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Voldemort

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  1. A lack of presence would soon yield to sudden surprise as Arthur Uskglass stood at the precipice of 10 story building, staring down through the lenses of sunglasses the shined silverishly in the daylight while Xartia made his lonely procession through the city to the shock of all. Save for Arthur, of course, who had good reason to surmise that the cambion magician would attempt to trend set even if he planned no such thing at all. In the background, near the southeastern corner of the rooftop, incense of concealment billowing green smoke within a chalk circle of containment. Inside its field, Arthur's magic would remain obfuscated even once it ramped up in flow and the mutant committed himself to proper casting of spells. Though by appearances, the wizard's actions would seem predatory at a glance, but in Arthur's mind it was only sport and a stern lesson from a friend in the end. Slowly, the alchemist undid his cuff links, rolling one sleeve of his black dress shirt neatly up to his elbow at a time as he continued his hunter-like vigilance from his vantage. That morning, his shirt was matched with thin blue tie which remained tied around Arthur's neck and clipped to his shirt about midway. His lower half sporting gray pants for the sake of adding a splash of color. Apparently, black on black made one look like a waiter or a hearse driver, or at least a model ex had informed him as much over lines of cocaine. His mage's robes topped off the ensemble, resting upon his broad shoulders whilst voluminous (and empty) sleeves billowed in the wind along with its tail. Arthur was ready. He was relaxed. And he was ready to spring for the attack! Outstretching tattooed forearms, the alchemist allowed his power to flow. His blood beginning to pump with a fury unbridled; the beastly scourge encroaching upon its cursed host as Arthur turned to his particular brand of transmutation. His eyes glowed orange and fiercely underneath the tints of his shades and sharpened teeth appeared between parted lips. Arthur whispered words of power, expressing the arcane formulae that crossed his vision into words that he both knew and didn't know simultaneously. Like they were his words, but weren't at the very same time. Narrowing his eyes, the alchemist focused his will and opened his human mouth wide, which then widened further and further in a gruesome display until a monster's maw remained to begin inhaling air rapidly. There was no other way to explain it other than Arthur began to inflate, almost as if his flesh and clothing were manually released water vests. Then it seemed as if Arthur wore an incredibly realistic, albeit exaggerated sumo suit. Then, as Arthur began to ascend into the air and crossed over the building's edge, it was clear that Arthur had transmuted his own body into something of a hot air balloon. An incredibly dangerous one as his form retained an incredible amount of tension, even in its airborne state, even as he floated above and behind the cambion. Arthur reached the zenith of his ascent, ascertaining that the sun wasn't at his back and wouldn't cast a shadow as he dropped; for, of course, that had been his intention all along. His magic weaved into a crescendo of skill and true finesse in the Art, utilizing both the Practice of Patterning (to transform his body) and the Practice of Veiling (to deafen the sound of his thunderous descent.) His body began to roll, slowly at first but accelerating quickly. A novice in such practices would have been dizzied in the attempt, but the alchemist was a savant at his brand of magic. Many had heard legend of powerful mages casting meteors down on their foes, raining literal death from above. But who had ever heard of a wizard turning himself into the meteor that he was hurling? And there laid the mad genius of Arthur Uskglass, unafraid to cast convention aside as he aimed his body like a missile in the direction of one of his closest friends and dropped like a massive, spinning basketball from the heavens. His intention was to careen straight into Xartia's back. Did he want to kill his friend? Emphatically, the answer was a no, which is why Arthur had decreased the tension in his body and altered his trajectory to compensate. A collision would be rough and likely to knock Xartia to the ground, but was unlikely to hurt him severely, and the mutant had few qualms about that possible fate although the implications of doing so to the Viceroy in public wasn't lost on the mage. That said, Arthur suspected his friend would be able to defend himself, despite of all of the alchemist's efforts. The mutant didn't think his friend would have enough time to fully turn and draw his sword, but erecting some sort of magical defense or a full-out dodge wasn't totally out of the question. @Twitterpated
  2. With every intention of positioning himself between the vampire and the lich, the mutant found himself quite surprised and more than a bit amused by Serren's response to adversity. A chuckle bubbled upwards from Arthur's gut as the dead woman popped out one of her eyes and offered it as a gift to Leinhart. It was the perfect comeback, certainly, and the vampire didn't seem to disagree with an amused reaction himself. Maneuvering so many powerful practitioners of the arcane to one spot was a dangerous proposition most of the time; the opening moments of their meeting had illustrated the reason why. However, as the sudden crises was averted, it really did seem as if the four of them would work quite well together. Or at least the mage hoped so, for failure in their future endeavors would undoubtedly prove dire if they couldn't get on the same page. Arthur reciprocated the vampire lord's greeting before turning his gaze back onto the mage he had recruited himself. Wolffish eyes settled on the undead woman's dehydrated features, reminding Arthur of the various old corpses he'd seen in tombs across the world. Though that wasn't quite correct, Arthur realized as he thought on it more. Most of those bodies weren't animated and the ones that were didn't take too kindly to the living. Leaning back into his booth's bench, Arthur watched curiously as Serren absorbed the life force of the tavern, including energy from the mutant himself. He could have likely defended himself from such an intrusion, but Arthur wasn't particularly worried about the magic equivalent of a pricked finger. It did make Arthur think though. Was he totally incorrect? Serren was a lot unlike her brethren but there was something of common (and evil) lichdom nestled within and begging to be released. The mutant cared little for the spotlight. That much was certain as he allowed the others to speak and introduce themselves. He added nothing when Xartia first mentioned the Noose; it would be a topic saved for later, especially as talk of the Safeguard Act came to the forefront of their conversation. Fortunately, Arthur read the local paper and was generally versed in the happenings of Blairville, but by no means was he an expert. Like the others, he hadn't been born in Blairville, nor had he spent a lot of time in town as a guest. Still, someone had to arrive to the meeting with some sort intel. Particularly intel on the Safeguard Act which would undoubtedly become a pain in their collective asses unless they inoculated themselves with preparation. "Suppose that's why they picked such an innocuous name. No one suspects being inconvenienced or harmed by a piece of legislation and its enforcers if you call it something like, 'The Do Good and be Safe Act.'" Arthur ended his attempt at a quick joke with a shrug of his shoulders, as if to say that he couldn't even begin to understand the motives of the forces behind civil society. "But yeah, I know enough about it. Like you may have guessed, it has nothing to do with safeguarding anything. On the contrary, it's had the opposite effect on the city, and Blairville is now less safe than normal." Taking a short pause for the others to digest his words, Arthur surveyed the room and caught sight of a tavern maid by the bar, and gestured for the woman to come closer. She hesitated, which was a smart thing considering the four of them, but eventually started over. Arthur continued to speak, finishing before their waitress' arrival. "The Safeguard Act is essentially a registration of anyone with magical ability who plans to conduct themselves within Blairville's limits. Which, of course, refers to the lot of us. This puts all of us on the radar of the authorities and that's even before we've done anything wrong to warrant an investigation. I suggest we keep our powers generally under wraps while in public, and Serren - I'm going to need you to acquire yourself a cloak and keep a low profile." @Al Sa-her @Etched in Stone @Glacialic Acid
  3. Arthur grinned with an amused look at Xartia's response to his friendly bit of snark. He had little to gain from actually attempting to insult the cambion, and in truth the mage wouldn't have wanted to as the pair had become firm friends in the passing weeks. That said, considering Xartia's sheer confidence especially when it came to his vanity, it was likely a nearly impossible task to attack his fellow mage where his ego was most strengthened. Playing along, the wizard placed his hands together ceremoniously and leaned his body forward in a comical bow. Straightening, the mutant lead the way towards their booth, waiting for Xartia to take his seat before scooting into the bench opposite his. Contrary to Xartia, however, Arthur had little issue maneuvering himself to the inside of the booth. He could see the danger of choosing such a seat if things went south, but there were no indications that things were headed that way in any case. They hadn't arrived to fight, not yet anyways. This was a business meeting. Undoubtedly important but unlikely to digress into violence. Why would it? They were supposed to be allies, potentially. They could be attacked by a third party but Arthur was confident in his arrayed team. If such an attempt did occur, they'd be ready whether they were on the street or nestled in a tavern. "We should be able to begin on schedule then," the mutant replied as the cambion gestured towards Leinhart; his wolfish eyes rising to regard the vampyre lord with a measure of respect. The wizard wasn't undead but that didn't mean that he didn't have a healthy amount of respect for the reasoning members of the species. The necromancer who approached them was no less deserving. That much, Arthur was certain of as he felt the dark being's magical aura. His features remained stoic, accustomed to dealing with a variety of practitioners of the arcane arts. Both human and inhuman. And soon he would prove it as his own attempt at recruiting appeared from seemingly the literal pits of hell. The smell of cadaverine wafted up the mutant's sensitive nostrils before Serren had even entered the tavern. The others at the table would quickly find themselves alerted to the zombie woman's presence as she made her way through the Rookhelm, garnering an immense amount of attention as she dragged a chair towards the front of their booth and took a seat, leaving introductions for Arthur to make. "This is Serren Glacial, or Primeval Elf as I like to call her from an entirely scientific standpoint," Arthur introduced the zombie elf, the woman too rattled and batty in the head to do a good job of it herself. Fortunately, she would have to worry about much false facing as part of their crew. Her work would be firmly be rooted in infiltration. A useful set of skills for a nontraditional mage guild like theirs. "And I'm Arthur Uskglass," he interjected as he caught the interaction between Leinhart and Serren, and attempted to verbally separate them as he lifted a sword-calloused hand towards the vampyre lord for a shake. ((No worries. We're all hella busy.)) @Al Sa-her @Etched in Stone @Glacialic Acid
  4. If one was early, they were on time. If on time, then they were already late. That had been an adage shared with Arthur long ago by one of the Masters of Kingsmouth University, and a rule if you were unlucky enough to take a course with that man in particular. Arriving before the appointed time was a prerequisite for taking exams, and the mage didn't need to be told twice as he followed the whims of the college's faculty. Now, however, with memories of academia so far away; the mage lived a life of free-spirited leisure whenever circumstances allowed for it. This was one of those days. Though he was late to a meeting that he had planned to be on time to, Arthur didn't seem to worry as he made his way idly down a road of cobblestones, and flanked on either side by the walls of disjointed brownstown houses. The way was narrow and shielded the mutant from the mountain winds that battered Blairville's streets and avenues. A momentary reprieve as the mage would eventually turn into a wider road and headlong into a column of air that whipped through his hair. The mage attempted to flatten his crop of jet black hair against his skull to no avail. The scented wax that kept his do slicked back stylishly helped in matters, but the wind proved relentless and Arthur soon gave in. Underneath, the mage's rogueish features scowled in their trademark manner, a look made more intimidating by the predatory orange of his wolffish eyes which had long ago lost any semblance of a human gaze. For the meeting, Arthur paid no more attention to his choice in attire than he normally did. A robe of black velvet with a trim of black fur cascaded down the mage's muscular frame, its voluminous sleeves dangling at his sides as it was utilized more like a cloak than a coat for the moment. Under the robe, the mutant wore a black dress shirt and pants, a thin blue tie and brown high-ankled dress shoes (belt always matching the shoes for some reason an ex had explained over drinks) rounding out the outfit. Leisurely, Arthur navigated his way through the crowds of native and tourist alike and came upon the front terrace of the Rookhelm. Approaching the doorway, the mage pushed the portal open and made his way into the tavern. Eyes searched the room until they settled on Xartia; ignoring much of tavern and its delights, the mutant made a beeline for one of his partners in crime. "Morning Tokugawa," Arthur greeted in jest, clearly teasing the cambion's choice in attire. He gestured towards a far away booth, "This way, your Excellence." Having his full of fun as they made their way to the table, Arthur steered the topic elsewhere as he added, "Has your colleague arrived?" @Al Sa-her @Etched in Stone
  5. Exploration into the Damned (Quest)

    Arthur inhaled the fresh, forest air as he enjoyed the quiet of the wilderness before the excitement and danger of their expedition would ruin the relaxation and calm the outdoors often instilled in the mage. He exhaled deeply, trying to maintain his focus whilst he went over the general plan and any of the contingencies that he'd gone over with Enid the night before. The end result was a meditative-like trance that gave the mutant the self-reflection needed before throwing himself and his companions into harm's way. He had no reason to feel such a way, as they were all their own people who made their own choices, but Arthur couldn't help but feel responsible for the lives of his comrades. After all, what would have all the concessions made to his dormant beasthood been for if he wasn't even able to keep his friends alive? The arcane formulae flashed across his vision, memorizing the spells that would keep Enid and the others breathing for yet another adventure. The beast within begged to be set free, to rend the mage's enemies and to be allowed to roam the impenetrable wilds of the Labyrinth forest. The mage took another breath to steady himself, concentrating on the smell of his oatmeal to keep his mind distracted. Fortunately, another scent reached the mutant's keen nostrils, yet another distraction for the mage as Xartia approached the camp. Arthur turned towards the cambion and chuckled at the man's state of dress. Naturally, the magician would favor aesthetics and fashion over the utility of the attires designed around woodsmanship. Arthur didn't think it would prove a problem. Xartia had proven his usefulness in the past and wardrobe choice hadn't gotten the lad killed just yet. The mutant would trust the flamboyant hellspawn. "Most people avoid the place like a plague and for good reason," the mutant replied as he returned his gaze to the bubbling pot of oatmeal, having waited for Xartia to finish his speaking before replying. He shook his head and added, "Sadly it isn't quite as simple as it sounds. Despite the semantics of the descriptors in use, the forest is much closer in concept to a maze than a labyrinth. Here, the vegetation and the trees move about on a periodic and random basis, changing paths and often blocking people from utilizing the route they took to enter. Simply put, this isn't some day trip. Without the help of teleportation, there's really no telling when we'll be exiting that place and from where." Arthur stared off into space as he talked; a myriad of possibilities (both adventurously pleasant and devastatingly brutal) played out in the mage's head. He was right, of course. They were headed on quite the expedition and it was bound to take at least a couple of days before they could return to the Keep. And that's if they even exited the forest the same way they entered. Otherwise, they would have to trek the forest's perimeter on the way back, or rely on transportation magic of sorts. As the mutant cleared his head, a second presence made itself known. This one was even more familiar to the mage than the last. "Enid," he grinned in reply, offering a short salute before digging into a nearby sack for a large pan. He spun the object expertly in his grip before settling them upon a patch of embers, beginning the process of getting the metallic piece warm enough to cook upon. "Common man's goop," Arthur replied with a shrug as he liberated another object from the sack and tossed it in Enid's path. A star-shaped fruit that he knew was the seer's favorite, "It tastes like cinnamon and it's far tastier than any of the edible plants and roots you've gathered this morning, but thankfully I've brought enough assorted food for all of us." The mutant gestured to the pair to join him around the fire. "So, are you both hungry or are you both just planning to watch?"
  6. Getting Lost Has Its Perks

    "C'est un beau nom," Arthur replied with a grin of his own, seizing the waitress' hand gently in a shared shake as he displayed some skill in the foreign tongue. Proving that although he didn't mind the lesson from Adeline, it wasn't entirely necessary with the worldly mutant who knew enough phrases in a myriad of languages (particularly curses) to fill hours worth of conversation. He found Adeline's smile infectious and couldn't help but look amused as she made use of her charms. Considerable as they were, the mutant was certain that the women's claim of making the barkeep money was true. The locals (those who frequented bars and held little control over their coin purses) likely fucked off thousands in the native currency in both drinks and tips just for the chance at a smile and a wink. Adeline plied her trade expertly which the mutant could appreciate, nearly as much as he appreciated the way her cute shoulders bounced when she laughed girlishly. "I'm not much of a fan of amateur comedians either. Sadly, they seem to practically hang from the rafters at bars across the world." The mutant maneuvered his body atop the stool, turning to face Adeline so they could conversation better. He could barely even manage a nod as the barkeep returned with his ordered drink. It was exactly as Arthur had hoped. A clean glass filled with a clear substance that could have easily been described as liquid death. Or what Arthured liked to call: a damn good drink! "I came to satisfy a vice," Arthur answered, gesturing towards his poured drink with his index finger. "Though really I'm taking a break from my real profession, which also explains my reasons for traveling to Blairville." That profession was clear and unmistakable to see when one looked at the shimmering robes that Arthur wore along with his other peculiarities. They were bound to capture the attention of others. Arthur's visit to the tavern that evening would prove little different in that respect. It began as Arthur awaited Adeline's response, and his ears picked up on the shuffling of feet coming towards them. They weren't particularly quick nor threatening, but even so Arthur's right hand was dipped furtively inside the folds of his robe, gripping the hilt of his rondel dagger in preparation. The steps veered off to the side and Arthur felt himself relax under his mask of polite conversation. Up until Jonathan took a seat on the opposite side of the waitress. He'd seen him earlier pawing at Adeline like a lovesick Neanderthal, and was clearly attempting to 'protect' some perceived territory or property. On top of that, as their eyes met, Arthur recognized the stare he was being given. A look whose meaning was loud and clear. Arthur didn't belong in their neck of the woods and Jonathan had volunteered to enforce the unspoken rule. How vapid and banal... Yawn. Arthur wasn't fazed by the sudden appearance of the newcomer. On the contrary, he had every intention of putting their third wheel in his place. From underneath his robe something strange and miraculous happened, the mage's obscured arm began to stretch way beyond what was humanly possible, slithering like a snake as it moved in as sneaky a manner as possible. Had it gone the long way or around, it would have been easy to spot. However, no one would have expected the mutant's hand to extend underneath the rungs of Adeline's stool before gripping onto the leg of Jonathan's own chair with a vice grip. Watching Jonathan to keep his eyes distracted from the elastic appendage below, the mutant opened his mouth as if to greet the other man, and promptly pulled the stool from underneath him. The sudden force would tip the stool the right, depositing Jonathan off the rounded seat and casting him bodily to the tavern floor. Knowing that much of the attention would be on Jonathan, Arthur retracted his lengthened arm back to its original position, doing so at a slow pace to hide the fact that he's been responsible for the spill. To most, specifically his companions, it would seem as if the man had seated himself to forcefully and paid the price for his carelessness. Adeline, however, had the best view of Arthur's magical spell in the house. It didn't mean she would spot his sneaky movements, but she was definitely in position to. @StarlingBird
  7. Getting Lost Has Its Perks

    "Strangers..." Arthur repeated back to Adeline after she had intercepted the barkeep and strode up to greet him, he contemplated on the word for a brief moment before nodding in some sort of understanding. "Let's correct that then, my name is Arthur Uskglass," the mutant added, casting his animalistic gaze on the waitress as he reached with a sword-calloused hand for a handshake. It still made them essentially strangers as they still knew little about one another beyond his name, but an introduction was definitely a start. Of course, the mage's motives were ultimately quite pragmatic. He wanted to know the brunette's name. Settling himself comfortably in his stool, Arthur leaned his arms onto the bar counter in a casual gesture, his eyes roaming the racks of ales and liquors before returning to Adeline who seated herself in a bar stool on the opposite side of the divider. "I'll have a shot of your meanest," he ordered, not choosy but hoping to be surprised by the potency of the stuff.
  8. Getting Lost Has Its Perks

    In the late hours of the evening, the doors to Kristofersson's tavern were pushed open and a tall mage with raven hair crossed the threshold quite like he owned the bloody thing. Arthur grinned softly as his orange eyes surveyed his surroundings, making his way towards the bar at a leisurely pace. His wild crop of savage black hair was styled into place with ample application of oil and sat atop the mutant's rugged and handsome features in gentlemanly fashion. The mage was dressed just as nicely with his black dress shirt tucked into his gray slacks, and a blue tie around his neck and clipped by a monster's tooth ornament nearly halfway down the front of his shirt. The velvet robe the mage wore above it all betrayed his nature as a mage entirely, not that such a thing would have been a surprise in Blairville: a city where mage was the currency in many respects. The robe was pitch dark and open in the front like a wizardly trench coat. Navigating through the small crowd, Arthur took a seat upon a bar stool and his gaze quickly found itself fixated on a short haired fox of a woman behind the bar. He nodded with a smirk, "Evening," he greeted once the bartender took notice of the new customer, "A shot of something dirty in a clean glass if you don't mind." @StarlingBird
  9. Castlemania

    Arthur sat at a desk in the corner of a room in the dark; the only source of illumination was a small alchemical lamp, bathing the area surrounding the mutant in an eerie red glow. The light wasn't necessary to continue his work, which consisted of reading from the assortment of tomes and parchments that were laid across the expanse of his desk. His eyes, wolfish and predatory with pupils like dagger points of obsidian set in pools wicked orange, made it certain that Arthur could have read his papers in the pitch darkness. But no one, not a tavern maid cleaning after the mutant nor a would-be eavesdropper through his room's window, needed to know that particular tidbit. Leaning back into his chair, the alchemist fetched a tankard of ale from atop a small stool (used as a table in lieu of their being no room on the desk), and knocked back what remained of its contents. Though its contents seemed to be unrealistic as the seconds turned to dozens of seconds, and Arthur to still seemed to be gulping down generous amounts of the frothy ale. As the mage lowered the tankard, he smiled as he noted that it was still very much full, as intended. The refilling dweomer was perfect for an assistantless wizard, who couldn't be bothered to continuously fetch his own drinks. As the mage admired his own handiwork, there was a drastic and sudden change in Arthur's surroundings, and it wasn't lost on him. Physically, the room had darkened considerably causing his lamp to cast strange shadows as the red light interacted with the palpable darkness. The ambient lights of the city and the moon no longer penetrated his window and the glass door leading to his balcony. The sounds of the Inn had disappeared utterly as well. There was no Inn. There was no city. There was no moon. There was nothing. He was... "Ah, Nowhere," Arthur whispered to the void in the an odd sense of familiarity, "My home away from home." It was as if the mage had released his thought-form and had ascended to that Other plane. But no. The gauntlet between his world and the next had faltered and crumbled, merging together to form something in between. Somewhere else. Someplace else. The mutant's eyes scanned the balcony door, it's transparent surface awash in a indescribable vortex of color, voices from beyond beckoning the mage to approach. It was a path leading out of the crossroads that Arthur had found himself in. The only path. Arthur wouldn't shy from it. He lowered the tankard to the stool and stood to his feet, soon realizing that perhaps he had gone overboard on his last swig. The room spun once and Arthur took his seat once again. Growling animalistically, the mutant rifled through his desk until he retrieved a small sack filled with a white powder and utilized the flat of a dagger to snort portions up both of his nostrils. The affects were immediate. Arthur wouldn't kid himself into thinking that he was no longer drunk, but he no longer felt it, and he was as awake as a couple with a newborn. The mutant stood again, a clear improvement as he walked and fetched a black silk shirt from a hanger on the wall. He donned it and tucked it into his grey slacks, adding a red tie to the mix which he clipped about halfway through his shirt with an ornament constructed from a large monster's tooth. Arthur then fetched his robe from the coat rack, draping the shimmering fabric of black velvet across his broad shoulders, and wore it like a cloak with its voluminous sleeves dangling empty at his sides. The robe remained open at the front and was lined in black crow feathers, giving a sense of menace and betraying an inner-barbarousness like a primeval hunter in furs. The rugged mage seized his long sword last, gripping the war sword just underneath its wide quillons and resting the flat of the blade upon his shoulder. The balcony door was slid open and there was no balcony. Just a dark and whispering precipice remained in its place which Arthur stepped straight through, both accustomed to portals of various natures and inoculated against the Outer Dark. He was shoved through a torrent of Empyric energies and spat out into a field of wheat, companions of unknown origin already in the midst of a conversation. Arthur walked towards them, unsure of what to expect but certain that they were brought together for a reason. The smell of blood, gun powder, and cadaverine in the distance told Arthur as much. "Seems like tonight is much too auspicious for Letters," Arthur announced his presences rhetorically, cryptically referencing the studies he'd left behind. His vocabulary though dripping in refinement remained uncouth somehow, as if someone had taken a wolf from the wild and somehow managed to teach it to speak like a University Don. No matter the niceties, no matter the charm. A wolf was a wolf. "Arthur Uskglass, at your service, and eager to find out why I'm here. I suppose none of you would know anything about that."
  10. Port Caelum Festival Free Thread One

    "Clearly," Arthur responded, his lips curling into a wolffish half-smirk, which illustrated his understanding that Akako was by no means a plaything, but also displayed that the mutant wasn't particularly worried in any case. He enjoyed playing with fire. What self-respecting mage didn't? Having remained still and waiting in case he needed to separate the two jilted lovers, the wizard watched closely as the pair before him (who both seemed to ignore his existence, mostly) traded barbed insults and the kinds of statements that people often grew to regret. Arthur didn't join in on either side, nor did he attempt to mediate. It wasn't any of his business. And frankly, the mage cared little for their spat, or the reasons behind it. He would continue in abject boredom; his face screwed up in a mixture of a frown and scowl until Akako had all but departed, leaving a broody Xartia behind. "Which testicle did she pinch?" Arthur broke the silence, forsaking all decorum and drawing bursts of laughter from the nearest onlookers. "Let's go," the mutant offered, pointing at a certain direction with his chin before starting to walk. "Unfortunately if we're gonna operate in this city, we're going to have to be on the Regent's good side. Now, seeing as you two can't speak for a full ten seconds without devolving into screaming messes, I suggest you leave that delicate work to me." @Al Sa-her @Akako Akari
  11. Port Caelum Festival Free Thread One

    The mage stared unabashedly, particularly enjoying the way the kitsune's lithe frame adjusted as she cocked her hip in a silent gesture of protest. Arthur's gaze drifted upwards when Akako beckoned his attention, introducing herself in a such a matter of fact way as to make the mutant wish he had behaved himself a tad more. There were so many people in attendance at the festival. What were the odds that he'd act incorrigible in front of the Regent of all people?! Of course, in retrospect, it was pretty high considering he came to attend the festivities alongside a member of the Scarlet Council. Meeting Akako's eyes, however, Arthur refused to shy away at the identification of even greater and more formidable prey. "Ah, your majesty; Arthur Uskglass, at your service," Arthur replied with a short and unceremonious bow, unaccustomed and normally hostile to such courtly gestures, "My apologies but I must decline." His grin came in wide and wolfishly at the end of his response, his eyes sliding down the kitsune's figure once more in abject refusal before darting his gaze over to Xartia as the conversation shifted. It wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out that Xartia and the woman had some sort of history, and that it ended with a whole host of unresolved feelings and emotional scarring. Arthur didn't interject, though he wanted too. It wasn't any of his business after all, and it wasn't his style to nose his way into other people's problems. That said, that didn't mean that the mage couldn't attempt to lighten the mood whenever the conversation came back his way. Akako asking, mostly rhetorically, if he was more gentlemanly than his companion was such opportunity. "Clearly, don't you see how significantly better dressed I am," Arthur bragged jokingly, the amusement evident upon his rugged features and bringing the subtlest twinkle to his eyes. He gestures to his black-on-black suit, fingers running through his silky silver tie which was clipped stylishly to the middlemost portion of his dress shirt. His wizard's robe fluttered slightly in the wind coming off the port's bay. Though he expected to elicit some sort of amusement from the kitsune, Arthur realized that he would be hard pressed to compete when his companion entered the fray and fired back at the finely dressed regent. @Akako Akari @Al Sa-her
  12. Port Caelum Festival Free Thread One

    With the barge drifting into the dock, Arthur was quick with the ropes, tying a knot to keep his boat moored before taking the step ladder up to the city's ground level. The mage's predatory eyes regarded the empty vessel, having noted that Xartia had departed preternaturally. A scowl spread across the mutant's lips, having expected that the pair would make their approach in unison. No matter, he thought as he made use of his own unique talents. He sniffed at the air, recalling the smell of the cambion's colonge, and smirking when he picked up on his companion's presence amongst the crowds of festival goers. The mutant took off at a brisk walk, navigating through the throngs of citizens and tourists alike, and noting that many of them seemed to be fixated upon a single point. Specifically, two individuals. The first, Arthur recognized as Xartia and the source of the scent he'd been following. The cambion looked as if in the middle of a personal conversation. Arthur couldn't know the extent of their history, but he was sure of one thing based on the expressions upon their faces. There was history. The second, however... was an angel, or would devil have been a better descriptor. To the learned and well-travelled mage, the difference between the two was negligible. In short, the woman who stood in front of Xartia was a beauty of the highest order, causing his heart rate to elevate as his wolffish eyes gave Akako a once over. Though the pair seemed busy and the propriety dictated that the mage give them space, Arthur couldn't help but churn out a loud wolf whistle that would undoubtedly make his presence known to the pair. If he cared about being construed as disrespectful, it didn't show on Arthur's face as the mutant really did wear his heart upon his voluminous sleeve. "Xartia," Arthur spoke, remaining just over the cambion's shoulder. His taller stature allowed him to see Akako and vice versa as he interrupted their talk. "Do me the favor of introducing me to the lovely lady?" @Al Sa-her @Akako Akari
  13. Castlemania: OOC Thread

    Count me in with my character Arthur
  14. The wind moved through the knee-length tall grass in the large clearing outside of Predator's Keep. The dense vegetation swaying in response as the breeze made its way across the landscape and through the trees of the massive and dangerous forest that loomed in the distance. An off-road vehicle of the magitek variety was parked a dozen feet from the bank of the stream, and the mutant stood nearby as he took stock of his equipment. The mutant was the tallest of his companions, standing at six feet and an inch which didn't make him a giant by any means, but it certainly allowed him to tower over the average person. His frame was muscular with broad shoulders and a barrelled chest; whilst his limbs were ridged and corded with violent lines. Arthur was too fiercely supple to have been a product of civilization, or at least not entirely. Well within his late thirties, the hard look upon Arthur's face suggested a level experience that could have only been attained through hardship, and a psyche that could withstand the crumbling of initial plans whilst keeping contingencies on hand. The traveling spellsword was dressed for an expedition that morning, his torso clad in a sleeveless hauberk of dark mesh mail and a harness which contained much of the mutant's occult vestments, and his lower half sporting black cargo pants which were tucked neatly into a pair of field boots. A wide tarp was sprawled over the tall grass and contained the rest of Arthur's equipment, including extra food, woodsman gear, and other implements of the arcane. A long green canoe was laid nearby, ready to ferry Arthur and his companions down the stream and into the Labyrinth forest. Arthur's wolfish eyes studied the dense foliage from a distance, his unending curiosity and thirst for adventure urging him to advance. However, he took heed of the warnings of the locals and had read accounts of the forest's attack upon the settlement. The strangeness of the account, of course, only managed to pique the interest of the mage further. He would take the advice of others and not head inside alone. But with his allies at his side, Arthur had every intention of succeeding in his quest to discover what was the source of the forest's maligned intelligence. With the forest in the distance, Arthur felt a wicked sense of foreboding and imagined the countless thousands who had lost their lives attempting to navigate its maze-like brambles. Finishing the inspection of his gear, Arthur retook his seat near the fire and took a quick look into the steaming pot he had left boiling atop a bed of embers. He stirred the contents gently, a large batch of oatmeal which would undoubtedly warm the bellies of himself and his comrades. Now to wait, Arthur told himself. Before long, his friends would arrive, a short breakfast would ensue, then they would head into the labyrinth forest to solves its greatest mystery. Or die trying. @Al Sa-her @Lady Gilaen
  15. Thank you for the Like. Was there anything, in particular, you enjoyed about the post?

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. King

      King

      Thank you for the thorough response. I don't get a chance to do it often (lore dumping) in a manner or place where it's fitting, but when I do, I try my best to make sure it isn't clunky or expositional. I'm glad to have caught your attention.

    3. Voldemort

      Voldemort

      I don't think you'd have many issues making it clunky or expositional. You fit lore into posts quite well.

      But you're welcome.

    4. King

      King

      Thank you for the second Like (I won't bother you again, lol).

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