< 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!
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< 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 Ellis Danton on Feb 4, 2018 9:59:52 GMT -7
Ellis couldn't really believe that Xanthe hadn't come back yet. It had been three days.
Sure, their blow-out had been massive, perhaps even more than he had feared it could be, but surely it could not have been as bad as she was taking it. He worried perhaps, that she had been lost to the storm that had wracked the region that night. He knew better. The storm would be nothing to her, because she was a piece of it.
It was frustrating in a way, the way she had reacted. Of course he would serve Pelagia before anyone else. She was his leader, she represented Ayniea, who was his God. His job was to serve her. Now more than ever. Yet, as much as he wanted to think Xanthe was overreacting, he still recognized how he had hurt her. Even if she was angry about the mark on his hand, she was certainly just as angry (or more) at the fact that he had evaded telling her the truth. The situation made him wholly conflicted as he often was, and he did not know how to cope with conflict any longer.
In the past he had coped with panic, with tears, with attempts to mitigate the things which conflicted in him. None of them had worked, it was clear - because here he was, embroiled in conflict yet again. So he tried something new : Anger. And he didn't know how to cope with anger, so he separated himself from everyone.
Pelagia wouldn't be back for a time, and so he did not have much in the way of direction. He was helping the Peacekeepers where he could in her absence, and so he decided to use that as an excuse. A reason to go and be alone. He offered to chop all of the wood that they'd need for fire, since he was less 'morally opposed' to it than most of the Nisequois were. And so he chopped.
And chopped.
And chopped.
He chopped until sunset coloured the land around him in a pleasant orange, and until he had arrived at a sense of numbness. His arms were worn from the motion, his body was drenched in sweat from the exertion, sweat which soaked right through his cotton shirt, and his mind was quiet.
He landed a final blow with his axe to the wood before him, cleaving in perfectly in two with a loud and angered grunt before sighing, and leaving the axe on the chopping block he'd made from a tree stump. He shuffled over a few paces to sit on the ground near his bag, and near-collapsed into a sitting position and heaving mass.
Tired is good, He thought as he took a deep swig of water from his canteen, Tired is all-encompassing. If I'm tired, I can't think of Xanthe. Or Pelagia. Or... Or even my father. He sighed in refreshment, and stared blankly at the orange-washed landscape around him. This was fine. This is fine.
He didn't have a mind to notice anyone else around him.
Post by Tristan Cowell on Feb 4, 2018 10:54:16 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] All things considered, the scouts had moved quickly in gaining information on the Aurcaeli soldier named Ellis Danton. All things considered, it still had not been fast enough for Tristan.
Markus Woodrow II and Pelagia Xista had made announcements to the world of a damned peace treaty at the beginning of the month, a rather perfect plot. Tristan would have done the same if he'd had arrangements as they did. Which meant that Tristan now needed to ensure that both of them (and all those who supported them) were proven wrong. He needed to destroy any agreements they made, and forge a new one.
The unfortunate side was that Gilles had yet to return with the Attonian Chief. This meant that while Tristan could hope that his ally had completed his end of things, he had no way of accurately knowing. So, Tristan needed to be certain he succeeded with Ellis Danton to the nth degree.
That was why he waited so patiently. Tristan had gone out to the Broken Temple Fort immediately after hearing the news of Xista and Woodrow's announcements, and had settled in tents not far from them with a couple of his own warriors. He had covered the tents in a high-power illusion, and it was certain that no one would find them, not without high-power divination and a nose that something was a-foot.
From the tents they had scouted each day, and waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. They waited until Ellis Danton was alone and vulnerable.
Today happened to be that perfect moment. Danton had gone out on his own to chop wood, and had railed against the trees for hours with a fury that Tristan imagined didn't quite suit the boy. No, from their intelligence he seemed more the soft spoken gentile, yet here he was. Which told Tristan one clear thing: Today Ellis Danton was vulnerable.
Tristan knew precisely how to take advantage of that. Their intelligence had not just told him such things as Ellis Danton being somewhat of an unliked recluse turned golden boy, and their intelligence had not only informed him that Ellis Danton had a variety of skills from things such as piano to 'building things'. It had also told Tristan that Ellis Danton had no father, not one that he knew, and that he was raised by a loving, and terribly over-protective mother whom Tristan's own people had gone to visit. Under the guise of pleasantries, of course. She wouldn't be harmed unless necessary - though Tristan could certainly give the order if he saw the need.
No, Ellis Danton's fatherly issues were going to be of great importance for Tristan Cowell. His spies had noted something in the way Danton interacted with Feofil, which meant this guise - one that Tristan could perform quite convincingly from past opportunities of practise - was the exact perfect choice for Ellis Danton.
And so, Tristan Cowell awaited in the shadows for Ellis Danton to work himself out. When the boy collapsed on the ground, he smiled and reformed the illusions around himself to appear as Feofil Peti instead of shadows, and ensured the application of Feofil's measured and pleasant tones over his own. Tristan may have dropped most of his duties as of late, but he had always been an excellent study when it counted.
"Are you feeling better now, Ellis?" Tristan asked, as he stepped into the stripped clearing Ellis had made, stepping over hunks of firewood, his step as light and purposeful as Feofil's always seemed to be. Tristan was hoping this would be as easy as he had predicted.
Post by Ellis Danton on Feb 4, 2018 11:01:36 GMT -7
The sound of Feofil's voice shocked Ellis out of the numb reverie he had dropped himself into. His eyes went from exhausted, narrowed slits to wide surprise, and he jumped forward on his knees for the axe -- but then he recognized who had stepped into this sorry glade of chopped-down trees.
Ellis felt a little guilty as Feofil saw it all, instantly terrified that the man was going to hate him for what he had done. It was certain he had taken more than necessary. Magical fire didn't need much kindling to catch. Or to keep burning. They had enough here for many months.
"M-master Feofil," Ellis stuttered, using his position to the best of his abilities to supplicate himself on his knees for the man, "I'm... I-i'm sorry. I... l-lost track of h-how many I'd... I st-stopped c-counting."
He didn't answer the question, though, because it's answer was worse than what he'd done: No. No, he did not feel better. He did not feel worse, either. He just felt absent.
Post by Tristan Cowell on Feb 4, 2018 11:17:50 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] The boy was more anxious than Tristan would have believed. He was a soldier, and yet he jumped at a sound with the intensity of a prey animal, and then supplicated himself so readily to someone he viewed as his better - but who was not his actual leader. He stuttered, too, which was intensely annoying to Tristan. However, the boy didn't seem to question Tristan's disguise, not even for a moment. His foolishness would be to the Malscure-Rielcia alliance's benefit.
Tristan approached Ellis as Feofil, filling his hands with the illusion of fatherly warmth (as opposed to the mild chill of his usual body temperature), and cupped the boy's cheek for a moment as he spoke, "Perhaps... If it has aided your soul in finding respite, the sacrifice will have been well worth it." He smiled gently at the boy, and then walked to the stump with the axe. He removed it with a slight effort, tossing it cautiously to the side, and then took the seat in the way Feofil would. Gently, but with a flourish.
"Though it may have been kinder to have focused your angers on the peace effort, and not a forest of trees, hm?"
Post by Ellis Danton on Feb 4, 2018 11:29:27 GMT -7
"Y-yes," Ellis sat back on his knees, his shoulders slumping at Feofil's words. It was clear Feofil was disappointed in Ellis, even if he said it in a way that was built to somewhat absolve him of guilt. It didn't help that it clearly wasn't worth the sacrifice at all, because Ellis was feeling no better. Because Ellis couldn't rid himself of the clenching feeling that took over his body and mind and made him so moody, so... Depressed.
He nodded his head a little at Feofil, and tried to quell the emotions behind his eyes that wanted to water. He managed to reel it back, and let out a small sigh that was somewhere between relief and disappointment. He sat there quietly with Feofil for a moment, knowing the man was one of the best at quiet.
In that silence, Ellis wondered why Feofil might have come here for him. He wondered how long Feofil had even been there, watching Ellis release his anger onto wood. He wondered if Feofil was here because Xanthe was back, and she wanted to see him. He wondered if Feofil was here because Pelagia was back, and she was unhappy he had not been there to give her welcome. Neither was tantalizing-- But maybe if it was Xanthe, he wouldn't feel so horrid about it all.
"I-is she b-back?" He finally asked, his voice low and somewhat hoarse, "Xanthe?"
Post by Tristan Cowell on Feb 5, 2018 21:20:16 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] Tristan allowed Ellis' silence. It was Feofil's way, he knew, and he also believed that it was more likely to garner a candid response from Danton than a question asked. In Tristan Cowell's initial thoughts, Ellis Danton was the type who could not help himself but sputter secrets if left to his own devices. He would hope himself correct...
...And Danton would prove it. A name, so easily, so quickly. Xanthe was not the name of anyone from Ellis' life they had investigated. She was also not a person whom they had intelligence of. His assumption had to be simple and clean: It was the Attonian woman they had seen him with in Evard's memories. It was the Attonian Chief.
"No," He answered, perhaps touching his features with sympathy, "Désolé, Ellis. She remains missing, unfortunately. We assume she must have returned to her people, but..." He let the sentence drift off into nothingness. His hope was for Ellis Danton to fill in the blanks once more.
Come now, Danton. Give me what I've come here for.
Post by Ellis Danton on Apr 24, 2018 17:01:28 GMT -7
Ellis did not know how to interpret his emotions at Feofil's statement. They were too complex. Maybe he was disappointed that Xanthe did not want to see him enough to return. Maybe he was relieved he did not have to face her. Maybe he was concerned for her safety. Maybe he was just numb.
Should he have worried about someone other than himself? Probably. The treaty was likely at risk. That meant a lot of lives. Aurcaeli ones. Attonian ones. Nisequois. It didn't help as Feofil implied she had not even returned to her own people. She was alone somewhere. Or not alone somewhere. With someone else somewhere. Someone who wouldn't disappoint her. Yes, he could not help but make it about Xanthe and himself.
Ellis' eyes went wide, his neck straightening as his head angled to Feofil with a jolt. He was remembering things. Remembering a person. His mind flashed with the Rielcian camp in the middle of a storm, Gilles standing before him and squinting his eyes at Xanthe's lifeless form. Gilles clearly realizing that Ellis was not Attonian, and Xanthe was. There was no world in which Gilles and Tristan Cowell did not find that interesting. There was not a world in which the leaders would not put two and two together when Pelagia had announced the treaty.
There was not a world in which everything was okay.
Ellis stiffly righted himself and grasped out for Feofil's arm, trying to tug the man along with him, as he pleaded, "F-feofil-- We need to m-m-moo... W-we n-need er, qu-quick. Erik. P-Pelagia--"
Last Edit: Apr 24, 2018 17:01:55 GMT -7 by Ellis Danton
Post by Tristan Cowell on May 8, 2018 8:56:34 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] The answer did not come as easily as Tristan wanted it, which was a frustration all on its own. Another frustration, was how Tristan did not know why Ellis became so panicked. The warlord did not think the fool had sussed him out so swiftly, particularly not as he stumbled over Feofil's name once more, but he also could not be sure that Ellis had not keyed into something strange. Perhaps the soldiers nearby? Feofil's eyes scanned the treeline, looking for any sign that Tristan's underlings were giving up the game, but he found no such shred of evidence.
The eyes focused back onto Ellis, who was tugging at Feofil's arm and rushing off to somewhere that Tristan certainly did not wish to go. Tristan lifted Feofil's hands - one to Ellis' neck, the other to his arm on the opposite side - and tried to still the anxious mess as best he could while softly padding along with him. His slower movement forced Ellis to drop pace somewhat, giving Tristan a little more control. "Ellis, slow for a moment, slow," He kept his tone measured, utterly serene, "What has you so frightened, Ellis?""
Post by Ellis Danton on May 8, 2018 9:17:15 GMT -7
Feofil's grasp had an almost calming effect on Ellis. His eyes were still wide, and his lungs still felt like they wanted to seize everytime he took a deep breath -- but he was calmer. His pace slowed to match Tristan's, though didn't stop, and his eyes stopped gazing around madly. If he were in a better state of mind he may have wondered if this was the kind of control a father would teach him. He might have wondered if Feofil had been taught by his father. He might have thought of Artavia instead of Eleusia.
But he was not thinking about himself. Finally, he had been broken out of his self-loathing by Reason. "I-it's... It's, er, uh-- Eh-el-eleusia. I fuh-fuh-forgot ab-b-bout it. They... They... He s-saw m-me. W-with Xanthe. I th-think they know. W-we have to t-t-tell P-pelagia, and f-find Xanthe, and--"
Last Edit: May 8, 2018 9:26:02 GMT -7 by Ellis Danton
Post by Tristan Cowell on May 8, 2018 9:50:48 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] Hm. Tristan both found Ellis' revelations annoying, and surprising. He had assumed that the moment Danton returned to his leader, and to the Peacekeepers, that he would have told them about his run-in with the most frightful, and impressive Kina in all Fortuna. It was clear the boy had few brains about him, or at least that his priorities were wildly disorganized. He was almost unpredictable, and Tristan had come to despise unpredictability.
"And this should not be of great concern, Ellis," Tristan cooed an interruption, grasping the boy's face in his hands and forcing him to still, and to look into Feofil's eyes - as crafted by an expert Illusionist. Tristan gazed upon the boy's face, so childlike to him, and realised that stupidity was not Ellis Danton's problem. Ignorance was. Aurcaeli ignorance. "Ellis... What do you believe Eleusia's goal in Atton is?"
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