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Ramona Marlowe

"I ain't afraid of you. You ain't important. Nobody is."

0 · 804 views · located in Waldria

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



{"If you don't like it, it's high time to put on your big girl panties and deal with it.”}



|{Full Name}|
Ramona Marie Marlowe

If you're going to call her anything, call her Mona. Dragon Lady, no matter how you use it, is bound to get you a bloody nose.



Dudley, Georgia.

|{Blood Type}|


"Intimidating" would probably be the best word to describe how others perceive Ramona when they first meet her. After all, spending most of her time out in the woods gives the nineteen-year-old a very wild, feral, inhuman appearance. Lean yet muscular, she stands at a towering 5'9'' and weighs 140 lbs. Hidden underneath dirt and grime is olive skin, usually blemished by minor cuts and bruises. She does have a few scars, but they are very small and mostly around her knees and ankles. Her long, wavy hair is naturally blonde, but usually dyed a deep brown or a light black color. She always uses natural hair dye, so the colors fade out very quickly. Unsurprisingly, her locks are ALWAYS greasy, and are usually tied back into a ponytail or an uncomplicated braid. She has rather large man-hands, and filth is always trapped underneath her wide fingernails. Her hooded eyes are perhaps the only part of her that don't succumb to uncleanliness. They shine a sapphire blue color, and can give anyone the chills if she chooses to train them on a person. Her clothes are dark, simple, usually battered, and only worn for comfort/convenience. She'll bathe and dress nice when she needs to, however, those times are awfully rare. Her voice is barely ever heard, however, those who know her well are aware of the fact that its deep, dark tones are laced with thick Georgian twang.

Dragons~ These large reptilian creatures are not extinct, however, there are very few of them that fly across Waldria's blue skies. Usually only one is born every year, so their scarcity allows Ramona to know each and every one of them by name and color. Most dragons in the dimension are fully grown, as they are immortal unless killed by violent means. They are greatly misunderstood creatures. Folklore depicts them as being ferocious and unapproachable, however, this is only partly true. Most dragons are calm unless provoked by loud noises or threatening gestures. People are terrified by their gigantic size, (a fully grown one is usually a bit bigger than a small airplane, while the tallest can grow up to a frightening 76 meters long), however, the layperson does not know that if you approach one of the beasts with caution, they will bow to you and can actually allow you to ride on their backs. They are able to breathe fire, and their large wings allow them to fly up to the mesosphere without getting crushed by air pressure. Additionally, at full speed, they can shoot across the sky at a breathtaking 250 mph. (That's a tad faster than the maximum speed of a race car.) Their scales are rough, and impenetrable to most metal. Dragons' hides glint a variety of different shades, and can be used to create extremely strong armor and other building materials. The same thing goes for their thick bones. Most dragons in Waldria are of a Wyvern breed. Chinese dragons are unfathomably rare. In fact, it is considered good luck to see one flying overhead.

|{Hobbies || Talents}|
Survival Skills~ Seeing that she is a nomadic human being, Ramona knows a plethora of abilities that allow her to live peacefully in the wilderness. She can make traps and snares, build a fire, hunt game, fish, find shelter, and recognize dangerous plants and animals. She can even pick lockpick when the situation calls for it.
Shooting~ Used primarily for finding food, she is a talented markswoman. She used to have a crossbow, but that got stolen a while ago, so she's recently had to adapt to using a classic bow and arrow. It's a bit more manual labor, and of course she's not perfect with it, but she's good enough that she can at least feed herself every day.
Exploring~ Since she really has nothing else to do, she spends most of her free time exploring abandoned ruins and looting piles of forgotten treasure. Adventuring helps her to learn more about the land, and if there's anyone who knows their way around Waldria, it's her.

|{Fears || Weaknesses}|
Social Skills~ Pessimistic, blunt, and extremely quiet, Ramona prefers to stare at people in a direct conversation instead of actually talking to them. Because of this, some people even bother to claim that she is completely mute. Although this is untrue, her behavior towards people is extremely strange and kind of creepy. Whenever she does say something, it's usually really sarcastic, biting, or cold. Also, she doesn't smile. Ever. People don't even think she can. They say that every time Ramona Marlowe smiles, a man is raised from the dead.
Loved ones~ Things that she both lacks, and is very protective over. If someone gets a hold of or hurts the people she loves, she'll gut them in two. Worst case scenario, she'll serve as a martyr in order to keep them safe.
Aimless~ Besides taming, exploring, and surviving, she doesn't really have a plan of action in life. She is the dictionary definition of lost.
Ecophobia~ Ramona never wants to return back home despite the fact that her family is still alive. Ask her to leave Waldria, and she'll run deeper into the woods. Clearly, some sort of post-traumatic stress occurs in her mind whenever the word "Earth" is mentioned in conversation.
Water~ Unfortunately, she's never learned how to swim, so naturally large bodies of water tend to strike a bit of fear into her brain.

|{Way To Waldria}|
She used an enchanted necklace to get into the magical world of Waldria, and a day later, she "lost it". (Threw it deep into the ocean.) So yes, she currently does not have any way to get back to Earth. When she wants to go somewhere, she'll ride on the backs of her myths or walk.

|{Family Tree}
Douglas Marlowe // Father // 52
Brie Black // Mother // Status Unknown
Raleigh Marlowe // Sister // 22




Taciturn, Blunt, Cynical, Down-to-earth, Distant.

Ramona Marlowe is quite the odd one. Despite living in Waldria for three years, she has never bothered to build a permanent settlement, and remains just as distant and unattached to people as she did when she first entered the dimension. She is ghastly quiet, much too blunt, fiercely independent, prone to ill tempers, and overly-serious to the point that many people actually question her humanity. People have given her countless judgments and preconceptions, and at this point, it's completely unnatural to consider her normal. The fact of the matter is that she is not. She is wild. She is unladylike. She is stubborn and hard-boiled and broken, and unfortunately, no outside force is ever going to change that, no matter how persuasive it is.

Nobody ever gets too close to her, partly because most are afraid to, and partly because Ramona forbids it. But if people were to break down her outermost defenses, they'd understand how loyal, protective, caring, and altruistic she can actually be. Perhaps the only living creatures that truly know this are the dangerous dragons that she has sworn to protect. In many ways, she is just like them. Misunderstood, judged, forced to be an outcast...the only thing people will ever know about her is how rough and coarse her demeanor is. Of course she is pessimistic. Of course she looks at the worst-case-scenario in any given situation. But there's still a part of her that nobody understands, and that she will never understand herself. Even those who choose to talk to her don't trust her completely, so it's impossible that a true, definitive version of herself will ever come to surface. As soon as she can get rid of the mystery surrounding her past and give into conformity...well, that's the day that she will truly be different. Perhaps not free, but most definitely different.


Unfortunately, everything before the first time she came to Waldria is completely classified. However, the pure basics have actually been uncovered by those who have done their research. She was born in a disheveled log cabin located on the outer brinks of Dudley, Georgia. Supposedly, her mother left the house when she was very young, leaving the responsibility of raising Ramona to her older sister.

After that, her education and family life is a complete secret. When she was sixteen, she found a glistening topaz necklace shining on the side of the road. It looked abandoned and dead; almost like roadkill if it didn't sparkle so much. Curious, Ramona picked it up, twirled it in her hands, and watched the highway in front of her fade into a warm, cozy beach. She started panicking, and faded right onto the sand. When she woke up, a boy about her age with curly brown hair was there to greet her. She asked him where she was, and he explained to her that she was in a dimension called Waldria. Everything about the tamers and the myths was explained to her right there on the sand, and just before the sun set in the west, she thanked the boy, wished him a good night, and threw her way back home into the black ocean waves.

She spent a good year trying to figure out how the whole taming thing worked. Needless to say she got her ass kicked quite a few times by a variety of mythical creatures. When she finally decided to give up, a large dragon approached her. It stomped closer and closer to her, and the more distance it covered, the more she knew her life was over. Much to her surprise, the dragon touched its head to her hand instead of eating her alive. Since then, she's built growing relationships with all of the dragons in Waldria, and continues to thrive in the dimension with her wits, strength, and trusty bow and arrow.

|{Theme Song}
Well you wake up
you're only dreaming
you wish that you could stay in the world your mind creates.
I find you looking out the window
at the road that stretches on
you wish that you were on it
so why, why, why
why do you linger
why do you stay here.
I hear your footsteps running through the garden
you're looking for a door
but your mind is overgrown
the walls are only as high as we make them
we've put up every stone
only we can tear them down.
so why, why, why
why do you linger
why do you stay here
Darling there's no easy escape
darling there's no cloud or flame
just one voice
one lonely voice
you can hear it
if you stop your ears.
I wake up
I was only dreaming
but I wish that I could stay
in the world my mind creates.

|{Face Claim}
Jennifer Lawrence (AKA JLaw. lol.)

Character Dialogue || #437C17

So begins...

Ramona Marlowe's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Apollo Decesare Character Portrait: Nirvana Elria Character Portrait: Clarissa Rivers Character Portrait: Lee Chen Su Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Lysa Martell Character Portrait: Theodore Herrick Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Ramona Marlowe
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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.



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.



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.



"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.

" 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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cleo Amina Ra Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Ramona Marlowe
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___ T A M E RXO FXT H EXS P H I N X E S ___

L O C A T I O N : Luxor, Egypt => The forest, Waldria

Dɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✦ #8A0000 | Tʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✧ #7A7A7A

"You know, you cannot hide from mama and papa forever." Cleo's eldest brother, Ammon stated to his sister in their native tongue of Arabic as he leaned against the door frame of the young lady's room in their house. Cleo was only listening to him particularly as she had her mind on packing and getting back to Waldria. "Cleo!" Cleo rolled her eyes and groaned as she reluctantly looked towards the older man. "I know! Okay, I know! And I am not hiding from them. I just do not wish to speak to them." The young girl admitted as she turned her attention back to her small backpack. "Why not? We're family..-- You can't just shut them out." Cleo didn't need to be lectured, esp. by her brother who frankly tried to be a father more than a brother. "I am not shutting them out. But, as long as they want me to leave Waldria... I cannot be around them. Sorry." Ammon sighed as he shook his head, watching his sister sling the bag over her shoulder before fixing the red scarf covering her the entirety of her head except her face. "What's so amazing about that place anyway? By the the way you act you would believe that it is heaven. Is it that pale boy of yours? What is his name again? Eric, Fredrick, Ury--.."

"You mean Ulfrik? No! No, no, no, no. My decision on staying is not based on a friend of mine, esp. a friend who is a little boy." She didn't even face him as she spoke, she just kept walking out of their small apartment and down the stairs of the building. "Isn't he a year younger than you or something?" Ammon asked with a smirk on his face which only made Cleo roll her eyes. "Regardless! The reason I stay in Waldria is not because of a person. It's the creatures," She admitted as she turned towards him only to see him throw his hands up in frustration as he rolled his eyes. Ever since she found that damn compass and went into that dimension it was always; the sphinxes this, the sphinxes that. As if they somewhat had taken over her life and in all honesty... They did. "Look whether you, or mama, or papa like it or not, they need me! Okay, they need me there a lot more than you need me here. I actually have a purpose other than be a tough housewife! I know my future if I stay here, it's just like mama. I stay in this house until they find a man for me to marry who will try and control me and spend the rest of my days as a housewife and mother who can fight. And I'll be damned before I accept that fate, Ammon!"

Ammon couldn't even disagree, it was no surprise what her future was if she stayed here. They raised their daughter to be tough but, at the end of the day she was still a young girl who need a man to 'guild' her through life. "Okay, fine. Whatever, maybe you're right," Cleo raised an eyebrow, already knowing she was right. "Of course, I'm right. I--.."

"Let me finish! Maybe you're right, then leave. Leave Luxor, go somewhere else. Hell go to America for all I care! But, please just stay on Earth, stay where we can find you." She could hear the begging in her brother's voice, but she couldn't stay here. She knew where she was needed and it wasn't here. She didn't even say a word as she turned back around and started walking in the vacant, dessert like backyard of their complex. Cleo reached in her bag for her compass back to Waldria, having her guard up feeling like her brother might try something to keep her there even if it was only a while. But, nope. All he did was look at her with the same puppy dog emotion hoping that for once Cleo would have a heart and actually do something someone asked her to do.

She couldn't even bare to look at him as she set the compass facing North. She sighed as she turned back towards her brother who was just looking at the ground. "Tell everyone, I said hi." Ammon scoffed. "Hi? You're leaving us for some freaks of nature and all you want me to say to your family, your blood is--.. is 'hi'?! Cleo, you obviously don't get how twisted that sounds." Cleo shrugged. "I know how it sounds. I do but, I'm needed there, they need me--.."

[b]"I'm pretty sure, you need them more than they need you."
And with that, he walked away. Talking to Cleo was like talking to a wall nothing could make her change what she thought. She, at this point was infuriated! He didn't understand, no 'normal person' would understand. And she wasn't about to waste her breath trying to explain why she needed to be in Waldria. She turned back to the compass to make sure it was facing North before reciting the spell to make her teleport back to Waldria.


In a moment, she was no longer in the dry, hot air but no in the forest of Waldria. When she was settled, she scoffed as she snatched the compass off of the ground and into her bag. She didn't even know where to go she was so irritated. It was good thing she could hear Ulfrik's ever so recognizable, smart ass sounding voice. She rolled her eyes as she decided to start walking in the direction she heard his voice. As she moved through the foliage, she could see him talking to... someone... "Great, at least I know he hasn't completely lost his mind."

She thought to herself. But who was he talking to? Right before the other person turned away, Cleo saw her face and raised an eyebrow. She waited until the odd girl completely disappeared into the forest before walking up to her closest friend with confused, but very funny looking look on her face as she removed her red headscarf.

"What was that about? And why are you inviting her into your home?" She asked him before going up on her tiptoes to feel his forehead. "Are you having... Shit. What is it? Um. Memory lost, that is it. Are you having memory lost? Because how many times have I told you she cannot be trusted?" It wouldn't be the first time she told him about how she felt like Ramona couldn't be trusted. She just seemed cunning, underhanded, and a wildcard. Cleo didn't deal with wildcards well, hell she barely dealt with Ulfrik well.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cleo Amina Ra Character Portrait: Apollo Decesare Character Portrait: Lee Chen Su Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Ramona Marlowe
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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.



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 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.



"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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Apollo Decesare Character Portrait: Ramona Marlowe
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As per usual, the mention of needing the Orcs help sent them into a flurry of debate. While they were normally unmotivated and question creatures, they sprung to life upon Apollo’s request. He chuckled as the argued between themselves. “If anyone’s to go its me.” The light skinned orc, Rattig, spoke up, crossing his arms and glowering at the others. Watching them dispute over it in mirth, the young man leaned himself against the trunk of a tree.

“An why is that?” Another snapped, “Yer useless ‘round camp. Jus sitting on yer arse all day.” The two orcs got rather close to each other, snarls revealing crooked and sharp teeth as they glowered. The other few who were standing around shifted awkwardly, glancing at Apollo to see if he’d step in. Chuckling, he stepped forward and glanced up at the two with a grin.

“Like toddlers fighting over a toy.” He said with a chuckle, “I’ll decide when I leave, so for right now you two shut up.” The two seemed to deflate and nodded, trudging back to sit around the campfire they had set up. The camp was a mess, carnage and debris surrounding them like a bad omen. Looking down, Apollo found himself standing next to the head of some unlucky wolf. Grimacing, he kicked aside and watched as it rolled off. Giant toddlers who kill, that’s an Orc. His thoughts were interrupted as three orcs came into view, dragging with them a girl who Apollo assumed has seen better days. He titled his head at them as the shoved her onto her knees, holding a dagger towards her throat.

"Spyin' on us, she was!" One of them yelled and Apollo chuckled, the pitch of the laugh nearing that of a giggle. He walked over to her, crouching down when he was face to face with her and grabbed her chin lightly, turning her head. “Well then, a spy can’t go unpunished. What do you think we should do, guys?” He let go of her, falling back so that he sat in front of her. Wearing a sardonic grin, Apollo’s eyes were hardly joking as he watched her with the intensity that resembled a wolf’s.

“We hasn’t had human ‘n a while, I say we eat ‘er!” One piped up and he turned to looked at the one who gave the idea, snorting as he pulled out a carton of cigarettes. Because Waldria didn’t have the cigarettes he smoked, he usually had a pack with him for his addictions. Placing one between his lips he held a lighter up to it before taking a drag and blowing the smoke towards the girl. “Hand me that dagger,” He pointed to the one against her throat and the orc holding it shifted slightly, opening his mouth before Apollo waved away his concern. “She’s in a camp with ten or so orcs, she won’t be getting away.” He said as he snatched the blade away.

Standing up, he walked over towards the one who suggested making a meal out of her and placed a hand on his arm before smiling, “There’s a bit of a problem with your idea. You see, she’s a very important person in Waldria, and if you kill her, that blood is on my hands.” As he spoke, his expression showed mock concern for the girl. Frankly he cared little for her life, but he could use her more alive than he could if she was dead. Apollo smirked, knowing exactly who Ramona was. Tamer of the dragons. In other words, she was useful.

He twirled the dagger in his hands before placing the blade against his lips in thought, glancing up at the orc. The beast was watching the blade, concern on his face as he stuttered slightly with his words, “We don’t havta eat ‘er then. It was justa suggestion. Yer the boss.” Apollo’s eyebrows rose and 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 and with the way the orc next to him grunted, it landed too close for comfort. 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?”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cleo Amina Ra Character Portrait: Apollo Decesare Character Portrait: Clarissa Rivers Character Portrait: Lee Chen Su Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Lysa Martell Character Portrait: Percival Greymane Character Portrait: Ramona Marlowe
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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.



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.



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.


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.