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Darkseeker
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You know the rules. If you're not in the title, don't post.
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▸ Plot details
Ante-war tension amongst the world leading up to the second war, this time with the supernatural getting involded.
Trainee royal v. skilled guard. |
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Darkseeker
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Full name: Luvkal, no recorded surname Identity: Male, he / him Age: Unknown, relatively young for his species--equates to about 25-27 in mortal years. Zodiac: Leo Species: Olmanok--demon shapeshifter Role: Previous head of the Royal Guard > personal guard to the royal family
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Sexual orientation: Pansexual
Romantic orientation: Grey-aro Status: Divorced
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Height, build: 6'2'' [188cm], willowy, flexible, graceful build, with slim shoulders & waist, long legs, and a decent amount of muscle. More built for agility and speed but he does pack quite a punch and has plenty of expertise in hand-to-hand combat.
Hair: Jet black, semi-wavy, reaches just above the small of his back and is usually tied up.
Eyes: Deep golden hue [iris + sclera are all one solid color] with pinpoint pupils that dilate when injured or experiencing some sort of strong emotional turmoil. Face: Long, slim shape, with slightly upturned nose, high/deeply defined cheekbones, and full, semi-round lips.
Other: His skin is a deep crimson red. Long, dull-pinkish scars run all along the left side of his face. He has two horns that lay backwards and curve upward slightly at the tips and a long, whip-like tail with a sharp spade-like tip at the end that could easily give wandering hands a nasty cut. This is not his "true" form, but rather one he, as a shapeshifter, has conjured up himself--no one is ever allowed to see his true form. Ever.
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MBTI: ENTP - Debater
Alignment: Neutral evil
Traits: - Bit of a drama queen, though he likes to think all of his fits are totally and completely rational and will ignore anyone who says otherwise. - Truly just wants to watch the world burn, but since he's in it, he might as well try to not let that happen. - Highkey emotional/sensitive, but if you tell him such or catch him crying, he will put you in the ground. - Manipulative and silver-tongued, though he will tell the truth when prompted. Probably. Maybe. Ish. - Used to always choose himself over everyone else but has since, unfortunately, developed Empathy™ - Only capable of having a cohesive thought when it comes to violence. - He really just wants your money, but I suppose he'd save your life a couple times to get it. |
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Darkseeker
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Full Name: Potential Heir, Camus Koen Amante of the Royal House Identity: Masculine; he/him/his Age: Around 24 mortal years Zodiac: Sagittarius Species: He contains both witch/wizard blood and elf blood, his parents both holding the skills of an animagus. It seems he cannot grasp the ability to be an animagus as well, though he lazily retorts that he doesn't have the energy to learn. Role: Supernatural Royal; potential heir
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Sexual Orientation: Asexual
Romantic Orientation: Biromantic Status: Single; considers those below him only good enough for mere "flings" ───────────────────────────
Height, Build: 5'11'' [180cm], well built, muscular, lean, has both agility and strength. His body type would lean more towards the muscled side, though he does have some agility and speed. Camus's arms and legs are colored with muscle from years of training with the Royal guard. He can pack a punch and a kick with a burst of speed. His supernatural abilities, however, seem to slip out of his grasp.
Hair: A soft, warm hazel that shimmers lighter than a normal brown, but is a varying shade of bronze. With it's slightly wavy ends and it's unkept state, his hair gives him a comically adorable look. Eyes: Bright, vivid blue eyes with light gold spirals and wide, alluring pupils. The emotions in them seem to hold a veil amongst themselves, no reactions really popping from the eyes. Face: Shelved somewhere between thin and broad. His cheekbones are slightly defined with higher arching eyebrows and long lashes. His nose is straight and smooth, his lips fuller with a soft color. Other: His ears are sharp and pointed, arching high in the familiar appearance of an elf. A layer of small horns encircles his neck, albeit the thought is rather odd, it seems natural looking at the protective layer of sharp, gray horns. His skin is a tanned color, warm and giving him a summer look, though his personality is purely winter cold. A crown of autumn leaves and gold flakes often will adorn his head, as he prefers showing his status, but not wearing the heavy little crowns.
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MBTI: ENTJ-A :: Commander :: Assertive
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Traits: - Can seem lazy and bored at first, but soon you may come to realize he's an observant little thing, eyes sharp and cutting. - Not the smartest in the realm, but had an air of superiority, an actor in his very bones. - Can be a bit of a liar, and doesn't seem to realize it himself, manipulating stories to point in his favor. - Bringing up the fact that he does not contain much control over his abilities will surely bring you into a bath of icy rage. - He enjoys the company of the animals around the grounds and the Royal guards, as he trains most with them, and spends the most time around them. - Can actually be sweet and the world seems to favor him over his brothers and sisters, and though Camus hates his siblings, he hates the world's expectations more. - Acts as if he owns the world to keep a solid standing point. - Terribly afraid of heights and swimming in uncharted waters. - Oddly has always wanted a wolf/wolf-blooded canine for a pet/guard/companion. - Will rip your head off if you go near his food or his room. Has a bit of anger issues when he's in a bad mood. - Has an affinity with most animals, but lowkey scared of his parent's snakes and peacocks. - Is the type of person that can roll his eyes, glare, and possibly cry at the same time, without missing a beat. - Would destroy your belongings, burn your home, enslave your family, steal your pudding, and free any of your animals if you so much as mispronounce his name or say the wrong thing. |
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Darkseeker
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This was only one of many times this past month that Luvkal found himself thinking about how badly he did not want to be here.
It was supposed to be a joke, honestly--him joining the Royal Guard. He'd wandered into many kingdoms before and toyed with their rankings, though he rarely ever got anywhere because A. he wasn't serious, and B. he wasn't human. Obviously these later kingdoms were a little kinder to him, namely because they were made majorly of creatures not too unlike himself. . . and, well, one thing led to another and now he was in a uniform with a number of badges and access to parts of the country that he should definitely not be permitted access to. The situation slipped out of his hands faster than he could rein it back in. He hadn't meant any harm--not what he considered to be harm, anyway--but this was not a situation in which he could simply disappear.
And the thing was, he was good at this job. Planning and cruelty were his specialties, so when it came to protecting these people and punishing those who sought to bring them harm, he delivered fairly effortlessly, which led to him climbing the ranks until there was nowhere left to climb.
It wasn't until after he had been escorted into the castle walls and ushered into the dining hall by a couple of uniform servants who bowed to him in unison--had they rehearsed that?--that the situation finally dawned on him. He'd met the royal family more than a few times before, but most of their orders were delivered to him via messenger; he only ever conversed with them directly when discussing wartime precautions, meetings of which were becoming more and more frequent as of late. The heightening tensions seemed to be where this promotion was coming from. And now he was truly stuck here, because how was he supposed to run from royalty? Approaching war, no less. . . and he thought he was screwed before.
As the beast began smoothing out his uniform, one of the servants began to give him the usual lecture regarding etiquette and customs and blah, blah, blah. He was well accustomed to people assuming he needed to be taught about behavior--demons were not exactly notorious for cordiality, you see--but he was perfectly capable of executing basic table manners, thank you very much.
For the most part Luvkal simply let the other blabber on, half-listening to them spit up their rehearsed lines as if he hadn't heard them a thousand times before. He was more so focused on the sound of his own racing heart than whatever came from their mouth; it was so loud that he wondered, but for a moment, if they could hear it.
It was only once the two had left, apparently to notify the royal family of his arrival, that he was able to release a breath he wasn't even aware that he was holding. What was he so nervous about anyhow? Putting on a show now would be no different than his performance that led him here. As long as the war was but a mere overhanging threat and never actually reared its ugly head, then he'd be fine. Right? |
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Darkseeker
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Camus Koen Amante of the Royal House wasn't impressed. So far, all the guards he had been training with, had left him. The reason? Because his parents insisted on sending some of their guards with ambassadors, and had the oh so nice decency to keep the top guards to themselves. Some had even been sent out to help the war effort, leading troops and salvaging lost villages. No one seemed to mind the fact that Camus’s parents were thinking of sending him to the war soon without proper training. He didn't even know what special abilities he even possessed, considering how he relied on words and fists. He glanced to the side to watch his parents and siblings, all attempting to look as regal as possible. He sat on his own little, decorated chair, slouching with one leg up on the seat, his bright autumn leaf crown tilted to one side. Apparently they were meeting all the new Royal Guards, deciding their posts and whatnot. Deciding who would be allowed full access to the kingdom's war plans. “Stop slouching Camus. Look as if you actually want to be here.” He waved a hand at one of his brothers in response to his words, lazily replying, “Why does it matter? Mother and father are going to send me off to my death soon, anyways.” One of the siblings seated around the High Table they all lounged around snorted in amusement. Camus didn't even bother correcting them. After all, he wasn't the oldest nor the youngest. He simply existed. The door opened and two servants entered, both bowing hastily. The Royals straightened, though Camus tilted his head to the side. Both servants looked flustered, one stepping forward to give another light bow before introducing themself, asking for permission to speak. It was given. “A Royal Guard is waiting outside, your Highnesses. He's a skilled warrior and leader. A decent person. As you requested.” The servant opened their mouth to continue, though seemed to think better of it, slamming their jaw closed. Camus waved a hand at them. “Continue.” The servant bowed gratefully at him in response. “If I may, I do believe he would make a good personal guard, or a war leader. Possibly even a trainer for the potential heir?” The servant glanced at Camus, who blinked at them in slight surprise. “Not physical combat, my lord, as you are already skilled in that. I mean in your supernatural abilities.” Camus didn't believe he could be even more surprised, but the servant just kept going. The Royals waved the servants out, saying to let the Royal Guardsman in. The Royals turned to look at Camus, raising their eyebrows. He sighed loudly and gave a bored shrug. “It's not as if I have permission to choose who trains me. Mother and father will.” The eyes turned to the matching monarchs of the kingdom. “We’ll see.” Was all his mother said. Camus ruffled his hair and leaned back, looking around with a bored expression as if he couldn’t care any more. |
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Darkseeker
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In all honesty, Luvkal wasn't sure what exactly it was that he was afraid of. It wasn't the nobility, surely; no amount of land and jewels could be used to intimidate him. He was a nomad, social class was a mere construct to him. What were they going to do, execute him? Tch. They'd have to catch him first. And when he had the ability the mimic the faces of the very royals themselves, there was little chance they'd be able to lay a finger on him. Perhaps it was the reality of it all. The direness. The fact that he was being held to true responsibility for once in his life, and he couldn't really run from the crown. He could hide from them, certainly, but for how long? How long until his body betrayed him, until his acting skills faltered, until he slipped up or couldn't stand to keep up the facade any longer? He wasn't sure what the punishment for such low-level treason would be, but he was almost certain that at some point down the road, his head would no longer be attached to his shoulders. And so he was. . . well, stuck.
The demon wasn't entirely sure when he started talking to himself, but the sound of his own voice did appear to soothe him to some degree. He muttered naught but utter nonsense; mostly things about the weather, because he didn't want to stress himself out by thinking about anything that actually mattered. He was almost successful in calming himself down until those same servants appeared before him once more to inform him that the royal family was ready for him. And just like that, his heart was trying to wiggle its way out of his throat yet again. Great.
Luvkal trailed after the lackey whilst mulling over what little options he had in his head. He would play his part for now; if he was to be selected, he'd train the little brat for as long as he was needed, do his usual routine of nodding, bowing, and "Yes sir"'s, and behave like a good little soldier until he could come up with a better plan. Sometimes he really did wish he had never left home. . . mmh, no he didn't.
The room of which he was led into felt many degrees colder than the corridors, though perhaps that was due to being under the scrutiny of the entire royal family. Not that he cared about what a bunch of blue-bloods thought of him; it was just a little harder to keep up an agreeable visage when there was more than one pair of eyes on you.
"Your highnesses," he greeted upon moving before the seated royals, dipping down into a brief, somewhat hasty bow with his hands folded at the small of his back. "General Luvkal, pleasure to make your acquaintance." |
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Darkseeker
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He pondered on how horrible this new Royal Guard could be. Not too much, right? The guard had been chosen as a direct protector of the Royal House, so it wasn't too far-fetched that this guard had some skills that were deemed desirable. Camus rubbed his eyes and exhaled softly, his gaze dull and dark. The doors were inched open, the two servants from before carefully inching in, leading a tall, slim man with dark black hair, a dark red skin tone with two horns laying along his head. Scars lashed his features, giving him a superior air. The demon's eyes, though, shone brightly along his facial expression the most, deep gold and piercing. All talk in the room silenced. The two servants bowed their heads and moved to the side. Camus kept his eyes trained on the man, eyeing him carefully. He seemed calm and collected, greeting the royals with a bow. "General Luvkal, pleasure to make your acquaintance." General Luvkal, Camus mused. He had the build of fighter and general, an agile speed laced in his body. "Tell us about yourself," his mother said lightly, her voice warm and welcoming. His father, meanwhile, assessed the man as if he were a threat, which he could very well be. Camus was curious. Many who were forced to meet with the royals either faked it until they made it, and others were desperate for the "attention". It wasn't even all that. A simple meeting with normal people with high titles. The large amount of siblings Camus had all looked at each other, Camus, then back to the General. The royals were all critical and judgemental, but something such as approval shone in their eyes. Camus almost sighed aloud again. The look in his family's eyes most likely meant he would genuinely have to train with this man. The thought of having to work on a skill he didn't even fully understand or had ever processed sounded like a long road of future embarrassments, and Camus had gone through enough of those. Did it not make sense if he could just use his physical prowess? Did it not make sense to his parents that maybe he didn't even need to fight front-line in the war-effort? Almost all of the other royals mastered their special abilities at a young age and had trained in physical attacks as well, making Camus one of the more useless royals. At least he could make speeches and not stumble over his words, though. He would be forced to play along as if he were a puppet, training like a good little boy. Better that than have an "accident" happen to him. In all honesty, he wouldn't put it past his parents or siblings to murder him. They were royals. and Camus was the middle sibling, left unnoticed by his family, seen in a light full of harsh expectations by the world. So he'd play in their game, albeit the tables could turn in the future. |
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Spring Month: 3 
Night Weather: 
Clear Moon: 
