| |
Darkseeker
|
Edited at November 28, 2022 09:12 PM by Nox
|
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Currently in Stokhaven ⚔︎ Season: End of Fall/early Winter. Temperature: 42°F/5.5°C. Mood: Stokhaven is alright overall, but tense. Everyone knows that the war against Mages is going on, but it's not effecting most lives directly, at the moment. Citizens of Stokhaven, for the most part, know that the city-wide celebration is being used as a ploy to take civilian minds off of Mage and Templar hostility. Currently: King Lysander, nephew of the former King Percival, is hosting an elaborate celebration to mark his second year as acting king in the upper district of Stokhaven. High-valued, imported goods are piled high at the vendor stalls in this part of town, and much of it is decorated with flowers or lanterns to welcome other royals to his castle. It is a thieves dream, but is heavily monitored by guards. King Lysander's public reputation is fairly positive, aside from most Mages and Mage Supporters; King Lysander is extremely against magic, and has caused some tension inside of the city. Stokhaven is busier now than usual, which may provide needed cover for Mages on the run, but could also make them stand out in a crowd if they cannot control their magic. The lower district may be safer, but the civilians are very thuggish there. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Stokhaven was perhaps the most beautiful at this time of year. The last red, orange, and yellow leaves in the dense woodlands were still clinging onto their mother trees as the first powdery white snows frost over the ground. Snowfall now would not last but a few hours, though it was pretty to look at if you awoke early enough in the day to see it. Natural occurance partnered with King Lysander's flaunted wealth in the upper markets really brought it all together; giant lanterns hung from the decorative trees that split up the stone pathways, dyed golden ribbons were strung from the wealthy's roof tops, and thousands of imported goods were being sold by foreign vendors in the upper district stalls. Everything was very showy to mark the second year of success of young King Lysander's reign over Stokhaven and its people. Citizens would not have expected any less from their King, who was notoriously flaunty about his wealth. Most of the public assumes that he has not been murdered yet because of his surprisingly strong Templar morals; that Mages are an abomination that must be chained and bound, or eliminated altogether. +
While Stokhaven was cleaned up to look like a thriving city at the insistence of the King, the majority of people here were not royalty, so few would actually reap any of the benefits of it. Very few of Stokhaven's royal residents were invited to attend King Lysander's feast and party within Castle Stokhaven's fortress walls tonight, as most guests were to be foreign diplomats or leaders. The flaunting that the King did was merely a slap in the face to the impoverished, especially those in the lower district who commonly fought over day old bread, but such is the way of things in Stokhaven. There was always someone being left with the worst end of the deal. + The King's guards were thick in the upper districts, watching for thieves of course, but they were also taking note of suspicious characters to send reports back to The Circle Tower. Knight-Commander Malachi or Knight-Captain Luthias would read through the reports and select targets for a Bountyman to chase after in the following days to come. +
The Circle Tower was quiet for the moment. There are always concerns and suspicious characters, but nothing that's caused any recent, massive backlash. It had been nearly six months since a Mage fell to corruption within these cold stone walls, which is impressive as far as Circle Towers went. Knight-Commander Malachi had read the reports of some of the Southern Towers, where corruption was as plentiful as a few killings each day. It made the lead Templar confident that they must be doing something right here, even if it didn't always feel that way. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Knight-Commander Malachi Sterling Templar || 32 || Circle Tower || Mentions: Available He hadn't slept but two hours last night.
The majority of the night was spent staring up at the skylight in his office. The stars were bright and vivid above, and he could see traces of snow speckling the sky white during a few portions of the darkness. The Bounty Templars would be cold, he thought to himself as he laid awake on his small bed. Sure, the crew was provided with sturdy armor and tents to sleep in, but the Knight-Commander knew from experience that that only goes so far. He couldn't count how many times he and his squad would pull some allowance together to rent out a room or two in the lower districts at night. A pint of ale in the lesser districts was more than likely full of sewage over alcohol, but it always made his stomach warm enough to sleep afterwards in the digusting little inns. Rotted wood walls were still walls to shield from the elements, and Malachi smirked grimly to himself as he recalled hearing the loud cry of the wind cutting through the weak boards. One of his hands raised up to skim over the half moon scar beside his brow that was given to him on one of those very cold nights. +
Most of the Templars Malachi trained with were now either dead or had been urged to move to the South to aid the more problematic Towers there. His shieldbrothers and sisters had been plucked out of his life one by one and were left a distant memory. The notion always made him feel homesick in some odd way, but their spirits still lived on in his heart each day. Not forgetting them was the best thing that he could offer them, and still, so many years later, he continues to lie awake at night to think about them. Honoring those that are lost was something that Malachi and Tower residents knew very well. Each time a new Mage was brought in, in came their memories and their losses. Most leave behind a family on the outside that they'd likely never see again. Most are empathetic and nurturing towards newcomers, but some are bitter and resentful to hear about another person's hopes and dreams being destroyed. ... + +By the time the sun had risen, Malachi had already gotten dressed, made his bed, opened the door to his private quarters, and sat down at his desk to reread through yesterday's reports. Breakfast was generally served to him by a lesser Templar, so he didn't quite feel the need to run down all of those stairs straight away to fetch it himself. Instead, he grabbed his single-handed sword and slid it into place on his hip as his eyes blinked a few times to bat away morning grogginess. It was barely morning, and much of the lounge was vacant outside of his doors; a few Templars stood on guard out there, waiting to be relieved from their night shift by the day shift. Malachi was always an early riser and often watched the shifts swapping out. He tried to be a morning person in order to be prepared for his meeting with Frederick, the First Enchanter. [ so rough but I wanted to get at least one post up tonight! :') ] |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Knight-Captain Luthias Vipont Templar || 28 || Circle Tower || Mentions: Bounty Templars (ind.), Available He had spent the whole night reading away in the corner of the lounge. His fingers traced over the reports as he read them, following along with words of caution against suspected Mage activity in Stokhaven city. The guards seemed wary that activists may try pulling stunts during King Percival's celebrations, and to assure that the Bounty Templars were on high alert inside of the inner city during the next several days. A lot of the reports were nameless, but a few had some descriptions of suspicious characters, which was common, and Luthias would pass on the information whenever the Bountymen were to check back in. +
By the time the Knight-Commander was awake and opened up his door, Luthias had already gone downstairs to find himself some breakfast. The serving Templars always seemed to stop their chatter whenever he stepped into line to get his fill, but that never bothered him any. A few 'mornings' were uttered out to him, which he naturally wouldn't respond to, and had turned out of the barracks as soon as he had food on his tray. There was no need to associate with the lesser this early in the day. +
After breakfast, his hike all of the way down to the base floor of the Tower took up several minutes of his time. The small windows he passed by every so often reminded him that it was still very early in the morning. The sun was just starting to peak out from the treeline on the horizon, but clouds blocked out much of it from view. It may rain today. The Bountymen could certainly have an icy, bitter night ahead of them. + "Open the doors, they should be here any minute," Luthias snapped at one of the Templars posted by the front gates of the Tower. Luthias rolled his eyes as he avoided acknowledging any of the morning chatter between the guards. His lean, armored frame struttered outside and down to the edge of the dock, where some small flurries were starting to dust over the crown of his head. He could see some outlines on the shore across Lake Percival, but couldn't make out who they were. He assumed it was his crew returning back to the Tower, but were they empty-handed? |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Bounty Templar Peter St. James Templar || 22 || Lake Percival || Mentions: Bounty Templars, Emera, Asteria (ind.) & Luthias (ind.). "Careful now, make sure that she doesn't hit her head!" Peter shouted to the group from behind them. He marked the last of the Bounty Templars to trudge through the frequently-trekked clearing in the woods, which lead right up to the sizeable wooden boat they'd row to reach the Tower. One of his crewmates was leading the captured Mage onto the boat. Peter hoped that they were being gentle. The mystery woman had a burlap sack over her head to keep her eyes hidden. Peter thought it was all supersition, but he knew that some Templars believed that you could see the demon inside when you looked at a Mage's eyes whenever they're in distress, so it was common for one to be bagged like the woman was when she captured. He always thought it felt inhumane, and tended to pull the covers off of them as soon as they were inside of the Tower walls, after they passed inspection. The young Templar swallowed hard when he spotted Knight-Captain Luthias' frame perched at the end of the dock, perfectly on time. He had truly hoped that the Knight-Commander would have hosted their meeting this morning instead. +
Peter had been the last to wake up this morning, and had missed the capturing of this Mage woman. While the Bountymen usually traveled together, a few had split off during the day prior to fulfill their individual investigations, and Peter had been one of them. Miss Asteria von Morrigan was his current person of interest, and although he currently has seen no proof of her magic powers, he genuinely believed that the Countess had a secret and had been trailing her for several days now, waiting for her to slip up. By the time he had made his way to the Bounty Templar meeting spot in the woods, the Mage had already been wrangled up, and they were already heading towards Lake Percival to take her into custody. He hoped she had come peacefully, and though he was the caboose on the end of the group, he couldn't see blood on her. +
"Knight-Captain Luthias is waiting for us on the docks, we'd better hurry bring her in," Peter spoke to his comrades in arms and rammed the back of the boat with his shoulder to knock the end of it into the water. He had climbed into the back of the boat quickly then, after almost coming up short and landing in the lake. He had saved himself by just managing to reach the hull with his gloved hands. He had adjusted his silver helmet on the top of his head then after reaching a hand in to rub some sweat out of his eyes. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Enchanter Winona Chamberlain Mage || 27 || Circle Tower: Mess Hall || Mentions: Available She had convinced herself in her youth that morning was only for the people that hated themselves and groaned miserably when light began to pierce through the small windows near the top of the ceiling. Winnie had stayed in her bed in the Mage's sleeping quarters for longer than she should have, which made it all the more difficult to part from. Her feet carefully teetered from the edge of the top bunk, and had swayed in the air as she maneuvered herself down to the bottom of her mattress to take the small ladder down. Her bunkmate was already up for the day, so at least there wasn't an awkward morning greeting in store for her as she planted herself down onto the cold floor. +
She had gotten dressed in her usual attire; murky gray Mage robes and flat houseshoes for her feet. Her thick brown hair had been twisted up into a very messy ponytail by a thin blue ribbon that practically disappeared once her hair fell into place. Winona's hands rubbed over her pale face and she couldn't help but break into a long yawn as she found her footing and scouted down the flights of stairs towards the mess hall. There were already dozens of Mages eating here, and Winnie's tired eyes blinked a few times in an attempt to rid herself of blurry, morning vision. + The Enchanter had gotten in line for breakfast, and had received her tray and meal after a several minute wait. Some questionable fruit and a pastry of some kind was the breakfast of the day, and she had gotten a small glass of water to drink along with it. She had scouted out one of the tables off to the side, nearest to the small barred up windows, and had settled down into the wooden seat. She was always open to company, as were many of the Mages here, and her heavy eyes watched as a few others had settled down with their group a few tables away. She had started to pluck some of the mushy red grapes from off of the stem she had been given and wrinkled her nose at the bitter sourness of some of them. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Apostate Cyrus Auberon Mage || 26 || Stokhaven Slums || Mentions: Available It wasn't every day that he was able to wake up in a bed, so today was off to a good start. The wooden walls were damaged and marred with stains that he never wanted to know what made them, and the air cut through all of the holes in the exterior. The Apostate sighed as he shoed bed bugs off of his arm and had let the blanket he used gather on the holy, molded boards around his ankles. The single window in his room at the inn was busted open at the bottom left pane, and he could feel the chill in the air sting at his face. He wished he could afford to stay another night here, as disgusting as it was. There was a large fire pit that took up most of the lobby room downstairs, and some of the heat from that kept him more comfortable than usual. By the look outside, tonight would be cold. He hated the idea of camping out there. +
He had gotten dressed quickly, wearing his usual black cloak atop some faded black pants and tattered up shirt that had been called up on the floor. His boots were caked in mud and who knows what else, but he had pulled them onto his feet and gritted his teeth once the blisters on them were rubbed as they slid into place. Water and muck must have gotten in them last night; they squelched when his soles hit the bottom pads and sludge immediately soaked his toes. "Figures," he muttered out quietly, and had tossed his few scattered belongings into his leather hide pack that he tied around his hips via leather straps. It was small enough that his cloak covered it in his hip, which kept beggars from asking him for money. He didn't usually get tested much to begin with, because he usually looked just about as well off as they did. His raven black hair was greasy and his olive skin was oily and scabbed up. His yellowy-brown eyes just looked plain tired. +
"Is there any special rates I can get for staying another night?" Cyrus asked the innkeeper quietly in the lobby. He leaned partially over the counter to address them, and flitted his eyes around the room skeptically. Three others were in the room. They sat together on buckets in the corner as they cut up the tail end of a fish to share between them. + "We ain't got special rates. It's fifteen septums for the night or you sleep outside with the dogs," the innkeeper, a grovelling, stout old man had muttered out from behind the bar. "I know your kind boy, you're lucky to have gotten away with staying here for one night," the man said, and chuffed when Cyrus took a reflexive step back. "Find another inn to stay at," he said, and motioned with his finger for Cyrus to lean nearer. The Apostate neared hesitantly. "Word is that these buggars are friends with the guards. They're here for the next nine days," he whispered quietly, but glanced between Cyrus and the crew in the corner. + The innkeeper cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders as he stretched back. "Careful out there Augustus," the man spoke with his brown raised, and Cyrus nodded upon hearing his alias. He was already backpedaling towards the door. + "Stay warm," the Apostate said as he dismissed himself and sighed once on the outside of the building. The lower district was bustling, as usual. Black soot from smoke pipes and charcoal hung in the air, and beggars lined the cracked pathways. Cyrus tugged his cowl over his head and slowly trekked through the mobs and towards the forest treeline. It'd be best to find somewhere to camp at for the night before it would start snowing. |
|
|
| |
Lightbringer
|
Ambrose Kip | Bounty Templar | 26 | M: Peter, Emera, Bounty Hunters (ind), Luthias (ind) Kip rolled his eyes at Peter’s outcry. The hooded mage that trailed behind him was fine. There was little low-hanging branch around them and it would be a miracle if this woman did run into anything. Peter was just being a bit of a baby, of course, he was still a greenie fresh from the academy. He would learn. “She’s fine, Pete.” He called back to the younger templar. “No need to fret your brain off.” He continued leading the bound woman, trusting his crewmates to take action if she tried anything suspicious. It was frightening to turn your back to a creature who could very well turn demonic in a flash. Luckily, he knew the other’s training, and even though one was still wet behind the ears, he was sure that he’d know what to do. He approached the rowboat and carefully stepped in, hoping to keep his balance, unlike last time. Last time he had fallen backward and it ended up with him rowing soaking wet while the prisoner cackled like some sort of hyena. Not a good day. He managed to sit down on one of the wooden seats and offered his hand to help the mage inside. She was still a lady after all, and his mother hadn't raised a slob. He just hoped that she wouldn’t electrocute him or anything. That was the danger of this situation, but so far she seemed calm in demeanor. Perhaps she’d be one of the hopeless, despairing ones who end up crying the entire time. He liked those, they were easy… well at least if they weren’t water manipulators. Those people can cry and one nearly sunk the rowboat. Kip watched as his crewmates boarded and stifled a laugh when green little Pete fell in the lake. Luckily it wasn't deep in this area and he reflected at his own time in its waters. It was funny watching people tumble in. However, he would do the poor boy a favor that he received himself once. “Are you okay?” He asked him. “I got a spare cloak if you need it.” The trip between shores wasn’t long and quickly they approached the dock. As they did, Kip recognized Knight-Captain Luthias waiting for them. The man was a willowy figure and whenever Kip saw him he always wondered how many balloons it would take to sweep him away. If he was closer to the rat-eyed man he would surely call him Lightweight Luth or Lil Luthy, but he was sure that the friendly gesture would not appease him. So he never tried. He recalled his main mentor’s constant warnings to him, “it is unwise to tease your superiors” and he could almost hear the stocky man’s gruff voice. Pity he died, though, he was a wonderful teacher. As he continued moving, he noticed that the Knight-Captain still hadn’t been able to grow more than just a few mouse hairs on his lip. A pity, because it made him look more desperate to look like a man than a sapling. As careful as he was when he boarded the boat, Kip climbed out. With her lead in his other hand, he offered his hand again to the mage. He realized that this gesture probably wasn’t good to enact in front of the Knight-Captain who was notorious for his disdain for the mages. However, it was too late and he hoped that Luthias’ attention would turn to the dripping Peter instead. |
|
|
| |
Lightbringer
|
|Qian Meng|22|Apostate Mage|Mentions: Open| "I can give you the power the power that you desire." The words touched his consciousness, like tendrils of smoke there and then disappearing. It was always the same, a promise of giving him the strength that he so desired, the power that he hungered for. But what was strength if borrowed from something else? What would succumbing to the tantalizing offer give him? Nothing. A brief moment of feeling all-powerful and superior to everything else, but besides that there was nothing. He would be disposed of by the Templars before he had a chance to do much, if anything, and that was if he would even remain himself. From the stories, he'd heard, once one made a deal with the devil inside them they were lost, completely devoured by the creature both mind and body. ` It was a cool early morning as fall transitioned into the long months of winter. Most of the surrounding forest trees had bared themselves, shedding their leaves and sinking into their annual dormancy. Leaning forward on the log that he was sitting upon, Qian Meng poked at the dying embers of last night's fire with a stick he'd found laying nearby. The sound of the camp beginning to stir broke the silence of the morning as men began to wake from their night of slumber. Some grumbled from within their tents, others were stepping out dressed and ready for the remaining journey to Stokhaven. ` A quiet and nearly inaudible groan passed Qian Meng's lips at the disturbance as he rose to his feet. His left hand came to rest upon the sword strapped to his waist. Normally he wouldn't be caught surrounded by so many people, but he'd been running low on money and supplies. These men had offered him a generous amount to escort them to the city of Stokhaven. It had been too tantalizing an offer, and worth a few days of trouble. Soon though, they would be out of his hair and he'd be free to go his own way. ` "Ah, Muzan. You are up early." Turning his eyes to the man who had spoken to him he shrugged in answer. It was his job, as well as his routine, to wake well before dawn. "We will be at Stokhaven by noon today. I expect full payment upon our arrival." He said, sparing the pleasantries. They were nothing but irritation and a waste of time. The older gentleman offered up a forced laugh and nodded. "Yes, yes. I haven't forgotten our agreement." He said while lifting a hand and rubbing at the back of his head. A visible sign of his unease and sense of awkwardness at the turn of conversation and the silence that followed. It hardly mattered how the older man felt, so long as he kept his end of the deal and paid Qian Meng what was owed. ` With little further to be said and having no intention of humoring the old man with a conversation, Qian Meng stepped around him. His boots greeted the ground beneath him with little to no sound, each step as silent as the last as he moved to the edge of camp. There the horses were tied, their carts full of supplies lying a short distance away. A small smile graced his lips as he approached the creatures, his back to the camp and the people in it. As he passed, Qian Meng greeted each animal with a gentle pat and a few gentle words before coming to a stop before the last steed. The only thing that he had taken with him when he'd run from the farm he'd grown up on. "Hey boy." Reaching up he placed a hand on the horse's head, gently rubbing at the space between his eyes. ` The creature was a rather magnificent animal, with long legs and a sturdy build. His coat was as black as a raven's wing, save for the one white sock on his rear right leg. He'd been his only companion on this road of solitude that Qian Meng walked. The only reliable friend that he allowed himself to have, for an animal was far more trustworthy than a human. Stepping around the horse Qian Meng let his hand travel across the stallion's neck and down his back. "When we get to town, I'll have to see about buying you a nice apple, or perhaps a few carrots." His words were greeted with a soft whinny as the horse turned its head about to look at him. |
|
|
Winter 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
