Wolf Play : The Queens Curse

The royals and nobles of the Myridia kingdom have just cast their curse on the Deosera nobles and royals. Initially, the curse will appear blurry and vague, but over the course of the week, it will become clear that it originates from Myridia. Members of the Myridia kingdom should focus on training and planning their next steps for an attack. However, they should proceed carefully, as a full-scale war is not expected to start immediately. During the first week, Myridia will experience temperatures ranging from 20°C at the beginning of the week to 25°C by Sunday. In contrast, Deosera will see temperatures starting at 27°C and gradually rising to 33°C by Sunday.

The Queens Curse | RP Thread ⟢

August 10, 2024 01:58 AM

Salem

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Eyzara Viridian | M | He/They | King | Mentions; Osbeorn (ind), Open!

Eyzara stood, cloaked in obscurity, observing the training grounds where the newest generation of recruits honed their skills. These were the ones destined to join the rest of his kingdom's army, should they survive, and fight for Myridia's dominance. They would carry the weight of the kingdom’s future on their shoulders, and he needed to ensure they were ready. It was always wise to keep an eye on them—especially when no one knew he was watching.

His time at the camp was limited. Sooner or later the nobles, or his second in command, would naturally notice his absence and come searching. With a final glance at the trainees, Eyzara unfurled his wings, their dark, leathery expanse catching the faint light as he took to the sky.

He flew with the precision of an arrow, and the stealth of the shadows. Circling the castle, he scanned the grounds for any prying eyes, slipping through the grand gates unnoticed.

“Now to avoid Osbeorn,” Eyzara muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper. The King made his way up to his study and could only hope nobody stopped and saw him, except for lesser fae that were invisble at the moment. So as not to bother him or their higher ups.

As Eyzara locked the door behind him, he pulled out a dagger from seemingly just the dark aura surrounding him at all times. This dagger was small, not intended to be used as a weapon in any capacity, but useful. He kept it with him at all timesbut never showed it off or used it in close combat. It was made out of delicate obsidian, with even smaller white roses decorating the handle. The word "Loyalty" was carved into the volcanic glass shallowly.

He made his way over to his desk at the far end of the room, a book from one of the many shelves fell and bounced onto his desk. Seemlessly, the book flipped to a page otherwise blank except for the same tattoo as on the dorsal side of the King's right hand.

Eyzara couldn't help but smile. This happened every time but it was never any less unimpressive. Quickly, with fluid motion, the King sliced his palm and dripped a few droplets of blood onto the cursed page. His wound healed rather quickly, but the mark would still show for a few days. It would also hurt a little bit each time he needed to pick something up but that was the price to pay when you wanted to curse a kingdom.

Eyzara pressed his palm to the sigil. "By shadows that bind and blood that seals, may this mark bind you to your downfall, as I command your fate." He whispered, and as he did so the tattoo would begin to appear on the Deosera's Queen as well as her inner circle.

He had no marked that kingdom as his victims, and they would know it was him from the mark. Victory was nearing by the second but he would have to contain his excitment until much, much later. The war wouldn't start until after he had watched them panick to his amusement, and only after he got bored but he couldn't help his thoughts happily wandering back to it.

✾

What could missing a night of sleep do? Nothing much, except make Eyzara look exceptionally tired. Too long had it been since the last time he pulled an all nighter, but it was for a justified reason.

Lazily the King shuffled his way down to the kitchen, yawning as he sat himself down smoothly onto the nearest luxury chair. He rested his hands atop the floating island counter and spoke ahead of him to one of the invisible lesser fae bound to be there.

"Bacon and eggs, scrambled." He placed an order, not even a please or thank you. The others would be bound to pop up sometime and he hoped it would be after he had eaten but at this point he would enjoy a bit of company.

Edited at August 10, 2024 01:58 AM by Salem

The Queens Curse | RP Thread ⟢

August 11, 2024 08:30 PM

Honey

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Posts: 425
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Lonan Galdr | M | He/him | Myridian Third-in-Command | M: Eyzara (ind.), Osbeorn (ind.), Akerri (ind.)

Lonan strode through the shadowy corridors of the palace, the click of his boots echoing off the cavernous walls. The entire castle was buzzing with an anxious sense of excitement and had been since the casting of the curse on the nobles of Deosera. Lonan didn't care much about the specifics of the curse; no, he was much more preoccupied with the war that was sure to follow.

The breeze that blew in through the castle's towering windows was cool, but Lonan could sense the incoming warm snap on the breeze. He had been pondering on how that may affect their troops' morale. They would certainly need to have more water available, or else their soldiers could easily begin to succumb to the heat. Lonan filed the thought away in his mind for later, when he and the rest of the royals of Myridia would meet to discuss the logistics and fallout of the curse.

From his perspective on the second floor of the palace, Lonan could hear the shouts and grunts of their army training below. They had been fed minimal information regarding the curse, only vague details about the possibility of an incoming war with Deosera. They had also been explicitly instructed to proceed with caution; though the war with Deosera was practically guaranteed, it wouldn't do to have some Myridian foot soldier break out the conflict. This had to be planned meticulously to the last detail, and they could not afford for any of their plans to go awry.

Lonan approached and descended one of the castle's spiraling stone staircases. He passed a handful of servants scurrying along with their arms full of fresh bedlinens; they lowered their heads in acknowledgement, and he nodded curtly at them. Unlike the king and his second-in-command, Lonan's presence did not require any amount of bowing or groveling, and it irritated him to no end. There was some bizarre limit to the respect afforded to him by the servants and commonfolk of Myridia, one that did not match the level given to Eyzara and Osbeorn, not to mention Akerri. The little heir did absolutely nothing to contribute to the daily political scene in Myridia, much less the scheme to wage war on Deosera, and he was still treated like the greatest gift to ever grace their realm.

Lonan sighed moodily as he reached the palace's ground floor. Here, the sounds of sparring from the training yard were much more pronounced. He could make out the clanging of steel and thumping of wood as Myridia's army prepared for what was to come. Despite himself, he was excited by it. This war was long overdue; Deosera was the only neighboring kingdom to fend of Myridia's attempts at conquering it. They had maintained their independence no matter how hard the opposition was - until now, of course. Lonan couldn't see how they would manage to resist the Myridian army as they fell apart from the inside. It was a brilliant idea, a stroke of genius on the Myridian royals' part. Lonan held on to some begrudging respect for the resilient citizens of Deosera, but there were no match for the curse that was about to befall their nobles and rulers.

Lonan came to one of the palace's massive windows and leaned against the sill. He could see the sparring yard from here. Soldiers swarmed the area like insects; they were obviously simulating some sort of mass battle down there. Smart, Lonan thought. They would surely be forced into a similar situation shortly after they entered the field. It was pertinent that they learn to keep their heads and wits about them in such a chaotic situation, especially one where they would certainly be witnessing their friends and family fall around them.

He abandoned his post at the windowsill and made his way towards the kitchen. He was hoping to procure a drink before heading to bed; he'd been poring over plans for the coming invasion for hours and was exhausted.

The doors to the kitchen were massive and constructed of oak and bronze. Lonan hefted one open and breathed in the scent of freshly-baked bread, herbs, and spices. He could spot the cooks working feverishly to complete supper before the army broke from training and came poring into the mess hall for their rations. Surely one of them could spare enough time to mix him a drink.

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