(Signups still open!) Scarborough Fair

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Lewi, Jun 12, 2015.

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  1. Allistair King of Scarborough
    It was a normal day in the kingdom of Scarborough. The sun shone high in the sky and it was a warm and beautiful late spring, early summer day. The flowers were in bloom, the birds chirped their morning song, and the kingdom was just starting to stir from their slumber and prepare for the day in the prosperous kingdom of Scarborough. The king’s guard was busy with the shift change allowing those who’d worked through the night to get some well-deserved rest from their diligent watches all night, and the kitchen was busily working to feed the staff and their king.

    Allistair was just waking up to the sound of the birds and a soft knocking on his chamber door. He opened his eyes sleepily and looked through the mess that was his raven colored hair. He left it untied at night when he slept. He sat up his thin, summertime linens falling from his toned chest as he stretched his arms out to either side to get woken up. “Yes?” He asked already knowing the answer he’d receive because it had been rehearsed every morning since his crowning.

    A maid’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Good morning your majesty, its 6 and a half chimes. Shall I tell the cooks to hurry on breakfast?” She asked. She was standing just on the other side of the door awaiting her answer.

    Allistair got up moving to his wardrobe and began to search through it for a specific outfit. “No thank you Beatrice, I believe I will take a walk this morning. I fancy some fresh air.” He said to her as he pulled out the dullest looking outfit of them all. A commoner’s clothing. He fancied a walk among his people. He’d found it proved to be an effective way to know exactly what his people were thinking about his job as king and allowed him to make appropriate decisions.

    “Shall I alert the guards then to accompany you?” She asked. It was something that the older woman had grown accustomed to. Asking all sorts of questions to make sure she didn’t forget something.

    He smiled and donned his clothing. A simple pair of black trousers, some scuffed up boots, a plain, brown belt, and a grey tunic. Atop all of that he wore a brown cloak to try to hide his face and such. He didn’t yet put the hood up. “No ma’am.”

    With that the maid left. Allistair walked to his mirror and brushed his hair before tying it back in a neat ponytail with a leather strip then he pulled the hood up. He donned his sword as well, but he kept it well out of sight under the cloak for if it were seen it would be a dead giveaway.

    He walked out of the castle and into his streets taking a deep breath in. He’d taken a back exit from the castle so as to inconspicuously blend with the crowd.

    Harold the Head Archivist

    Harold was off to a bit of a slow start this morning. He’d been up rather late the night before cataloging a few things. He was an organization freak when it came to his records and his books, and especially the king’s important documents which were kept under a lock and key. He’d entrusted Harold with said key. It rested around his neck at all times underneath his clothes.

    The older man woke when a bird flew through his window and landed on his arm. He jumped like he was shot and woke with a start from his tired slumber. He found himself at his desk with papers scattered here and there about it. That’s right….he’d been cataloging. And he still couldn’t find the documents that King Allistair had requested. He hoped his apprentice might have. He looked behind him and saw his quills and a couple ink wells and books laying in the floor. The ink wells were dripping their onyx liquid onto the floor.

    He gave a soft mutter of detest under his breath at his clumsiness. He’d fell asleep whilst using his magic to multitask. Now he had a mess to clean. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time that it happened either. He was really getting too old for his work. He was growing elderly and too feeble to lift some of the heavy tomes.

    He stood up stiff from sleeping at his desk and pulled a rag from his desk and knelt on one knee with a grunt as he began to wipe up the ink hoping that it wouldn’t soak in and stain the hard wood flooring. The last thing he wanted was to make his majesty’s floors filthy.

    @IceQueen @Grothnor @JollyBrit @Lurolm @DragonFist1988 @Everly @perseponies
    #1 Lewi, Jun 12, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 15, 2015
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  2. Joliett Flagivny had always been an early riser, even when she lived in a quiet home out in the rolling hills of Dragon's Keep. Now that she was living in the city, she still rose with the dawn. One of the perks of being blind was that she could always assume it was a gorgeous morning, imagining that the skies were cloudless and streaked with brilliant shades of pink and orange, perhaps a bit of dark blue tinging the edges that had not fully woken up yet. Her window was always kept wide open, allowing the rays of the sun to warm her face each morning as long as it was peeking out and not hidden behind rainclouds. It rarely seemed to rain in the city. Nothing compared to Dragon's Keep. She occasionally missed those massive storms, but she knew the fair weather was preferable for most.

    Today, the sun was gracing the sky yet again. Her cheeks were warm as she rose and she smiled to herself, sliding out of bed to wash and dress. There was a very precise method to how she organized her closet, which enabled her to dress without looking like a fool. Everything had a place, and there were different patterns sewn into the sashes that told her what color things were. It had taken her about a year to be fully comfortable with getting dressed without seeing, but now she was actually used to it. There were benefits to being blind that one generally did not consider until they had no choice about the matter.

    Once dressed, Joliett headed downstairs in a simple dark blue dress that was edged in silver. She had her hair up in her usual style, which was wrapped in a braid and pinned in place. It was the easiest thing that she knew how to do, and the pins had been a gift from her employer. He claimed that made her look like a noble lady, but she assumed he was simply being overly kind. She smiled at the thought, her fingers trailing along the railing as she went down the wooden stairs of the Silver Wolf Inn that she called home.

    "You're early, Lady Flagivny, as always," the innkeep greeted her, making her laugh. He always called her Lady and commented on how she rose much too early for a woman who did nothing but work with jewels all day long.

    "I am a creature of habit, Lord Karris. Any apples today?" she asked, mentally counting her steps as she walked over to the counter where she knew he would be standing. He placed a large red apple in her hand without a word, turning away a moment later to deal with a pair of grouchy men who were slumbering on the bar instead of going home to their wives after a long night out.

    Joliett smiled and bit into the apple contentedly, making a careful path to the door. Once she stepped out, it was a sharp right onto the sidewalk and twelve paces down the hill. Sharp left, seven paces across the street, then another right. Three paces and she was standing in front of the jeweler's door. Her pace was even, a bit slower than most because she wanted to ensure that she did not bump in to anybody. All of the shop keepers and regular customers on the street knew who she was and automatically stepped aside, but she still took care, because she did not ever want to accidentally hurt someone. Today, she made it to the shop without incident. She finished off her apple as she stepped inside, hearing the familiar tinkling of bells as the door swung closed behind her.

    "Good morning, Lord Nikolai," she greeted, bowing her head politely as she heard her employer rummaging around in the back room. He was already grumbling about the abundance of work he had to do and how far behind they were. To those who did not know him, he was a stern man who seemed quite hostile. However, he did care, and he thoroughly enjoyed being overloaded and having too much to do. In fact, he got rather crabby when there was a lull and his customers went to 'those awful people who claim to be professionals' that worked three streets down.
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  3. [​IMG]

    Cerulean eyes watched the man in front of her, he began pacing back and forth making Aelyna anxious. "But we just can't seem to get him alone... And that's what we need. That's what you're for." He grumbled, the five o'clock shadow the guild master had sprout speckeled with brown and grey. With a soft sigh, Aelyna leaned forward in her chair and batted her eyelashes, unintentionally. "I say you should let me do my work, sir. If I've agreed to the job I will obviously get it done. You're too impatient." She purred, making eyes contact briefly making Leon pause mid-step. Aelyna had a sweet, menacing voice that proved to be quite easy to mistaken this woman for anything but lethal. The guild master wasn't a man easily swayed and he had certainly gotten use to Aelyna's inherent seduction act.

    "Just get the job done, mouse. We're running out of time on this contract." An odd code name for the dancer, but her boss was the only on who knew about her past. Well him, and her dead husband. The guild master has the ability to read minds and see pasts. To enter this particular mercenary guild, he had to give each agent a wipe to make sure they weren't double agents. But Leon and Aelyna had a special relationship, she wasn't officially employed as a missionary and was paid under the table. Her main trade was dancing. There was far more freedom to dancing and less blood stains.

    Aelyna stood up in one swift move, "I'll do what I can under the circumstances. But I will not put myself, my job or anyone else at risk. If the opportunity does not arise... you'll have to find someone else." Aelyna shrugged

    The air shifted as Aelyna turned into a zebra finch, the small bird with-held Aelyna's odd eyes, like with all forms she took. Her eyes appeared to be blue, but they were more like a multi-colored opal, depending on the lighting they could be green, purple or grey. But usually, people saw blue. With short flaps of her wings, Aelyna took to the open window just as someone knocked on the guild master's door. Aelyna flew for a few minute back to town where she ground in the backyard of her small cottage. She changed back into human and stepped into her home to grab her cape. Pulling up the hood, her long white hair spilled out in front of her though her hood cloaked her face in shadows. Aelyna was a bit of a celebrity around town, most women hated her because their husbands fawned after her. Some men hated her because they disliked her career, considered her nothing short of a prostitute.

    Entering the medicine and herb shop, Aelyna put down her hood and gave the old man one of her bright, dazzling smiles. "Hail.....Elena? Elena! How wonderful to see you!" He squinted from behind his desk before smiling happily. "Morning, Mr. Kameek. How's your son?" Aelyna didn't bother correcting the old man on his pronunciation of her name, he was too sweet. Aelyna wasn't normally so forthcoming with friendliness. Life had turned her jaded and brisk against strangers and she trusted no one. Not even Mr. Kameek, but she liked him. And he was one of the few that didn't treat her like dirt. "I just got a letter yesterday. Still fighting for the wrong King." He replied with a sad expression, making Aelyna tilt her head in sad understanding. His son was a knight for King Kareth and Mr. Kameek never stopped worrying about him.
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  4. Arkan'xon The Archmage

    Breath in. Breathe out. Breath in. Breat-
    chirps. Chirps out of nowhere! Dammed birds! They're supposed to be sleeping! It's the middle of the night! Or was it? Arkan'xon looked out of a small hole that served as a window to the wilds just outside his meditation site. Wow. He meditated straight through the night. He's not even irritated. That's amazing. He couldn't meditate like that for centuries! Wait a second. If he meditated through the night. Then that means


    Looking around comfirmed the Archmage of his worst fears. Samuel had up and left from their necromancy session! He sighed. As good as the child was, it was not good for him to skip out on sessions. Meditation was extremely important to build focus and willpower. The boy still didn't realise it thanks to his high levels of power that was already there. It must be a lesson for another day.

    Arkan'xon rubbed his eyes. No sleep in it. Oh ya because he didn't sleep, he meditated. Though it's not like he needed sleep in the first place, him being who he was and all.

    No no. He didn't have time to get lost in an argument with himself. He needed to find his apprentice. As soon as possible. He meditated through the night so he most likely went to bed, but necromancy muddles the mind. The boy could very likely have stayed awake or kept getting shot awake by nightmares. Why else would the common image of a practitioner of the dark be a paranoid, twitchy mess? Did he teach the boy some quick form of transportation?

    Let's see. ...

    Oh yes! He taught Samuel how to Shadow walk. So that means he could be back in the city. Which means the Archmage himself would have to lug his form all the way to the city, but what should he choose? There isn't much time so maybe just actual transportation magic? No not flashy enough. He's the crazy witchdoctor. He has to make an entrance.

    Which reminds him

    He took out his bones, giving the standard chant before he threw them. He inspected it thoroughly. His bones were the first tarot cards. The first way to determine the future before those youngsters started with the crystal balls. Stupid things are usually scams even. He didn't dare use anything else. None of them seemed as interesting or needed more effort than bones. Just how he liked it. He peered at the formations, trying to determine what it says.

    No. They can't do that.

    They can't.

    His bones said nothing. They all just form around the Unknown bone. Stating very loudly he was not allowed to see the future for today. Meaning somewhere in his day he will come into contact with something Fate demands to take place. That could be anything from a boy slipping and hurting himself to a dragon waking up and realising Scarborough built itself on top of the beast.

    He couldn't dwell on it as he had to think of Samual. More importantly whether or not he raised a graveyard to settle an integrity dispute or something as silly as that. A strange one, that child. It wasn't the first time he wondered why the bones told him to take him in. Won't be the last that's for sure.

    He decided to be incognito. He'd walk through town disguised as a commoner thanks to illusion magic. The fun part of illusion is the ability to allow certain people to see him. He let anyone he knows see him for what he was because he might be needed somewhere. He'd use a simple teleport as well. Nothing elaborate or flashy. As much as he enjoyed making the public think he's some voodoo priest with a horrible accent, he now has to do anything clandestine with so much more care he might just regret going so dramatically oh so many years ago, but every time he thinks like that, he remembers the faces of all those scared to the point of comedy, so it never gets old in his opinion.

    Oh he was getting lost in thought again. Just do the spell! He started to mutter under his breath. Spreading his arms wide as he did an Old Way teleportation. The Old Way was a very strange sort of magic with very strange rituals. This teleport spell, for instance, makes you dance arounf like a monkey before you can, well, teleport. Works just as well as those fancy shmancy 'instantaneous ' teleportation. Bah.

    With the final gesture of clapping his hands and stomping his feet finished, reality warped, shifted and changed. All teleportation spells make first timers vomit like they've been given a purgative, maybe he should make a bet to let a new guy he teleport ed. It should be funny.

    No no! Stop that! He can't think of anything else right now. Now where did he poof to? Oh how quante! He arrived just in his little temple! And look! They have one of his followers stationed here all nice and ready to lick Arkan'xon's boots! They were such thoughtful imbeciles. The one in question went down on her knees, avoiding eye contact and pushing what looks like a skin of wine to him.

    "My Lord Arkan'xon. Your humble servant has gone and bought the finest wine from the in just for you, My lord"

    She's been practicing. A lot. How did she even know he was going to materialise here? Or was it just a lucky draw? Hope and pray their little diety comes to their temple? Sheep. Sheep the lot of them.

    "What I be telling you 'bout bringing me gifts. Mah belly would burst with all da stuff you be giving me!" He raised his hands in exasperation. The girl wasn't to be refused though, she sank even lower

    "Please my Lord. I have toiled all month just to get this for you."

    Guilt. She knows her little diety, he'll give her that. He grumbled how he appreciated the gift and took a sip. Wow this was great! Really! The Archmage gave her a pat on the head as he went out of his temple of sorts. He could here a scream from the girl after he left, that excited kind that lets everyone in a four block radius know she got attention from someone she worshipped, literally in this case . Teenagers.

    His illusion was up, hiding the wineskin as well as his form. Now to find that little death mage. Where could he be? Well no sense in dwelling on it, he's bound to find him by just walking around or going where people are running away.

    Samual the Apprentice.

    "Clang! Scrape! Thud and smash
    Fight! Fight! Fight till you are dust!
    Rise! Rise! For the man in the sash!
    Till all you are is dust or one bony crust!

    Hiss. Crash. Cracking o
    n mass
    reform my puppets! I decree!
    your souls won't be lost that fast!
    Rest will only come by serving me!

    Cackle, crack by a mighty smack.
    break the bones till only one stands.

    Your master must be safe under attack.
    kept safe by your cold, dead hands.

    There can be only one champion. "

    Samual opened his eyes. He had lost focus of the world around him thanks to his little chant. Looking around to figure out where he was again, he also remembered how he came here.

    His master told him to meditate last night. As always the old bastard meditated with him he was perfectly fine with meditation, he likes to dive in his head and experience this buzz. After a while, though, he realised his mentor was a bit too deep in a meditation. It was fine, Samual thought Arkan'xon knew what he was doing, he was the master after all. Well one hour became two, then three, then four. Finally Samual couldn't handle it anymore. He stood up and planned to voice his thoughts about sitting on one's ass the entire night, then he realised the old man was too far gone to even realise if his apprentice screamed in terror while a siren exploded his ears. So fucking responsible. He should really begin a fucking orphanage.

    Problem was, he was put in the middle of nothing and fucking nowhere for the meditation. Samual was pretty sure this little piece of wild was a pocket dimension or something. Try as he could over the years, he couldn't find an end to the forests surrounding the meditation shack. Though last week Master taught him something called Shadow Walk. A strange thought stating that every shadow is the same thing, darkness hiding from the light. All darkness was the same. People practicing the dark arts are part darkness themselves, so it is possible to replace themselves with darkness of another part of reality, thus transporting the dark mage to where the darkness was. It was an extremely complicated magic to understand, but after you do its pretty fucking easy.

    Visualisation was incredibly important, because a dark mage can burn themselves to a crisp in the light if they did not choose a place that has a shadow at the very least. Thus you should never, ever shadow walk to a place you are not a hundred percent sure there are darkness, otherwise you can very well die. The only place Samual knows for a fact has darkness was in the old cemetery. He was more than happy to visualise the darkness inside him and the darkness in the haunted place. The poured his magic in the thought of switching the two places out.

    Then it happened

    Darkness came at him as every shadow turned to him, eager to devour him. They covered him in pitch black darkness, he smiled to himself as he felt the cold. The cold was excruciating. It was all consuming, it demanded to suck the life out of the necromancer. It won't gain it. Not yet at least. He still didn't know how to turn himself into a lich. His master is making very fucking sure not to tell the boy how. Lichen are incredibly more powerful. Samual wanted power.

    He found himself stumbling about the Old Cemetery. He loved this place, it had the most colourful souls from a time long forgotten. It was where he started his investigation in trying to discover who washis master. More importantly what he was. No being should have Mastery of so many schools of magic. Such an ancient being cannot exist. Yet Arkan'xon was living proof. Samual had witnessed how he easily did master level spells in illusion, pyromancy, cryomancy and, not to be put in a stereotype, voodoo. Seriously Samual wondered why he acted like a fucking shaman. He was a borderline god.

    He was too tired from the exertion caused by the Shadow Walk. It sits as a cruel reminder how much of a novice he was, even after nine years of training. He simply collapsed to the ground, sleep taking him eagerly.

    The nightmares. Oh the nightmares. Horrible, twisted things that would drive a man mad if he wasn't used to it. Master said humans were not meant to wield magic in the beginning. Their resourcefulness caused many gods to become curious how they would handle it, and thus became gods of magic to see how humans handled it. Every school has a price. Fire has weakness against cold and pyromania, cryomancy vica versa. Illusion school makes the user struggle to discern reality. The list goes on and on. Dark magics induces nightmares and photophobia, necromancy in particular causes an unnatural fascination with death, and the weak minded become serial killers. He was thankfully not weak minded.

    He was saved from his nightmares thanks to his ghost. He would have called him Casper, but that would be breaking the fourth wall, so he called him Mordecai. Mordecai represented the entirety of Samual's supernatural spy network. Mordecai was the one who spoke to ghouls, zombies, skeletons and ghosts. Samual didn't care what Mordecai did in in the network, he only cared for the results that came off it. Though Mordecai brought grim news

    "My Lord! I am glad I have woken you. Something is coming."

    "Something is coming? Explain you apparition!"

    "The dead are moving. Your enemies are gathering force, the haunts are erratic. Something big is coming. Many seek your downfall in this flux"

    "Yes and many also seek pigs to fly. I'm not going to fall. You of all people should realise that."

    Mordecai smiled "all the same, I'd suggest a bodyguard." He gestured to the graveyard "I believe you are capable of making skeletons that do not die, yes?"

    Samual nodded grimly

    Shaking the memory free, he gazed at the desecrated gravesend, the skeletons within in broken to a bone meal. Apparently they started fighting while he was chanting. Now there was only one left that wasn't a mass of chunks. It had lost both it's arms and one leg, and apparently headbutted the final opponent into dust, but it had won. Now to name it, arm it, and to clean up this mess

    It all took hours. Samual had to manually fuse bone fragment after painstaking bone fragment to bring the champion back to full functionality. After that was done he had to rebury every grave with the right corpse. That was even worse. After that he had the skeleton to sort. He decided to call it Sentinel it took the name easily. As for arming, many graves were made with a little extra. A gauntlet here, a sword there. That took the least time and the skeleton was armoured in rusted plate, wielded a mace with the irony very apparent, for it was the best weapon to use against a skeleton, and even had a helmet. He ordered Sentinel to follow him and took a walk around the city.

    People knew what he was, and he was greeted with hate, fear or envy. No one wants to have their business meddled with by a dark mage.any believing fucking stupid shit. He once met a man who blamed his wife divorcing him on the necromancer. The divorce happened 2 years prior. After he finished laughing at the man, he kept going. So they also think he was cold. He found it very ironic now because he was at the age of wanting a partner in his life, and nobody wants to do anything with a necromancer.

    He wanted to try his hand with jewels. So that's where he went. He went into the store and demanded "I want an amulet that can store a soul or two, any of you even capable of making it?"
  5. Kaler woke up and looked around. The woods he starting in for the moment, was not the same as where he grow up in. The creatures that live in it was normal and had no magic in them. He claimed up the tallest tree and look south just to see if he would ever see the old deer's magic again. He missed his home and all the creatures in it. The good ones and the bad ones. He then look over to where the town was and wondered if he should go to the town with out sneaking around this time.

    He remember what his family nodded before he left. He looked down to his tattered pants that does not leave much to the imagination. He shook his head and got on all four. He then ran to the town looking like a bush. When he got to the town, he kept walking on all four. He looked around seeing the people staring at him.

    Kaler wondered why the where looking at him so he walked to someone and looked up that them. "Y... U.. Starring aa.. at Kaler?" He asked not knowing how to talk. He was trying to teach himself as his family did not talk. He did not what to do now that he got to cared and nervous that he did not wait for them to answer. He ran way for the staring eyes.
  6. Arkan'xon The Archmage

    Oh the for the love of. ... what in the name of the circles of magic is going on? There was a practically nothing that hid his dignity. He fucking scurried like an animal! What the fuck? The mage had to admit though, his look of shock and surprise was priceless. That's what worried Arkan'xon, though. He really didn't imagine what was wrong looking like a bush and walking on all fours. He's going to get himself killed. Quickly. He needs to educate him until he can survive in the city

    Aaaaaaaand he's gone.

    He took off after the wildling. Speeding himself up with some magic. Wait he could teleport! Seriously! With that, he warped in front of this little wildling. He grabbed him by the shoulders and teleport ed just as fast into his meditation room, he even gave him a bit of healing to prevent him from spilling his guts out. Literally.

    Now it goes to the hard part. Communication.

    There are countless ways to make contact with beasts incapable of speech. He figured the easiest and gentlest way is to mentally communicate. No fuss, no problems.

    "Greetings. I mean you no harm. I just want to..... enlighten you on the normal methods of humans"

    He smiled warmly, sitting down a good distance away from wilding. He smelled magic, but could not sense magic from the boy. Interesting. He hoped He'd be civil. He wasn't placing any stress on him he hoped. Only his reaction will tell
  7. Kareth crested the peak of the mountain pass and looked down upon the valley below. The Kingdom of Scarborough lay before him, along with all its opportunity. Most of his men couldn’t see further than the promise of loot, the joys of the sack, or just the opportunity to avoid death by starvation or hanging, since the only fate left to them in Jevina was banditry. However, Kareth was getting old, and knew that he couldn't stay a sellsword forever. To him, Scarborough held an end, at the very least; dying in bed was an ending far more graceful than dying messily at the end of someone else's sword, and if he couldn't have that, at least he'd rather die for his own cause than for the gold of another. It also held a piece of immortality, the chance to start his own legacy as the peasant-turned-king. It obviously held the glory of battle, which always excited the professional soldier, and finally it held her.

    They had met and hatched this plan about a year ago on a day much like the present. She was more than human, he had figured that much from smelling her. Try as she might to hide her scent, Kareth was too familiar with the stench for her to hide it. Though rather than be repulsed by it, he found it invigorating, intoxicating. “You hide your aroma with those of softness and luxury, but I am a soldier, one to whom those scents mean nothing. You smell of a battlefield, strewn fresh with the red ichor of men. War has been my companion for so long, I have grown to find it's scent... comforting.” He did not know to what end she sent him against the Kingdom of Scarborough, nor did he care. The prize was too great and the alternative was death, one way or another.

    Kareth had gathered the mercenary companies together under one banner to keep them from collective starvation and give them something worth fighting for. He motioned to one of his new captains, an ork named Borgmorl Jaw-Taker, the leader of a ragtag group of mercenaries that seemed more like bandits than true sellswords, something Kareth was banking upon. “Borgmorl, take your forces into the valley. Scout out the terrain and get a feel for the land. You may loot and pillage as you wish, but do not engage the enemy forces in any pitched battle. It will take time to get the rest of the army through the mountains, so you must distract and occupy the enemy until we are ready to mobilize.

    Borgmorl grinned and bellowed to his lieutenants, “Gatha da boyz! We'z gettin' stuck in furst!” Kareth watched as his small horde of savages descended upon the valley. One of their warhorns sounded the call to arms and a mighty cry rose from his host. The command was given. There was no returning from this decision. Their fates now lay before them. Some of his original company started chanting “Hail, King Kareth! All Hail the King of Snakes!” A chill ran up and down Kareth's spine, a thrill of excitement as the rest of the men joined in.

    So it begins.

    #7 Grothnor, Jun 14, 2015
    Last edited: Jun 14, 2015
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  8. ~Adara~
    Adara could see it now, as she traveled over the peak of the mountain, her cloak drawn over her ashen locks. Anyone close could see the embers flashing in her eyes as her gaze dawned on the horizon of a new world, her world. Adara was quite happy with the looks of the place, and she knew getting her way would be easy. Men were in power, and for a woman of her caliber, men were easy to manipulate. A simple flick of her wrist and a rose that could make anyone feel a certain way could appear, which made things easier for her.

    Adara looked to her right, her golden eyes flashing in the light as she looked at her partner, who had meet a long time ago, back when she had formulated this plan. She gave a smile to the man who cooed at her, inwardly rolling her eyes at his statement. He was old, and craved a dying bed greater than the one bestowed upon him, it would be easy to fake his death. It didn't matter weather she loved him or not, no one could love a monster such as herself. Such a love could only be won though power.

    The sccubi waited patiently until he had finished his speech to lay a gentle finger on his cheek, turning his face towards her. "Well then, dear future king, you must not disappoint me." She whispered, her eyes flashing as she let go of his cheek and continued towards the city to find a way to the king.
  9. Makoto Wakes slowly, noticing the bright sunlight coming through the window, and he squints, rolling over and Trying to head back to sleep. After a while, determining it as a Futile attempt, he groans and sits up. "shikata ga nai, I guess..." Studying the surroundings, he nodices a small mess he left before going to sleep the night prior. getting up sleepily, he streches and moves to start searching for the documents he had been told to procure, cleaning and organizing all the while.

    After sorting through about 2/3 of the mess, he locates the documents, and smiles, pulling them free and storing the last of the books and papers in an organized fashion, before proceeding to dress and find his mentor, grabing his glasses and donning them on his way. He has no idea whether or not his mentor realizes he doesn't need the glasses, but regardless, he would prefer it if he thought they were required. Makoto did always have a peculiar fashion sense.

    Upon arrival, Makoto knocks, at the door, keeping his respect high and his expression, though it would be one of neutrality would also betray some of his exhaustion. "Sir, I believe I found the Documents you have requested." He checks and makes sure everythings there before preparing to hand them over, Smiling weakly prior to a yawn. Makoto did have a habit of working too hard before bed, and it would often be seen all over his face the next morning as his hair looks as if he had been struck by lightning.


  10. [​IMG]
    Circa did not like this. Not at all. Something felt wrong, terribly wrong. But she couldn't figure out exactly what. Something was off. The Nephilim paced around the room, her wings puffing up as a result of her stress. But what, though? What was wrong?​

    "Lady?" A shy, female voice said suddenly, interrupting Circa's train of thought. "Is everything alright?"

    The Hybrid nodded. "Yes, just... It's nothing, I just had a nightmare." There was no need in making the other worry, it might be nothing. But she had to make sure. She had to talk to... Him. To that Mage. "Do you perhaps know if Sir Arkan'xon in nearby?" She asked a bit reluctantly. It's not that she disliked the mage, he was just weird. Like, really weird. She never felt easy while around him. Perhaps, it was that mixed aura of his. She knew she was being ridiculous, but the Angel side of her just tensed whenever he was nearby.

    "No, I'm sorry. Though I think the last time someone saw him was last night in his usual meditation spot."

    "Thank you!" Circa ran to the window and prepared to take off, but before she actually let go of the building she turned once again to the maid. "What about the King?"

    "Oh, His Majesty left for a walk through the city. Alone."

    "Once again, thank you!" And with a nod she took off, flying away towards the Arch Mage's windows, hoping to find him there. Nothing. She peeked through the small hole of the meditation site. Nope. Frustrated, Circa flew towards the city, searching the King from above. No luck either. The King was smart, she wouldn't be able to find him unless he allowed it. Circa ignored the peeking eyes of curious people, wondering why the Royal Messenger was hovering around like an idiot.

    The Hybrid decided to change tactics. She went higher and further, towards the limits of the Kingdom. And that's when she saw the cause of her distress. Soldiers, no, mercenaries. Lots of them coming from the mountains. And none of them had friendly faces. Oh god. As fast as she could, Circa flew towards the city once again, opening her mind and letting it wander through the Kingdom.She usually wouldn't resort to these methods, since they almost always resulted in painful migraines, especially when used in such big scale, but it was needed. Almost instantly, a mind made itself very notable. A powerful one. Scary. Unredable. But familiar. Arkan'xon. And apparently he was back at the castle. Good good. With a headache already starting, she flew towards the heavy presence, going through one of the opened windows of the building, landing heavily on the floor. The nearby servants and maids jumped at the sudden body hitting the floor, but she paid them no mind as her legs worked to run as fast as possible to the Mage's chambers, more specifically the meditation room.

    "Sir, Archmage!" Said the half-angel, not really caring on knocking before entering. Hervoice trembled lightly and, though she tried not to show it, her eyes widened in fear. "The Kin-" Her voice failed as she finally caught sight of the...man? alongside the mage. What? "Uhh... Yeah... The King, sir. We must warn him! There's a - a-" The Nephilim made a huge gesture with her arms, extending her wings as well as she tried to show the size of the army that approached them at that instant.

    #10 GreatWest, Jun 16, 2015
    Last edited: Jun 16, 2015
    • Love Love x 1
  11. Allistair King of Scarborough

    Allistair smiled as he started his incognito mission. He walked down and out of the high class end of town away from the nobles and the dukes lived, and more on the normal side of town where the common folk lived. The people who worked with their hands, ran little shops in town, or something of the like. He always was fascinated with the artisans of the kingdom. They had such talent to be able to produce such fine goods, and he was proud of his kingdom's talents.

    He kept his hood up to obscure his face, and he wondered where he might make a stop today. He fancied he might visit the jeweler. It was to be his messenger's birthday soon. He'd have to get her a gift. He thought of perhaps getting her some sort of an enchanted medallion that would prevent her from tiring when having to fly long distances for him or when having to deliver an urgent message. While it was also useful to him, he was thinking about something of that nature more out of concern for overworking the poor girl. He often worried about how hard he worked his staff and tried to be mindful in giving them time for their personal lives.

    Somehow, he didn't notice the girl in the sky looking for him. He'd managed to cross by her somehow as he headed for his destination and was unaware of her mission or the mercenaries coming in. Even though the mercenaries were only a distraction to what the real problem would be and that it would come in the form of a woman. Her best bet would be to look for his generals and alert them next.

    He walked for another fifteen minutes before entering the jewelers shop. Inside he located his court mage's apprentice along with the owner and worker of the establishment. He'd overheard how rude Samual was being to them, and under no circumstances did he, nor his master for that matter, tolerate rudeness and ill manners. It didn't settle well with the king.

    "Ahem." He cleared his throat from behind him. He didn't give away his ruse just yet, but he knew that if Samual paid attention, he'd recognize him for who he was. "Someone is in a rather crabby mood this morning eh?" He asked approaching the counter as well.

    @Everly @Lurolm (I also tagged you guys because it mentioned your characters) @Grothnor @IceQueen @GreatWest

    Harold the Head Archivist

    Harold hadn't been expecting his young apprentice and jerked when he suddenly heard him speak from behind him smacking his head off of the bottom of his desk where he'd bent trying to clean the ink. He hadn't heard him knock on his door. He'd been too immersed in what he was doing. And being half asleep himself didn't help matters much either.

    He groaned and he came out from under the desk rubbing hi head as he looked upon Makoto. He smiled seeing his dear apprentice. He loved the boy so. He'd done his best to teach him and take care of him when he was young and had first come to the castle. He moved over to the boy stiffly. His back still hadn't managed to ease up from sleeping at a desk hunched over. Of course, age had a lot to do with it too. "Thank you Makoto. And good morning. I hope you rested well?" It was quite obvious where the old man had rested.

    He placed the documents in the satchel he had resting on his desk and had prepared to take to King Allistair later on. Knowing him though he was probably off on another of his early morning walks. He hadn't been in the past few days, and likely was getting cabin fever. Circa's birthday was also approaching, and if he knew his king as well as he thought he did, he'd be looking for her a gift.

    He pushed his glasses up onto his nose and he spoke again. "We've got a long day ahead of us. King Allistair is wanting maps of the wall surrounding the city. He plans to do repairs that have long since been needed. We sorted those so long ago I can't remember where they were put."

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  12. Arkan'xon The Archmage

    What was that? Did someone actually try and read his mind? The someone in question didn't even have any hope of succeeding! What we're these upstart mages coming to? Opportunistic scavengers? Only two possibilities exist on the identity of the would be mind reader. The first is some mage poking around to see who he or she should talk to for lessons or books or whatever normal magi in this part of the realm need.

    The second possibility literally came flying in. Well that's something you didn't see every day. Not even as the Archmage can one see things like this coming. Seriously what was happening to to kingdom? First a quarter clothed boy, now the half angel decided to pay him a visit! She didn't even like him! No matter, it looked like she had something to say if she went through all the trouble to find him.

    This was troubling. He had absolutely no clue to what she was talking about. Something to do with the Kin? Being very very big? No that can't be right! She's not even supposed to know what the Kin are, let alone their size! Damn those bones into meal, they knew this was coming, whatever this was. He'd still have to sort whatever the "demisexual " as the kids call it these days, he never quite got sexualities. Then again he wasnt a god of hedonism, now was he?

    It still begged the question why she was here. He really enjoys freaking her out so he didn't think she'd be professing her love for him, him looking like a vampire and all. She wasn't going to ask ad-

    Where was he going with that thought? Seriously has Samual's loneliness rubbed off on the old man? Maybe it was Samual's loneliness indeed, but Arkan'xon trying to find a match for boy. Yes, yes very possible. Back to the matter at hand!

    "What be wrong, Angel?" He asked, using his nickname for her "Take a deep breath and tell Arkan'xon just what is going on. Okay?

    Samual The Apprentice

    It's the king! It's the king! Make way, make way! Who wants to lick his boots first? Anyone? No? Excellent! The man should be happy Samual wasn't blowing his cover, not his "crabby" attitude? What did that even mean?

    Samual disliked the king and the king disliked Samual. It was how things worked. They could spend days arguing with eachother if it wasn't for the old man, Arkan'xon, that broke it up, by always taking Samual's side, he remembered. In fact, the only reason why Samual wasn't running out screaming to the rooftops was the fact that he understood the king needed some downtime. He was a king, and a king was holding up a nice big and heavy sign saying "Hey Gold Diggers! I'm right here! That goes for the assassins too!"

    Samual could tell he was a good man, just an absolute idiot when it came to Samual's specific craft. Not that the dense, ignorant kingly of kings would notice a skeleton just casually standing next to him. Honestly he would break down in tears of sorrow if his Master wasn't there. The guy would get his soul sucked out of him and he wouldn't even notice. That's the best case!

    Let's see.... He said "crabby." How do crabs even act? Samual had never even seen a crab! Though lets think rationally here. If the king thought he was crabby right now, then it would apply for something around mean of impulsive mean. He could deal with that. He gets it all the time because the old man apparently can't comprehend that it was Samual's charming personality at its finest.

    "Oh I'm sorry. My entire life will now take a downward spiral because I was 'crabby'. I will never forgive myself as long as I live and I will spend the rest of my life as a priest of happiness to teach all the necromancers in the world that they can be nice. How about that, old man?"
    #12 Lurcolm, Jun 17, 2015
    Last edited: Jun 17, 2015
  13. Allistair King of Scarborough
    Allistair was fuming with the amount of disrespect that the lad was showing. He had absolutely no right to speak to his citizens in such a manner, and he certainly had none speaking to him in that way either. He'd taken the kid in, given him a home in the castle, allowed him the freedom to study with his court mage, and he had the audacity to talk down to him? Especially after him trying on multiple occasions just to be nice to him? If it weren't for Arkan'xon, he would've sent this boy away from the castle ages ago! He still had half a mind to!

    One thing about Allistair was that he feared no man. Mortal, mage, necromancer, or otherwise. And he wasn't about to back down to some kid. He didn't care about the skeleton standing with him, nor the fact that he could potentially kill him on spot. Though if he tried, he'd have his work cut out for him doing so. He'd also trained under Arkan'xon, and he knew far more tactics to deal with a necromancer than Samual knew. He underestimated his king. And Allistair asked for no one to bow to him or to lick his boots. If given the chance, he treated them as equals, but some people just weren't happy with that.

    He fearlessly stepped over to the duo. He stood about a head taller than the adolescent boy, and he looked down upon him. He wasn't trying to make himself look intimidating, but to say the intimidation factor was nonexistent in the presence of Allistair when he was riled would make said person a liar in its purest sense. Allistair just gave off a natural aura of authority, and when he was angered, he tended to have a relatively short fuse.

    "Necromancer does not translate into making a complete imbecile of yourself when in the presence of company no less a lady." He spoke to him addressing the jeweler behind the counter as well. "I suggest you cope a more polite tone. Hasn't your master ever taught you that if you have nothing nice to say not to say anything at all?"

    With his piece said and the warning passed through such to drop the matter and be more polite, Allistair moved on from the subject to start looking at the pieces of jewelry through the case. Samual was still here first and would get his turn. He hadn't even picked a pendant he liked yet.

    @Lurolm @Everly
  14. Makoto nods a little, stifling a yawn. "I did, Sir, well, As well as one can when they fall asleep Sorting. I believe I know where they may be stored, as I try to store items of likeness together." He tries to fix is disheveled hair, and looks out the window. "Everythings been going well so far, haven't they?" Feeling the Warmth, He closes his eyes and Smiles, before letting slip a question in his other language, Losing himself in thought for a moment. "Atsui Tenki desu ne?" (Translation: 'Hot Weather, Isn't It?') Listening to the chirping of the birds, Makoto adjusts his glasses. "Repairs are indeed long needed. If they need additional help, I'd enjoy putting some work in. I may be a bookworm, but that doesn't mean I can't do what I can for the others."

    He thinks to himself, Reminding himself that the repairs may indeed be required, but his place is here learning the trade from Harold. While the young man has the aptitude and will to surpass his mentor, he doesn't want to go too fast or push too hard as he learns, as forced learning isn't fun, nor as readily retained. He looks to the doors and the ink stains, Chuckling, before helping cleam them. "Had a busy night too, eh?" He chucles a little, wondering how he must have looked at first with his bedhead.


    (sorry if post is short.)
  15. Harold the Head Archivist

    Harold had studied many tongues in his years in the archives and was fluent in an abundance of languages. He often would have to translate for foreigners if they came by the kingdom for some reason and came before the king. Yet another trick of the trade that Makoto would have to learn. At least some of the more common languages if nothing else. He understood the young boy's language, but sometimes he had to think a moment before he could respond as he was rather rusty in it because of lack of use.

    He cleared his throat and answered in Makoto's native tongue, "Sore wa atsuiga, sore nimokakawarazu utsukushīdesu." He spoke to him with a smile. He often liked to do little things like that to let him know he cared. And he'd also done it to alert him he was mixing languages again. IT wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but if it were anyone besides Harold, they'd be mighty confused.

    He couldn't help but admire the boy's wish to aid in any way. He spoke. "I admire your willingness to help. But I would rather be inside today than out there. The archives are cool and relaxing. Though I do fancy perhaps going to the gardens this evening when the weather begins to cool." He looked outside as he talked imagining the pale orange sky as the sun set on another beautiful day in their kingdom.

    When he mentioned a busy night he nodded. "Yes. Quite busy. I was trying to catalogue again and you know how much of a job that is. I fell asleep while I was at it and I got ink and quills everywhere." He explained as they finished cleaning them.

  16. Makoto freezes for a moment at the Reply in his language, having not expected it again. "I......Mixed languages again, Didn't I?" He sighs a little, Lightly bopping his head once per word during the next phrase. "baka baka baka" (Translation: (take your pick of these 2 translations:) Stupid stupid stupid, (OR) Foolish foolish foolish) he chuckles, that time it having been intentional. "I don't mind. Hot weather should be enjoyed while it is here after all." He smiles as the breeze blows his hair into his face again, causing a groan and an uninteligible language garble of both languages in such a way it'd make less sense then 'The comets are tiresome'.

    Eventually untangling his hair from his glasses, he looks to Harold, the man that is as close to a father as Makoto has, and smiles. "I might join you in that stroll, however. I Occasionally like to sit outside and draw, so it wouldn't be an unwelcome event." He smiles, Humming an old hopeful Japanese Tune by the name 'Hana wa Saku' or, 'Flowers will Bloom' for a young man in his 20's, he feels strangly connected to his native cuture, despite not having been there very long, or remembering much of it. It may in part be due to having researched where his name came from, or for some completely different reason. If anything had been made clear over the years, however, Makoto would have made it fairly clear that he did NOT like being referred to by altered versions of his name. Mako, Mato, koto, Koma, All of which bother the man significantly.

    The former night, when he had been organizing stuff in his quarters, he had indeed also drawn something, and he pulls it out of his pocket. An image depicting a Chromatic dragon, HELPING people. Like stories of Dragon Riders he may have been told as a kid. Pulling it out and looking at it, forgetting it was there, He extends it to Harold in case his mentor wishes to see the art the boy is capable of at this stage, since Hobbies are of extreme importance to the people here.

    (if you want to know what he is humming, its the following video)

  17. Samual the Apprentice

    Oh no! His holy highness is trying to intimidate him! Run! Hide! The king was being scary! He was far out of his league in trying to scare a necromancer. He might as well try and mix water with oil. He'd have better luck with that. Oh and his response! Priceless! Shows how narrow minded chivalry was. How does ones opinion of one man instantly cause disrespect for the other? She wasn't even a man! Maybe if he spoke slowly the old man would be able to tell the difference? No he's too old. Might as well leave it.

    Well that was the plan anyways, the moment he brought his Master into it, he could feel his black blood starting boil. His master taught him well. He was the only person who actually cared about him. The king didn't care when his father died of alcoholic poisoning. The king didn't care when his mother left him, stating she'll be right back. He only started to dislike him when Arkan'xon picked hI'm up a week later! Because he was living proof of his failure no doubt!

    "You never speak about my master like that. Ever. You aren't even half the man he is. You're just an old fool who can't see past your own ideas. You can't comprehend another line of thought so you think they are scum. Well you can burn for all I care. Now get what you want and get out of my sight"
    #17 Lurcolm, Jun 17, 2015
    Last edited: Jun 17, 2015
  18. Circa, The Messenger
    Oh god, how dense could this man be? Couldn't he see the emergency of the situation? A quick passing thought run through her head, saying that if she wanted him to do something, then he must understand her at first. She frowned indignantly at the Archmage's reply, since, in her head, she was being quite clear.

    "I was trying to say that there are mercenaries - lots of them- on their way! She paused for a deep breath, closing her eyes and sorting her thoughts. Seriously though, why so damn near her birthday? Couldn't they wait, like, a month? Assholes. "There's an army coming from the mountains. I tried to warn the King but I couldn't find him, and his mind isn't like yours. You're far easier to find. So I came to you first."

    Circa looked around the room, as if someone could pop up at any moment. Needless to say, she was scared. So much. She wasn't a soldier, no, not even close. She lived for the skies, she was just a messenger. However, the Nephilim knew that the Mage standing right in front of her was different, his unreadable mind was a proof of that. It was old, chaotic. It made her uneasy. But it was powerful, and that's what mattered at the moment. Her eyes made their way back to the Arkan'xon, staring up at his ones.

    "I don't like this, Arkan. I really don't like this."
    Her voice lost its strength and just came out as an whisper, as if any loud noise could raise the dead. Her wings lay slumped and unmoving on her back, their tips touching the floor. Her hands found the fabric of the tunic she wore, lightly tumbling it. She knew she should warn the General as well, but once she landed, she seemed to have lost all of her strength as the urgency of the situation fell on her. She could die today. Just like Mother. Just like Mother.

  19. What could have riled the girl so much up? Oh by the gods don't let her start telling her girl problems!

    Then she said it. While the words slammed into his gut like a fist, he was still thankful it wasn't girl problems. Still though, it would have been a lot less dangerous than this. The part that confused him was why. The neighbouring kingdoms knew that taking Scarborough on would be suicide considering they knew of the Archmage. This had to be some external force. Which did not bode well at all.

    "Be giving me one moment."

    He didn't elaborate why he took his bag of bones and tossed it out of the window. Neither did he elaborate on the cursing in languages older than the kingdom itself, though it had such power that it felt insulting.

    He turned to her to give her orders when he saw her state. Oh dear he wasn't good with these things! He still doesn't understand how Samual can be consoled by the old codger. Time to test his very minimal people skills.

    What do normal people do in situations like these? Let's see... he saw a father hug a boy that was sad a few days ago. He could try that. He very stiffly and awkwardly moved towards the Nephilim, stretching his arms wide. He squeezed her in a bit too tight hug and whispered in her ear:

    "You be acting like I'd allow them to touch a feather on you. Don't worry about one single thing. Get the king and the generals. I be fetching my cult and at the very least delay them with all manner o' traps. Now go"

  20. Circa, The Messenger

    Circa hadn't noticed the Archmage throwing his bag of bones out of the window, though she did raise a brow when he began speaking in a strange language. However, the hug was a surprise. It felt weird and kind of awkward, but comforting nonetheless. She was about to pull away when the other spoke. Right, the king and the generals. She nodded and pulled away, a small grin on her face.

    "Damn, you actually managed to squeeze the fear out of me. And the Almighty Archmage proved, once again, to be someone full of talents." She said with a smirk as her wings stretched themeselves, ready to take off any minute by now. "I'll go fetch the King and send someone to the Generals, I don't want to spend any more precious time."

    And with that she ran past Arkan'xon and towards the window, stopping just before the wide gape. "And thanks, I guess. But don't get me wrong, you're still weird." The Half-Angel jumped through the window and opened her wings, just enough to fall on the ground without getting hurt. She approached the closer servants, two men.

    "Henry! Louis! Go fetch the Generals, both of them! Quickly! This is a matter of emergency! I'll be back as soon as I find the King! Now, go!" And without a word being spoken, both of them men ran away, going after the Generals: Clifton and Joseph. Luckily, they would be able to get to them in time. Now, to the most important matter of the day: the King. Ugh, if he wasn't the one who gave her a ceiling and food, she'd kill him for giving her such trouble. Alright Circa, focus. Just think, where would His Majesty be in this moment? Damn, no time to guess. The Nephilim extended her wings and, with a jump, took off, flying once again to the city. This time, however, she flew lower, closer to the ground. She couldn't careless about the people cursing her for almost hitting them with her giant wings, if they knew what was going on they wouldn't either.

    Useless. Useless!

    The King could be anywhere! Looking like this was just a waste of time. So Circa decided to try the same tactic as before once again, except this time she simply scratched the surface of the minds, and avoided Arkan'xon's one at all costs. Oh god, such dirty minds. These people were so - oh my god - no. Alright, after all of this is over, she'll demand a holiday, just because.

    After what seemed to be centuries of flying and searching, she finally found not only one, but two familiar minds. An older one and a younger one. Since she had only gotten a quick look, she didn't know for sure if one of them was the King, but still, it was better than nothing at all. Circa landed and almost kicked the door open, though she remembered that manners exist and that she probably should use them. She couldn't help but sigh in relief at the sight of Allistair.

    "My King! It's an-" The Hybrid shut herself up when she noticed a woman in the shop as well, and, wanting not to scare her, she communicated with Allistair, and Samuel as well, telepathically. "It's an emergency. We have hundreds of mercenaries approaching from the mountains. We believe it to be an attack. The Archmage has already been contacted and is preparing to delay them at all costs, the Generals are being fetched in this moment. I believe it is best for you to be back at the castle, sir."

    @Lurolm @Lewi @Everly @Doctor Hi @JollyBrit
    #20 GreatWest, Jun 17, 2015
    Last edited: Jun 17, 2015
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