< atton revisited > The information page for Atton has been fully revised and updated with the new map!
< updated calendar > The Fortuna calendar has been updated in the "Other" lore section! This includes a document which displays the calendar for you to see, making it much easier to understand.
< moving map > The first functional map has been released in the News section! This map is also interactive, allowing you to drag and drop between points in order to determine distances. This is the first iteration, and there's more and better to come!
< first annual awards > The results for the First Annual Fortuna Year-End Awards have been posted! Go and take a look at who the finalists were, and who took home the big prizes!
< new default skin > Our new skin has passed the beta test, and is now the new Default for the forums! If you have any issues with this skin, send a PM or Discord to Mellie.
< human lore update > Humans have been updated with TWENTY-FIVE subraces/subcultures which add numerous options, and a little extra lore and flavour.
< magic lore update > Magical Lore has been enhanced with the addition of a post on Magical Education. From Beginner to Expert, this is how you learn the spells.
< a change to member groups > Member groups are now based on storyline! You can change your displayed storyline by editing the settings in your profile.
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 Oct 4, 2017 11:06:38 GMT -7
[attr="class","mwoody"]
[attr="class","mwoody2"]
[attr="class","mwoody3"]A PREDATOR OF THE SEAS
[attr="class","mwoody4"]CURING THIS OCEAN DISEASE
[attr="class","mwoody5"] The meal certainly didn't look... Appetising to Woodrow. It was far, far too human, and it made his stomach churn as he thought of the life it had lead before being upon this platter. It was a short one, to be sure. Woodrow had met centaurs before, and he had met horses before. The creature before him had been plumped, yes, but it was young. Hardly more than a child. He didn't think he could actually eat it.
By the same notion, this was the culture of Elias Harel's Muerte. Woodrow may not have been a fan, and he may have been intending to take Harel out from within his own country, to usurp him, and replace him with his own trusted paragons of justice, but to do that he needed to ensure Harel believed that Woodrow was on the same side. Or at least: That Woodrow respected Harel's side. He would take a bite. Just one, just to prove to Harel that he could be trusted. And Woodrow would have done just that before: "What is the meaning of this."
It was a hardly a question, what Pelagia has said. It was a statement, and as Woodrow moved his eyes to her he could see the vitriol expounding from her every feature. He had never seen her like this. She did not have this fire in negotiation, not in battle, this was... A Pelagia he hadn't seen. He steeled himself, and dared to reach a hand over to her. His aim was her thigh, and he paired it with a whisper of her name - but she stood and pushed his hand away with her own. Her wings bristled out and pressed against him, and no longer did they feel soft. Instead they were stiff and pointed. This was not a show. This was Pelagia. She's ruining everything, He thought, face likely showing the moment of frustration as it passed his mind.
Woodrow then stood as well, and the gasp that accompanied it likely had everyone thinking he meant to stand with Pelagia. Instead, he turned into her, hand on her arm, and attempted to talk sense into her. To tell her that she need not abide by it, however she needed maintain face for the sake of precisely what she wanted, but Pelagia was already speaking. Woodrow's glances over to Toran showed that his view of the warlord improved immediately, and the blind man gave his wife some kind of whisper. On the other side, Adesola's smile pricked at the sides of her lips, and she caught eyes with Woodrow. It wasn't her look of approval, it was her look of interest. She was always thinking, that one.
Following her plan destroying, over-zealous statements, Pelagia turned and left, leaving Woodrow standing there with two choices: Follow Pelagia, or retain his seat. If he followed her, he would appear weak, like he was submitting to her. By the same notion, if he was not the first to follow her, he would appear weak. And if he did follow her? He may well lose the offices he so desperately needed in Acheron. Without them he knew there was no chance for him to gain a foothold in Dirys or Liesdro. He needed to take Harel down himself, win Muerte for himself (and partially for the rest of Acheron, and partially for justice) in order to convince the powers of Dirys and Liesdro to join him. At the same time, if he took his seat again, it would still be weakness. Weakness, and a tacit approval of Harel's 'culture'. Yes, he wanted to appear to approve of it, just enough for Harel himself. He did not, however, wish to convince everyone else he fully approved of it.
There was a third option.
He raised his hand in signal, bringing a servant to his attendance swiftly. With a whisper the nervous slave nodded, glancing (ever anxious) at Elias before removing Woodrow's plate. Woodrow then took his seat once more, and only then realised the pin dropping silence that had surrounded them since his summoning of the servant.
Post by Elias Harel on Oct 4, 2017 11:42:11 GMT -7
[googlefont=Montserrat]
[attr="class","mary"]
[attr="class","mary2"]
[attr="class","mary3"]THIS KINGDOM OF MINE,
[attr="class","mary4"]THIS GIFT FROM THE DIVINE
[attr="class","mary5"] Elias was disappointed, but not surprised. The moment Pelagia realized what was happening, he could sense her rampant negativity, her horrid opinion of him, her wish to destroy him, it moved in waves over him. Many men with his powers likely would have been stilled by that sensation, that absolute knowledge that Pelagia wished death upon them. They would have insisted Pelagia be removed from their side. They would worry for their life. Elias had felt it many times, however, and though he wished for Pelagia to feel something dearer towards him, he would handle this problem in due time.
And so Elias permitted her to speak her piece, waiting patiently as she completed her tirade and walked out. He then felt a complex flex of intent from Woodrow, who eventually summoned a servant to remove his plate before taking it away. Then the storm came. The Fianese royal family, and Marion Nickell followed. The only plate remaining of centaur at the head table was his own. Many men would have been frustrated, angry. But this is what Elias had expected. And that is why Elias' native guests had been so well chosen.
Yes, the rest of the world would hear the story from the mouths of their leaders and, rightly, see this as a stand against him. But Elias had the royals through his door. His people had seen them pleasantly arriving, and they would leave under cover of darkness. The guests inside were the only ones to know different, and they were those who so desperately wanted wealth, power, and acceptance in Harel's Muerte; they knew that their life was on the line should they speak anything ill of the event, and thus they would speak only of Harel's glory, his acceptance, the approval of the other leaders. So the people of Muerte would be empowered by this feast. They would bring forth the hidden beastfolk, they would enlist in his army, and they could go to war against the rest of Acheron.
And what of the moment where Elias would not imprison, kill, or eat the fresh wave of beasts - when Elias had other plans? The only thing that would be told would be how there was something strange in Muerte, that Elias Harel was a good man under the control of dark entities. Arzuul had been useful, after all, but Elias could expend his old friend in exchange for a more absolute kind of power. No, Pelagia had merely given him a small wrench in his plans, and Elias would use that wrench however necessary. Just as he had used his people's anger at beastfolk to gain his power.
As each of the royal guests refused their dinner, the whispers in the crowd turned to chatter. He could feel the positive intent towards him from his people. Their righteous anger. Their desire to defend him. He had given them back their country. They worshipped him. They would run the table down and kill them all if Elias gave the word. Harel wasn't so stupid, even if there was a small part of him that would have enjoyed the sight.
"Dear guests," Elias finally stated. He was quiet, and yet his voice managed to still the entire room. He did not stand, remaining in his seat ever calm and collected. "Lord Xista, and our fellow guests from lands apart from our own are not accustomed to our culture. Do not give them your anger, give them instead your respect, your time, and your ideas. Your anger is not about them, but about the enslavement of our people for hundreds of years, your anger is for the way we had to fight to rule ourselves, and not be under the rule of nations across distant seas, and over unbreakable mountains from us. Your anger is for how our once water-rich lands were stripped barren, while we were left to die in the sands. Your anger is not for other nations, it is for your nation.
"I assure you that our guests can sympathise with our struggle, that is why they have come. Do not beleaguer their hesitation. You must give them the time to understand our place in this world, our deeply storied culture of living between the wills of Ayniea, and the pulling of Streike, and our recent freedom from endless suffering."
He could immediately feel the waves of calm from his people, and he even felt something from those royals surrounding him. The negativity that Pelagia had managed to drum up, that Woodrow had added to, it had dissipated into discontent and begrudging acceptance, he even felt mild sympathy from somewhere. Perhaps a touch of guilt. They may not approve of Muerte's classification of beastfolk as animal, but they also didn't approve of the way Muerte had been abused for years. How could they with starving, gaunt faces looking back at them from these tables? This was his largest goal for tonight, sympathy, acceptance. And all but Pelagia had given it to him. Her resistance was the most understandable, the thrumming of Ayniea's desire for life pulsing through her very veins. She would realise tomorrow, or the next day, or someday in the future that Ayniea only had power while death was ever present. Life was meaningless without an ending. He and Pelagia were one and the same.
"Now please, maestro," Elias commanded, and his band began to play their strings once more.
"Elias," Came Adesola's voice from beside him. He turned with gentle eyes and a thin smile touching the sides of his cheek, bringing her to a noticeable ease as she took in the expression. She continued, "I think we would all do well to remember the past of this country, and I think that we've all too long forgotten. But I would hope we can move towards a brighter future for all Fortuna. Too much a focus on vengeance for the past will only hold your country back."
Elias made a thoughtful face, as if he were truly observing her notes. Yes, the attack on beastfolk could be clarified as vengeance, but it was more than that. It was weaponization. Inspiration. Justice. With that thought he turned his gaze to his right. The empty place next to him, and then the Man of Justice himself: Woodrow. Woodrow who had been hunting pirates to a fault for years, Woodrow who Elias knew was a desperate supplicant of vengeance.
"I would deign towards your point, your majesty, but may also add two points. The first, that death is a way of balancing the scales, is it not? Libress, our own goddess of justice, was born of Streike, our mother of death. In your own land, is there not a deep history of consuming the flesh of one's enemy in order to supersede their power? In your own military these practises continue, do they not?" Adesola didn't quite nod, but the way her head bowed a nearly imperceptible amount allowed Elias a win. Adesola had likely never dined on humanoid flesh, but what of Acacius Balfour? She could make no guarantees, and so she could not battle his point.
He continued, "And the second is that our laws come from the teachings of Libress, and our advancement of those laws at their very core has been a form of vengeance. Justice herself is a command to bring righteous fury upon those who have done wrong to society. Our own Lord Woodrow here," The mention of his name gave Woodrow an excuse to pay full attention to Elias and Adesola, though Elias could tell that Woodrow had been listening with keen interest, "He wishes to bring justice to the oceans, stopping at nothing to ensure it. I happen to be aware of an incident not three years ago in which innocent lives were claimed for the exchange of a pirate vessel. One of the last, wasn't it? Now, I do not say this to accuse you, dear friend. I believe the trade was fair and just, you had your moment to remove from this planet a scourge, a threat that would serve only to harm and suppress again. Would you agree, or would you reverse your choice if given the opportunity?"
OOC: I'll make one more Woody post after this, which will go into the post-dinner portion of the evening, in case anyone would like to do anything before that. I'll give you a chance to do so before moving on.
Post by Violet Macar on Oct 4, 2017 20:35:30 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
Scarlett seemed to be searching for the best answer, or maybe Violet was just overthinking it because she knew for a fact that Tom was sitting in that dining room, and that he would typically not let Scarlett out of his sight. Like, really, Green had barely been allowed out to do groceries by herself. There was no way Tom would let ittle-bittle-baby-redhead Scar unattended. For Violet, it was simple: If he hadn't already come for her, he had sent her off for a reason. Or, she figured, he was just that terrible of a father that he would let his daughter roam on her own in a murderous dictator's palace. Just normal things. Not for Tommy Dunn.
Before Violet could call Scarlett out on the lie she had yet to speak, however, she heard something from a someone. A door slammed in something Violet could label as punctuation not far down the hall, and the two guards that had accosted step-ish-mom and step-ish-daughter sounded like they were moving swiftly (not running, though, distinctions!) down the hall to whoever punctuated it. But! Violet made note: There weren't yells, there was no clinking of steel, no sparkle of magic. It wasn't a fight, or an emergency. Which, to Violet, meant only one thing: An important person.
Violet, as Lysandra, glanced down at Scarlett, as Scarlett, and then down the hall. Just around the corner and out of sight was someone who was a big deal. If they were properly big, it could be the scoop of a century for The Tablet. Surely there was none of her Tablet associates here, which would mean she (as Daisy) would scoop them all, and get a-ma-zing gossip. Gossip from Muerte, that might even lead into her investigation, which would be an even bigger deal for Violet (as Violet).
But then-- there was Scarlett. She was Tom's kid, and Violet was Tom's something, and Violet wanted to be a damn good something-mother. If she just left the girl to wander, something terrible could easily happen to her, and although it would technically be Tom's fault, Violet would know that it was certainly her fault. Did she want to be a something-mother, or did she want to be a journalist? ...Well, the answer was easy, journalism always (there was a reason she hadn't biologicked a kid out there in the world somewhere sometime in her younger years), but it wasn't so clear-cut when the matter was life or death, and not a situation of Violet missing Scarlett's dance recital in favour of journalism and--
Screw it. She could do both.
Violet, as Lysandra, latched her long Lamini fingers around Scarlett's wrist and yanked her down the hallway, "Well I suppose we ought to find your parents!" She told the girl, hoping that was enough for Scarlett to not think Violet, as Lysandra, was more dangerous then what she might find in the halls. She could have maybe said "I promise I'm not creepy!" but that didn't usually work out in favour for the adult in that situation. A Violet pro-tip: Adults really shouldn't go around telling kids they aren't creepy. Even though Violet hadn't said that, and instead had stated something quite helpful, Scarlett struggled against Violet-as-Lysandra's grip, but Violet-as-Lysandra was an adult and Scarlett-as-a-child was a child, so, easy win for Violet. Suck on that, Scar!
Turning the corner, Violet almost let Scarlett go to bring both hands to her lips in surprise at the sight that met them both. The hair, the gown, the wings, the vision of the angel before her was unmistakable as the not-so-angelic Pelagia Xista. Oh, heck yeah, she had made the right decision. Pelagia Xista! The Pelagia Xista! She had left the feast, and slammed the door so loudly that it could only mean that something inside had happened. Violet's gossip columnist mind went racing about who had said what to her, or who had touched her inappropriately (her guess immediately fell to Lord Woodrow, or perhaps King Toran out of pure "accident"), or maybe what she had seen. Her more serious side that had grown out of her interactions with Nikolai-Swiftwind-of-the-Stronghoof-Tribe told her something else entirely.
This is more than just gossip. This is world class news.
Moving casually and with the inherent 'slink' of a typical high Lamini, Lysandra pressed her way past the guards attempting to assist Pelagia and looked to the exit as Pelagia did. Even in her taller Lamini form Pelagia towered over the reporter, and Violet felt a tightening in her very-much-Violet stomach. Even Scarlett had stopped struggling, and with a glance Violet could see that the girl was playing nice. She obviously knew who Pelagia was - or just realized that she must be important.
"Not hungry?" Lysandra asked the ridiculously impressive woman with the really cool set of wings what she hoped would come across as innocent, but get all of the dirt from a warlord needing to rant. Act cool act cool act cool. Remember your training.
Post by Pelagia Xista on Oct 6, 2017 21:44:53 GMT -7
She hadn't been waiting for longer than a few moments before she heard the sound of approaching footsteps - footsteps not belonging to the guard she'd just sent away to summon her carriage. She didn't bother entertaining the notion that it could have belonged to Woodrow or any of the other attendees, either, for she had not heard the opening of the door Pelagia herself had just exited from. This was a newcomer. Though her attention was focused on the front door, Pelagia's senses had remained alert since her exit from the main hall. Harel was known to be a murderous dictator, after all - and wasn't that just the biggest cliche for the ruler of Muerte - and Pelagia had just made a very openly offensive move toward him, and had dealt him a national insult in front of several world leaders.
Though Harel would have been foolish to try and have her assassinated here, she didn't rule out the possibility that he was indeed a fool (even if that was, unfortunately, a dubious possibility). But no, the steps that were approaching her now held the noticeable click of heels, even if they were fairly quiet - a sure, but graceful, gait. Not to say that there weren't assassins who adorned themselves in such footware (Pelagia had done her share of killing in similarly inappropriate outfits when the time called for it), but it was certainly uncommon. She would hazard to guess it was merely one of Elias's guests.
"Not hungry?" came the rather innocuous question, and Pelagia finally turned her eyes upon the stranger, appearing as though she'd only just noticed her. A High Lamini woman, with a child in-hand. Pelagia squinted slightly. She knew that child. They had just met not too long ago inside the main hall. The child of that scientist friend of Woodrow's. So then, was this woman her mother? Caretaker?
Pelagia supposed that could work for her. Words to the woman would likely reach the scientist - whether he was the woman's husband or not, he was still the child's father - and given what Thomas had mentioned earlier, he likely swapped his fair share of close, confidential words with Woodrow. Thus his words would likely reach the Lord.
Good. Pelagia needed to ensure that Markus Woodrow understood a certain message, one she was not willing to give him herself. Simply in the act of not following Pelagia's exit from that damnable dinner chamber, Woodrow had already paid Pelagia enough insult to ensure that she didn't wish to speak with him for the time being. It was a sickeningly domestic tactic; the silent treatment, of all things. But given how their relationship had been progressing, and how despite his words on the night of their dinner Pelagia had not since heard nor seen a single thing about the supposed woman that Markus actually loved, well... Pelagia deemed that this method could be effective.
"Oh, quite the opposite," she elected to reply to the Lamini woman. There was, of course, the chance that she was simply there to try and weasel information out of Pelagia, but the Warlord had no issue with letting her do just that. She would be happy to let word of her indignation spread. "I'm positively famished. Pity, then, that out gracious, despicable host, has elected to serve us a reflection of what he himself most certainly is: an abomination."
She glanced at Scarlet again, remembering the girl's name now, who merely looked up at her with those same big eyes as before. Admiring eyes. She'd be sure the girl heard every word. Her gaze returned to the Lamini. "Were the two of you not inside, moments ago?"
Post by Violet Macar on Oct 10, 2017 8:52:50 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
If Violet had learned one thing in her many years of trying to get candid statements from important people, it was that important people rarely gave candid statements. And yet... Pelagia did. Or seemed like she did. It could have been canned, Violet almost always had to assume they were, but the Aurcaeli warlord at least acted like she was being genuine. It was refreshing, and made Violet like Pelagia a little bit more than the 'I don't really give two crackers' amount she originally had.
What was more interesting than the tone or type of answer Pelagia gave (and also more interesting than the way Scarlett and Pelagia seemed to meet eyes) was what Pelagia had said. Elias had served them something so disastrously horrible that she would walk out? What could be so disgusting as to damage the relations between two nations? What could be so bad to Pelagia that only she had chosen to walk out? Were there too many onions, and were onions considered a cultural sleight in Aurcaele? The people needed to know.
"No," Lysandra shook her head in answer, her perfectly coiffed waves moving splendidly around her shoulders. She then raised Scarlett's hand up (which Violet still held with Lysandra's spidery fingers), as if that was a clear answer.
"Little girls' room," She clarified with a sigh, "I told you to hold it a little longer, Scarlett."
Post by Pelagia Xista on Oct 21, 2017 23:31:24 GMT -7
Pelagia scoffed audibly at the explanation, but not because it was a poor one; rather, she scoffed at the notion that Scarlet should have waited.
"Actually I'd say she had the right idea," Pelagia stated, almost airily, though the edge in her voice still made it abundantly clear that she was merely speaking from a place of restrained indignation. She shifted her gaze once more from the door (where her carriage had still yet to appear) to Scarlet, the young girl who had seemed so taken with her earlier. "They often say that children should be shielded from the dark aspects of life. I don't agree with that opinion. The sooner children understand the truth, the sooner they can make the correct decisions to stand against such things."
Her gaze now moved over to the closed door she had come from, arms tightly crossing as she considered the implication that Markus had still not come to join her yet. So that's how it was going to be, hmm? The words she spoke next were directed to both the Lamini woman as well as the child. Either one of them could potentially see to it that these words would eventually reach Woodrow's ears.
"The man in that hall, Elias Harell, has served us Centaur as his choice of dinner. Whether he truly thinks it an acceptable course of action, or whether he merely meant to mock the Peace Assemblage, it matters little. A centaur is a living mortal creature. To consume one as food is an abomination. And that is precisely what that man and his whole damned regime are. An abomination."
She could hear the clicks of hooves approaching the doorway up front. Her carriage would be coming into view any second now. She turned away from the Dinner Hall door, away from the woman and the girl, and began walking. But as she left the two behind her, she made sure they could hear one last comment.
"I refuse to work with those who perform such atrocities. And I also refuse to work with those who condone them. Such people have no place in talks for peace. Make sure your father knows that, Scarlet."
Post by Violet Macar on Oct 30, 2017 11:59:22 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
That was the word of the moment: Centaur. Ding ding ding, Pelagia had hit the jackpot. Centaur, surrounded by 'served' and 'dinner', without the context of 'A centaur was served a lovely dinner as thanks for being such a good friend'. Let's show the lady what she's won...
Violet felt her heart clench, nausea well in her stomach, and bile burn it's way up her throat. It couldn't be real, what Pelagia was saying. Beastfolk were mistreated in Muerte, and of that Violet had no doubt. They were captured, yes; imprisoned, certainly; enslaved, likely; tortured and killed, she could certainly believe it... But eaten?! There was something beyond evil in that act. Cannibalism. And cannibalism of... Of children? She quickly reminded herself that it wasn't necessarily one of Nikolai's younglings that had been-- served, but that did not cleanse the sickly feeling consuming her. She hadn't even confirmed Harel's involvement, and so she shouldn't jump to conclusions, but... How couldn't he be? If he was evil enough to eat a mortal person, surely he was evil enough to kidnap the beastfolk of lands distant from Muerte.
"Oh," She finally responded, Pelagia already departing, offering a final quip. Old-reporter-Violet would have been pulling out a notebook to jot all of this down, making sure to get the quote just right to make it easier to take it out of context later; new-reporter-Violet would have been doing the same thing, but making sure to capture every honest detail for the expose. Violet-who-had-befriended-Nikolai-and-had-her-heart-grow-at-least-two-sizes-maybe-three-Violet didn't have the mental faculties to do any of that.
The only thing that jolted Violet to attention was the reminder that Tom was inside. Pelagia mentioned him (not by name of course, she doubted Pelagia even knew his name), and Scarlett had started tugging Violet-as-Lysandra towards the grand hall's door. Five minutes ago Violet would have rejected Scarlet's determination, or been surprised about it after she had fought Violet's same goal just moments ago... But as of five seconds ago, Violet had lost her mind. She wasn't going to be cautious and careful and make sure that she didn't get caught, she was going to walk right in there and-- and... And something.
Thankfully it was Scarlett who opened the door, for if Violet had she would have burst it open and brought all too much attention to herself. Instead, the door was opened quietly, the two slipped inside, and then Scarlett closed the door just as silently.
Violet scanned the room, somewhat shocked by the presence of so many world leaders at the table. Pelagia Xista had left, yes, but there sat the Queen of Aissic, and the Queen and King of Fiamont, and Woodrow of Submiere, and-- Even King Toran of Niseca. Her heart sunk deeper into the pit of her stomach, horrified at the thought that King Toran was not protecting his citizens. She wanted to disbelieve that King Toran could have been involved, but she had already gone too far down the rabbit hole. What if he had helped capture the centaurs? Or even just permitted them to be shipped off without a proper inspection? She had always thought him a kind ruler, but now...
Then her eyes found Tom. He was sitting by an empty chair (Scarlett’s, Violet deduced) and a table full of other couples. They were all eating, but Tom... He was not eating, he was taking a sip of wine: Good. He wasn't eating the meat on his plate, he was wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin: Great. He would not dine on a mortal's life, he was far too good a-- He was eating it. No longer did Violet feel simply queasy and annoyed. She felt angry. Betrayed. He knew the story she was working on. She had told him.
Scarlett had already began to head back to the table, but she did not stalk with the fury that Violet did, and so Violet was behind Tom before Scarlet could climb up into her chair and sit as sweet as pie. Violet's long, shapeshifted fingers found Tom's shoulders and she dug her nails in. Deciding it wasn't enough, she transmuted herself further, making her nails grow a tenth of an inch longer to dig into him. He grunted and tried to turn, but she leaned down before he could and whispered into his ear. "We need to talk, Tommy," He froze as he recognized her voice, and she could see his face turn to Scarlett - both the colour and the girl - who smiled and tipped her head, ever so innocent.
Reported on Location by Lysandra Evangel, sort of.
Post by Thomas Dunn on Oct 30, 2017 12:54:34 GMT -7
The drama of everything that had happened was frustrating, and intense. Tom had always enjoyed his controls, his predictable values, and while he was good under pressure, he didn't like the heat, even if it wasn't on him.
Tonight he had hoped to rub shoulders with many of Woodrow's allies, including Pelagia Xista - especially Pelagia Xista - and so when she walked out of the place after a huffing speech, he was tempted to follow and win her graces... But he was reminded by the sight of Harel's well-armed guards, and the way the crowd stilled in something close to fear at the warlord's departure that he was not Pelagia Xista. He did not have the power she had (yet), and if he chose to stand up and walk out as well, he would face some kind of immediate, painful retribution. Besides, he needed to remain allied to Markus Woodrow for now, and the man was staying -- albeit making his own unique stand against Harel's test.
Yes, test. That was what Tom decided it was. Harel wanted to see if any would bow to him here. None of them did, but they were certainly close. Pelagia had left, sure, but she was the only one - other than Woodrow - who was not a Royal up at that table. Surely she mattered less to Harel than Meixner, Toran, and Nickell. Besides, if Pelagia hadn't left then Tom had to assume the others would have remained somewhat silent. So in a way, hadn't Harel's test succeeded? Tom had to be a little impressed at the genius, even if he was less impressed by the plate before him.
Tom was not a man of high moral standing, he could admit that to himself, but there were certain lines he did not cross. His subjects were under his complete control, but he would not cross any boundaries of their's that were unnecessary to cross. They were weapons, not objects to Tom. This plate before him was a new boundary he had never encountered - cannibalism - and he now needed to decide what he was going to do about it. Surely he thought of many people as 'less than' (in fact he thought of them all as 'less than' he), but that seemed different from this. Then again, many would say that his work was just as bad as this. What was a mortal being without free will, and thus when he took it from them, made them tools... Were they not turned into animals -- no, lesser? In some ways, taking a life and removing their soul from suffering was kinder, whether you ate the flesh or not. Flesh itself wasn't existence.
If he could eat an animal, why not a mortal?
He steeled himself for what he assumed would be a bitter taste by drinking the wine provided to them, and he then dried his lip with a napkin as he looked at the others at his table. They seemed to be in the same moral quandary, though had already made their decision - or had their decision made for them. The older couple seemed to be eyeing the guards as they ate and forced their faces into smiles, while a younger couple seated by them were cheerfully dining away. This was the way of Muerte now, The presence of guards along the room said to the people of the crowd, If you are not with us, you are against us... And you see what happens when you are against us.
Tom took a bite.
The first flavour was of spices, whatever they had used to cook it with. Then, came the surprise of sweetness - a little like beef, but softer on the palate. He wondered if all horse tasted like this, or if this is what mortal beings tasted like. He wondered if there was a difference. He hmmed at his mild pleasure at the meal, and began to cut into another piece when he felt fingers on his shoulder. The sudden touch spooked him, and his cutlery clattered down, fork on the plate, knife rattling to the floor. If the silence of Pelagia's exit had still been present, all eyes would have been on them, but now, in the chatter of the meal, not even his tablemates cared.
His eyes shifted to his shoulder where he saw the colour of lamini flesh, and his first thought was Tristan Cowell, come to get revenge for Blue. Then he thought of White, but discarded the thought at the reminder of her pale skin. Then, the mystery person spoke to him, and the voice was harsh, but recognizable. Violet.
Scarlet found her chair to his left and tilted her head, bringing a hand up to curl a finger tightly into her hair. The signal was clear. Danger. His mind ran with what in the world Violet could be angry about to the point of danger. He didn't invite her, despite her wanting to come, so perhaps she was still miffed about it. There was no way she could have discovered the truth about his work, not when she had failed so miserably the first time. Violet was a gossip monger, and an easily distracted woman. But... He still had to be prepared for the notion this was about Acacia.
He fixed his face with a smile, and placed three fingers onto the edge of the table for Scarlet to see, another message. Three minutes, then follow. She didn't acknowledge it, and she didn't need to - Tom knew she would heed it. She was made to protect him, no matter what. His eyes flitted to White then, wondering if she was still intact, if she would feel his life in danger and come to his rescue.
He would not count on it.
"Dear," He placed his own hand on Violet's false-Lamini one at his shoulder, patting it gently before grabbing his napkin and wiping his mouth clear, "Were they able to get you an additional setting?" Violet didn't reply, but she had stopped gripping him, allowing him to stand.
"No?" He continued, tossing his napkin down onto his plate, "Let me go talk to them with you." He turned and finally saw this strange Violet. He knew she was an ajatar, and that she could shapeshift, but had never seen her do it. She was honestly far more attractive in this form, and he had to wonder why she didn't shapeshift like this more often. She looked younger as a lamini, and he had to appreciate the form-fitting Malscuri-style clothing she was draped with, especially when the new form that it fit was so much leaner. He gave her a smile, and then took her by the arm towards the door.
"What do you think you're doing, Tommy?" She whispered as they pressed around the tables. It was strange how much she still sounded like herself, despite looking so different. Tom didn't know much about magic, but shouldn't a shapeshifter be able to sound different? Was she truly that bad at shapeshifting? Perhaps that was why she strayed away from it, she was too weak. Pathetic, really, to be born with such a talent and not invest into it.
"Just finding us a place to chat," Tom responded, his grip a little tighter on her arm than was really necessary. Violet seethed next to him, the sound she made when he missed the "point" she was trying to make in an argument.
They made it to the doors and a guard stepped into their path to block the exit, he crossed a spear in front of the two, making the message clear. "Where do you think you're going?" The guard threatened.
"Not far, I promise," Tom smiled that winning, toothy smile, "Our daughter is just right over there-- (he pointed over to Scarlett, who waved happily with fork in-hand) My wife is ill, and the noise is getting to her."
The guard scoffed at this flimsy excuse, and Tom could almost hear Violet roll her eyes before the Mot retorted: "Ill with what?"
Tom's face fell, an award winning moment of acting, and his gaze shifted to look at Violet for a moment, who had also begun pretending to suit their performance. Tom stepped into the guard conspiratorially, ignoring the steel body of the spear pressing into his chest as he did, he whispered, "Streike's Pearl." And the guard's eyes widened as he looked to Violet, her eyes closed and screwed in false pain. Tom doubted she knew what Streike's Pearl was, but she was doing a fine job pretending.
"It's not--" The guard began, and Tom cut him off, "Not contagious, no. Not unless it breaks. You... You know how it breaks, don't you?" The guard didn't know, which was obvious to Tom, because he stepped aside then and let them through. If the man had known, he would have continued the line of questioning, and likely needed to see more intense symptoms. Tom's gamble had paid off, yet again. "Thank you," He told the guard urgently as the door opened, and the guard told them of a small sitting room just two doors down on the right, for which Tom thanked him again.
The sitting room was easily found, and the moment they entered Tom turned to close the door - pretending to lock it as well. "Alright then," He sighed, pretending to simply be exasperated, ”There had better be a good explanation for this, Violet.”
Last Edit: Oct 30, 2017 12:55:07 GMT -7 by Thomas Dunn
Post by Violet Macar on Oct 30, 2017 13:28:41 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
She could barely hear Tom's words. Once he had locked the door and turned around, she had turned completely back into herself and was shoving his shoulder with a little more force than she ought to be. "What in the blue blazing baker's oven do you think you're doing?!" She hissed, only keeping her cool enough to remember that there were guards pacing the halls that could hear her if she were any louder.
"Violet, calm down," Tom's voice held something like empathy, but it felt to Violet that he was just being patronizing. How could he not know what he had done? "Take a deep breath, and tell me from the beginning."
Her cheeks were pink and she wanted to slap him for such a command, but her teeth found her lips and she sucked in a breath through the small gaps between them before letting it go in a wheezing sigh. "You know," She insisted, and he returned that he most certainly did not, and sat himself down on a chair. His comfort made her angrier, and so she turned her quill into a rubber ball, and threw it at him. It wasn't a ball-bursting hit, but the surprise and the fact that it whammed into his cheek was enough for her to get a rise out of him.
In a second he was on his feet, in another he had closed in on her, and finally he had her pressed against a wall with his mere stature, one hand on the wall, and the other on her waist, thumb pressing into her side. "Explain," He all but grunted, all masculine intimidation. She made her own threat, transmuting her other quill into a knife which she held to his neck, which received a sound of disbelief, before he insisted again: "Explain."
"What in the world were you eating?" She finally revealed, her face some kind of amalgam of pout and grimace. She watched as his eyes and face shifted in a matter of a moment, how he seemed to almost... Relax. His shoulders fell, and he leaned into the hand on the wall for support as he laughed. Laughed. She used her free hand to shove him again, "Stop laughing!" And to his credit, he did, but Violet had to wonder: What in Ephilroa did he think she was angry about? How was it worse than this? She kept the knife up, though pulled it back so it didn't press against his skin.
"I'm sorry, Vi, I'm sorry, it's just-- You think that was one of your centaurs?," Violet blanched at that, and so Tom continued, "Vi, Muerte has centaurs too, and the whole 'eating your enemy' thing is cultural. I wasn't about to offend a guy who eats people he doesn't like. Can you really blame me for that?"
Well, she shouldn't really. Pelagia could walk out because of who she was, and Tom likely couldn't do the same unless Woodrow offered to protect him, which meant that he wasn't wholly at fault... But yes, Violet did in fact still blame him. She blamed him a lot. "You could have done something," She finally said after he prompted her once again with her name. She had never been so much at a loss for words, but she was now.
"Done what?" He retorted, "Whoever it was was already dead. I couldn't save them. I did what I could by sending Scarlett out so that she didn't have to partake, too." He kept talking, but Violet had stopped listening. She was still angry about it, about what he had done, but she was also angry about something else. What he thought she had known.
"Hey," One of his hands encircled the wrist that held the knife, and lowered it away from his throat. The fingers encircled her's, forcing her to drop the knife, while his other hand caressed her cheek and forced her blank eyes to meet his glinting ones. He leaned forward and kissed her more softly than she was sure he'd ever done, and when he pulled back he ran his thumb over the hair by her ear - her favourite place. He was coaxing her down. He was trying to get her to forget. Usually she was fine with their arguments ending like this. Today she felt like a puppet.
She turned her face away, breaking contact with his hand, and wrested her own free of his grip. "What did you think I was angry about?" Her ask was quiet, and free of the normal musical cadence her voice always took on. She slipped around him, feeling more comfortable where she could get to the door, and then turned to face his back.
"What?" He finally sounded, his head shifting to see her without fully turning around to face her. She repeated herself, and he laughed again, shaking his head. "Vi, I didn't think anything."
"No, you were relieved when I told you about the centaur. Relieved. What were you afraid I knew?" She was more urgent now, and he was giving her nothing but silence, and a confused look.
He shook his head again, and spoke as he took steps towards her, "Vi, Violet. I think you're trying to solve mysteries that don't exist. I was relieved because I didn't want you to be angry with me, for any reason. If you're worried I'm hiding something from you--"
"It's about Acacia, isn't it?" She had bit her tongue about it for so long, but all of her suspicion in the moment had it the flame of the suspicions she had held for years, and now it was boiling over. Her lead with him had gone nowhere (except for his bed), nowhere until he had asked her about finding someone. She had found the one, Zechariah Vanros, and more than that, she had found out who Zechariah Vanros really was, not that she had told Tom. It was a coincidence, she told herself.
And then the news of what had happened aboard The Noble Eastwind with Tehodis Kitai had surfaced, who was also connected to Acacia - which could have also been a coincidence, but it was so strange that Tom cared so much about finding her. Then the sudden appearance of Scarlett, and how strange that child was, which reminded Violet how strange Green was... And Kutsal dammit he called Zechariah 'Black' sometimes. Black, scarlet, green... It was all too strange. A part of her had known, and another part had told that part to shut up, because they didn't have evidence. Gossip wasn't fact, and what she had felt was gossip... Until now.
The way Tom's expression changed told her almost all she needed to know, and also told her that she needed to get out. Now. She might have thought to take to the shadows, but she was closer to the door than he was, and he was a human with no magic. She was safe enough. She backed away as he took another step forward, reached a hand behind her to grab the knob and--
Post by Thomas Dunn on Oct 30, 2017 13:41:16 GMT -7
When she said the word Acacia, his pulse had quickened, the sound of blood rushing filled his ears, and the tips of his fingers tingled. He wasn't usually threatened or nervous when someone discovered his secret, because he still had some way to save the situation, but this time was different. Violet had intimate knowledge of Black, Green, and Red2, as well as of his facility. She had old files that could support her new knowledge, and enough connections that it could be extremely damaging to him, to Acacia, if not a death sentence.
Perhaps that was why the door had quietly opened sooner than he expected, before he could lunge at Violet and try to take care of her himself. Usually Scarlett was precise about her time, but her sense of his endangerment combined with her powers over divination had to have jump-started her responses. And it wasn't just Scarlett at the door. She was flanked by two others. One, an armed guard of the palace, wielding heavy chains; the other, a mysterious figure in a black cloak who's hands burned with bright light.
Violet didn't have a chance.
"That's her!" Scarlett said, her voice trembling with fear as an outstretched, pointing hand did the same. The cloaked figure pressed their hand to the wall inside the room, and in mere seconds the light had bled to every wall, the ceiling, and the floor, surrounding them in bright light. Tom had to raise an arm to shield his eyes, the brightness burning at his retinas... But not his skin, unlike Violet, who cried out in pain.
The guard grappled with her until he had her arms wrapped in chains, which the cloaked figure quickly made glow as well. Next, the guard handed a burlap hood to the magician, who once again cast light over it before putting it over Violet's head. The guard secured the hood with more chain around Violet's neck and shoulders, and Tom could hear her screaming in pain. It was blood-curdling. He felt a small pang of regret, but it was gone as he realized that he was safe... And that he had won.
Violet's two quills, which had been a rubber ball and a knife moments ago, turned back into quills as the guard waved at Tom to exit the room. He grabbed Scarlett's hand, and turned just in time to watch them sling Violet's chained arms above her head and then the chains through a loop in the ceiling. Before he could see more, the door closed, and Tom was left in the hall with Scarlett, and another guard that he hadn't seen from inside.
"Are you alright, sir?" The guard asked, and Tom nodded, bringing a hand up to his throat to feel if it had been cut at all with Violet's knifeplay. "Fine, thanks to you."
The guard shook his head as he put a hand on Tom's arm, "Got a fine young girl there. She saw the knife as you left, and came to tell us right away. Wouldn't leave us alone 'till we followed. You know that woman?"
Tom thought about lying for a moment. He considered that if Violet and he did not know one another, anything she said about him would be the lies of a crazy person... But he had to remember that she could still have proof. If she had files on him, or hell, if they asked Green or Black anything before Tom could get home to remove Violet from their memories, or train them to pretend as much, he would be ruined. No, the truth was more appropriate here.
"Unfortunately, yes. I... I thought I could trust her, I-- Honestly I loved her. But I should have seen this coming. Her name is Violet Macar, and she used to work for The Tablet. She quit after she was attacked, and started getting obsessed with unsolved mysteries. She's been trying to connect missing beastfolk from Aebrynis to your Sovereign, demanded I bring her here with me. When I refused, I suppose she must have followed me, and... Gods, I'm just glad she came for me first, and not the Sovereign."
The guard nodded pensively as Tom explained, and then gestured down the hall, opposite the feast. "Mind if we ask you a few more questions, sir? I promise we'll get you back to the feast in no time."
"Of course," Tom smiled his winning, toothy smile, "Anything I can do to help the Sovereign. Come now, Scarlett."
The skin OTHERWORLD was made by JAWN of WICKED WONDERLAND.
FORTUNA-RPG was created by MELLIE. Images belong to their respective artists. All codes and scripts belong to their respective coders. Please DO NOT take anything without the owners' permission.