AtWar (Temporary)

[Sephith]

Any posts that go in this thread will have to be moved to the real thread once we've transferred all the posts, but it'll allow the roleplays to keep moving while we do that!

Go ahead~

[Ex-SOLDIER]

“Sir, I have a report here from.....”
“I’m not interested”
“But....but sir....”
“I said I’m not interested! It’s not our problem. Now you are dismissed”
“But.....Aerion....sir”
“I thought I dismissed you.”
The young soldier nervously glanced into Aerion’s eyes, doing his best to avoid focusing on the right one, and with a compliant bow he exited the room through the ornately carved oak doors, leaving the report on a table as he left. Aerion heaved a sigh; He didn’t like having to be so abrupt but he had too much on his mind to think about the problems of foreigners. He brought himself down on to the bed and began whispering something. The way he was twirling his hand was a sign that he was doing his best to remember it.
“You’re not reciting it again are you? And careful, I just changed those sheets”. This voice was a gentle one, one that seemed to fill the air with a sense of harmony and serenity. Well, at least that’s how Aerion felt about it. The person the voice originated from, a girl, placed the sheets she was carrying on to the table on top of the soldiers report and then sat down on the bed.
“I have to be sure I remember it” Aerion didn’t turn to face the girl, he simply continued twirling his hand and staring at the floor.
“You’ve never had trouble remembering anything. Your memory is one of the sharpest I’ve ever come across.” As the girl spoke, she placed her hand gently on Aerions’ back. “Try not to get too caught up in it. You do have a few months.”
Aerion looked up so his gaze met the eyes of the girl. A silence hung in the air that was the perfect indicator of romance to come, but before they could make their move the large oak doors flew open and an important looking figure entered. He was dressed identically to Aerion, save for a white medallion that hung from his neck indicating his status. Aerion immediately launched from the bed and stood bolt upright. The man stared at the boy for a second, his hard gaze seemingly penetrating his soul. Aerion immediately bowed, hoping that he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. Slowly bringing his eyes back up to meet the man’s, he saw that his gaze had softened, but was still extremely serious.
“No time for that, Aerion. Grab that report and let’s go” The man didn’t wait, as soon as he finished speaking he turned around and hurriedly made his way out of the room. Aerion did not need prompting; he knew he had to follow.
“Argilik, Sir” Taking another look at the girl who still sat on the bed, Aerion shot her a smile, grabbed the report and chased after the man.


The Hallways were empty; not something uncommon at this time of night. None the less, it always made Aerion feel uneasy. As if every had vanished during the night and he was one of the only ones left. The silence filling the halls was only broken by the sound of Argiliks’ and his footsteps. A small comfort.
“Have you had time to read that report?” Argilik’s voice hinted to Aerion that he already knew he hadn’t.
“No sir. I didn’t think it was worth our concern” came the reply.
“And normally it wouldn’t be. The dealings and machinations of the northern kingdoms are usually of extremely little interest to the King. So once you read that report....”

“Sir, I’m sorry. I know I should have read it as soon as I received it....” Aerion interrupted
Argilik raised his hand to silence Aerion, but did so with a smile. “....You’ll be able to tell me why all of a sudden the king cares about such foreign affairs” Aerion smiled back, and quickly began flipping through the report. “Fill me in as we go. We’ll need to both be up to scratch by the time we get to the Chambers. Start from the top, what’s the title of the report?”
Now that Aerion came to think of it, he hadn’t even glanced at it. He had only assumed that it was about some sort of minor foreign affair. If he’d actually taken the time to read the title, he probably would have been a little more concerned.
“Its called ‘Disaster in the North’”
“Hmm, so it’s serious then? We should probably hurry to the Chambers. Just flip through and give me the gist”
And with that, the pair sped through the halls, nearly missing the entrance to the Chambers.
Flinging the doors open with reckless abandon, Argilik strolled in and took his seat while Aerion stood by his side. The other men sitting around the elaborate circular table seemed to be unimpressed with their lateness; A sentiment which Argilik chose to ignore.
“All right, let’s get this sorted”

[MissLoquacious]

Everything is essentially meaningless, the only reason to even bother being born is to pursue your whims and desires. Why worry over morality? It is just a technicality you can slip around so easily if you dared to defy convention. There is no god to judge me, because I am my own deity and I form my own reality.

When faced with the two options, one you should do and the one you want; the unreal lines blur and it is all one and the same.

And that is why I have no qualms in taking what I want. And at this moment, what I want, is what she has. Tough for her, because I always get what I want.

Smiling, she lifts the panpipes to her coloured lips, drawing in a deep breath, she begins the game.

The sound is soft and low, like a lover’s whisper with the heat of promise behind it. It flows languidly through the room, curling like thick smoke around the listeners as they mingled in the ballroom; momentarily hushed by the song. Men and women alike sip their drinks, loosening their morals and muscles after a hard day of harder reality.

And where better to escape who you are then a Masquerade ball?

The cheerful buzz of talk reverberates in the room, a song in itself; if you could hear the chords.

The musician’s light green eyes shot through with gold flutter under her fringe, as they sweep the room, catching on some places before moving on again. They are mostly obscured by her mussed fringe, which falls into them along with the long strands that frame her face. Her hair is pulled up into an elegant bun with perfect corkscrew ringlets trailing across her neck and shoulders. The dim candlelight from the chandelier danced across her form, causing the ruddy highlights in her hair to shine. A decorative undersized black top hat was pinned to her hair so the front tipped over her forehead. It was crowned in beautiful black feathers that curled around her head like fallen angel wings. Black netting obscured the upper half of her face, leaving her lips and chin bare.

Her face, a lightly tanned oval, seems to nearly float in the dark of the stage. The shadows soften her slightly too large nose that ruins the beauty of her face, as the upturned tip and tilt of her head lends her a slightly mischievous air. The regal arch of her dark finely shaped brows is met with a slight smirk at her pouting magenta lips, as if she is amused by some private joke.

Her foot taps in time with the tune, bouncing off the heel against the small wooden stage tucked into the corner. Her fashionable laced up black boots add two extra inches, making her just scrape in at average height. Her tight black dress pants tuck into them, outlining the contours of her generously flared hips. Her black leather belt is fastened low, the large silver buckle slightly to her left side. A black under bust corset clinches her torso, leaving only a few inches of skin between it and her belt. On her right hip, a faded tattoo of the Queen of Hearts playing card is inked into her skin.

She spun slowly, and her short dark grey coat that reached mid waist flared around her, exposing for a moment a flash of silver. Her long fingers dance across the pipes from beneath the spill of lace from her sleeves, dexterous and deft in their practised pattern. The moonstone buttons flashed at the cuff amongst the delicate needlework depicting vines that seemed to grow in silver sinuous lines.

She draws in a breath, causing her breasts to pull at the fabric and fill in the winkles. Just smaller than average, they are pushed up, leaving a tasteful hint of décolletage in the v of her unbuttoned white shirt. Her clothing may not be outwardly provocative, but there was something intangible in her bearing that made it so. Her manner made men imagine her perfect hair mussed after a night of messy lovemaking and just how she’d squirm in the midst of orgasm. As she sways languidly to her music, her hips and spine undulate slightly with a hint of sexual promise.

Coquetry was an art form she’d perfected some time ago, and as her gaze sweeps her audience, she knows it will definitely ensure her success tonight. Not that she’d fail anyway.

As the last note fell over the crowd, she bowed elegantly with a flourish of her hand before sauntering off stage with a roll in her gait. She smiled at the applause, exchanging pleasantries with the people who approached her. While it is never a good idea to draw attention to oneself before a heist, she found that she just couldn’t help herself. She liked the attention.

The guests might be masked, but none of them were anonymous by any stretch of the imagination. She brushed shoulders with some of the most influential people in the region, though while small scale compared to some places and people she seen and met in her lifetime, it none the less promises good pickings.

The hosts of the Ball walk through the crowd, amicably socialising with their guests; who purr like cats at dinner time. The husband might hold the title and the lands, but it is the wife who is the true power in the room. Her gait sashays like a women who knows she is the alpha of the room. Her elaborately curled white wig framed a delicately feminine face, but this beauty is tempered by her square jaw line which betrayed her strong, shrewd character. Her dark brown eyes are rimmed in kohl and the poisonous but pretty silver ore eye shadow lends an air of mystery to her stare. The sorceress’ porcelain pale skin fades into the delicate, near white blue fabric of her dress, whose neckline allowed her generous bosom advantageous presentation.

Her name is Circelle Mahandora and she is the most powerful sorceress in the region. Highly acclaimed for her work with the undead, few know she raises zombies as well as put them to sleep. The entertainer has a bone to pick with this particular witch, she’d put a bounty on her head for ‘impertinence’ and the musician had known no rest since.

Her eyes flicker through the crowd as she slips between the simpering sycophants, pausing occasionally to smile and nod at a compliment to her skill. The scent of perfume , food, wine and human was heavy on the air as she made her way around the dance floor, careful not to get caught up in conversation. She cannot afford any delays.

The woman slips past a couple getting cozy in the corner, an amused smile teasing her lips; “Lady Rosalie Trenkor, what would your intended say if he knew you were giving your virginity to his brother?” The pair leapt apart as if stung, but by the time they looked, she was long gone.

*~*~*~*~*~
The halls here are still, sans the crowds that mill around the ballroom. This allowed the musician to go unmolested towards her goal, which was a nice change. She’d ditched the hat along with her panpipes into her bag hidden back closer to the hall and went unencumbered. Her eyes still flicker back and forth as she searches the shifting shadows for threats. The flames from the torches dance in their scones, their capricious light fickle and unreliable. There were no windows, no features except those lights, this passageway was deep under the earth; and it didn’t welcome her.

That was fine, she doesn’t need an invitation.

Her boot heels make the slightest taps against the stone floor, as she turns the last corner. A huge archway stands at the end, its elegant curves and lines seeming to grow from the simple stone. It was obvious she should be staring at a magical barrier, that her little walk should end here. She smirks, People rely far too much on mere magic.

Pulling a torch from the wall with a jerk, the musician strode right through the arch without so much as a singed hair. The stairs were firm beneath her footfalls and her light created a bubble of visibility around her.

To think, the only safeguard is a barrier; either they are utterly careless or... She suddenly finds herself at the bottom of the stairs, the silence is suddenly suffocating and the shadows seem to press down upon her.

And she realises she isn’t as alone as she thought.

The woman drops into a droll, barely dodging an attack at her back. She neatly draws a dagger from her a boot as she lands, spinning to face the failsafe of the vault. Her cool expression falls from her face as her eyes lock with the... thing inhabiting the darkness with her.

Its breathing rattles in its chest, the wheezing gasp of one balancing on the knife edge of death. The creature’s hulking frame filled the space, its humanoid form easily cresting seven feet as the head brushed the ceiling above. A huge gorge had been cut clean through the stone floor but one of its elongated arms, whose bulging muscle and straining sinews ended in a hand tipped with wicked claws.

It shifted forward, the muscle of its bare chest rippling the pitted and scarred skin. It gleamed the pallid grey of dead flesh in the dim torchlight. Which despite being dropped, still burned merrily on the floor between them.

She feels the pressure of its gaze on her, sending a chill down her spine as her limbs go cold and bloodless with fear. However, the slanted eyes are sewn shut in the face contorted into monstrosity; its wrinkled skin deepening the bestial fury on its features. The sides of its mouth slit right up to its cheekbones, revealing two rows of long sharp teeth. It might resemble humanity, heck it was even wearing what was once dress slacks; but it definitely wasn’t human.

And it hungered for her meat.

She does not even dare breathe as it tosses its head, causing its long lank hair to swirl about it. The creature lowers itself, bending at the waist as to lean against its hands. It dominated the confined space, and crouched on the floor, she felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.

The musician turns to give the knife in her hand a droll stare, Way to make a girl feel inadequate!

The creature sniffs the air, before suddenly it launches towards her. The woman barely dodges a claw through the gut, pivoting at the exact last second before slashing up the limb. The thing’s scream, a furious guttural sound that reverberates in the room till it seems like thousands of voices. She shudders, an in her momentary lapse of concentration, the creature slashes at her chest. The woman twigged at the last moment, but it still left four deep crimson cuts in her flesh. A second later she drops under another viper quick attack before flipping backwards and out of the way.

It took but a moment for those long reaching limbs to search her out in the blind dark of the creature’s perception. The woman barely keeps her skin as she weaves between the flurry of claws as if her skeleton had become liquid. The creature’s talons treated stone and skin alike, there was no time to defend, let alone attack; all she could do was dodge the fatal flow of murderous killing blows by a hair’s breadth. The thing may be a huge freak never meant by nature, but damn! It is fast.

It wasn’t long before the ground was lacerated with claw marks and her skin was cross hatched in cuts. The criminal leaps back from a blow from above, flipping midair before landing just out of it’s reach. She took the scant seconds to recoup her strength and take stock of the situation.

Her conclusion? I am thoroughly screwed. She pants, her body bleeding onto her well thought out outfit. She sighed internally as the beast tried to sense her through the dark, There should be rules against scratching, especially when I’m wearing my pretty jacket. It certainly doesn’t know the Code of Courtesy in Combat, what would its mother say?

If it was anything like the ‘Mother’ of her first gang then she’d probably say, “Just get with the eviscerating already, you breastless bitch!” Ahh. Bless her soul.

She glances down at her tattered jacket; I thought this thing was a monster, not a teenage twit taking revenge on the girl her boyfriend had upgraded to. She glances at the archway behind her and decides to do what any smart thief would do.

Get the loot and then get the hell out.

Ducking under a vicious swipe, she sprints through the archway and into the treasure room. The room was built in a hemisphere, the white walls gleaming with magically enhanced stone. She assumed it was deigned to notify the castor when someone entered... thankfully that wasn’t an issue for her. The thief vaults over a chest of gems, landing amidst coins and miscellaneous treasures. Her thief’s eyes give them a cursory, obligatory second take before they lock onto her real target. Across the room, she spotted the glass fronted cabinet; and the glowing sphere nestled on silk.

Magic amplifiers were rare, but this one was one of the more powerful of these artefacts. It better sell for the price she’s expecting, or heads will roll.

The creature snarled and strained against the threshold, trying to fit it’s huge body through it. The woman cringed as its jaws snapped at her, the teeth clicking together as if it wished it was crunching her bones between its molars.

She pulls a face at the monster, peeved at the current state of her garments. She turns around, teasingly exposing her back to the undead thing which screams and snarls at her. The thief pulls a few pieces of metal from the front of her under bust, before she stops at the cabinet.

She inserts the lock picks carefully, but she is suddenly blown back head over heels in a magically explosion. She lands on her back, stunned; but she quickly rolls to her side and out of the way as a claw imbeds itself in where she’d been lying moments earlier.

Crouching out of reach, she pokes her tongue at the thing before she winces as a jolt of pain runs up her arm. She’d landed on it badly and sprained her left wrist. Ignoring the hurt, she flounces to her feet. The woman approaches the lock and glares at it, while magic won’t work on her; the metal lock picks certainly conducted lightning.

Wincing already at what she had to do, she readied herself before the cabinet and punched a fist into the metal. “BLOODY BALLS!” she cursed, nursing her bleeding hand. There was a soft pop, and the door quietly opened, like a chastised child.

Smirking, the musician carefully wraps the orb in the silk, before she pulled it from the shelf. The crystal was surprisingly light and easy to lift despite its appearance. She grabs a convenient bag of jewels, upending the velvet fabric before she placed the artefact inside and slung it across her back, her hands twitching slightly from pain.

She turned to face the slavering monster that growled and snarled between her and the exit. She grinned and pulled a small grey ball from her pocket. Flicking it, she smiled at the monster and casually threw the ball between the thing's leg and into the room beyond.

Smoke suddenly explodes from the sphere and the creature shrieks from the acrid smell that truly left it blind. As it reels back in disorientation, the woman flies across the treasury and out into the haze. The monster is still dangerous, as the claw that passes an inch from her face shortly demonstrates. It might be unable to see or smell her; but once it got a hold of her, it wouldn’t need to.

The thief keeps low and skirted around the edge of the room as the monster growls in frustration and lashes out at air. Feeling along the wall, she kept her ears trained for any incoming attacks.
Thankfully, the thing was too stupid to stop and listen for her footfalls, but she wouldn’t bet on that thing not realising it eventually. Especially with the tickle in her throat from the smoke.

Feeling the edges of the exit against her fingertips, she suddenly coughs involuntarily. The thing snaps to attention and she barely leaps through the threshold before a claw imbeds itself in the wall. Her heart hammering in her chest, she runs up the stairs like a lawyer climbing out of hell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The woman leaps through the window into her room at the inn, The Red Rose; cursing the creature that had cut her up with colourful invectives. She undresses quickly and calls for a servant to fill up a bath for her.

She smirks as the lanky young man blushed red to his roots at her garmentless state, he stutters at the door, “I-I’m sorry! I didn’ know you were nekkid already.” His adverted eyes keep wandering back to her moonlit skin, serendipitously tracing her curves before snapping away again.

She pulls the last pin from her hair, sending the strawberry waves to coil around her form.
“Set down the buckets boy. I asked for a bath did I not?” she raised a brow, crossing her arms beneath her breasts to display them to best advantage.

She watches him from the bed as he heated up the water in the tub, her eyes casually drinking in every line of him. She watches his ears go red at her appraisal as he fumbles and squirmes beneath her stare.

He stands up and turns to her, eyes carefully adverted, “It’s uhh, ready miss.”

The woman stands up and brushes past him to sink into her bath, just as the disappointed youth turns to leave, she speaks.

“So... are you going to join me?”

The red haired vixen wasn’t refused; she always gets want she wants.