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vielle

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Everything posted by vielle

  1. Asora smiles, nods at Haruhi’s response, the formal body language she exudes: a lily, elegant and tall and unyielding. She need not worry, then; the young woman is more than capable of fighting her own battles. After their tea, the hostess of the house invites them to walk with her, and so they find themselves trailing after Tsuyun into the gardens and into the hidden workshop, listening to the spiel the woman presents in introduction to her chosen craft. And then—the demonstration. As each intricate and mechanic piece of fashion is produced for their eyes to observe, Asora watches both Tsuyu’s creations and Haruhi’s face in equal measure. Equipped with the Lady Shirokawa’s work, her niece would be a force to be reckoned with both in public and behind closed doors: the peerless example of the lady spy in her natural element. She would be just perfect for the role Asora is asking her to play, and with that thought, the deal is sealed. When the man removes himself from the premises and Tsuyu stands waiting for their reaction to her craft, Asora lifts her hands and offers a few claps of approval. “Most astounding work, Tsuyu-san.” The Lady Yanaihara’s expression is effortlessly calm, composed, a gentle smile on her face even as she praises ornaments that promise violence and perhaps death. “I am in awe of your expertise in this field; it’s quite unlike anything I’ve seen,” she pauses, the curl of her lips taking a more devious curl, “and I have seen my fair share. Now, perhaps we may see whether Haruhi-hime would fit well with your clothes here, or if she’ll need a lighter shade to match her eyes.” The gauntlet has been thrown. Asora turns to the young lady beside her and awaits her next action.
  2. With the way Cecily shovels mouthful upon mouthful of food down her throat, he had been correct in assuming she had not eaten before running out the door: a habit she had acquired in their younger years and has yet to let go of since then. “Now.” The knight perches his elbows on the wooden counter, armor clanking as he moves to take out a rolled piece of parchment and unravel it on the table for everyone to see. “As you can observe, this is the Greywood, or as much of the forest as the Lords-Hildebrand have mapped out. Only the first few miles are apparent on this map; the areas extending onward to the foot of Veilcrest Fell are still considered unexplored.” He taps the center of the paper with a finger. “We can assume the amulet we are searching for can be located somewhere at the heart of the Greywood.” He valiantly ignores Steffan’s amused snort. “So, Miss Holly: you shall join me as the vanguard of the party. We’ll make sure none of us come to harm within the forest. Steffan shall assist in tracking the exact whereabouts of the relic, and Cecily will provide support in that regard, as well as—” “Collecting samples of whatever flora we find,” finishes the aforementioned woman with an excitable grin. Willard nods in consent. “Now, is everyone in agreement with this party composition?”
  3. On her way to the tavern, Cecily takes the time to arrange for her niece to keep watch of the apothecary and get her affairs in order, like a proper and responsible adventurer would. It wouldn’t do to have some enterprising thief steal her assets away before she returns, and so she takes stock of her barely-scraping-by business and hands the keys over to her niece. Without any further delay, she makes her way down to the tavern where the rest of the party awaits her. Cecily turns her nose in the air at the sight of Steffan sprawled out on the table close to passing out, and smiles sunnily at Lord Caerdonel and Holly. “Good day, everyone! Are we ready to go?” “You must eat before we continue any further, Cecily,” chastises Willard, and he drags the last free chair backward for the woman to sit down and eat her eggs and bacon.
  4. A brief moment of silence to gather his thoughts. Jasper entwines his fingers together as he gazes upon the Lady of House Sheathe and begins to speak. “I was wondering,” he muses in an altogether casual manner, “if we might be able to purchase land from you. You see, we’ve just recently reestablished House Penderyn, one of Hildebrand’s branch houses. Their ancestral home Villa Meliae is to be refurbished after a long period of absence and neglect, and some of Sheathe’s land borders its original area.” The Lord Hildebrand turns his eyes to the window overlooking the fields beyond, focus almost assessing in its quality. “We wish to expand Penderyn’s land for large-scale production of floriculture and the establishment of greenhouses in this matter. Therefore, I am extending this deal to you: the purchase of five square miles of land at the price of a generous monetary sum and a trade deal of tonics and potions straight from the apothecaries of the Gilded Gardens. What do you think?”
  5. ardís valkyrja With the shout of the Captain and the violent peppering of harpoons and bullets against wood ringing in her ears, Ardís sinks effortlessly into the battle haze just as she had many times before this moment. It is no longer a chore to take on, an unwanted cloak upon her shoulders, but now it is almost as if slipping through the front door of a warm house one can consider home. The world and the other inhabitants within it fades away, narrowing down to the twin swords that have found their way into her hands in brief seconds, and the promise of blood and aggression from just beyond the barriers of oak planks. She breathes in and breathes out. The roar of battle awaits. Placing her full weight on her sword arm, Ardís swings her first blade at the first hapless soul passing the shield she stands behind, blade cutting through unsuspecting flesh as she twirls, not stopping to celebrate her first kill before blocking the next pirate’s scimitar. Her second blade is free to then plunge deep into the attacker’s gut, body enveloping the angel-charmed steel with little resistance. The deck is slick with crimson. She takes great care to keep her boots away from the blood puddles as she dances to and fro across the length of the cabin’s floorboards, a battle-hardened warrior in her natural element.
  6. It becomes all too clear that something has brought them here, something strange and challenging and all too willing to see Silas’ unraveling at the bottom of the pool. With that deep voice echoing from the strange figure of wood and bone entwined hovering over the surface of the water below, Varda takes a moment to breathe in and out, steady her crumbling composure. Fear will serve no purpose to her plight at the moment; she must keep herself calm even as she watches the entity loom over her companion. It is perhaps only due to their conversation that she is distracted from her panic. "Every night I find myself back there, reliving the worst moments of my life. Perhaps I didn't die there... but I might as well have. No matter how I struggle, I will never be free." She can’t quite understand where these words are coming from. The mention of dungeons and suffering is alien to Varda’s concept of the good and capable Doctor that she knows Silas to be, and so she can do nothing but watch the exchange unfold, all the while subtly trying to pull herself from the natural chains that bind her.
  7. Refreshed enough for her mood to quickly let bygones be bygones and allow the sourness of the earlier event to slip from her mind, Kestrel slumps down into the grass beside her companion and hugs her knees to her chest, stray river water dripping from her golden curls. Listening to Andromeda’s words seem almost like a story straight out of a fairytale. The sun-girl had been born in an urban landscape where the divinity held little sway; it is to magic and the arcane arts that people put their faith in. When one is scraping in the streets with the sewer rats trying to gather up what could be their only meal for the week, one tends not to give any mind towards the dealings amongst the gods, and most certainly not a love story between an immortal and a mortal. However, she is curious of this woman’s story and the divinity she claims to possess, and so Kestrel sits patiently throughout the unraveling of the tragic tale from the nymph’s lips, imagining crimson against pale lifeless flesh and a firefly love that transcends all common sense. “And what a better way than to take out the apparent heir to the throne, do you not agree?” That statement puts a halt to Kestrel’s train of thought, and she gazes at the other woman for a few stunned moments before her mind finally starts back up again. “You are the heir to your father’s throne? A princess of the gods, almost, then?” The thought of such a prominent heritage is almost unthinkable to the girl who had grown up a dirty street rat in Antigua. The sun-girl hums, not really expecting a reply to her question, and then continues on. “Who is this Order that is hunting you down?” Should I be worried for our safety, Kestrel does not ask, but the unspoken query is there simmering beneath her words.
  8. Aye, I was counting on the banked action for this current turn; it seemed the best route for Cynthia 👌 Am currently going AFV, so will be posting next week 🙏 will take a closer look at the options you gave out and let you guys know what actions I'm taking when I come back 😊
  9. Am also voting to end this now, with the same reason @Csl gave 🙏 would also like to join similar threads in the future; i love this kind of format ❤ thanks for the fun @Jotnotes, and am still waiting on the other thread we've got going on too 😉
  10. am taking an emergency trip (the good kind) and so will be AFV for a few days 🙏 will be back next week with the posts i owe! thank you for your patience ❤

  11. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    SUMMARY After the destructive event of Nu Martyr, Samael travels southwards to Oo’Xora accompanied by the Paragons Ephah Ivanenko and Rami Barzegar. As the boy struggles with his loyalties concerning the Cult of Power, the trio witness the slow fading of the region’s flora and fauna, and so take it upon themselves to investigate the cause. They find out the Grand Kommadant’s plan to release Nehalen from the influence of the gods, and determine that the seraphim Vita is the one responsible for the slow death of the land. After their first encounter with the crazed goddess, Rami is struck down in battle and buried. Filled with vengeance, Ephah and Samael plan to wait out until Vita is drained of her powers enough for them to confront her once more. This time, they win against the seraphim, and she asks that Samael carry her essence in his amulet, thus allowing him to absorb a portion of her powers over water, earth, spring, and life. The land is released from Vita’s strangled and poisonous hold upon it, and in the aftermath of the battle, Samael and Ephah are approached by a mysterious stranger conscripting them to kill yet another god. MINOR SUMMARY Samael leads his companions in search of the seraphim Vita, who they hunt down and kill at the cost of Rami Barzegar’s life. At the god’s death, Samael absorbs her essence and powers. NOTABLE CONSEQUENCES The god Vita is dead, and Samael has absorbed her essence and her powers onto himself. A strange anti-plague (backlash from the death of Vita) is unleashed upon the region of Oo’Xora, stimulating rapid plant growth to the point of hazardous levels enough to threaten nearby communities within the area. OPPORTUNITIES The land is still poisoned from Vita’s influence and will require some tending to. If left unchecked, the anti-plague will grow, spreading further and further until it threatens to overrun the villages and cities of Oo’Xora with overgrown flora and fauna. @Aleksei
  12. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    In the middle of a forest with color sucked dry, Samael kneels in a puddle of glass shards, his body radiating a soft glowing light as if all the life in the world emanates from him now. To the side, Ephah has crawled out of the cage of earth she had almost been entombed in. She clutches her arm as if wounded, but her skin is unmarred. His fingers tingle where they are entwined in the dirt beneath his hands. The world seems all the more brighter, perhaps due to the effects of his absorption of Vitalia’s essence. Already, the trees seem more green, the wind more fresh, the life returned and restored where there are none left to abuse it. It must only be his imagination, but it is as if there are already tiny weeds sprouting at the site where the seraphim had fallen, growing slowly but surely outwards from the place of her death. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Samael’s neck stand on end, and he squeezes his eyes tightly closed. Something approaches.
  13. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    The universe. He can see the universe itself before his very eyes, starlight and strings and a wide landscape of glass. The Otherworld seems to glow less sickly green and more bountiful emerald: the color of spring, the color of life. His core feels altogether too full, as if there is something there that his vessel can only barely contain. When Samael returns to himself, there are shards of green glass amongst the twigs and leaves of the forest floor. His injuries are all but healed, and when he turns to look at his companion, wonder twinges in his chest at the sight of her gaping cuts slowly stitching themselves back together. Ephah’s eyes are wide, mouth fallen open with no sound to give. How can they speak, in the wake of the death of a god?
  14. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    It takes a few hazy moments, silence between one breath and the next, for Samael to recognize the fact that Vitalia is pointing at the necklace clamped around his neck. The sickly green light has never lessened its glow, throughout the whole course of his journey from Nu Martyr. It had begun to glow again, since he had left his Commander’s side. Perhaps it is now reawakening, and Samael can do nothing but let it. “тну ωιℓℓ ιѕ ѕтяσηg, ¢нιℓ∂. тну ρσωєя gяσωѕ.” The boy raises his gaze to catch that of the goddess’, and in that shared look, he understands exactly what she means. “тнσυ мυѕт тαкєтн мє тσσ.” It is almost unthinkable, what she asks of him—he knows next to nothing of how to enact her wishes the way she desires them to be dealt with—but Samael simply nods, flickering into the Mirror Realm and extending a finger to the luminous, blinding pulse of Vitalia’s Shatterpoint. Crack.
  15. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    When the dust clears, Ephah is lying in the dirt again, encased in a cage of jagged rocky spikes, frantically stitching her own wounds up with her powers, but there is too much red red red. Vitalia stands at the other edge of the expanse: chest visibly heaving, feathers all but torn from her despondent figure. Bleeding, his body seconds away from giving out, Samael gathers the very last dredges of his strength and stalks forward, his borrowed sword pointed in the seraphim’s direction. His breaths are weak little things, but he continues, dueling the goddess’ makeshift blade of stone with his own. In the end, Samael’s left arm is hanging from its socket by a mere inch of skin, but his blade is pressed against Vitalia’s throat. For a few moments, the world is quiet. And then— “¢нιℓ∂, ι уιєℓ∂.”
  16. I don't really mind either way! Methinks it'll probably be easier to act after this thread; you're right 😊 no problemo with finishing up this one, and then another plot can be hustled up either now or in the near future 🙏
  17. Hi, hi! Please do not forget me and Míra 😂 Is there any space in there left for me to squeeze in?
  18. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    They find Vitalia in the vast forests below the golden pyramidic face of the Temple of Ventus, and once more, they engage her in combat. “нαѕт тнσυ ησт ℓєαяηє∂ тну ℓєѕѕση?” What had once been the vibrant green and golden glow of life on the seraphim’s form is now a dulled grey, crystal feathers drooping and fluttering down to the ground. Vitalia is no longer hovering above the ground; her feet are touching the earth: a divine entity brought down to the mortal realm. Nevertheless, she still proves to be a formidable opponent, and without the additional support Rami can provide with his sandman powers, the duo quickly find themselves losing ground in the battle. Samael takes a moment to mourn the loss of Heartbane, having relinquished the artifact back to the Cult of Power before he had left the fold and gone his own way. If he had kept it, who knows; perhaps it would be an all-too easy endeavor for them to pursue.
  19. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    How does one stop the course of a raging river? How does one change the face of an immovable landscape? How does one fight the very essence of life and expect to win out with death as the end goal? It is simple: the slow strangulation of the source. It is a waiting game now, stripped to its basic mechanism, and so they watch, and wait, and prepare. The lands continue to shrivel up like corn husks left to dry in the hot summer sun, but they stand their ground. The waterways begin to dry up, and the fauna begin to dwindle in numbers; the two stay their course. “Perhaps we should hunt her down before the world dies and there is nothing left to rebuild with,” Samael finally blurts out one day, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Ephah shakes her head. “Just a little bit more, and then we find her.” And so that is what they do. The boy can’t find it in himself to deny the plan; what would he know?
  20. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    And then: there were two. They make their way back to the village in relative silence, both lost in their own thoughts and in the efforts to keep their guts where they belong, and so they do not utter a single word to each other until they find themselves at the tavern, drinking away whatever woes they have left to give. The moment Ephah opens her mouth to speak, Samael carefully does not flinch. It is altogether unsurprising, and par for the course; it would have been alarming had she not suggested this. “I consider myself an impartial individual: what will be will be.” She tips the bottle towards her mouth, takes several gulps of the ale before slamming the glass back onto the table. “But I will be damned if I let this matter rest with our friend dead in the ground and with nothing to show for it. Vengeance is a path I am ready to take, Samael, and mark my words, we will have our restitution.” There is nothing the boy can do but nod meekly in the face of overwhelming determination. “Vitalia’s hasty departure would have taken far too much effort. It would have drained the last of her strength. If we play our cards right, we may seek her and put an end to her existence once and for all.” Her tone is final, resolute. Samael dares not defy her.
  21. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    They bury Rami near a river creek, far from the reaches of urbanization and civilized influence. If it were up to Samael, he would’ve wanted to bring his friend’s body back to Genesaris, back to his homeland and the desert landscape he had once called his home, but there is simply no time and no way of traveling across that vast distance after the journey they had undertaken and the battle they had been through. It is almost as if he had clawed his way up from the underworld, his body screaming for any sort of comfort or rest, but this: this is for his adoptive brother. He’ll do what he must. The boy exerts most of the effort needed to dig a grave. The woman’s face is as ghastly cold as their companion’s corpse; Samael wouldn’t have dared ask her for help when she is so clearly shaken to the core from the events. He does not think she is as stonehearted as he is, not after the Breaking done to him, and so he will allow her this time to herself. The gods only know what she plans to do in the wake of Rami’s death.
  22. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    Grief: a strange emotion Samael has never had the capacity to feel in his chest after the Breaking his Commander had put him through, but in his continued absence from her side, the first chinks in the armor have begun to give way. He feels a stab of something through his chest at the sight of the sandman’s cooling body. He closes his eyes for a few minutes, steadying his breaths and reining in the scattered shards of his composure before he even dares try to move. Every limb aches for relief, and the cuts sprawling over his skin sting like hell. Nevertheless, he persists, approaching Rami’s body and gingerly lifting it off the spike’s grasp with labored movements. Ephah is still lying on the ground, motionless but for the wind twisting through her raven hair. Samael does not try to rouse her; he lays the body on the ground and gently, quietly, closes the eyelids, forever veiling those aquamarine eyes to the world from there on.
  23. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    Rami is dying. Blood gurgles from the depths of his throat; Samael cannot see it, but the sound of bubbling crimson is unmistakable. Ephah’s face is ashen, seemingly drained of the very lifeforce that fuels her; with the use of her powers, she could perhaps feel every drop of life spilling from their companion’s limbs, but with her dwindling strength, she can do nothing but stare from where she lies sprawled on the ground. The seraphim stumbles backward, as if the direct withdrawal of life at her hands has caused her earthly form physical pain. “ιт ωσυℓ∂ ∂σ тнσυ ωєℓℓ тσ ℓєανє мє вє.” With that parting shot, Vitalia disappears, an unearthly shriek and the last breath of a dying man heralding her exit from the here and now.
  24. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    In hindsight, looking back on the eventful months of what could be considered his second life before the first loss of his memories and after his Commander had first found him, Rami had become a staple of Samael’s days within the Cult of Power. The sandman had acted almost like an older brother to him, accompanying him on various quests throughout Terrenus and Genesaris, and he had been by the boy’s side in that tumultuous catastrophe that had befallen Nu Martyr and its surrounding region. They had once made a promise between the two of them that the sandman would take the boy to his homeland in the Velhatien Desert, see the wonders the desert wasteland had to offer for those with eyes to see them. It had not come to pass before the Commander’s call to besiege Nu Martyr, and so they had postponed the trip for another time. Samael does not have much in the world to call his own, but he would suppose that when it comes to a makeshift family, the man would have been a sibling in all but name. Rami Barzegar is—had been a good man. But now—now he’s—
  25. vielle

    [GS] Vita.

    At times, there comes a brief moment where victory seems near, but despite the initial taste of glory waiting on the other side, it all comes spiralling down into an endeavor that is all for naught. “Try this on for size, goddess!” The sandman bellows across the expanse from where he stands atop a wall of sand towering as tall as the trees around them. Vitalia’s glowing gaze alights on him, and Rami laughs like a madman: exactly as he had done in the battle of Nu Martyr. “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two!” The sands descend upon the seraphim like ghostly wisps, threatening to choke the air from her godly throat, but then— The sentient wave of river water jolts out, whip-like and violent, and smacks Rami out of the air like a fly. He tumbles down to the dirt, a shooting star flung from the sky—torso landing straight down onto a particularly sharp dagger of earth. The tendrils of sand fall abruptly to the ground, their puppet strings cut.
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