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Percival Greymane

"There is darkness and light. No inbetween."

0 · 785 views · located in Waldria

a character in “Beasts And Bloodshed”, as played by katyisaladybug

Description




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{"If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader.” ~John Quincy Adams}

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|{Full Name}|
Percival Davith Wulfric Greymane III

|{Nickname}|
Percy, as well as all of the other monikers and titles that come along with being the king of Waldria.

|{Age}|
20

|{Sexuality}|
Heterosexual

|{Hometown}|
Waldria. Has lived in the dimension all of his life.

|{Blood Type}|
Fullblood




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|{Appearance}|
Percival Greymane's mien is robust and fearsome, yet handsome and endearing at the same time. One could call it a suitable look for a king, however, with the list of menacing, grey-haired monarchs that came before him, his youthful appearance is somewhat of a rarity to the throne. He stands at approximately 5'11'', and has a weight of 190 pounds. Muscular and very athletic, he is slim yet sturdy. Broad-shouldered like most his age, he stands confidently wherever he goes. You will never find him slouching, not even in his seat. His slender blue eyes are windows to his soul, and they give off a reflection that almost anyone can believe in. His skin tone is of a whitish-pink color, and highlights the messy, auburn mop that sits atop his head like a crown. A trademark of his, it curls freely and even contains specks of gold here and there. (The blonde pigment is reminiscent to that of his mother's, while the copper-brown hair has been attained from his father.) Perhaps even more noticeable than his disheveled locks is his enchanting smile, which always lights up a room no matter how dull the day. His thin lips are usually surrounded by short stubble, always trimmed so that it doesn't grow into a full-length beard. The unwavering pitch of a military captain makes up his voice, while fur cloaks, light chainmail, and opulent vests implicative to those worn during the Italian Renaissance usually account for his day-to-day attire.

|{Myth}|
Elves~ Perhaps the most humanoid of the creatures found in the dimension, elves play a substantial role in Waldria's civilization. They have kept many ancient documents and records, built several of Waldria's winding roads and works of art, and play an influential part in political affairs. Additionally, they're known for their strongly-crafted weapons and unbreakable armies. Heck, they even serve as bodyguards for the king. Immortal elves are radiant creatures of elegance, wisdom, and spirituality. Pure and graceful, they have an unalterable desire to preserve nature, and feel that it is their duty to serve as stewards for other myths. Tall, fair-skinned, and usually serious, they can be a bit arrogant. And stubborn. And perhaps even insensitive to those crying out for help...but to Percival, these intelligent creatures have served as his caretakers for all of his life. Their guidance was crucial to his development, and it is because of them that he is who he is today.

|{Hobbies || Talents}|
Combat~ Educated by his own myths, he is fluent in hand-to-hand, and knows a thing or two about how to handle a sword. He even knows a smattering of archery.
Politics~ Able to look at both sides of a situation, he makes for a good debater. He knows what the people want, and has the qualifications and leadership to bring their wishes about.
History/Reading~ A king is only as strong as his mind, and in order to keep his sharp, Percival does a lot of reading. In his free time, he puts in a lot of effort into researching the secrets behind Waldria. Not only does it quench his thirst for knowledge, but it helps him bring up meaningful points during counsel meetings.

|{Fears || Weaknesses}|
Gullible~ Okay, so he's not an absolute idiot, but he is vulnerable to subtle subterfuge, especially if its done in a political fashion. He just doesn't understand how a cunning mind works, and it could EASILY lead to his downfall if he puts his trust in the wrong people...
Uncompromising~ Although he can easily see both sides of a given spectrum, his will is extremely tenacious and opinionated. It's his way, or the highway.
Noble~ Valuing justice over mercy, Percy tends to be the "hero" in every situation. However, no matter how calculated they are, his honorable moves can occasionally lead to trouble. He doesn't quite understand the concept that some people need to cross the line in order to survive, and let others thrive beneath their shadows. He's FAR from being a dictator, but he doesn't grasp the concept that sometimes dirty work needs to occur and little white lies need to be told in order for life to go on.
His Brother~ Well, not so much his brother rather than his younger sibling's rash behavior. He's been awfully risky and ambitious nowadays, and its making Percy very suspicious...
The Outside World~ Earth is like a foreign country to him. Living in Waldria for the majority of his life, he's never gotten to learn about what it's like to live in the other dimension, and doesn't know a thing about cars, cell phones, the internet...and, well, a plethora of other technologies.

|{Way To Waldria}|
Passed down through generations of kings, he uses a circular brooch as a means for transporting between Waldria and Earth. Of course, it also allows him to teleport to any destination he wishes to visit in the fantasy dimension where he reigns. Apparently, the token can do even more than the abilities previously mentioned, but its trades still remain a secret to Percival.

|{Family Tree}
King Percival Greymane II // Father // Deceased
Queen Isabella Isaacs // Mother // Deceased
Ulfrik Greymane // Half-brother // 19


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|{Personality}|

Intelligent, Old-fashioned, Tenacious, Understanding, Egotistical.

It's safe to say that Percival's demeanor is more quaint and stuck-in-time than the fantasy world he governs. Polite, amicable, and intelligent in a variety of ways, it's kind of hard not to like him if you know him on a personal level. One could argue that his dated disposition greatly sets him apart from the majority of modern teens and adult tamers that roam around Waldria. However, his way of doing things by the book only adds more charm to his name, making his overall personality seem like an antique rather than a frumpy pile of trash in the eyes of some others. Despite his persona, he has this natural ability of understanding people and attempting to empathize with them. He is sensitive when listening to others' plights, and is an advocate for the freedom of every single tamer. It doesn't matter who the person is - Percival believes in protecting and preserving life, no matter what spectrum their minds are set in. ( A perogative he's learned from the elves, for sure.) Some say this trait makes him a valuable, guardian-like king. Others acclaim that it only adds to his stupidity...

But the young monarch of Waldria is far from stupid. He is knowledgable in things that no one has ever heard of, and understands a plethora of secrets about the land. Still, that doesn't mean he knows very much about tricky strategy. He seems to move one step at a time. Simplistic and safe, but not strong enough to ensure stability on the throne. (Fortunately, he's been lucky enough not to lose it.) Although he is a leader through and through, he is susceptible to tricks and deceit. If he knows he's been wronged, however, he won't make the same mistake again. When he works on something, he puts his whole mind into it and is determined to see it through. Therefore, if he wants to eliminate injustice, he'll get straight to it. There are no ifs, ands, or buts with him; when he controls something, he controls it completely. This means that if he's sentenced someone to death, they will not be pardoned, no matter what their excuse is. This seems a little rash, but its wise to know that Percival thoroughly thinks through every single decision he makes. Although he values justice more than mercy, he'll still be compassionate when he needs to be. Sometimes he can get a little self-centered with his opinions, but for the most part, he's got a good head sitting upon his shoulders...

Still, that doesn't erase the fact that there are a handful of radicals who'd like to see it on a spike.





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|{History}|
For someone who always gives off a strong, powerful appearance, one wouldn't dare to think that Percival was born with a life-threatening disease. He was only expected to live a couple of days as an infant, however, through the many remedies provided by the elves, (his father's myth), the compltely enigmatic epidemic was contained, and the boy lived to see many more days. However, his legs were completely paralyzed. As time past, many suspected that Percival's condition was not merely brought on by a malady, but by a curse placed upon him before he was even conceived by Queen Isabella. Speaking of the queen, she died in labor, leaving her son to question whether or not he had been the cause of her demise.

Anyways, a little less than a year after Percy was born, his father was brutally murdered by a shadowy assasin. This left the elves responsible for taking care of the former king's son, as well his bastard son as soon as Ulfrik stepped into the picture. They were wholeheartedly willing to raise the new king, however, the younger child they were reluctant to acknowledge. Still, it was right to bring them up alongside each other. After all, it was what their father would have wanted.

Percy and Ully, despite being of slightly different blood, got along very well with each other during their childhood years. Although his brother could run and jump, the paralyzed Percival was not jealous of him. He was a bit envious, yes, but would never show his feelings. Eventually the elves helped to strengthen his legs through consumption of potions and constant excercise, so when he was about seven, he was able to move around as well. Times were simple then. The boys would be educated in history, penmanship, and languages in the morning, play with wooden swords in the afternoon, and pull pranks on their caretakers during the evenings.

As time went on, however, it was evident that Percy was being treated a bit higher than Ulfrik. Sometimes it was completely evident, while other times the injustice was made extremely discreet by the elves. Still, whenever Ulfrik said it was happening, Percy was there to cheer him up. He always wondered why he was able to get away with silly things while his brother couldn't, and whenever he asked the creatures that looked after him this puzzling question, they'd always claim that he was much too young to understand.

Flash forward to their adolescent years, and the difference between the two brothers was made evident by time. Ulfrik was more of a rebel, while Percival grew up to become the classic good guy. Still, the siblings loved each other despite their dichotomies. However, when Ulfrik began to leave Waldria and not come back for days on end, his older brother grew worried. Not only was he bogged down by politics, meetings, and disolving the gossip that surrounded his younger brother's actions, but also by his failed attempts at finding Ulfrik whenever he was roaming around Earth. Of course it was impossible to find him, what with more than 190 different countries to search. So whenever Percival would explain his concerns, he'd by dissapointed by the moody retorts and cries of angst that his younger brother shot at him. Although there was still a connection between them, it was starting to fade.

Percival supported Ulfrik when he said that it was high time for him to pack up his things and leave the castle. It was emotionally hard, but completely necessary. Their relationship was starting to grow somewhat toxic, and with every day came more bickering, rolled eyes, and gossip from outside forces. With Ulfrik's dexterity, the king knew that he would be fine. Their communication was completely severed once his sibling was gone, however, Percival would tell his myths to spy on him a bit whenever they were out roaming the land. Eventually, news of Ulfrik's controversial opinion was heard and made public. It was then that the king sent a letter to his brother, asking him to come to the castle once again.

Ulfrik arrived, and in private, Percival calmly discussed with him why bringing the myths to earth might be a bad idea. However, his brother took his perspective and discussion the wrong way, arguing that all the king wanted to do was bring him down. He held on tightly to his belief, as well as his dagger, as he waved both in Percival's face. The king then stood up, silently walked out of the room, and ordered the guards to escort Ulfrik out, as well as banish him from the premises. That was the night Percy knew that Ulfrik could no longer stand side-by-side with him as a sibling.

Since then, Waldria has grown tense. Ulfrik tends to stretch the truth about what happened that night, and with his persuasive skills, people tend to believe him. Although he has a lot of things to distract him, Percival can't help the feeling that slowly and surely things will start to go down the drain.




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|{Theme Song}|
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What you got going on?
High notes, eyes closed, holding on
And I don't want another day to break
Take our, steal our night away

Warm shadow
Warm shadow
Won't you cast yourself on me?

What you got in store for me?
Keep those, eyes closed next to me
And I don't want another day to break
Take our, steal our night away

Warm shadow
Warm shadow
Won't you cast yourself on me?

Won't you stop breaking in?
Red sky, red light, awakening
And I don't want another day to break
Take our, steal our night away


|{Other}|
Currently putting a lot of his time into studying the world outside of Waldria, and even more time researching everything he can about the four enigmatic monuments scattered around Waldria collectively known as the "Elder Stones".

|{Face Claim}|
Richard Madden

Character Dialogue || #800517

So begins...

Percival Greymane's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Lysa Martell Character Portrait: Ramona Marlowe Character Portrait: Nirvana Elria Character Portrait: Clarissa Rivers Character Portrait: Theodore Herrick Character Portrait: Lee Chen Su Character Portrait: Apollo Decesare
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Time: Early morning, a few hours after sunrise.
Temperature: Still a bit chilly, but gradually growing warmer.
Climate: Summer is starting to come to a close. Despite the warm rays of sun that still beat upon Waldria's terrain, leaves are changing colors, some animals are preparing for hiberation, and multicolored mushrooms are sprouting out of the earth. The sounds of the forest are quiet and tranquil. Everything is calm.





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He wasn't used to these comical sounds and smells. Horns honking out of metal contraptions, clouds of dirty smoke filling his nostrils; this was far from the wonderland his brother had described long ago. Either that, or he had wandered down the wrong rabbit hole.

"Sorry! Sorry..." he said, apologizing to all of the passersby he was blocking. Stationed in the middle of the sidewalk, he was trying to fulfill a task for his myths, the elves. The problem was, he didn't know how.

"Do you need help with that?" asked a young man about his age.

He chuckled, a hint of nervousness pouring out from his smile. "Oh, no...I got it. Thank you!" he said. Reluctantly, the man nodded, and continued on his merry way.

Percival was trying to figure out how to take a snapshot of the streets and signs that displayed the words Montreal, Canada - the city where he was standing. He was using this little black device people nonchalantly called a "camera". He had been fiddling with it for what seemed like eternity, and now people were starting to stare. But why should they? The tiny machine was awfully complicated to use! Still, it wasn't like he had time to paint a portrait of his surroundings.

"Excuse me, son," tapped an old lady with a gregarious smile, "are you sure you know how to use that?"

Percival Greymane stared at her, then at the infernal device he was holding, and then back at her again.

"I'd like to be a proud man and say that I do, but in all honesty, miss...I really don't."

Her eyebrows raised. She snickered, but not in a judgemental manner. "Well, it's not as hard as you think," she laughed, "although it seems difficult at first. Took me two hours to learn how to use that model, and I've been a photographer all my life!"

"Then perhaps you can help me, miss?"

She looked puzzled. "Help you how?"

"Could you possibly take a picture of the street and the people around here? I need to show this area to some...friends of mine."

Her brows furrowed in suspicion for a moment, and then she shrugged. "Why of course I can! Just don't tell my patrons I'm taking this one for free...heh heh!"

He cautiously handed her the camera, and she flicked through the settings, holding the device to her eye and finally pressing down the top button. A clicking sound was heard. The young man was stupefied. It was as though she were able to perform this foreign magic that he was unable to comprehend. Nontheless, she had gotten the job done, and displayed on the camera's screen was a still image of the busy Canadian streets.

He thanked her and she winked. "Anytime, young man." she said, slowly sauntering away. Staring down at the photograph like it was a national treasure, (which it really was when he came to think about it), Percival escaped to a back alleyway, where he turned his pin three times and jumped into the blue portal that appeared in front of him.

When the flash of light faded away, the king of Waldria found himself right in the middle of the elves' camp - only a mile away from the castle where he resided.

Almost instantly, Edwenor, the Elven chief, was there to greet him. He was slendor, black-haired, and the spitting image of a wise, old man. Still, due to his imortality, he didn't look a day over thirty.

"Do you have it?" he asked. Percy nodded and showed him the picture on the screen. The elf's eyes narrowed. Meticulously, he scanned over the pixels with unwavering eyes.

"So this is where Prince Ulfrik wants us to migrate. A slum. Who does he take us for," Edwenor scoffed, "reckless dwarves?"

The king quickly responded. "This is but a fraction of Earth. However, seeing as elves are the most human-like of myths, a communal place like this is probably where you would have to reside. You could thrive in wilderness, but due to laws and customs of the people, your daily life probably would not be the same. You could live, yes...but not as free folk."

Edwenor nodded. His thumb put upon his lip to signify that he was deep in thought, he paced back and forth, his green cape flapping behind him like a flag in the wind. "We'll have to mull this over with the others," he muttered, "but for the time present, thank you, your majesty."

Percy nodded, swiftly leaving the camp and retreating into the woods.

He followed the winding road that would lead him back to the castle gates. He could see the structure in the distance; beige stones that made up the roofs and spires that shined through the trees. A beautiful sight, and a wonderful place to call home.

Still, it didn't feel like home. It felt like a structure. A place to eat, sleep, and work - nothing more. He sighed. There was a lot on his mind, and he just needed to think. He was still disguised in apparel that made him look as though he came straight off the streets of Montreal, and so if someone were to encounter him right there, they probably would not have recognized him as the king.

So as he rummaged through the leather drawstring pack that was still slung over his shoulders, Percival decided that he would take this quiet opportunity to study. Her perched himself on the nearest tree stump, pulled out a large, dusty book that recalled the family trees of all past Waldrian monarchs, and silently began to flip through the pages. Aside from his light breathing, the chirping of birds were the only sounds that could be heard.




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Cat-like eyes carefully stared into the flowing stream. Every trickle of the water could throw off the arrow's accuracy, and since survival was its purpose, it needed to shoot straight. Just then, the pool splashed and bubbled, and the shaft was released from the quiver into the spray below. It sank for a few seconds, and then slowly bobbed back up, revealing a silver fish that had been impaled by its touch. Breakfast was served.

A fire waiting for her, Ramona took the dead trout and headed into the vegetation, removing her arrow from its limp fins. She then stuck a sharpened stick through her meal, and lit it in the flame. She couldn't think of anything besides how hungry she was. The girl was skinny enough as it was - she didn't need any more stomach growls to keep her awake at night.

Charred enough, she blew on the hot fish, peeled it open, and munched on the juicy flesh. She threw the grey scales into the dirt, and paused as she heard a booming sound coming from nearby. She sighed. Clearly, she wasn't the only one with an appetite for fish this morning.

When she reached the lake again, she rolled her eyes as she approached Maja, the big, black wyvern dragon. The most troublesome of the creatures she protected, the female beast was friendly and loveable, yet prone to jealousy.

"Here," Ramona sighed again, snapping the trout in half and throwing the unbitten parts to Maja. The dragon quickly snapped its jaws, catching the fish in mid-air. She gave a ground-shaking purr, and moved in closer to the tamer girl, allowing the human to pet the shining scales between her eyes and nose.

Two minutes later, that same tamer girl was looking upon the woods from the clouds above. It was a usual hobby to ride the backs of her dragons in order to explore various destinations. The wind rushing through her hair, skin, and everything inbetween, Ramona gushed in the moment, deciding that today she would further decipher the mystery that was the ancient stone she had found three days prior. It sat in the middle of a small clearing, and was inscribed with enigmatic runes, topped off with a suspicious green gem in the center. She pointed to the spot out to Maja, and without delay, the dragon lowered.

Once on the ground, she nodded to the myth. The graceful dragon nodded back, and sent a gust of wind through the trees as it began to flap away. She watched Maja go, her lips subtley curling upwwards. It wasn't a smile, but something reminiscent of one. Taking another bite out of her fish, (which she had brought along during her journey), Ramona sauntered towards the stone. She stood in front of it and gazed upon its magnificence. A strange energy vibrating from its insides into the rock-solid ground below, it looked almost out of place in comparison to the forest that stood behind it. For a moment, she wondered where it had come from, and how it had been made. It was beautiful, yet seemingly dangerous. Slowly, she reached a hand out to touch it...

But not before she heard a rustling sound coming from the bushes behind her. With one swift motion, she tossed her fish aside, pulled out her bow, and slung an arrow into its string. She pointed it in the direction of the movement. And then all of a sudden, a curly-haired man appeared with his hands above his head.




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"Woah, woah, woah!" he cried, "Calm down, Robin Hood! I'm not here to hurt you."

Her expression, a scowl with a bit of invisible fire flaming in her narrow eyes, remained unchanged. The same thing went for the arrow that was sharply being aimed at his chest.

He curiously stared at her. He recognized this girl, but not in person. It was the dirt and grime smothered all over her face that gave her identity away.

"I know you," he mused, "you're the one that everyone talks about...erm..." he snapped his fingers in thought. Eventually, the name came to him. "Ramona Marlowe! Yes, Ramona Marlowe...the dragon lady who lives in the woods."

Silence. She still stared at him intensely, as though she were a deer, and he was a threatening predator about to sink his claws through her skin. However, unlike a deer, she showed no signs of fear or cowardice. Instead, the girl showed him only inaudible malice.

With a wolfish smirk, he took languid steps towards her. The man stared at her with the same jerkish intensity, his body only a few inches away from hers. Quietly, he place a strong hand upon her arrow, lowering her aim on him until she had no choice but to unstring the slender shaft.

They shot daggers between each other through their gazes. It was powerful and perfectly dangerous.

He inhaled a deep breath. "Do you know who I am?" he asked with slight annoyance. She didn't answer, and he didn't expect her to. "I am Ulfrik Greymane, brother of King Percival Greymane and Prince of Waldria. I am the prince of this dimension."

The most energetic reaction she gave in return was a blink. Clearly, the dragon lady was unimpressed. He sighed, passing by her and gazing upon the treasure that lay before them.

"Ah...an Elder Stone. In my opinion, the most beautiful of the four..."

He rubbed his hand upon its surface, tingling as the cold, rigid surface touched his skin.

"Y'know the legend behind these things?" he rhetorically asked her. Obviously he was forced to make it unanswerable because this girl barely answered anything. "When the first tamers decided that they wanted to create a home for the myths, they used special powers granted to them by the gods in order to build the terrain of a new dimension. Once they were finished, they retired their abilities and put them inside four stones...shrines we now refer to as Elder Stones."

His hand stayed put on the beautiful green gem that lay in the center of the monument. "There is so much power in here...if only one could attain that power...why, it would be magnificent! Extraordinary!" He shook his head, "In my honest opinion, I do believe those tamers wasted their wonderful abilities," he said. "They should have expanded upon the already fruitful earth, not create an entirely new world. Perhaps that was their greatest mistake: not being thankful for what they already had..."

He then turned to face Ramona, who was still glaring at him like he were a monster. He just chuckled at her. Ulfrik was smiling at her with charm and politeness, however, there was some mirth hidden in there somewhere.

"I'm having a meetup at my house this afternoon," he told her, "would you care to join my squabble of friends and I? Perhaps we can chat more about history, as well as some other things."

Instead of replying, she trained her eyes to the ground, walking past him and the Elder Stone, and retreating into the forest in front of him. However, before she disappeared, she muttered a simple, "maybe." After that, Ulfrik crossed his arms and shook his head as she noiselessly walked away.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Percival Greymane
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#, as written by Dumisa
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Waldria hasn't been the same for him, honestly. Lee's perspective about the enchanted place has indeed change after his younger's brother death and the missing of his younger sister. He often wondered to himself why did this have to happen to his family and no one else's. Everything around him was changing and he knew that it was up to him to continue his father's dynasty. Lee had been training ever since he was a little kid, literally but the knowledge and tools that he learned will be the key to his success. As the days grew longer and it seemed like the end of time was officially approaching fast, Lee knew that he had to go back to Earth before it was too late.

His eyes looked at his ill father, who was getting taken care of by a hired nurse. His mother sat by his side, clutching his hand softly. Lee eyed the displayed then turned back around to stare out the window, closing his eyes for a brief moment, holding back some tears. His mother rested her hand upon his back and spoke softly towards him. "Let's go for a walk." She muttered as he nodded his head then walked over to his father, kissing the top of his forehead then staring at him in the eyes. "I will make you proud." He said while reaching down and clutching his hand before trekking behind his mother towards the outside.

"Look at you. I've never been so proud of you, Lee Su." His mother spoke softly while examining over him. "I want you to not give up. No matter what obstacles get in your way and try to stop you." She eyed him in the eyes, reaching up and cuffing his face. "Do not give up, Lee. Promise me that you will not." She stated as Lee nodded his head then accepted a kiss from his mother on his cheek. She walked past him as he watched her walk away then he proceeded to walk as well.

Lee had to go back their to grab a few essential items, one of them being his Katana sword along with a bag of clothes and books. After reviewing over what he had, Lee went outside and closed his eyes, mumbling a small chant to himself as the wind picked up a little then within an instant, Lee had vanished.

He was back on Earth soil now, literally, landing in mud. 'Great.' He thought to himself while getting up and closing his eyes once again, chanting the same chant as it took him somewhere else on Earth. He landed in front of a male that was perched against a tree stump as he quickly got to his feet and unsheathed his Katana, aiming it directly at the male before him.

"Who are you?! Where am I?!" He questioned the male then took a defensive stance with the blade in his hand. Lee eyed him as he waited for a response. Lee didn't really take his eyes off of the male as he wanted to know the answers to his questions.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Ramona Marlowe Character Portrait: Lee Chen Su Character Portrait: Apollo Decesare Character Portrait: Cleo Amina Ra
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While flipping through page after page of ancient kings and queens was insipid to some peoples' senses, he considered it a luxury. Already nearing the end of the book, he turned to the page before the last. There in black ink was written King Percival Greymane. Not Percy himself, but the original king from whom he was named. He was said to be an astounding, benevolent ruler. The elves had always told him stories of his great accomplishments. Many years ago, a radical dragon tamer swept across the land, burning small villages and houses in an attempt to claim the dimension for his own. Percy's grandfather had stabbed a sword through that man's heart, sending him down to the depths of a deep, dark cliff. Still to this day, the elves could not find the dead man's body. It was lost...swept off the face of Waldria. Something Percy was afraid would happen to him if he didn't keep a good eye on Ulfrik...

With a placid face, he let his eyes wander done to the bottom of the page. He smiled when he found Percival Greymane III. What a surprise! But wait...what were those words next to his name? He took a closer look...

And then out of nowhere, the sound of an unsheathed blade filled the air.

Percival looked up and gave a short gasp in surprise as he gazed upon a man around his age, a long, deadly katana blade in his hands. It was being aimed directly at his chest. Nonplussed, he raised his hands, dropping the heavy book he had been holding. It landed onto the ground without a loud thud.

It was hard to tell whether this person was scowling in defensive anger, or just stunned and afraid. "Who are you?! Where am I?!" he questioned, his gaze unfaltering.

Percival tried to think of the right thing to say. He didn't completely know this person. He didn't know his motivations, where he came from. One wrong move, and this stranger could carve him like a cake. So this time, he decided to play it safe and be cordial. If things got messy, he could always just wrap his hands around the dagger in his back pocket...

Percy glanced at the katana again. Wait a minute...perhaps he did know this person. Or at least know of him...

"Are you of any relation to Lisa Seoung-Su, the swordswoman and kitsune tamer?" he asked. He began to give a small grin as he continued. "She's a good woman, Miss Seoung-Su. Very talented in what she does. Or at least the elves have been saying so for ages."

He turned around and headed towards the direction of the book he had dropped. "If you are wondering where you are," he said while gradually lifting it from the ground, "you've just found yourself in the Kingswood, about half a mile away from the castle."

He blew off the dirt and grass from the book's old cover, and extended a firm hand towards the young man. "And if you're wondering who I am, my name is Percival Greymane. The castle, as a matter of fact, is where I reside."

He hoped that this guy would get the point he was trying to make.




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What an asshole. What an absolute jerk asshole. Of course, she didn't know for sure whether or not he was actually an asshole, but she just had that...feeling. That stupid intuition she got whenever she could compare someone's gait to that of a proud, condescending lion. Of course she knew Ulfrik Greymane. Who didn't know Ulfrik Greymane? He was the talk of the whole town. (Or rather, the talk of the whole dimension.) However, that didn't give him the right to pronounce his name to her like it was a sin if she didn't know it.

Still, that thing he had invited her to...she didn't want to admit it, but it was enticing. She didn't want to go for the socializing. She didn't want to go for the food or drinks or whatever happened at stupid parties. No, Ramona wanted to attend the event to learn more about this enigmatic man - this mysterious Ulfrik Greymane. He was practically starting a silent war in Waldria. If she went to this thing he was hosting, she'd have the oppurtunity to learn every trick up his sleeve. She'd learn whether or not he was serious about this myths-migrating-to-earth shit. That was more tempting than the prospect of meeting new people and getting drunk over wine. He was a prince, after all. Surely he had a taste for the expensive, exquisite things...

Suddenly, she heard another rustling sound and noises of guttural laughter. Quickly stopping in her tracks, Ramona pressed herself against the nearest tree, and stealthily glanced behind her. Much to her chagrin, the source of the sounds came from two dark-skinned orcs trudging through the dirt, legs and carcasses of dead game carried on their backsides.

"He says we 'ave to 'unt he says! Why can't we jus' piss around like 'em other lazy-arsed pricks back at camp?" said one.

"I dunno, but I'm tired of doin' 'is dirty work for 'em! You wanna hunt, go hunt ch'self!" said the other.

Ramona didn't want any trouble. They had weapons, and if they saw her, they would use them. Plus, orcs, with their gigantic size, were probably a lot stronger than she was. It wasn't worth taking her chances. So when they sat down to munch at the lifeless rabbit carcasses they had just killed, she figured it was time to silently sneak past them. They were busy in their meals, not in the wilderness around them.

Out of their sight, she snuck behind tree after tree. She could hear them speaking again. "Rabbit an' deer, rabbit an' deer, isn't 'ere anythin' better in these woods?" Good - now that they were both distracted by their food and locked in chit-chat, she could move a bit faster. So that's what she did. Ramona picked up the pace a bit...

...and then cringed as a twig just below her feet made a loud snapping sound.

It was as though time froze for a second. Instantly, both orcs turned in her direction. Milliseconds later, their ugly faces contorted into furious scowls.

"OI!" shouted one, "WHAT'S 'IS HUMAN DOIN' 'ERE?"

They picked up their weapons and started to approach her with thick strides. "Hasn't your mama taught 'ya to not intrude on conversations?" said the other. He gave an evil, derisive laugh. In return, Ramona sent an arrow flying towards his face. However, after he quickly evaded its path by flanking left, she knew she was as dead as the meat he had chomped on just seconds beforehand.

Trying to seperate herself from the malevolent monsters, she began to sprint wildly. At first, the creatures' gain on her seemed to be fading. And then all of a sudden, a solid sock to the face sent her flying, and made the insides of her skull ring in excruciating pain. Seeing stars and writhing as she attempted to get back up, Ramona inspected the face of a third orc towering over her. He grinned with a terrifying look in his eyes. She had not seen him in her haste, and now he had caught her.

She heard the other two orcs guffaw in cruel delight. "Come on lass!" she heard before being dragged by her feet across the forest floor. The taste of mud and gravel filled her mouth, while pointy twigs poked at her skin. She kicked and grunted as she tried to break free, but it was no use; the grip of these creatures was known to be much too strong.

The smell of burnt wood, decay, and other disgusting odors filled her nostrils. Clearly, she was in a camp. An orc camp, no doubt. She thought she was in trouble before...now she was in really deep water.

The dragging stopped. The three creatures made her kneel, one gripping her right arm, one gripping her left, and the last pressing a makeshift dagger to her neck. Despite its look, it was far from dull. Already Ramona could feel the painful scratch of the blade against her trembling veins.

"Look what we foun' wanderin' about!" said the barbaric orc gripping her left arm as he addressed the entire camp. "Spyin' on us, she was!"

She looked up to find a man with grotesque, skeleton-like tattoos that were just as frightening as the terrifying myths holding her down. If not for his masculine physique, she would have easily mistaken him for one of them.

Ramona stared at him with hypnotic, intense, brazen eyes and remained as still as a board. Right now, he had the strings of her fate wrapped around his branded fingers, and she did not want him pulling them.




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"What was that about? And why are you inviting her into your home?"

He felt a warm, familiar hand press against his stony forehead, and produced a smirk as well as endearing grey eyes as he gazed down upon the elusive Cleo Amina Ra. She was a driven girl. A very driven girl. Some even claimed that she was too driven, preaching that her short stature was the source of a Napoleon complex of sorts. However, where others saw her determined disposition as a problem, Ulfrik saw it as an inspiration.

"Are you having... Shit. What is it? Um..." she mused, her light brown skin gleaming in the sunlight like a freshly-minted copper penny. "Memory lost, that is it. Are you having memory lost? Because how many times have I told you she cannot be trusted?"

He chuckled, giving her a smile and an empathetic reply. "Cleo, you know I dislike that filthy redneck bitch as much as the next guy," he said, "but unfortunatley, if we're going to liberate the myths from Waldria, we're going to need every tamer on our side, even if we don't neccesarily like them..."

He took a step closer to her and enveloped his hands around her beautiful red headscarf, fiddling around with the fabric as he continued. "Dragons are very powerful creatures, and as we all know, Ramona Marlowe is in total control of them. Let's wind back the clocks for a sec..." Ulfrik paused as if beginning to narrate a story he had told a million times before. "Many moons ago, a revolutionary named Kegan the Conqueror swept across the land on the backs of his dragons, ransacking every village, fortress, forest, and camp until almost all of Waldria was completely devoured in his flames. He would have almost taken the entire dimension for himself if not for my grandfather, who famously killed him on the edge of a cliff."

He then gently took the headscarf from her hand, draped it over her head, and began to gently fasten it as he kept bantering. "Now, Ramona Marlowe may not be as smart as you, or as beautiful as you, and definitely not as strong as you," he said with a smug smile, his chin raised confidently, "but if we're going to make an impression on my dear brother, Percival, then we are going to have to threaten him with the horrifying possibility of history repeating itself. We are going to need all of the help we can get."

Finished fixing the headscarf on Cleo, he put both of his sturdy hands on her shoulders, completely eliminating the space between them. He gazed at her compellingly. "I need to ask a favor of you," he whispered, his voice lowering an octave to show that he was serious. "I'm going to be busy a couple minutes from now, and the task might last many hours. I need you to spread the word that I'm holding a get-together at my humble abode this afternoon. The more tamers who come, the more our cause will thrive. Can you do that for me?" he asked Cleo with a charming simper.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Lysa Martell Character Portrait: Lee Chen Su
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LOCATION
New York City, USA, Earth | Kingswood, Waldria

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"I'm dying. Get some tissues and call the undertaker, because you're beloved uncle is about to kick the bucket." Corben lay on the polyester couch with a permanent wince etched into his features, a pale blue, woollen blanket spooled around his waist and a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. "Beloved? I have another uncle?" Lysa replied with a smile as she poured herself a glass of apple juice, adding a couple of ice cubes before wandering over to where her uncle lay, clearly suffering from the painful results of too much alcohol and not enough sleep. With a wicked smile, she leant near his ear, asking in a booming and mockingly enthusiastic voice, "Fun party, was it?!" Corben reacted with a cry of pain,"Agh! Volume. Down. Immediately."
Lysa scoffed, before frowning when her eyes fell upon her uncle's choice of beverage. With a disapproving expression, she deftly swapped the drink for her own, replacing his mug of coffee for her own glass of apple juice. Oddly, her uncle didn't complain, and instead raised the glass to his face suspiciously, as though inspecting it for poison. "Apple juice?" Lysa wandered back to the pantry, taking a sip of the coffee before wrinkling her nose in distaste, and pouring it down the sink. As she scoured the cupboards, she called back to her ailing relative over her shoulder, "Yep. It's got fructose, water, potassium.. all those goodies."
She returned to him with her slender arms laden. "Geez. You'd think a guy so used to being drunk would know how to deal with a hangover." "Hardy-har-har." She chucked the items on the coffee table: one water bottle, two ibuprofen tablets and a box of crackers.

"Go nuts."

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Waldria. It really was pretty. Trapped in medieval times and filled to the brim with angsty mythical creatures, but pretty. The seven demons peered over her shoulder at the phone's screen, occasionally oohing and aahing when certain photos caught their eyes. To be honest, their childlike curiosity totally crushed the whole 'demonic

death' vibe they had going on, and the only one that succeeded in hiding her eagerness was Ira. She simply nodded approvingly, muttering comments and opinions as Lysa flicked through the images. "Hmm. That seems adequate." "The humans aren't the most ideal of living companions.." "Who is that statue of? She wears a crown? Is she a prior monarch, or a deity?"

A scaled hand reached over Lysa's shoulder, pointing frantically at the screen, or, more specifically, and the glitzy building that now featured on it. "I like that. What is that? Is it a place of residence?" Lysa stiffled a chuckle, "Uh, it's more a place of entertainment. It's called a casino. This one is in a place called Las Vegas." The seven demons spoke the word in harmony, their voices laden with curiosity and desire, "Las Vegas.

Lysa left the inn with a small smile, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets as she wandered through the Kingswood, "Well, that went better than I thought it would." She was already aware of the demon race's desire to return to earth, but until now she hadn't really been sure why. Even now she was still a little clueless. Perhaps it was their yearning for change. Demons loved that. They loved progression, growth, evolution. They hated a world that never changed, and, to be honest, Waldria never really had. This whisper of revolution... it hadn't really occurred before. It was different. Fresh. New.

It was exactly what the demons had been longing for for the past few centuries.

Although Lysa personally quite liked Waldria. It was an awful lot quieter than Earth. Or at least, New York, where Lysa resided. Not to mention, in places like the Kingswood, it was pretty deserted. You could wander for hours without seeing another-

"Who are you? Where am I?!"

Lysa almost jumped out of her skin, and spun around to face the voice, arms already rising in an I surrender, don't maim me! gesture. But the owner of the voice wasn't looking at her, or even noticing her. His attention was on the man who stood across from him. Wow. I really need to work on my peripheral vision... it kind of sucks at the moment.

After the initial jump had subsided, she peered curiously through the foliage at the pair. The man that had spoken first had Asian features, tanned skin and- Wait- is that a katana?!

The other gentleman had responded in a relaxed and cool tone that really contrasted with Katana's stressed, threatening one.

"If you are wondering where you are, you've just found yourself in the Kingswood, about half a mile away from the castle."
The man picked up the book he had dropped, dusting it off in an oddly affectionate manner before offering Katana a hand. "And if you're wondering who I am, my name is Percival Greymane. The castle, as a matter of fact, is where I reside."

"Greymane..." Lysa quietly tasted the name on her tongue, frowning at its familiarity. Where have I heard that name before? Her eyes widened in realisation, and her gaze flickered back to the man. "Huh. So that's the pri-" With a loud snap, the tree above her shed a branch, sending it tubling through the canopy and onto Lysa's undefended head. With a cry of pain, she clutched her head, "Ow! Son of a bitch!" Poised. Elegant. Refined. An excellent first impression, as per usual.

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Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Lysa Martell
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#, as written by Dumisa
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When the male spoke of his mother, he lowered his blade down some then eyed him, cautiously. Lee's mind drifted slightly and realized that he might know the male standing before him, as well but it was unlikely if he did. Lee was cautious around the male as he sheathed his sword as the male before him began introducing himself. Greymane. The name did sound familiar to him but he just really shrugged it off for now.

Lee knew what the male was trying to say without even speaking the actual words as he nodded his head. "Sorry about the whole thing that just happen." He mumbled towards Percival then picked up his bags and eyed him. "I guess I'll be on my way." When he spoke those words, his ears twitched as he heard a tree branch snap in the distance. A soft gasp escaped over his parted lips.

"Did you hear something?" Lee asked towards Percival, squinting his eyes and scanning the perimeter for someone. "We know that you're there?! Come out or I'll make you come out!" His voice raised as he threw his bags down again, clutching his Katana and waiting for someone to make themselves known.

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Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Theodore Herrick
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#, as written by Chandz
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Theodore sat in a dim den by himself. His eyes were focused on an old book, titled Maledictum bestia diabolicae (The Curse of the Devil’s Beast) that rest on the old oak table in front of him. His eyes gazed over the old Latin words that taught of the Hellhounds – Latin wasn’t an easy language considering it’s been dead for so long but Theo’s bloodline was raised learning Latin so the words made just enough meaning for the boy in order for him to learn of his myth. As he sat in the dim room reading, his grandfather Lincoln appeared into the room through an open portal. The old man loudly stumbled forward, falling into an open seat by the table. Theo didn’t raise his eyes to the old man – this was an all too regular occurrence to shock the boy. The old man has been popping in and out of portals clumsily since Theo was a young child. The first couple of the times frightened the kid but he quickly became used to the cluttering of his grandfather. The old man stood and patted his suit down as if to dust himself off. “I’m getting too old to be doing this,” the old man hoarsely said. Theo chuckled quietly from his seat, “Getting? Grandfather I think you’ve been too old for a while.” The young man looked up from his book to catch a scolding gaze from the older man.

Lincoln, Theo’s grandfather, made his way to the small table to liqueurs that sat by the bookshelves along the wall. He poured himself a scotch and offered a glass to his grandson, who graciously declined. The elderly man turned his attention to his grandson’s work, peering over his shoulder. “What are you working on, boy?” The man sat back down in his chair and took a gulp of his drink. “Just some studies and readings granddad.” The thought of his studies would have made Theo’s father cringe. Jasper hated the idea of studying – he had always felt that if one wanted to learn about something the best way to do so was to engage in its world. Jasper always wanted his son, Theo, to just throw himself in the direction of a hellhound to learn how it works. Lincoln knew, however, that that wasn’t the way to go about it. To begin with, a non-tamer couldn’t just summon a hellhound whenever he wanted to. There was a reason hellhounds got summoned – it would be the work of a reaper or the end of a crossroads pact. One needed practice and a well versed knowledge in hellhounds to be able to summon one without being caught in the inevitable grips of death. Theo has been studying hellhounds since he was 15, now at the age of 23, Theo was proud to say that he had gradually become a great hellhound tamer. Though he had his moments of fears and doubts when it comes to the vicious creatures, he knows enough about taming the hounds that his father has allowed him to work with him every so often.

The truth was, however, Theo never wanted to be a hellhound Tamer. He had wanted to work with Sphinxes or with Dragons but he knew that if he had shied away from what the family had been taming for years, he surely would have been disowned. So instead, Theo spent years of his life with his mouth shut, forever holding a secret away from his father. If only he knew that his secret wasn’t the only secret in the family.

The dim room quickly fell quiet again as the two men turned their attention away from each other. Footsteps from the down the hall started to resonate in the empty house and both men looked up to see who would come through the door. “I believe that’s your father coming” The old man said to the boy. “I believe you’re right.” Seconds later Jasper came through the door, directing his eyes immediately to the boy. Theo stood to his feet, pushing away from the table to greet his father. Jasper smiled at his boy and at his father. “Theo, come. I need to prepare you.” The boy stood confused at the end of the table. Theo’s grandfather looked up at his son from his chair with a confused look on his face. It was apparent that Theo’s grandfather was just as confused as he was. His left eye brow raised in a glance on confusion towards his father, and his bearded lips pursed. “For?” The boy slowly closed the book he was reading and walked towards his father. Both gave the old man a departing pat on the shoulder as they walked down the hallway. “That Ulfrik character is having a get together at his domain and he asks that as many tamers as possible be there. I believe it has something to do with the liberation of the myths. You need to be prepared for whatever comes your way. King Percival will most likely have no part in this so there’s a chance that there will attacks against those who oppose him.” The man stopped at the end of the hall and put his hand out for his son. Theo noticed his father had the ring on, which only meant one thing. They were going to travel and practice battle. Theo took his father’s hand and with the blink of an eye, both were gone.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Lysa Martell Character Portrait: Ramona Marlowe Character Portrait: Clarissa Rivers Character Portrait: Lee Chen Su Character Portrait: Apollo Decesare Character Portrait: Cleo Amina Ra
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Cleo, as expected, rolled her sharp eyes and made a sarcastic retort. "Fine, but you owe me a favor if I ever ask for assitantce," she said. The girl slipped a finger underneath his chin, and as she gave him the slightest smirk, his hypnotic gaze remained unwavering.

"I am nothing more than a messenger to you now days." she said, fixing the red scarf around her head while sauntering in the opposite direction. He gave a short chuckle. "Nowadays, it's better to be a messenger to me than nothing." Ulfrik smiled, his arms crossed. Cleo just pointed at him with one slender finger. It was like she was aiming a gun at his chest. "If I get killed by a myth or caught by your brother," she said, "it is on you."

He walked up to her as though no threat she could make would possibly penetrate the thickness of his rough skin. With a gentle hand, he lowered hers, making that fierce finger of hers aim towards the ground. He wasn't trying to domesticate her, but rather make a point sharper than the one she had trained at his chest.

"You won't experience either of those things." he said. He meant those words completely. Cleo was tough to beat. There was fire in her eyes and at the edge of her fists as well. A warrior through and through. Death or his darling brother would not get the best of her.

"And just so you know," he added as an afterthought before walking away, "You actually do mean something to me. It's just that you are too blind by your own ambition to see it..."

And with that, he gave her one last smirk and a wave, saying a simple "See ya," before holding a tiny looking glass up to his eye and instantly disappearing from view.




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He gave an inaudible sigh of relief as the man lowered his katana blade and promptly sheathed it. His fight-or-flight instinct had dissipated, however, his suspicion had not. He still gazed upon Percival as though he were a bull about to charge. Fear was easy to erase. Suspicion, however, was not. But as the man picked up his bags and gave a nod, the king was surprised to find that his choice of words had actually worked.

"Sorry about the whole thing that just happen." the man mumbled. Percival smiled. "It's quite alright," he said, "not the first time a swordsman's pointed his weapon at my chest."

Suddenly, before the two could go their seperate ways, a snapping sound echoed throughout the entire, and almost instantly, the man beside him reacted. "Did you hear something?" he asked. Percival's instincts told him that the source of the noise probably came from a small animal or a tiny gust of wind. At least that was until he heard, "Ow! Son of a bitch!" coming from farther into the wood.

And again, the man beside him grew suspicious and threatening. "We know that you're there?! Come out or I'll make you come out!" he yelled, practically chucking his bags down to the ground and putting a stony hand on the edge of his katana.

His lip pressed against his tongue in thought, Percy stepped past the man, following his intuition as he sought out the voice's owner. He looked high and low, remembering the direction in which upon the sound had caught his ear. There, next to the darkness of a slanted tree, stood a petite, dainty woman with her hand clutched upon her forehead. Percival inspected the broken tree branch near her feet, and immediately understood the entire story. Clearly, she was in pain.

He ran up to her, bending his knees a bit in order to examine the possible bump on her head. Now that he was closer to her, the young woman's olive skin, crystal-clear complexion, and scar on the back of her right hand all became visible to him.

"Are you alright miss?" he asked politely. A gentleman like no other, he was planning to stay with her until he knew that she was not suffering from a concussion.

But then ten chimes tolled from the castle bells swaying in the distance, and Percival bit his lip with apprehension. He had to leave now, or he was going to be late. And if he was late, well...

Before he turned to face the katana man, the young king saw the figure of a golden-haired girl approaching from the distance. From this far, he couldn't tell who she was, but perhaps she could be of assistance in his absence if the man couldn't tend to the woman's wounds.

"I have to go," he quickly said to him, "take her to the castle if she needs help. If the guards give you trouble, just say, mellon nikerym. It's elvish. They'll understand."

He then gave a huge wave to the girl in the distance in an attempt to draw her attention. He pivoted back to the man. His hooded eyes were so intense, it was as if their glance could give an electric shock.

"Promise me you will not leave her here or enrage her pain. Thanks for your help. I hope to see you again."

And with that, Percival twisted the shining circular brooch fastened to his shirt. He gave a hopeful smile before his body faded away.




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Justice or mercy? She watched this man's every tilt. Every twitch. She tried to grab the future before the future grabbed her. His eyes seemed stoic. Cold. Stubborn. Perhaps his wretchedness was only skin-deep. Perhaps these creatures were only children who had gotten ahead of themselves. They were gripping her forearms so tightly, that she couldn't feel her veins. Nevertheless, the blood inside her was boiling.

And then, like a speeding bullet piercing through silence's thin throat, he gave a shrill, childlike, painfully psychotic chuckle, and languidly began to approach her.

Fuck.

He was choosing justice, but not the preferable kind. In fact, he was probably going to choose the tainted kind.

His inked face just inches away from hers, he put a chilling finger to her chin. She cringed lightly, and gave a low growl as he turned her face to meet his. As he gazed upon her, she tried not to cough - for his skin smelled like cigarette smoke and the stench of hard liquor. An odor she hadn't breathed in years. She had almost forgotten what it tasted like.

“Well then," he said, "a spy can’t go unpunished. What do you think we should do, guys?” As the orcs gave hoots, hollers, and other foolish thoughts, Ramona grimaced at the tattooed man, her jaw locked in strength. Her eyes repeated you son of a bitch over and over again while she gazed into his eyes. Fortunately, he was staring at her with the same wolfish intensity as well, so she was sure her message would be received. He sat there like a child entertained in front of a television set. It was interesting, but not in the good way. He'd look even more interesting once she was able to get a good sock at his nose.

One of the orcs, unsurprisingly, offered the suggestion of eating her. More cigarette smoke flew her way, and this time, the miasma was stronger. She was forced to give a raspy cough. Its sound filled the air and she jerked foward, making the creatures tighten their grip on her bruised skin. Now her lungs were feeling the same amount of pressure as her arms. Forget about her neck; she was sure there was already a bit of blood dripping down already. Greasy tendrils of hair fell in her face like weeds. She had always been a beautiful mess, but this time, she was only the unfortunate latter.

"Hand me that dagger,” he suddenly said. Ramona closed her eyes and gave a grunt as she struggled to get away. This was it. She knew what was coming next. But when she looked up at the man again, she was surprised to find that he snatched the blade away in a seemingly careless manner. Clearly, he wasn't planning on using it. “She’s in a camp with ten or so orcs, she won’t be getting away.” he preached.

Now that there was no pressure on her neck, she was able to breathe completely again. In response, she exhaled, giving another small grunt. The veins in her neck were bulging just a tiny bit. This was getting absolutely ridiculous.

“There’s a bit of a problem with your idea," said the tattooed tamer to the orc who had suggested eating her. "You see, she’s a very important person in Waldria, and if you kill her, that blood is on my hands.”

Important? Important?

She squinted and furrowed both of her thick brows. "The hell you talkin' about? she replied in her usual deep, raspy voice. It was coarse and rough, as if too much moonshine had destroyed its former purity.

“We don’t havta eat ‘er then. It was justa suggestion. Yer the boss.” said one of the orcs with visible concern. The horrid tamer's eyebrows rose as he nodded. “That is the smartest thing to ever come out of your ugly mouth,” he snickered as he stuck the blade into the tree next to him. With the way the orc next to him grunted, it landed too close for his comfort. The girl sighed. This man was a lunatic. An absolute lunatic.

He crouched next to Ramona again, smiling. “Ramona, isn’t it? I’ll apologize on behalf of my lackeys, they don’t know any better. Stupid brutes, if anything. But what was the dragon tamer doing so close to an orc encampment, shouldn’t you know better?”

She nodded and gave a mock smile. "Shouldn't you know how to treat guests with more respect?"

She broke away from the orcs, stood up, and marched up to him, crouching down next to his figure in a similar derogatory way. Her frame was strong. She was a tank of power. There was a hurricane in her eyes. "I don't know what kinda shit you were talkin' about before with me being goddamn important and all, because that's the farthest thing from the truth I've heard in a long, long while. But all I know is that if you ain't gonna kill me, then I ain't stayin here. And you ain't keepin' me here like a prisoner. I ain't gonna be anyone's bitch hostage," she spat. "So I'm gonna piss off now, and you and your goddamn lackeys are gonna do yourselves the pleasure of watchin' me walk away."

She turned on her boot heels, and picked up the bow and quiver of arrows that were littered on the ground below. She gave one last look at the man as she walked backwards, and then turned around, approaching the camp's exit. She wrapped her fingers tightly around her weapon. She was almost safe, but she knew that at any moment, she could easily fall back into danger.