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Welcome to the world of Fortuna, a land of fantastic proportions. This is an original fantasy roleplay that takes place in a world developed over nearly a decade of work and collaboration. We aim to encourage all participants to have a hand in the stories of the characters here, and the world around them. Your choices are key - so make them with pride. You decide who wins the wars, you decide who becomes King, the world is ours, and together we will bring it to life!
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 2, 2016 10:32:12 GMT -7
Late Evening on the 12th The Scales of Judgement, 5152
Lord Markus Woodrow's Den The Woodrow Estate in Eersaeb, Submiere
The moment Vincent had left, Markus had set upon himself the task of looking more presentable. He had just spent a day and a half on board a ship, and before that had spent far too long in the acrid continent of Acheron. Vincent's opinion on such things right after a voyage mattered little, if at all, to Markus. Tehodis' opinion on the other hand... Well, he knew that if he wanted to woo her, he would want to at least smell appealing. He saw Vincent to the stairs - Vincent had been there enough that the servants knew to stay away from him - and then went to the extravagant bathroom he had renovated only a few years ago.
Everything was marble with touches of gold, and there was a shower - a newer invention when he had got it - that was the size of an entire room. He had missed this. Parts of Dirys were actually quite well equipped, but he had stayed in Enezenn, who's amenities left much to be desired; then he was to Muerte where - even in Harel's capital city - was in worse straits than Enezenn; and finally to Liesdro, where they he had finally gotten some acceptable treatment... But too little was too late.
Now, however, he was back home. The warm water - scented with lilies - poured over him and made him feel fresh. The rock salt scrub brought him back to earth, back to Submiere, back home. He felt like a Sultan once more - and it was a Sultan he would be, he knew. Someday.
He dried and dressed himself again, finally wearing the casual clothing he adorned only in the privacy of his own home - typically only in the eyes of his servants, and occasionally Vincent. Tehodis hadn't seen this side of him. The loose silk shirt in deep green whose fabric clung ever so slightly to his moist physique; his pants were tight to his waist of a soft fabric, and he decided to forego the loose jacket despite the chill of the coming winter. Once his clothing was perfected, and the cologne had offered him an oaken musk, he made his way to his den. His servants had provided the wine he requested, and a fire was crackling in front of the Cindermaw-skin rug. As the fire crackled, the rug would warm with the remnants of the life it once covered.
He poured himself a glass of wine and sat himself on the extravagant couch, lounging comfortably as he awaited his second meeting. The knock that came - just in time, because she was punctual as always - was far quieter than that of Vincent. Vincent knocked with purpose. Tehodis... With meekness. He hoped that one day she would relieve herself of that meekness around him. Permit him to see who she was.
For now, this was technically a meeting of business. She was his new informant... And he would get the information he sought... As well as a chance to show her a different side of him. The knock came again, this time with a slight increase in volume. He smirked. He pulled a book from the side table and paged through to find where he had left off. The knock came again - this time finally meeting the volume of Vincent's knock - but still with a charming amount of hesitation. "Enter," He offered as he sipped at his wine. His eyes appeared to be on the book, but he was watching the door more carefully.
Last Edit: May 1, 2019 10:01:15 GMT -7 by Markus Woodrow
Post by Tehodis Kitai on Dec 2, 2016 15:31:02 GMT -7
Today was the day she had been dreading all month: Lord Woodrow's return.
This entire month, everything had been better than ever before. She had loved her job of course, but it was so much better without Lord Markus Woodrow breathing down her neck. She had excelled in her training with Vincent - finding a piece of herself she didn't know she had. She had improved her relationship with her coworkers - admittedly because Woodrow had pretended to be angry with her. And she had met an old friend... An old friend who had somewhat aided in the capture of a pirate from The Defiled Grail - which was a career-changing gain. She was doing the best she could possibly be doing.
And yet... This day had been terrible. Belfric, the man who she bought an apple from each morning, had just found out his wife was dying the day before. He was a mess, and had sold the last of his stock. He wasn't going to be farming apples anymore - he wanted to go travelling with her. He was trying to tell the orchard, but hadn't had luck quite yet.
Then, the magic store she stopped into each morning was closed for some reason. She wasn't able to go inside and look at the variety of items, to feel fed. So she had been starving all day long.
Work had been an absolute gong show. Her partner had bailed on her - as was usual from before Woodrow had left, perhaps they had sensed his return - and there had been a breaking and entering with bodily harm on their patrol route. She had seen it happen, and had to stop and instruct a citizen on how to aid the victim before making chase. She had managed to catch the criminal, but took a beating trying to take him down.
Then, after she had returned to her post after bringing the criminal in, she was standing with bloodstains on her collar, scuffed shoes, messy hair, and her Kina glow was gone, making her look sallow and empty. As she stood there, looking like she had been to hell and back, a fanciful carriage passed by. She knew just what was inside it, and worried it would stop and let it's passenger out - but instead the driver passed her a letter. From Woodrow. Demanding her presence at his estate that night in order to perform her role as informant.
She returned to her desk as her street shift ended and completed her paperwork - not all of it, as now she had a late-night meeting to attend - and had barely enough time to neaten up before walking to the estate, a task in and of itself. The massive drive took a solid thirty minutes to walk - the place was huge. She just wanted sleep. She was starved for magic. She was beaten from the day...
And it was all because Markus Woodrow had come back.
His servants lead her to the den, and a thick scent like fire, oak, and flowers overcame her senses. They instructed her to knock, and then left. She followed their instruction meekly - a result of the combined exhaustion and her desire to be anywhere but there. The servants had left, and no one was coming to open the door. She wondered if she should leave, but knocked once more. Still, no answer. She looked down the halls - considered if she would be seen leaving - and then sighed... An knocked one more time. This time, she heard the familiar voice of Markus Woodrow inviting her in.
As the doors open the scents overwhelmed her again, and so did the heat. Outside it was icy cold, and so she was wearing a warm coat. In here, it felt like the sticky heat of a Sumish summer. The fire was going, and Woodrow was relaxed on a couch with wine glass in one hand, and a book in the other. He looked well-rested, noble. She looked ragged and ratty. It was offputting.
It strange to see her boss in such casual attire. He looked more like a bard in a tavern than the leader of the world's top peacekeeping organization. He looked more like a romantic novelist than the lord of a feifdom. He looked... Like a completely different person. It was also offputting.
"Good evening, sir," she offered, and he beckoned her into the room. She left the door open, purposeful. He put the book down, and stood to greet her. His pants were oddly tight - also offputting. He offered her wine, and she rejected it. He insisted. She rejected. He brought her one anyways. And so she held the glass tightly, and pretended to sip. Her hunger made the smell of the wine more noxious than she had ever found a drink before, so even pretending made her feel ill.
"Er, welcome back, sir."
Last Edit: Dec 2, 2016 15:31:24 GMT -7 by Tehodis Kitai
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 2, 2016 15:55:07 GMT -7
As she opened the door, Woodrow's breath caught. But as she stepped through, it continued as normal. Perhaps he had built up his memory of her too much -- but it was disappointing. She looked run down. Her skin had none of the glow he imagined her with. He got her a glass of wine, looking down on her almost... Scrutinizing her. Where was her beauty? Why did she look so... Unappealing?
"Thank you, Tehodis. But I must remind you once again... Call me Markus. Especially within my own home, it seems far too strange for you to call me sir," He walked behind her and shut the door with a quiet thunk, "You're my guest after all. Here... Let me take your jacket." Perhaps that was it. The frumpy coat. He stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, took in her scent as he took off her coat. She was stiff. And while she smelled plenty like sea, her normal scent seemed absent. Something was wrong with her - or something was terribly wrong with his memory.
He placed her coat gently on a recently dusted coat rack before guiding her towards the fire. "I'm quite happy to be back," He spoke because she didn't, "It's one of the most horrid continents that one. Dirys is full of smoke and smog, killing any freshness the winter might bring, and Muerte is an arid desert of nothingness. Liesdro is fine but... Just dull. And all of it feels so far from the sea. Have you ever been there, Tehodis?" He tried to catch her eye as he spoke, but she seemed distracted - almost, distant. Had something happened?
Post by Tehodis Kitai on Dec 3, 2016 9:08:30 GMT -7
As the door closed, she was certain that if she'd had a heart, it would beat twice as fast. She was certain that most women in this situation, in this room, would be aflush with excitement. But Tehodis would have to admit her fear. She didn't want to be here. As Woodrow's hands touched her shoulders and removed her jacket, she shivered - once more, not with anticipation. She followed him rigidly to the couch and waited until he sat before sitting as far as she could from him. He started talking at her, and she nodded tiredly at whatever he said.
Finally, a question to her, and she shook her head. He seemed to want more than that, as he didn't speak again, and so - with a small sigh - she responded: "No, no I haven't, sir-- Markus. Sorry. I-I've only been to Rielcia, and Submiere. Not quite as exciting as you. I'm sure you've been just about everywhere." The words had no affect to them. It was partially her discomfort - with the door closed she felt cornered - and partially her exhaustion - she thought she might faint or throw up -- she didn't even know if Kina could throw up, she'd never done it before. "You wanted to..." She wavered, her eyes splotching with bright lights, "To uh, see me, regarding our conversation before you left to Acheron, right, Markus?"
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 3, 2016 12:53:32 GMT -7
He ignored her desire to move on, wishing instead to continue their conversation. "We'll have to fix that. You know, Tehodis, there are numerous opportunities for world travel in this business. Not just for myself, or the other high-ranking members. Each voyage requires officers..." He adjusted a little on the couch. At first, he thought he might move closer to her, but seeing her pallor stilled him once more. Certainly he had not been charmed before? Certainly this woman was more beautiful than the moment showed?
"You haven't seen beauty until you've attended the Festival of Peace in Aissic. The cold is bothersome, but the sky is always so full of colour, and the country is... Well, I can't say that I support the idea of abstaining from violence only once per year, but I appreciate the stillness they achieve. Their crime drops incredibly during The Winter Storm. Religion does wonders, I suppose. I'll ensure that your name goes on the short list, for that duty." Short list? She was at the top, right after him and Vincent. It would be romantic - not that he'd want it to be if she was still like... Like this at the time. But a month was a distance away. Perhaps she just missed him so terribly that she had fallen apart. Hmph.
Post by Tehodis Kitai on Dec 3, 2016 14:46:43 GMT -7
This was going to be a long night, wasn't it? He was refusing to get down to business.
"Oh, uh, thank you, Markus," She offered in return for him promise to 'short-list' her for Aissic. She couldn't imagine it would be very pleasant - but she preferred to be warm. That was perhaps the only highlight of the evening thus far. The fire was crackling and warming her bones, making her want to nod off to slee-- no.
No.
She had to stay awake. She was in dangerous territory here. She straightened herself, but as she did, the wine glass in her hand spilled over herself and the couch. She gasped and tried to save it - but it was too late. The red bled into the white shirt of her uniform, it bled into the couch. She got up and snagged her jacket quickly, working to try and dab it up. "I am sorry, I am so sorry, sir, I don't know what happened, I--"
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 7, 2016 9:47:41 GMT -7
She looked like she might fall asleep and there was a part of him that was angry at her for it. He had traveled all day, it was him who ought to be exhausted. He had offered her a special invitation - she ought to be grateful he treasured her so much. Only Vincent got invitations such as these, and now that Tehodis had met him she must certainly understand her worth in his eyes. And yet here she was, falling asleep on his couch, looking raggedy. She hadn't spent a moment on righting herself, on looking nice for him.
She jolted awake, perhaps hearing his thoughts, and spilled her wine all over the place. In that moment, his anger dissipated, and he sighed. He placed his glass carefully on the side table and stood to stop her. He placed a hand on each arm and told her: "It's alright." She didn't seem to relax. It bothered him.
"We have magic to clean up messes like that, alright? It's really no concern, apart from the wasted wine. Now," He pressed a little into her arms to have her turn around. As she did, he let go and took a half step back to allow her a bit of room. He looked her up and down, looked at how shaken she was. He frowned. He was frustrated at her, but... As he looked at her now, he thought perhaps his inner reaction had been too harsh. She didn't look well. It was her eyes that really told him the story. This close they looked almost like glass. There was some kind of cloudiness to them that made him uncomfortable - like she wasn't seeing him, but was instead seeing into him. "I have concern for you, don't you know that? ...You don't need to pretend all is well. Tell me what's wrong."
Post by Tehodis Kitai on Dec 7, 2016 19:15:19 GMT -7
He was being kind, which was strange, as often he seemed less kind, and more... Suave? More... Something that tried to pretend to be kind when it wasn't. But this moment reminded her of the day they had met. He had shown kindness then, too. She had appreciated it more then than she did now, her knowledge of his personhood and her exhaustion contributing to make her wonder if this kindness was simply better acting.
"I'm sorry, I don't know I--" She did know. And she had two choices, as she often did. One: Continue lying, and deal with it as Woodrow tried to pry, or simply guess what was the matter. He would certainly assume it was something it was not, and he would likely insist that he fix it in ways she didn't want it fixed. The other option, was to just say what was happening. She didn't like to put her troubles into the laps of others -- but with what could happen if she didn't? "I do know. I'm sorry, I do. I'm... I'm starving." She looked for his reaction and felt like she needed to explain more. He was an aasimar, his energy system was more akin to a human than a kina. "Not for food, I mean, it doesn't do a thing for me with what I am. I'm starving for magic. The shop that I always go to was closed today, and I haven't been able to find any of the other magic users to cast a spell around me or anything, so I haven't 'eaten' in a long time. I feel... I feel empty, weak. Tired. I don't mean to... To assume you responsible for fixing my problem, I'm sure that the shop will be open in the morning. I'll be right as rain by tomorrow and a little sleep--" She tried to turn and felt dizzy, ending up on her knees on the cindermaw rug instead of out the door as she intended.
"Ugh," She managed to groan as her head throbbed like a heartbeat. Her eyes went white, not that she could see, but only for a moment. Then another. They flickered on and off, and each time they went dark she winced with pain. If she could think of embarrassment, she would certainly be embarrassed to be on her knees, crouched in pain in the middle of Lord Woodrow's den... But there were more pressing things to feel in the moment. Starvation.
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 11, 2016 12:23:22 GMT -7
Did she not think he cared? Did she not think if she had said "I desperately need magic", he would not have forced every magic -- or magic adjacent -- shop in the city to open for him? He wouldn't leave her to rot.
He sighed. This wasn't how he wanted to see her knelt before him. "Come," He said simply, holding her arms and helped her up. He set her on the couch so that she wouldn't collapse there, and took a moment to push her hair from her face. He didn't know what to expect from the feel of her skin, but it wasn't that. There was a life missing in it. He felt for a temperature, but then supposed Kina had no blood to worry for such a thing. He straightened up and grabbed a quilt from a chest at the back of the room and wrapped her up in it, her protesting all the while. "The lady doth protest too much," He gently teased. She merely groaned, not capable of humouring him. He sighed once more, and then was firm: "Stay here, I'll be back in a moment."
He left her alone in the room, noting to the first servant he saw to ensure that she didn't leave the room. They had a flash of concern for a moment, but he elaborated, explaining she was sick, and stubborn. He asked them to recall the times he had come down with mortal colds and they had to force him to stay in bed - and suddenly the concern flashed to understanding. They weren't keeping a woman prisoner.
He traversed the house through secret corridors. He didn't use them often - they were for escape more than anything else - but felt the need to rush now. He wanted Tehodis to be her normal self. He wanted her complexion to return. He wanted the light behind her eyes - and not that flashing white one - to return. He wanted the Tehodis he imagined the time he was away.
Finally, he came to his safe door. He completed the code wrong the first time, too out of his own mind to recall that it had been changed only a few weeks prior. He put it in properly, and then entered to a room of treasure and weapons. Expensive family heirlooms and riches. And then the ones he had taken from pirates... It was those he was more interested in. There were a magic item or two present. Some were typical, weak. He needed the strongest he could find, and after searching for a time, grasped a bracelet of silver, with ruby and obsidian inlays.
The bracelet was powerful enough that even the best mages in Submiere could not divine the purpose of it. They could only read its power - not its intent. Which meant that it could not only stave off Tehodis' hunger, but it likely had so much power that she would go from starving to full. Hopefully quickly. He had hoped for a more romantic night than they had achieved thus far.
He hurried back to the den, and re-entered, prepared to give Tehodis the bracelet - hoping the stubborn girl hadn't tried to do anything stupid.
Post by Tehodis Kitai on Dec 11, 2016 19:47:40 GMT -7
She tried to reject Woodrow's help - partly because of how physical it was, and partly because of her pride... But she had no energy. In fact, this Woodrow was pleasant. This Woodrow was the Woodrow she met when she came to Submiere. This Woodrow was someone she could be friends with. Why couldn't he be this Woodrow more?
He tucked her into a blanket and she hadn't realized how cold she was until it was around her and she began to warm. She felt cozy and safe, and like she could just fall asle-- no. She couldn't She was in Woodrow's house, and no matter how nice he was being, his intentions were always questionable to her. She wouldn't assume he would do something so untoward as to be criminal, but she couldn't just trust him wholeheartedly either. But she was so, so tired...
She tried to get up. She clumsily unraveled herself from the blankets. She tripped over them as she stood, her feet bound far too cozily. She kicked them off from the floor and managed to get herself to standing again -- but then the door opened, Woodrow holding a bracelet. She made a face then, wondering if this was what he thought would make her feel better. Actually? Some jewelry? What was it going to do? Make her look prettier? This was ridiculous. And honestly, it made her angry. Really angry. She was dying, and he made it seem like he was really going to help her, for once he wasn't going to have some other motivation for his actions. But no. No, she had had far too much faith in him.
"A bracelet? A bracelet?" She had to say it twice to really emphasize how flabbergasted she was by this "help".
Last Edit: Dec 11, 2016 20:47:29 GMT -7 by Tehodis Kitai
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