt from their seats and rushed to the narrow window above the sink. "Holy mother!"

"What is it?" Laceae said. She kicked a footstool to the sink, but still couldn't see over Gea's bush for hair. "Gea, move!"

Their home was just close enough to the Academy to see the billowing smoke and the glinting of the glass that rained from the sky. Voices were emerging from the nearby buildings, mingling with the shouts from the Academy guardsmen. Here and there she could see the flames over the tops of the buildings opposite; just a few glimpses made her stomach sink.

"I reckon you won't be attending tomorrow," Gea snorted, returning to her tea. "Bless the lasses responsible for that."

Laceae didn't answer, somewhat transfixed by the scene unfolding just outside their window. Whoever did this was bold, maybe too bold. It would be hard to escape from the city after performing a literal act of terror. What she didn't understand was why. Of all the places a group of rebels could assault, why the Academy?

"The Tree," It came to her as suddenly as the Academy's rooftop had shattered.

"Hmm?" Gea glanced over. "What is it?"

"I--you remember that letter I received?"

"The one that you burned?"

Laceae nodded. "Whomever wrote it was after the remnants of the guard stones. A scholar, he said he was studying it. They must have been kept inside the Academy, and I've no doubt to disbelief his word." She gestured to the window, "That must be what is happening here."

"Lia?" The tiny voice called from the doorway of the kitchen. Angelina stood there, dwarfed by her nightgown and hugging her doll close to her chest.

The nymph suppressed a sigh. "What are you doing up?" She scrambled down from the stool and hustled over to the girl. "Back to bed,"

"I heard a loud noise," Angelina said. "Are the bad people coming?"

Gea and Laceae exchanged a glance. "No, little one. You are safe. Come, now." She shepherded Angelina back up the stairs. She heard several sets of doors close behind her; the other children no doubt. Back inside their room, Laceae hoisted the girl back up into the bed before turning to rummage through her chest of things.

"What was it?" Angelina asked.

"It's a fire," she answered, glancing up from her packing. "It's nothing to worry about."

"You look worried."

"I just want to make sure everybody is alright," she said. "See?" She lifted up her black medical bag so the girl could see. "I'm just going to go help. But I can't do that if you're not sleeping!"

"Oh," Angelina said, brow furrowed. "Okay."

Laceae set the bag by the door and clambered up her foot stool to read the bed. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise," She bent over and tucked Angelina back in. "I'll be back when you wake up."

Laceae didn't often lie to the children. It was her belief that honesty, no matter how much it hurt, was always better than even the whitest of lies. But she knew how unsafe it would be for little Angelina to know the truth, or for any of the children to. She couldn't lose another child.

She left quickly after only speaking briefly with Gea to inform her of her plan, and went into the night, bundled in her cloak and hauling along her bag. But rather than approach the Academy, she instead turned to the outskirts of the city, following the darker, dirtier alleyways and avoiding the hustle of guardsmen in the main streets. Not many healers were willing to treat the poor, but Laceae made allowances and knew these streets like the back of her hand. Despite being nearly blind without light, she navigated with little problem, only stopped by the sight of a patrol near the city gates.

"Halt! Who goes?" one called as two horned, one scrawny and the other bulkier approached.

"Search them," another shouted. As the bigger horned began to resistant, the patrol swarmed like hungry dogs--and Laceae skirted around them, and through the gate.

Sorry, she thought. She might not have time to stop and help strangers.

Her travels grew harder once inside the woods. Her pace was now twice as slow, and she was slightly less sure of where, exactly, she was going, or even if she should be going there. But, it was the only place she could imagine a rebel group hiding so close to the city, and they would need a safe place. Eventually, she heard voices through the dim--one, two, did she hear three? She waited for a few moments, waiting, and listening.

"I suppose it's just been a long day for all of us, rebelling against an Empire does that to one--or so I have heard."

"Yes, yes, quite so,"

"Impeccable timing! We were all just headed in, weren't we?"

So they were indeed rebels, she thought as she heard the cottage door open, and close behind them. She made to follow, but stopped short at the sensation of her heart skipping a beat. For a brief moment, she hesitated. Did she not already do enough? Was risking herself and her family not enough? These men and women were wanted. Their lives were probably over, even if they did succeed with their mission--she had a hard time believing the Empire in its current state would ever forgive them. It wasn't too late to return to her home, and climb into bed beside little Angelina and carry on with her life as it were.

It wouldn't be what Raycene would have wanted--would want. Remembering her earlier decision, she took a moment longer to steel herself before emerging from the woods and first, knocking on the door, and then pulling it open.

"Linnae?"
 
Let's Give Her A Hand!
a collab between @Lillian Gray and @Doctor Jax

Melsinde was beyond relieved when, at last, they reached Linnae's cottage. While she was fairly good at maintaining a certain sense of direction, she usually needed the aid of a map, and in this case, a map had not been provided for obvious reasons. No, while she had been nearly ready to throttle Phineas for seemingly leading them into the heart of the forest in the dead of night with no means of shelter, no plan, no blankets even, the little, homey cottage appeared out of the gloom.

"Oh, thank the Divines, wherever they may be," Mel sighed under her breath as she put a hand to her chest, her other hand still wrapped about a section of cloak that held their most prized treasure of the night.

Hard to believe that the fate of the world sat in the lining of her clothes.

However, they did run into several others who were also there, and quickly they sussed themselves out. Her eyes tracked to the two horned, one of them looking… vaguely familiar to her. She wracked her brains. She may never forget a name, but a face was another matter, and -- He spoke, his face growing ashen as he saw Fin, and understanding crashed into her all at once.

Of course. Beau Benedetti, professor of Fine Arts with the Academy, though he had been long away from Taithros. She had thought to herself, the first time that she saw Fin, that he looked a dead ringer for Octavius, save perhaps for the skin, but… How cruel was Fate. Oh, poor Beau.

Before she could say anything, they were headed towards the house, Melsinde lingering towards the back, until a familiar voice caused her to spin around just in time to receive a hard pat on the back that nearly had her coughing. Well… she was definitely glad to see her, and Rahne seemed equally glad to be seen!

"Yes… oh, wonderful to see that you are still with us, Rahne," Mel sighed, a wan smile crossing her features. But….where was Kho? Her heart constricted minutely. Where was… everybody else?

Linnae shuffled around the inside of the cottage with one hand now permanently pressed to her chest while the other reached for towels, blankets, food, anything. Kholas needed bandages, Miri needed a spoon, and the door had opened to reveal a gaggle of strangers. Wait, no, Eirini needed the spoon. Or was it a fork? It hardly mattered. Not only did Linnae need to rearrange, she needed to introduce everyone. But as her luck would go, there was no time for that. A furry thing ran between her legs and up into the attic. Linnae had never seen a cat in this part of the woods before. Where was that fork?

She paused, and inhaled deeply. This was no time to be flustered.

One by one, familiar faces flooded the cramped two room cottage of Linnae's. Then a few more joined, some of which she didn't know. She counted the heads and sighed in relief as the list went on. Phineas. Melsinde. Pan. One horned man, and one horned woman. Rahne. The cat, although it didn't count as a person necessarily she counted it as a mouth to feed. With Kholas, Miri, and Eirini, that made for a party of nine, excluding herself.

Then the door opened again and a nymph poked her head through. Ten. Now what in the world was Laceae doing so far from the city? She had a houseful of people to care for at any given moment. Seeing her face troubled Linnae.

Linnae sighed, obvious distress creeping into her expression. She bit her lip and tried to think of how to best get everyone comfortable. The attic? No, not enough space at all to stand. There were bed rolls though. Oh if only she'd remembered where she'd put them.

"Linnae?"

The voice was soft, with a slight lilt of the tongue. Melsinde had spied the poor dear rushing about, her hand practically strapped to her side, and the satyr and picked her way through the crowd.

"Why don't you give me something do? Your wrist looks like it could do with a wrap, too… Take a break for a moment," she suggested. She was doing her best not to be nosy as well - it wasn't every day someone got to see the inside of a nymph's home, but that would be rude. She would peek later, when there were less people.

"Ah, Melsinde." Linnae murmured her name. "I- if you don't mind."

She wasn't normally one to ask for help, Linnae was too proud for that. But she was feeling particularly overwhelmed with the growing crowd in her home and Melsinde's face was the only one she could focus on in that moment. She was being helpful. Unobtrusive.

"Upstairs. There are some bed rolls but...I don't recall where exactly. And some stools, for seating at least." Linnae hummed. She didn't know what else was there. Kholas and Linnae had prepared to have a gathering, with packs and dried food to keep them fed, but her mind went blank now that they had actually gathered. "Let me just… oh right, towels."

Linnae bolted off into the kitchen area and clambered through several drawers and baskets. Distracted once more, it was all she could do to remember what she was even supposed to be looking for even though she had only just started looking.

Mel was about to suggest she sit, but as soon as she was bustling, she knew there was no use. The best thing would be just to limit the damage she might do to herself… that wrist does not look good. She hurried through the crowd, heading towards the stairs. It was a bit of a cramped fit, all things considered, but then again, Linnae lived largely alone… She began to rummage (not snooping, just… looking for those bed rolls) before managing to find the items that had been requested in various spots around the upstairs. Her arms full, with stools dangling off her hands, she made her way back downstairs to start laying them somewhere clear. Where there wasn't space, she went back upstairs to lay the beds out onto the floor instead. It was going to be… very intimate here.

"Linnae, I believe that's all the bed rolls I could find," Mel stated, coming back to the nymph. "And the chairs are put out, so our poor travelers can have their behinds cushioned."

She quirked a smile at her own sardonic joke.

"That's good, good." Linnae nodded.

She held a bundle of blankets she'd taken from the foot of the only bed. One was meant for, wait, why had she grabbed them? Linnae stared down at the floor. When had so many people entered her cottage? Maybe she did need a break after all. The noise was beginning to make her head spin. All the chattering and general close quartered nature of the group made her nauseous.

"Ah, yes, thank you. Miss Mel." Linnae set the blankets down on the table beside her and exhaled once more. "I appreciate your help, please, sit down. Make yourself at home. Tea?"

"Excellent idea," Mel stated, swooping in before the nymph had a chance and taking charge. She went straight for the large kettle on the stove. "I usually make it myself, if I'm honest, otherwise - well, if it isn't strong enough to walk out of here, it isn't tea, now is it?"

The sudden intrusion was deliberate, though Mel carefully masked it with a handy excuse. The poor girl was going to make herself sick at this rate. She lifted the kettle, finding it already full of water, and she instead went about making a fire in the stove. Oh, it seemed as though someone had already lit one, and it just needed a bit of stoking...

"How long have you lived here, Miss Linnae? It's a beautiful place you have," Mel said, hoping to distract the nymph while she fanned the fledgling flames.

Having to think made Linnae slow down. How long had it been? She had met Kiernan's teacher and they had helped her settle outside of the bustling city. The nymph sat on one of the stool's Melsinde had procured from the attic and fingered the corner of one of the blankets in front of her while she tried to remember.

"Thirty years, almost." She finally said. "Yes, It's been that long already. Thank you, I do try to keep it a bit more…" Linnae grimaced. Perhaps it was the bodies making it appear more cluttered than it really was. She spotted Laceae across the room and gasped quietly. That's right, what was she doing here?

"Miss Laceae!" Linnae called, "Come sit with me."

The nymph turned back to Melsinde and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. She smiled, some sense of stability returned to her. Linnae's smile faltered awkwardly once she realized how panicked she had been acting. She mouthed a word of thanks before turning her eyes to the floor.

Mel only smiled secretly at Linnae. She knew how she must feel, needing to host so many in such a small space. When her father died… The smile faltered, just barely. There had been so many people, so much family she had never known. Well, family was a strong word. Nevertheless, she had never felt so flustered in her life.

"Where do you keep the tea, Miss Linnae? I'll go ahead and get things situated here."

"There's a pot, with a branch handle." Linnae gestured vaguely up onto one of the shelves. "There, or I can get some fresh leaves. Just outside…"

"Ah, perfect, I'll just get this then," Mel said, finding the pot in question and pulling it down. "Thirty years? Why, you've lived here nearly longer than I've been alive. I'm thirty-seven years old… You must have a lot of fond memories associated with the place. My apologies that we are cluttering it so. The gardens especially… They are a real work. What all is planted there?"

She took a small metal ball with holes poked in it, unscrewing the top and ladling a healthy amount of black, dried tea into it. This was a bit of a funny sight - a city-dwelling satyr chronicler, making tea for a nymph.

"So many things, where do I begin?" Linnae grinned, an honest gesture. Her eyes lit up excitedly as if she'd never been asked the question before. "At first it was such a mess, an overgrown tangle in the woods. I bought seeds from every merchant I could, from Luras to Estura to-"

She paused, remembering something she'd been holding on to for the whole day now. Linnae rummaged in the pocket of her leathers until she found what she was looking for. A small bundle of seeds. A gift. Well, she had paid for them technically. A commission from a friend.

"These are rare, from Ventha. Purple and yellow petals with the strangest fruit. I asked Kacius to find them for me, if he could that is. And he did. A whole field of them." Linnae thumbed the pouch, wondering where the man was. "They probably taste horrid."

Mel halted, looking over her shoulder at the bag in her hand. Kacius…. That fool. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of him, either.

"I'm sure that they'll bloom into something beautiful. He always gets what you ask him to, without a doubt," she assured softly. "I guess we will have to see how those fruit turn out. I wouldn't mind trying it myself."

Linnae opened the pouch and took out a single, misshapen seed. She held it in the palm of her hand, focusing some of her energy into it. There was a faint glow before a sprout tangled around her wrist. Small leaves grew before falling away, until all that was left was a small purple and yellow blossom. The petals curled up, joining the dead leaves on the floor. There in Linnae's hand was an oblong fruit, purple and spotted with faded yellow markings. She guessed it was supposed to be much larger, at least from what she remembered seeing some time ago, but given her current state it was all she was capable of doing.

"There." Linnae said proudly. "Now, sit with me won't you?"

Mel had to double take as she realized that the nymph had grown her a whole fruit from a single seed, her eyebrows flying upwards. That… was new. Nevertheless, she poured a cup of tea, strong and hot, and she did as Linnae bid.

"Here. We'll trade."

She handed her the cup, the satyr taking the fruit in its stead. With careful fingers, she pinched and prodded it with interest. Finally, she started to open it up, finding a way to peel the rind, taking a tentative bite. She abruptly broke out into a smile.

"Not bad, Miss Linnae."

She broke off a piece of it, eating another little bit.

"Not bad at all."
 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Inside Linnae's Cottage
Mentions: @everyone

Through the haze of fatigue and the forced effort to focus on healing his injured ribs, Kholas was vaguely aware of someone speaking to him. It took several moments for the words to register in his sluggish mind, but eventually he opened a single crimson eye to gaze up at Linnae. As he did so, the glow faded from his right hand and he dropped it down to lay in his lap, leaving his bandaged hand resting on the wooden skull.

"Ancients, Brambles," he murmured to the nymph, too tired to protest her dabbing at his face with a rag. "You had me worried…" Seeing her had caused a wave of relief to wash through him, which only served to deepen his feeling of fatigue, though he managed a small smile. "Yeah, well. You look about as shitty as I feel. And stop fussing," he said, his voice rasping with weariness. "It's nothing I can't take care of. Just-- just leave me be for a bit." For a moment, he fell back into silence, summoning the will to ask his next question.

"Did anyone else... make it out?" Before she could answer, however, voices from outside reached him and he gave a shaky sigh of relief. "Go take care of the others," he murmured, his eye again falling closed. "Let me sort this out and I'll be there to help soon."

With that, he lifted his hand from his lap in attempts to chivvy her away. When no protest came, Kholas took it as a good sign. At least a few of them had made it back. And then some. It occurred to him that he should tell Linnae about the newcomer, but right now he needed all of his attention to resume his healing and help clear the fog from his mind. He was going to be of no help like this.

Drifting in and out of a sort of torpor as he slowly mended his ribs, the goblin caught snippets of conversation. Though he was unable to focus on the voices, he could discern that several others had indeed returned and their words came to him as though from a great distance away, echoes in humid air. When he wasn't able to listen to the sound of voices, he glimpsed images dredged up in memories. The Academy burning, his last glance back at his home in Khal Miras, Kiernan's thin form being forced down in front of the block…

It was some minutes later that Kholas finally roused himself, the glow again fading from beneath his hand. The ache in his side was greatly diminished now and he dragged his eyes open once more, blinking repeatedly and pulling himself into a more upright position.

The cottage that had recently been so unnervingly empty was now full to the point of bursting.

For a moment, Kholas watched in silence as people maneuvered around the small space, attempting to find a place to settle as more were coming in the door. More than he could've hoped had made it out alive. Watching for a moment longer, he was surprised to feel wet tracks running down his cheeks and he grabbed his discarded shirt to wipe his face before tossing the garment to the floor. He was sure he was less than presentable for a would-be leader what with being half-naked, soot and dried blood streaked across his hands and arms, and the kohl from his eyes smeared along his face, though there were more pressing issues at hand.

Carefully getting to his feet, Kholas began taking stock of who had returned and was again surprised to find yet more newcomers. What had happened on the way here to have drawn others in? A knot of unease was forming in his chest at the thought, though the strangers appeared to be talking easily to the others.

Hoping Linnae had some kind of answer for the recent additions, the goblin picked his way over to where she and Melsinde were preparing tea. "Apart from the obvious calamity," he said as he approached, steadying himself with a hand on the back of a chair, "how did everything end up?" He looked between Linnae and Melsinde, his expression somewhat drawn and nodded to the satyr.

"Who are these people?" he asked, gesturing to the horned pair, then to the other nymph as he spoke. The young woman at the table had told him her name, though he was struggling to recall it. He wanted to say it was "Mushroom," though something told him that wasn't quite right. And hadn't there been a sprite?

Again scanning the cramped cottage, Kholas felt a twinge of dread as he noticed the absence of three of their party. Where were Malik, Pyre, and Atlak? He needed to say something to the group, he knew that, but at present he wasn't entirely sure where to begin. "I need to know who is missing, if anyone else is injured, and who these people are. Then we should inquire as to wh--" Cutting himself off as he caught sight of Linnae's blackened hand, his eyes widened slightly then narrowed to red slits. "What happened?"

Linnae's black fingers twitched painfully and she cringed. Of course Kholas would notice. She moved along to explaining the newcomers' presence as best she could while ignoring his inquiry. "Penelope and Beaumont, they had been friends of Octavius. I found them near the main gate on my retreat from the city." She gestured to the two horned individuals who appeared far too jovial for a situation so grim. "Then Laceae, a contact of my own. She operates a sort of...halfway home for rebels and youth." Linnae turned her gesture towards the other nymph by the door. "As for those two… Erini is the sprite, an old friend. The other? I couldn't say." She finally motioned to the odd pair.

"I see," was Kholas' reply as he glanced between each of the newcomers as Linnae pointed them out, briefly scrutinizing each of them. His eyes lingered on Beaumont at the mention of Octavius, though he said nothing more on the matter. He had liked Octavius well enough, as had Kiernan.

Turning back to Melsinde, the goblin fixed his eyes on her, a searching expression set on his pale face. "And the shards?" he asked quietly. Receiving a discreet nod at his question, Kholas stared for a moment as though struggling to comprehend.

They had gotten the guard stones.

True, they'd destroyed the Academy in the process and would, doubtless, be facing the repercussions soon enough, but they had actually succeeded.

Numb disbelief seized the goblin as he turned to again look out over the cottage interior, momentarily forgetting his concerns over Linnae's injury.

How had this actually worked?

Suppressing an urge to laugh aloud, Kholas took a few steps into the centre of the cramped space and cleared his throat. It took a moment for the din of multiple conversations to fade away, but as silence settled he could feel everyone's eyes on him. "Well," he began, though his voice was more hushed than he intended. His mouth felt suddenly dry. Clearing his throat once more, he began again, somewhat louder this time. "I would like to thank you all," he said, "for your...efforts tonight. We have accomplished our task. Also, I'm sure you have noticed that we are missing some and have, ah, acquired others." Here, he paused, his mind still somewhat hazy as he attempted to articulate his thoughts. "For those who are just now joining us, I'd like to speak to you more privately after we've settled somewhat and dealt with any injuries." His eyes fell again on Linnae.

"I know it's somewhat cramped, but we will work out some kind of sleeping arrangement for the time being. That said," he glanced outside as though half expecting to see guards standing at the window, "we are going to have to get an early start. What with the state of the Academy, we will not be able to safely stay in Taitelle for long. At dawn, we pack and make for Wyndfel, so do what you can to rest and prepare yourselves for the journey ahead. Those of you with injuries, see me. If you can cook or otherwise help without stepping on one another, please do so."

Turning to face Penelope and Beaumont, Kholas inclined his head in a request to speak.

 
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The goblin seemed dumbfounded by Miri's small speech, rejected her lovely mushrooms and then moved quietly to a bench. Soon, a nymph arrived and immediately began fussing over him, not giving Miri a chance to explain who she was and what she was doing here. The nymph's arrival seemed to cause a storm and soon the tiny cottage was nearly bursting. As people entered the cottage, Miri pushed the table closer to the wall, dragging the chairs with her in an attempt to make room. From the snippets of conversation, it seemed that these were also rebels, as well as some new members like her. Linnae, the nymph, asked a female satyr to find some stools and bedrolls. As the satyr came down the stairs, Miri jumped off her own seat and helped her fit the stools in the small space. She silently counted the heads in the room. Altogether, there were 10 people, 1 cat, and 1 sprite. More than she had been expecting, honestly.

Since she was sitting next to the stove, it was easy for her to eavesdrop on the conversation going on between Linnae and the Satyr, called Melsinde. She watched with wide eyes as the nymph took out a seed and grew a small fruit. Miri couldn't help but wonder if she could do the same with mushroom spores. Her mind raced with questions. Could she even grow mushrooms that required symbiotic relationships with plants that way? The possibilities! Linnae did not seem to be in the mood to answer her questions though, so she offered her plate of grilled mushrooms to the satyr instead. "I'll trade you some mushrooms for a taste of the fruit." She said cheerfully, before remembering that this had, in fact, not been her mushroom. She turned to Linnae, "I hope you don't mind. I picked a porcini outside. A really lovely thing. Eirini already scolded me for it. You have so many lovely fungi growing around here. Some of them new to me. It's been a great learning experience for me. I'm Miri by the way."

At that moment, the goblin came over and Miri heard Melisande quietly confirm that she had the shards. Shards. What shards? They couldn't mean those shards, could they? So quickly? Before she could ask though, the goblin began speaking to them. He seemed to be the leader. "I wouldn't mind sleeping outside." She said, "And I can help prepare some food. I've already got some mushrooms here if anyone is dying." She held up her plate of grilled mushrooms.
 
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