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Lightbringer
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Astrophel Velaris Morozov | Head of House Lamb | Male
༻︵𓏶︵༺
If it weren’t for Astrophel’s desire to appear calm and collected, he would have been having a mental breakdown on the floor of the room he was waiting in. The divine children of the gods would be arriving soon, and Racoyolva-knows-what kind of punishment they would deal out to Biora. But it couldn’t be too bad, right? If only their children were coming, and the gods weren’t. However, the demi-gods were formidable forces, and were not to be trifled with. No doubt even just one of them could wipe the entire kingdom from the face of the earth.
He fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Astrophel had gone to as many temples and shrines as he could before he absolutely had to start preparing for the arrival of the divine children, praying for mercy and a peaceful meeting between the demi-gods and the council. Whether or not his prayers were heard or not remained to be seen.
He tugged at a loose thread on his robes, wrapping it around his finger before breaking it off with a snap. His tailor had assured him that nothing would be loose or out of place, but alas. He smoothed out the fabric of his sleeves, before folding his hands in his lap and forcing himself to sit still and calm down. Astrophel closed his eyes halfway, and counted his breaths as he waited. |
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Darkseeker
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Sir Vervain Honeycutt | Royal Guard | Male | Mentions: Queen Ula, Alucard, Sorynthia, Vicente [Indir.] The castle was buzzing with activity long before the sun had crested the horizon, an endless stream of people frantically organising and rearranging, a constant flowing swarm of people. Vervain was thankful that he did not have to partake in the chaos, if it weren’t for the sheer boredom he was facing, standing with his fellow guards and waiting for the arrival of their wards. It was rather silly, he thought, to have four human guards as protection against creatures imbued with divine blood. What could they do to protect the Queen and her son from one of them if they decided to call upon their powers and punish them? Nothing. Still, now Vervain stood in the large hall, on the left of the Queen. Clad in his heavy blackened armour, it felt like lead on his shoulders. He never wore the formal metal unless he absolutely had to, unfortunately today was one of those days. He would be useless with a bow in this scenario, the sword on his hip was essentially a decoration with how pitiful he was with wielding it. There were two guards on either side of the Queen and where he supposed Alucard was meant to appear, Vervain was stationed with Vincente. He wasn’t entirely sure what the other man thought of him, but Alucard had assigned him into this pairing. Again, the reasoning behind it wasn’t clear at all. The prince had not shown his face by the time the first of the demi-gods made themselves known. The air was thick with their presence, leaking into the hall and souring it with their immenseness. Vervain’s nose crinkled lightly at the scent of ash that accompanied the arrival of a woman. He wasn’t an expert on the nature of these demi-gods, so it took him longer than most to realise which one it was. Once it clicked, the swath of weaponry and bright look within her eyes made an awful amount of sense. War and all that surrounded it, that was this woman’s domain. Vervain kept himself standing still, but his eyes glided over to peek at Vicente, gauging his reaction to the entrance. The usual. Unbothered and calm. It was almost irritating how relaxed he appeared to be at all times, as if he couldn’t have any other emotion. Vervain was not as cool and collected, he let his mouth run wild, thoughts became words long before he could dwell on the possible consequences. Nevertheless, the guard remained rooted to the floor, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, a false display of ability. Watching the approach of yet another demi-god, like rats infesting a barn, they came in their droves apparently. He hoped that this meeting of mortals and their superiors would go smoothly, he didn’t fancy trying to battle war incarnate and her friends. |
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Lightbringer
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Lena Hemlocke ll House of the Lion Heir ll Female Mentions: Alaric (Ula, Sorynthia) · · ───•⋅⊰ ꥟ ⊱⋅•─── · · Did they seriously just call an emergency council meeting? Lena drug her face in her hands and sighed in exasperation. They could not be serious- this ruined a perfectly good morning. She shook her head and snapped back into her rigid posture, ignoring her moment of respite. Focus was key. Any moment where she lost sight of the mission could plant a seed of doubt within her head. It could not be allowed to take root and bloom, or she would lose the mission altogether. Deep breaths, it’s not the end of the world. There were so many better things to do with the day. It felt like she had just returned from her morning run and was already being summoned to sit in a stuffy old room for two hours. Seriously, the air circulation in there was terrible- it wasn’t just the suffocating silence. Given how much time had passed before she received the summons, she figured she had to be over there promptly. Likely, the queen was already there (she prided herself on being punctual) and her father had probably been quicker to the punch. With luck, none of the demi-gods will have arrived yet. Lena let out a long breath and sat on the foot of her bed. One problem at a time. She pulled her hair out of a ponytail, which was starting to fall out and give her a wild appearance. Instead, she began to brush it out. When appearing in court- no matter where they summoned you from- it was best to keep professionalism in mind. Thus, she decided it would be best to clean up and not look homeless. After taking care of the hot mess she called tangled hair, she began to brush it toward the back of her head and gather it with an elastic. Since they would be meeting with the demi-gods, she took an extra step and braided a strip that would circle the bun. More than anything, it made her feel a little better about the hairstyle and looking more like a “man” by not having it left long. Honestly, she didn’t mind being mistaken for a man when women were typically seen as weaker. But still… Once she changed into a fresh set of clothing, she was on her way to meet with the rest of the council. She threw open the door to her residence and took off down the street. Lena took long strides, marching ahead with intent. Her armor clinked with each step, her one complaint about the formal dress policy within military positions. Sure, she wouldn’t be the first person there, but she would ensure she was not late. There was a wise saying about that. Something about how everyone remembers the winner and the loser but forget the mediocracy. In this case it was appropriate to settle for mediocre. The castle wasn’t too far away from the residences of the four “houses,” as they were known. For most days, it would be a leisurely walk. That day, however, it was starting to cool down and the grey sky looked heavy. She didn’t like to believe in omens or superstitions, but it surely seemed bleak to be negotiating with demi-gods in that weather. Two guards in silver armor waiting outside the gates. Lena knew firsthand that the job would be boring. It was one of the higher lower-level tasks, if that made any sense. For the most part, it involved standing in one place all day, practicing good posture, and staring off into space. They would have more excitement with the visitors everyone was anticipating- or dreading. She nodded to them on her way in and entered the courtyard. Then her eyes widened at the sight that was playing out. A tall, dark-haired woman in a red dress had greeted the queen. Lena had arrived just in time to watch the visitor’s pets- no, companions- disintegrate into thin air. The realization hit her in the head like a ladle suspended above the stove: this was a demigod. Oh, and they weren’t just a demigod. This was Corarina’s child. The entire morning, she had been ignoring the fact that the child of their family’s worshiped deity would be there. The goddess that had blessed their family many moons ago sent her child to delegate. Lena ripped her gaze away from the scene and continued toward where the council would be gathering. She felt conflicted about the whole situation. The gods blessed the people years ago- and it was right to be grateful for that- but there were many folk tales about demi-gods of old abusing their powers. Hopefully these ones would be different and not flaunt their powers or cause the kingdom grief. She carried on past the courtyard and through a series of intricate hallways she knew like the back of her hand. As a child, she would run up and down the halls to play a game of hide and seek with her father, who was clearly busy with work, or to annoy the castle servants. This time she had to find her father. Knowing him, he would already be at the castle meeting. The last hallway narrowed down to large wooden doors. They towered over her head: a fact that hadn’t changed since her youth. She always wondered how many people had pressed past these doors and how many stories they had seen over the years. Hopefully they will continue to see more. Straightening her posture, Lena pressed through the doors and into the council room. A few people were already sitting around a table that was nearly the length of the room. Others stood behind their chairs, waiting for the queen to enter. Her father was already present, as she had guessed earlier. She nodded toward those already in the room and joined her father, Alaric, along the side of the table. In her mind, there wasn’t much to discuss that wouldn’t be empty speculation; so she kept her opinions to herself. Only time could tell how the day would unfold. |
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Alucard Fraiser | Heir to Biora | Male | Mentions: Ula, Vervain, Vicente [Indir] Viacoyolaur [Indir] This entire event was such a fiasco, it disrupted his very regimented morning routine horrendously. He had less than an hour to bathe and soak in the lovely oils, his personal entourage had rushed to clothe him and brush his long hair into silky wafts. Honestly, it was disrespectful to the royal lineage to force such an early meeting time upon them, could they not have discussed these trivial matters over dinner with a glass of wine? That would have been much preferred. Nevertheless, the heir had made his presence known, as he always did. Appearing from behind where the thrones sat on a dais, the flowing robes glided with him as he slipped onto the smaller version of a throne beside his mother. Before he collapsed into it, he offered a short, curt nod towards her and then cast his gaze back out towards the rest of the room. Amused to find a small collection of people had already arrived, none of them took a great deal of his interest. He knew the demi-gods as a collective, none by name nor domain. He didn’t dwell on it, instead he turned his attention to his favourite pass time. Alucard’s pale eyes peered over to the pair of guards closest to his side, despite them facing away from him, he knew who they were. He had selected them himself, well one of them. Vicente had been a prime choice, incredible in his display of strength and ability, Alucard would have been a fool to not take him into their personal guard. The other one, he was a less desirable choice. The best of what he had left, Vervain was a towering man with broad shoulders that gave him a dominating presence, until he opened his mouth and started harping on about how pretty the clouds looked or how nice the gardenias were. His saving grace was his skill with long-range weaponry, Alucard couldn’t deal with Vervain’s irritating qualities if it wasn’t for that. Not to mention, both were rather easy on the eyes. His mindless train of thought was interrupted by the descending presence of another demi-god, he trailed after the being slowly. Taking in the image carefully. Alucard wasn’t a complete fool, he knew whatever they were here to discuss involved reprimanding the mortals, more specifically his mother and by connection, himself. They claimed they were not treating the land well, they were destroying it. Alucard thought this was a ridiculous notion when he took into consideration the rolling hillsides of the country around them. He had seen no direct evidence of this so-called mistreatment of their land. Either way, Alucard was going to have to sit through the mundane blathering of these demi-gods so that he could carry on with his day as intended. |
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Lightbringer
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Kylo Tempti-Raptash ll Knight ll Male Mentions: (Sorynthia, Ula) >>> ────────➤ Thunk. Lurching awake, Kylo’s head shot up and hit off of the ceiling. He fell back into the bed and groaned, rubbing what was sure to be a goose egg later. The mattress offered no more comfort than sleeping outside; it’s just the low ceilings that provided cover. Sunlight already broke through the curtains. Instead of facing reality, he chose to flip over and shove his face into the pillow. He mumbled into the pillow, “If it weren’t for that goose… I wouldn’t… bunk room…” His eyes flickered open, a sign that his brain finally registered the situation. Then they widened. It was “the day.” Oh no. Oh no. He pulled himself upright and scooched to the edge of the bed. His legs dangled over the edge precariously as he collected his thoughts. The demi-gods were coming. The court was meeting. The kingdom’s fate would be negotiated. The Queen should be greeting everyone with the guards escorting people of note, tailing her, preparing the meeting room, or wandering around trying to look busy. All of this and where was Kylo? Still in the bunkroom in his pajamas, naturally. He shoved off of the bunk and landed on the floor (I would love to say gracefully but it was quite the opposite) with a loud thud. He could already tell it would be a long day. By the time Kylo finished getting dressed, he was still dreadfully late. The most he could hope for was to walk in and act like he was occupied elsewhere with knightly duties- assuming knightly was a word real people used. Man, this is why nobody ever took him seriously. As he hobbled out of the room, struggling to get his scabbard on his belt, he ran into one of the castle’s charwomen. What she was doing all the way out at the knight’s division- he didn’t have time to speculate. He ran a hand through his fiery hair and glanced up from his belt. “I-uh-” his eyes widened as her face contorted with anger, “sorry, gotta run!” He bolted down the hall, leaving behind the spectacle. Where the knights trained wasn’t far from the rest of the castle- if you knew a few inconvenient shortcuts. The two words don’t usually flow together, but you’d be surprised. Kylo was what some might call a social butterfly. For the most part, however, he knew when to shut up. But he always ran his mouth around the castle servants- especially the kitchen staff. If you were really nice, some of the younger ones would sneak you some food. The servants all knew the passageways like the back of their hands. Maids showed him the laundry routes, a trick that was helpful for days when he was running late. That was most days. He flew up the staircase, trying not to run into anyone and send someone’s linens flying. Being hasty was key when trying to lessen a punishment for tardiness. He was one of those students who teachers say would be smart if he would “just apply himself.” However, the lack of that application is what lessens one’s knowledge and credibility. Running past the kitchen almost forced him to stop in his tracks. Whatever soup they were working on smelled divine. If he could float into the kitchen following the scent like a cartoon character, he would. He shook his head and kept moving down the passages. Many of the walkways were covered in cobwebs and dirt. The castle was kept well but nobody used the passages except the servants. It didn’t need to look nice if nobody “important” had to see it. Besides, most of the charwomen were too tired from doing their actual job to clean elsewhere. A hop, skip, and a jump later and he made it to the courtyard. Kylo brushed off his armor to make it look like he hadn’t just sprinted through the servant passageways he wasn’t even supposed to acknowledge existed. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the grounds. The Queen was over yonder- not far from the gates- and oh the gardner is doing well. He cropped those bushes so well, what kind of shears is he using? Pay attention. Right, the Queen was already exchanging pleasantries with one of the demigods. Kylo’s jaw nearly dropped. The demigod of the war goddess… A crimson gown draped over her figure, supported by built-in armor. Her auburn hair spilled down her back and over her- in his words, not mine- really buff arms. Like seriously, she looked like she could beat most of the knights in an arm wrestling contest. The tall woman radiated confidence- only confirming his beliefs. To say he was shocked (maybe even infatuated) was an understatement. He shook his head, trying to shake out the distraction and figure out what he was supposed to be doing. You know what, that was a really good question. He knew he was supposed to be here but was never explicitly given an assignment. Hmm… |
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Darkseeker
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Llŷr | Tyrfinyssul's spawn | Female | Mentions: Ula, Alucard [indir] Daxon [dir.] The day had come where she was expected to make a spectacle of herself and her brethren for the entertainment of the plague of mortals that infested their land and waters. An expectation of decorum and falsities, sweetened words to hide their true intentions, a complete and utter ruse. Llŷr had refused the initial request for her attendance at this sham of an event, preferring to remain in the depths of her realm where she could enjoy the company of her fellow sea creatures rather than listen to the entitled croning of the humans. It took a few rounds of convincing from the embodiment of pestilence in order for her to grace this meeting with her presence. Unfortunately, Llŷr did not have some form of dramatic way to enter the castle, dreadful for her reputation. Instead the woman had to walk down the long halls of the royal house, ignoring the shuffling of lesser creatures as they panicked to get out of the way. The cherry on top of this entire situation was the fact that the royal bloodline worshiped her creator, devoted to them, in fact the Queen herself had prayed to them just this morning. Llŷr had heard its utterings on the sea breeze as it brushed the foaming waves. Keeping her promise to Cresil, she would keep herself contained for the time being, there was little to gain in showing her hand so early in the game. Besides, whilst that man had been the first to suggest this notion, Llŷr had already planned to keep a muzzle on her maw. She had never met these demi-gods before, that was a whole other layer to this meeting that she would have to navigate. She was young, dramatically so in comparison to the arsenal of demi-gods that would be gathered in the main hall. Perhaps some might take a liking to her, but she expected the opposite. She did not look like a strong heir to the god of the seas, her thin frame with bones that poked out at every opportunity. A dreadful artifact of her human mother. A weak thing that succumbed to the birth of Llŷr within minutes. To be born of these mortals was the most gut wrenching, disgusting fact that Llŷr had ever had to face. She most certainly had not come to terms with this fact yet, it was likely that she never would. Her heritage would be a black marking on her life from birth to eventual death or ascension. The large doors were opened before her, revealing a collection of people, mortal and divine standing together. The draping of various fabrics on her body wrapped around her torso and hips in a flowing fashion. Deep earth tones and jewel colors, her feet remaining bare. Her stomach, left shoulder and legs were left bare for the world to see. The smattering of freckles across her body darker in the artificial lighting indoors, her hair left loose and free behind her. The mottling greys and silvers shimmering, betraying the divinity that ran through her veins. Huge, wide eyes stared into the room as she finished her arrival, the blackened irises merging with pupils as she glanced from person to person. Her walk came to an abrupt stop as she realised someone was kneeling down in her way, slowly Llŷr looked down at the person. The glimmer in their skin, the pure beauty of it revealed them to be a demi-god. This man was bowing, crushed to the floor in honour of what? Llŷr lifted her unblinking gaze to settle upon the elder woman that sat upon a throne, the Queen. Her stoic expression remained in place as she locked eyes with the human leader before a sharp bark of laughter left her throat. Llŷr almost doubled over with the effort of it, her spindly legs bending at the knees as she fought to keep her bewildered laughter in check. A hand lifted to her mouth, tears beginning at the corners of her eyes. Her laugh cut through the tense room like an arrow, she didn’t care. The absurdity of a demi-god lowering themselves to a mortal was so wrong, so unthought of to Llŷr that she couldn’t help but laugh right in his face. “You-” She began, struggling to get the words out in between her gasping and laughing. “You kneel to them?” Llŷr choked out, the disgust evident in her tone as she pointed at the male demi-god. She did not know his name nor his realm of divinance, but it mattered not. He was making a fool out of not only himself but of all deities by kneeling before a mortal, a creature that lived for a fraction of their immortality, a creature that could be wiped from existence with a simple dagger. “To them?!” Llŷr repeated, snapping her head up to look at the Queen and what she assumed was her oddly blonde son, one hand pointed between them with a viciousness that now tainted her words. “Kneel to them? Oh my, you are-” She barked out a laugh again, nose crinkling as she looked away, shaking her head. The thick hair on her head moved with it as she stepped around the male demi-god, uncomfortably close to him. “They revere us! We do not bow to them, they are nothing but a plague on this land. They reap and they do not sow. They are a disease.” Llŷr turned to look at the male demi-god, a fury burning in the black globes in her skull as she looked down her nose at him. Her lip curled in disgust, the humour now completely gone from her form. The curling of her lips revealed rows of conical, pointed teeth. Too long for her mouth and too many to fit, yet they did. “Get up.” Llŷr sneered. She did not care what these other demi-gods thought, there were more than this pathetic one gathered in the room, but at this very moment she could not stand to see this man grovel to such horrible creatures. He was tainting the names of all demi-gods, not simply his own. “Get. Up.” She repeated, starting down at him, one hand at her hip where a single clawed finger pointed to the spot just in front of him. She waited. |
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Lightbringer
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Lucius | Child of Ivardrus | Male | Mentions: Those gathered [Ind.], Ula, Llŷr, Daxon [Dir.] .˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
The fact that he even bothered to show up was a miracle in itself. Lucius really couldn’t care less about “morality”, and “talking it out”, as his father put it. It was quite pathetic, really, having to grace the mortals with his presence when it would have been easier and much more effective to just smite everyone in power and curse their bloodlines. This whole meeting was a waste of his time. If he didn’t fear the wrath of his father and the rest of the gods, he would still be in bed, asleep. Even though he technically didn’t need to sleep, it was still nice.
Apparently his annoyance showed, because when he arrived at the royal house, in complete godly form, he got a few more panicked stares than he thought was necessary. Which wasn’t many, but still. At least some of the other demi-gods were present. The queen was as well, and- oh my goodness, was Daxon actually kneeling before her? Disgusting. Even if she was a figure of status, no mortal being deserved a demi-god to kneel before them, no matter what the circumstances were. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought it was near outrageous, judging by the look on Llŷr’s face.
Shifting out of his godly form and into his mortal shape, Lucius stalked over to where they were gathered, hands behind his back as he surveyed the royal house. Disgustingly overdecorated. No one needed their house to be that shiny. It was just ridiculous. Sure, it was for the royal family and the council, but still. He kept quiet, surveying the scene from the back of the group. He was the demi-god of judging, after all. |
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Maximillian Perseus - Corelinus Cantacuzène Personal Guard / Companion To The Prince | 24 | Mentions : The Demigods & Gods [ind.] , Alucard [ind.] There was once a house that stood proud amongst the Kingdom . The House Of Cantacuzène - a house that thrived on the bounty of the ocean , the Head , Arthur Cantacuzène being a Prince from a foreign land that wouldn't inherit the throne . However , he fell in love with Rosalina De La Fontaine - daughter of a Duke and Duchess and the heiress to the title . Her crest was that of the Leviathan , her father a Navy Man and her mother a skilled seamstress and Merchant. The two got married , and when her parents died , Rosalina became the Duchess - and she took over her mother's business and it thrived . She had the monopoly on silks , pearls and the finest fabrics one could think of . However, Arthur found it stifling to be in his wife's shadow and so secretly he began poisoning her , until she fell ill . She had given him a son , however she was too ill to raise the boy. And it was left to Arthur, who wasn't exactly gentle with the child to the point it became noticeable amongst the nobles , and it came to the attention of his Aunt Evangeline , the Lady of Richelieu who swiftly took the boy from her brother-in-law and demanded an investigation. His crimes were found out and it crumbled the family reputation and he was executed in regard to his crime . Evangeline took in her sister , and sent the boy away from scrutiny to grow up . And after about a decade , the prodigal son was returning . He was returning with honor , with pride He would rebuild the House Of Leviathan The Young Duke Of Biora had returned ══════════════════ The salty seawaters had always calmed his nerves . And as his ship made it to the port of Biora , the young man could feel his heartbeat quickening . He was returning as a young man and not a child running away from the scandal of his father's making . He sighed as these thoughts rattled around in his brain , yawning slightly he watched as his men settled the ship in . There was already a curious crowd gathering around the port , it wasn't that often the nation had a new ship come to port except for the merchants . Max was already over the stares , he just needs to get to the castle - his Aunt had requested his presence back home . He had last seen the Kingdom when he was fourteen and he had just turned twenty four . The bustle of the port drifted to his ears , and he observed the people as he awaited Leon to show up. "Your Grace," came the poised voice, "everything is being transported to the manor , we have your mare , Philomena ready for your ride to the castle . " his trusted servant informed . He was uncommon amongst the knights who would ride geldings or stallions into battle . No, instead his Destrier was a mare, who was fierce in her own right. She was a pretty thing, golden tan skin , with a pale mane that shimmered in the sunlight. He had braided her mane with four thick plaits and they had golden bands to secure them in place . He even placed flowers in her mane . Her tail was neatly plaited as well with a golden band at the end with flowers decorating her tail as well. She was his prized mare, and he treated her as such , he didn't care to have many horses - he only had her for the moment , and his grumpier mare who he used when hunting . He brightly smiled at his mare, who trotted up to him with no problems . The mare huffing at him, as if voicing her displeasure about being on the sea for months to get home . He chuckled at her softly , scratching behind her ear to try and calm his sassy steed . He easily mounted the mare and gently took her reigns within his hands . " I trust everything in your care Leon, I must head to the castle - I fear I am already late due to the storm on the Southern Shore . " he said in an easy voice and the servant only nodded . He clicked his tongue and him and his mare were off , his cloak fluttering behind him as the two made their way through the streets . The port was still a good ride away from the castle , but he hoped he was making reasonable time and wouldn't be embarrassing himself . He quickly found the stables , and a stableboy took his horse and placed her in a stall. And he found himself straightening out his armor . His armor was different , it came from lands touched by magic - his armor beared protection sigils and enhancements , his armor made from the scales of a basilisk he slayed . He work a dark black armor , the armor being blackened steel to match the colors of the basilisk scales, that were black but seems to have a slight iridescent sheen to them . His heeled boots clicked slightly as he made his way down the familiar halls. Halls that him Alucard and his older cousin would play in , but he shook those thoughts away . He needs to find the throne room, he was to be assigned to Alucard's guard for the current situation . His hair swayed behind him, the rare moment it was left untouched and not in some sort of updo. His long inky locks coiled neatly by his waist, in which his sword was neatly tucked . A sword made with foreign metal, yet his own careful craftsmanship . As he approached the dais, he quickly took in the situation as he took the empty spot at the right hand of Alucard , a bold move - but one that was expected. If Alucard was the blinding sun, then Max was the moon that sat quietly behind and shone because of its light. He wanted to make eye contact with the prince who he sensed was bored , but he had to focus . His posture was formal and his face controlled and neutral , he realized that some of these soldiers were young or weren't good at masking their expressions . He wasn't trying to sound so arrogant - yet, they weren't meeting his expectations. He didn't let that make him stumble, he was here to make sure things went right and protect the prince if needed . He checked his clawed gauntlets and rested them behind his back , his sleek hydra skin cloak was lined with the fur of ermine , and contrasted nicely against his polished armor . His gaze was intent and focused on the Demi-gods that were appearing , and he immediately noticed Sorynthia , daughter of Corarina, the Goddess Of Warefare and Wrath - he had somehow achieve the Goddesses blessings , not for his skilled mind in warfare and fighting prowess but for his love of the forge . His sword even carried her blessings, his sword could set an enemy ablaze and deliver wounds that would singe and burn his opponent. He hoped he made a good impression . He didn't know much about the situation. But he heard a Priestess of Racoyolva had been sexually assaulted on the Goddess's altar and had taken her own life in her despair . And that this wasn't no ordinary Priestess, this was the daughter of the leading priestly families in the land . The Goddess was said to be so furious that the night did not come and her husband had to quell her fury , but the men that assaulted her priestess were found to be nothing but ashes . This was the final straw that seemed to cause the Mother Goddess to send intervention . It wasn't only her temple that was being disrespected, others had been destroyed or left to crumble - and not to mention some were even cursing the Gods for no reason . And now, the children have come to settle their debts . |
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Sorynthia | Demi-God | Female Directly: The Queen, Viacoyolaur, Daxon, Llŷr Indirectly: Those Gathered ༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻ Sorynthia’s eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at the sun just before everything plummeted into darkness. Suddenly, a show of lights flared around them as stars appeared. Her wolfish ears twitch slightly in faint amusement as one particular star danced around her, flecks of stardust floating onto her sleeves. She knew this demi-god well enough, as they appeared in human form. Viacoyolaur was an expressive demi-god, one known for their theatrics which, to her, was always a pleasant show. She dipped her head in greeting. Her emerald gaze soon drifted back toward the Queen and her son as Viacoyolaur greeted the Royals, relaying a message from the Sea God who gave the Queen his favor. Her head tipped slightly to the side when she noticed several late-arriving knights slipping into position, one of them staring her down with more courage than sense, eyes wide as saucers. If they were hers, they’d have been torn apart for showing up late. It wasn’t long before another demi-god appeared, Daxon, if she recalled correctly. He arrived first in his godly form, beautiful and intimidating in his own right, before adjusting into something more mortal.In his arms he carried a basket brimming with berries and fruit. He seemed… timid. For a moment he avoided everyone’s gaze before his golden eyes flicked to Viacoyolaur, then to her. Sorynthia’s lips curved into a faint smile, a hint of fang glinting in welcome, before fading as he shuffled away. Sorynthia’s ears twitched at the arrival of another mortal in dark armor, his gaze fixed squarely on her. Two knights had now taken the measure of her. Her patience thinned slightly. If they continued posturing, she would remind them exactly what a demi-god of war and wrath did when discipline failed. Her gaze snapped toward the darker-armored knight, lingering briefly on the sword at his side. Something about it hummed against her senses. She could feel her mother’s blessing coiled around the weapon. It was rare for her mother to bestow such favor. Sorynthia’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the blade. Interesting… Her brow creased as she tracked Daxon across the yard. He approached the Queen, kneeling and presenting the basket Sorynthia stilled. Her gaze slid briefly to Viacoyolaur’s violet ones before returning to the kneeling demi-god. Before she could decide whether to intervene, one of the younger deities, Llŷr, burst into a sharp, ringing laugh. The outburst echoed through the outdoors, loud and chaotic, but to her it sounded like little more than clashing steel before a battle. They hadn’t even entered to begin the meeting, and already tempers flared among themselves. Sorynthia watched the spectacle unfold with mild interest, crimson lips curving faintly as Llŷr’s laughter carved through the air like a blade. Her emerald gaze shifted lazily between the kneeling demi-god and the furious one towering over him, expression hidden but far from surprised. A soft breath escaped her nose - almost a scoff. Sorynthia was growing tired of this rant the young demi-god was on. Slowly, she tilted her head, wolfish ears angling slightly as she noted Lucius had arrived as well. The room buzzed with tension. Her hungry eyes flicked once more toward the kneeling Daxon, then surveyed the mortals around them. Mortals. Fragile. Temporary. Yet still pieces on the board. The Wolf General had never been foolish enough to ignore the board. “Power is not diminished by restraint,” she began, voice cold and precise. “Only the insecure believe every moment must prove dominance.” Sorynthia’s gaze was sharp, predatory, as if weighing whether the oceanic demi-god was worth the air she wasted. A curl of Sorythina's lip showcased her disapproval of what lay before her. Weak. Insignificant. Barely a ripple of strength. Yet, has the nerve to condemn Daxon - how pathetically amusing. “Kneeling does not make him lesser,” she continued calmly. “He has an offering, from his mother.” Her eyes flicked toward the Queen upon her throne, then back again to Llŷr. “Do not forget,” each word cutting, “It is your father’s favor that lies with this Queen. A reminder, lest you mistake your theatrics for importance.” The Wolf General's hand drifted lazily as she referred to the Queen. “Mortals are fragile things,” Sorynthia said lightly. “But fragile things have a habit of becoming… inconvenient when offended.” She stepped forward then, slow and deliberate, placing herself between Daxon and Llŷr, the faint sound of hidden steel clinking beneath the fabric of her gown. Daxon could easily hold his own, but the display unfolding before the mortal court was quickly becoming tiresome. |
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Ula Livius-Fraiser | Queen of Biora | Female Directly: Demi-gods 𓇼 ⋆.˚𓇼 ⋆.˚𓇼 The Queen’s gaze held a surprising warmth as she regarded the demi-gods. The new arrival, Viacoyolaur, gave quite the show as they plunged the world into darkness before the sky erupted with colors. They appeared first as a star, then transformed, settling on a cloud. Her eyes flicked to her son briefly and the rest of the arriving - albeit tardy - guards. Them being late was… unexpected. Ula’s breath caught slightly as they relayed the Sea God’s message, her hand instinctively moving to her pearl-and-seaglass necklace. She allowed herself a fleeting, private smile as she considered Tyrfinyssul, imagining how he would assess this gathering. He will want to have a word with me later, she mused. And I will have a word with him. Even now, the mutual bond she shared with the Sea God anchored her in calm amidst the chaos. Another demi-god appeared in a flourish of feathers before shifting into mortal form. His skin shimmered softly, and cradled in his arms was a beautifully woven basket of fruits. He lingered at the edges, apart from the others. Ula felt a motherly tug in her chest; she wanted to scoop him up in a hug. This was Daxon, Mysthebesha’s offspring, that much was clear from the gifts he bore. Ula’s gaze lingered on him, warmth softening the edges of her attention, before she swept it back over the other demi-gods. Her mind was a careful balance of patience and calculation, every gesture, every look, every movement had to be measured. She could not afford rashness, not here, not with so many powerful beings gathered on her soil. Before she could speak, Daxon approached her, kneeling and presenting the basket. Her hand flew to her heart in astonishment. Demi-gods kneeling - especially to mortals - was unheard of. A burst of laughter rang through the air, sharp and cruel. Two more demi-gods appeared. She recognized Llŷr, Tyrfinyssul’s own fry, and Lucius, child of Ivardrus. Llŷr laughed cruelly, demeaning the Child of Mysthebesha. Ula’s expression darkened instantly, thunderous and commanding. She was about to intervene - but, surprisingly, the war demi-god Sorynthia stepped forward first. The Queen watched the interaction with quiet interest, but her mind raced. She needed to get everyone inside before her castle became a battlefield. Her hand twitched, restrained from snapping at Llŷr. Ula straightened her posture, lifting her chin with the grace and authority of a ruler, though her heart beat just beneath the surface. Ula traced the young demi-god carefully, she held no resemblance to her father, Tyrfinyssul. Rising gracefully, she reached out and touched Daxon lightly on the shoulder. “Thank you, Daxon, Child of Mysthebesha. It is a great honor to receive these gifts.” She brushed a hand over her dress, straightening it with practiced ease. The demi-gods’ postures were stiff, taut with tension. "Welcome, all!" She clasped her hands together, a dazzling smile upon her lips, her eyes meeting each one. “Please,” she said, gesturing toward the castle’s interior, “join us in the Grand Hall. The Houses have been eagerly awaiting your arrival." She paused and considered her next words. "While here, you are to operate under peace.” Her tone carried the firm, gentle weight of a mother’s scolding. “Should disagreements arise between you or among us, depart, compose yourselves, and return. I will not tolerate chaos in my halls." Without another word, she turned and made her way toward the entrance, not bothering to wait for their response or reaction. Guards and ladies-in-waiting hurrying after her. This was her home. Her domain. She was the ruler here, and they would all respect that and each other. |
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Winter Month: 1 
Night 
Blizzard Moon: 
