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Ulfrik Greymane

"Don't walk the walk if you can't talk the talk."

0 · 943 views · located in Waldria

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

Description




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{"If society won't let you forget what you are, then use it as an excuse for what you are not.”}

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|{Full Name}|
Ulfrik William Greymane

|{Nickname}|
Just Ully, although to be quite frank, he really doesn't have a legitimate nickname.

|{Age}|
19

|{Sexuality}|
Pansexual

|{Hometown}|
Born in Sacramento, California, raised in Waldria.

|{Blood Type}|
Much to his chagrin, he is a Halfblood.




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|{Appearance}|
Broad-shouldered, slightly muscular, and blessed with the traditional brown curly hair worn by every Greymane, you'd think that he'd be his brother's identical twin. Still, there are many differences that define him as a half-related bastard. His wide eyes are a deep grey color, and show the thickest of emotions through their sheen. He doesn't even need to speak; you can read him through his irises. His skin, usually bruised yet tight-fitting on his bones, is of a frightening pallor, yet in the light it appears to be a faded shade of bronze. His ears are pierced, however he almost never uses earrings to fill the gap. There is usually some sort of mustache or beard combination resting around his thick lips. It matches his long, unkempt locks, although on occasion both parts have been shaved. As for his gait, it is strong, yet quick at the same time. His voice is as clear and smooth as a flowing stream.

|{Myth}|
Werewolves ~The werewolves stationed in Waldria are slightly different than the ones we've come to know through European folklore. You see, the werewolves that roam Waldria are referred to by their technical term, "parent wolves". The ancestors of these wolves were the original werewolves, and helped to afflict their curse onto unsuspecting humans on earth. They used to be direwolves, but due to a grotesque plague, they were then banished into Waldria, leaving behind a monstrous pandemic. Basically, these creatures cannot shape-shift into humans, and ARE NOT humans themselves, but rather they are able to spread the disease-like adversity of lycanthropy onto people by either biting or scratching them. Citizens of Waldria know better than to go outside during a full moon, as this is the time when werewolves appear the most often. These Myths used to be a big threat to early civilizations in the dimension, as they were infamous for destroying entire villages overnight. Werewolves are generally larger than your average wolf, and come in brown, black, and milky white colors. Their fangs are long and sharp, and during the blackness of night, the creatures' eyes glow a blood red hue.

|{Hobbies || Talents}|
Craftsman~ Dexterous, he is able to build many things just from scratch and his unlimited imagination. His famous treehouse is probably the trophy of his achievements in architecture, while his homemade sword proves that he is an expert in smithing as well. He builds things for convenience rather than artistry.
Swordsman~ Ulfrik was trained how to use a sword at a young age. Educated by elves, he knows complicated techniques that the layperson wouldn't even consider using. While his brother uses strength to his advantage, he uses agility and quick jabs to throw off an opponent.
Civil Tongue~ Persuasive, he knows how to talk the talk in order to get what he wants from others. He's also very good at judging a book by its cover, and can get into someone's head while still looking calm and collected.

|{Fears || Weaknesses}|
Bastardy~ Although considered the prince, Ulfrik was born out of wedlock. Therefore, he does not receive the same amount of privileges as his brother, and even if his sibling dies before fathering children, he will never sit the throne.
Volatile~ His emotions come and go like raging thunderstorms. A terrible temper and an oversensitive disposition, his tantrums often get him stuck in sticky situations.
Shunned~ Due to his vocal opinion about integrating the Myths, his brother has ordered the guards to keep an eye on him, and actually restrict him from going places that were once part of his home. It's very annoying and feels like being a wanted man without actually committing any crimes.
Loneliness~ It's a huge fear, and with the laws his brothers and the guards put down every day, it's becoming more and more of a reality.

|{Way To Waldria}|
An artifact apparently possessed by his mother and enchanted by the Elves, a tiny looking glass serves as Ulfrik's portal to both Earth and Waldria. He simply stares through it, and watches as a faraway image of the destination he wishes to teleport to becomes less and less distant. The item also allows him to travel quickly and instantly to other locations in Waldria. It may be small, but it's pretty convenient.

|{Family Tree}
King Percival Greymane II // Father // Deceased
Cindy Kingbane // Mother // Deceased
Percival Greymane III // Half-brother // 20


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|{Personality}|

Persuasive, Charming, Humorous, Brooding, Fearless.

Brokenness is made, not born. This particularly holds true for the Prince of Waldria, who's had his fair share of flaws ever since he was conceived. Nevertheless, he's learned to cover up those unintentional setbacks with witticism and charisma, developing enticing charm that any member of the royal family should possess. He's always been one of those people obligated to take matters into his own hands, even when those matters should be left untouched. In terms of bravery, he is absolutely fearless. However, where he's strong in dauntlessness, he lacks in intelligence. He's not stupid, but he is prone to rash decisions every once in a while. After all, Ulfrik is first and foremost ruled by his emotions. He does what he feels instead of what he knows. Of course, this can lead to outbursts of rage and ruthless angst. Call him an Anakin Skywalker if you will, HOWEVER, the fact remains that his judgement, although skewed and out of the blue, usually tends to be right. Because of this, he is able to play on the sentiments of others, and use intuition to uncover things that haven't been revealed out loud yet. It's helpful, but like many of the things he attains in this world, it is discouraged.

He is able to attract people of all corners of life with his jaunty jests, and can fill his mind with ideals and creativity until he drops, but that still doesn't erase the brooding feeling trapped inside of him. It's like a hole in his chest that refuses to be filled. Unfortunately, Ulfrik wastes his time attempting to patch it up, and in the process, tends to wander around life like a lost puppy. He tries to fill his life with as much pleasure as possible, but ends up unwillingly relishing in it instead of using it to fuel optimism. It's always been easy for him to fall into jealousy. After all, his brother always gets what he wants while he is forced to sit on the sidelines. Because of this, he cherishes power and resourcefulness. He tends to value a person based on their usefulness rather than their personality, which gets him into trouble quite often. Perhaps it will get him into even more trouble now that his opinions are creating tension in Waldria. Still, Ulfrik is not a bad person. He's not a good person either, so its best to assume that he's somewhere in the middle. Something like a grey character in the midst of black and white. While his ethics are for the most part sharp, his actions tend to contradict his intentions.

It is well known that curiosity killed the cat. Perhaps his will kill off an entire culture.




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|{History}|
A month after King Percival Greymane II was murdered by a shadowy assassin, A bone-thin woman came marching towards the palace, a sleeping baby swaddled in cotton lying in her arms. The Elven guards approached her, asking for her purpose in traveling to the castle. She scoffed, and said that the king's son had finally arrived.

It was a day later that the truth had been revealed to the public. Percival II slept with a prostitute in Sacramento, California nine months before his untimely death. This child was his son, yes, but he was illegitimate. After their encounter, the monarch of Waldria had given Cindy Kingbane a token of his appreciation; a small looking glass. He told her that it could be used to visit him whenever she wanted to. So when the time came, she used it to deliver his second son. The elves were planning to have the baby sent back to Earth with his mother, but when they checked on the woman the morning after she had appeared, her heart was silent. She had died from HIV overnight.

So reluctantly, Ulfrik was raised alongside his half-brother. He was always considered a royal, however, he was restricted from many of the responsibilities it came with. While Percy got to meet famous warriors and have elaborate birthday parties thrown in the castle ballroom, Ully was forced to sit silently in his room, whittling wood and practicing his swordfighting while he was alone. He got in trouble more often than his older brother, and had a very hard time making friends. He was jealous of Percy quite often, but never showed it. After all, although they were only half-related, it was bullshit to think that Percy treated him like dirt. Their blood wasn't quite the same, but their souls were. Still, there was the fact that Ully was able to tame werewolves instead of elves that accounted for their differences.

As Ulfrik grew older, he started to become more and more curious about the world outside of Waldria. He'd take his mother's looking glass and just spend hours walking through places like New York City and San Francisco. One time, he stayed in Nashville, Tennesse, for a full week. His wandering obviously worried Percy, and made the elves squeal in delight, saying that the bastard was finally returning to his earthly roots. Obviously, with the way his brother's myths were treating him around the castle, Ulfrik grew very annoyed with royal life and just wanted to escape all of the mockery and torture. So when he was seventeen, he built a marvelous tree house right in the heart of the werewolves' territory. It gave him a lot of attention, as well as a lot of free time he could use to train his myths, as well as interact with others. For the first time in a long time, he felt unbound by commitment and stress. His eyes were opened, and despite his good behavior to the rest of the Tamers, his reputation over at the castle became tarnished.

One day, while fishing at the lake near his house, he had a thought...

Why can't myths be a part of Earth?

Surely society there is changing, and there is plenty of room to fit them all. Plus, the people of Earth have not even discovered all of the plants and animals that reside on the planet. Surely if werewolves, elves, dragons, and other creatures reside there, it would not cause too much of a commotion. Their appearance would be justified through science. He voiced his opinion to Percy, who gave him a sharp look and turned him away, not even explaining why he disagreed. This made Ulfrik angry, and has motivated him to raise the question of whether or not myths should leave Waldria to other tamers. Some have taken his side, while others have sharply disagreed with him. Still, the topic remains afloat, and if Ully can convince more people to join his side, then perhaps he can prove to everyone that even those who are different can become a part of normality.



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|{Theme Song}

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There's a reckoning a-coming
and it burns beyond the grave
its lead inside my belly
cause my soul has lost its way
Oh, Lazarus
How did your debts get paid
Oh, Lazarus
Were you so afraid

When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you
with the hounds of hell coming after you
I've got blood, I've got blood on my name
when the fires, when the fires
are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
I've got blood, I've got blood
blood on my name

Not a spell gonna be broken
with a potion or a priest
When you're cursed you're always hoping
that a prophet would be grieved
Oh, Lazarus
How did your debts get paid
Oh, Lazarus
Were you so afraid

Can't you see I'm sorry
I will make it worth your while
Made a dead mans money
you can see it in my smile
Oh, Lazarus
How did your debts get paid
Oh, Lazarus
Were you so afraid

When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you
and the whole wide world coming after you
I've got blood, I've got blood on my name
when the fires, when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars wont be guiding you
I've got blood, I've got blood
blood on my name

mmm-mmm
it wont be long
til I'm dead and gone
it wont be long
til I'm dead and gone

watch the fires rise under my skin
down to the bone
scorching my soul
nowhere to run
nowhere to run
nowhere to run

When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you
with the hounds of hell coming after you
I've got blood, I've got blood on my name
when the fires, when the fires are consuming you
and your sacred stars won't be guiding you
I've got blood, I've got blood on my name

When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you
and the whole wide world coming after you
I've got blood, I've got blood
blood on my name


|{Face Claim}
Aaron Johnson

Character Dialogue || #05806D

So begins...

Ulfrik Greymane's Story

Setting

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.





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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: 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 ___

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

DΙͺα΄€ΚŸα΄Ι’α΄œα΄‡ Cα΄ΚŸα΄Κ€ ✦ #8A0000 | TΚœα΄α΄œΙ’Κœα΄› Cα΄ΚŸα΄Κ€ ✧ #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.

Setting

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.




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

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L O C A T I O N : The forest, Waldria

DΙͺα΄€ΚŸα΄Ι’α΄œα΄‡ Cα΄ΚŸα΄Κ€ ✦ #8A0000 | TΚœα΄α΄œΙ’Κœα΄› Cα΄ΚŸα΄Κ€ ✧ #7A7A7A





Cleo looked annoyed as Ulfrik looked down at her with the goddamn smile and it only got more annoyed when he started speaking. "Cleo, you know I dislike that filthy redneck bitch as much as the next guy," She raised her eyebrows as she crossed her arms across her chest. "But unfortunately, 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 necessarily like them..." [/b] Cleo took a deep breath out as she continued to look at him as he moved his hands to the headscarf in her hand. "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..."

"You really do not need to do that, I know the story." But, of course he started the story she had heard enough times once more. She blinked slowly as she released a sigh. "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." As he continued to speak about the dragons, Cleo let her arms fall to herself as she tapped her foot with a smirk on her face, hoping he would get the hint. But then again, Ulfrik could never take a hint. But, he did know exactly how to surprise the girl as he reached on for her headscarf only to begin putting it back on her.

Which to some extent she saw as sweet, but she also saw it as annoying. She wore it in her home to show respect for the religion she still held but, here she had other things on her mind then wearing a headscarf that would only bring more attention to her. "Now, Ramona Marlowe may not be as smart as you, or as beautiful as you, and definitely not as strong as you," Cleo smirk turned into a smug half smile as she nudged her head about in a confident as if she already knew the things he was saying were true. Did she really think so? Not necessarily; Cleo knew nothing about the girl other than her name and how shady she seemed but, she knew herself pretty well. And she was a girl who was not even five feet off the ground but still weighted more than most of the women taller than her and she had a child's education. "The first two are very debatable." She said softly with her smirk still on her face as she looked up at her friend. So. yes the first two things were debatable, but her being stronger was no competition. And people who actually knew the short girl knew. "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." Cleo chuckled as she shook her head with a smirk.

When he had finished putting her headscarf back on and moved his hands to her shoulders, bringing the two closer than usual Cleo looked both ways to the woods before letting her eyes turn back to the man right in front of her. She then saw the look on his smug little face and sighed. "What do you need now, your highness?"


"I need to ask a favor of you. 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?" She wanted to be irritated, honesty but she couldn't help but roll her eyes and continue with her sarcasm. "Fine, but you own me a favor if I ever ask for assitantce," That day was never going to come, she would let herself get harmed before asking/begging for anyone's help even Ulfrik. No, especially Ulfrik. Right before walking off, Cleo put her thumb under his chin with a stoic look on her face with only the tips of her lips curving into a smirk once more. I am nothing more than a messenger to you now days." She said before removing her finger from under his chin and fixing the scarf on her head to cover all of her free flowing hair, even the front. The older girl started to walk away before turning back to her friend before disappearing into the woods. "If I get killed by a myth or caught by your brother, it is on you." Cleo pointed at Ulfrik before walking into the woods to fulfill his little favor.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Theodore Herrick Character Portrait: Percival Greymane
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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. β€œI’m getting too old to be doing this,” the old man hoarsely said. Theo chuckled quietly from his seat, β€œGetting? 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. β€œWhat are you working on, boy?” The man sat back down in his chair and took a gulp of his drink. β€œJust 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. β€œI believe that’s your father coming” The old man said to the boy. β€œI 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. β€œTheo, 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. β€œFor?” 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. β€œThat 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: Nirvana Elria Character Portrait: Ulfrik Greymane Character Portrait: Theodore Herrick
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Nirvana looked prim and proper. Her hair had been trimmed, combed, and washed multiple times by her father's servants. A long satin gown played at the tips of her high heels as she held a fragile glass of bubbly. Vana's fake smile gleamed with familiarity; pearly whites framed with twitching pink lips. If her family had known her better they would have stop mistaking those unpleasantly upturned lips for an actual smile.

Today her father was getting married, or remarried rather. Though it was her father's seventh marriage, to a woman closer to Vana's age than his, it was a tremendous family occasion. Every Elria from across Waldria was attending the ceremony and festivities, along with other important people and rich families. Nirvana stood bored in front of a "potential bachelor" as he spoke about his endeavors with the Waldrian warthog. Apparently he was rolling in gold because of it. Vana sipped patiently at her drink as he continued with broad gestures, at least he was attractive. Her crystal blue eyes gave him a once over, perhaps in an inappropriate way. The moment she did this the bachelor stopped speaking and gave her a sideways look. Nirvana laughed softly to herself before dominating the conversation. She shook her head as if he were a mistaken child, "I hate warthogs," she said firmly. Vana kept eye contact with him as she set her finished glass on a servants tray.

"But you can ask me to dance," she finished in a flirty tone, her other hand lifted gracefully forward. Nirvana figured that if she had to sit through another one of these weddings without a single word from her relatives then she would at least have a little fun. Later she would be chastised for her poor behavior, but for now Nirvana needed something to distract herself. The actual ceremony wasn't until later today, which meant the customary gathering beforehand would last at least three more hours, then there would be another reception after the wedding that would last days. There were plenty of opportunities for Nirvana to embarrass her grandmother, Victoria, but perhaps she would just try and enjoy herself for once.

Without many words Nirvana and her bachelor took the dance floor. Together they were a picture perfect example of a traditionally raised couple, hands all where they were supposed to be and good distance between their bodies. Her eyes glanced over to where the frail Victoria sat with her cane, chatting up a storm with a recent billionaire. Vana looked around again before returning her attention to the bachelor, the Herrick's were not here. Perhaps they had finally decided that her father's weddings were a joke. Usually during these events she would find Theo Herrick one of the only bearable men.

"I've been meaning to ask," the bachelor started. Vana locked her eyes on his with curiosity as he continued, lowering his voice. "How is it that you've managed to live your entire life as a half-blood and the majority of the public still doesn't know." Nirvana's eyes grew wide, then they narrowed with suspicion. "Excuse me?" she said tightly.

"I mean, look at you, you've gone to these parties you're entire life and you've been ignored like a slave's dog." Nirvana cocked her head at him, surprised at the intelligence that was coming out of his mouth. After all, just moments ago he was going on and on about warthogs. "It only takes someone with a little bit of brain to figure out that you don't belong here," He finally said, spinning her weightlessly across the dance floor and making it look like they were talking about frilly things like love. Coming to a halt, a little too close to the man she closed her eyes before speaking.

"It's a well kept family secret," she said simply, "I suppose the world around them just chooses to ignore the facts."

Not saying anything in return the man nodded her his and started to hum along with the string quartet. The song was slowing to its end and Nirvana was feeling relief about that. She didn't want to speak with this man anymore. This bachelor already knew too much about her. As the music swelled the man's hand inched down toward her buttocks. Ready to slap him she whispered "How dare you think that just because I'm a half-blood I have no digni-"

His hand brushed against her and planted a note in her hand right as the music stopped. "Don't be so full of yourself," he said playfully and stepped away from her. As he walked away he sent a wink back to Vana and promptly left the party.

A couple of her cousins were staring at the scene, perhaps confused as to how Vana was the one dancing with such a handsome man. She gave them the look of death as she passed to go the back gardens. The party was restricted from this area, and it overlooked the ocean, something that always eased her anxieties. After taking a couple of moments of solitude her opened the crumbled note. It was handwritten and made of some of the finest material, inside was a message that Nirvana had never thought she would see.

'Prince Ulfrik Greymane has formally invited you to-' the handwriting stopped then continued in a different cursive that was at a slant. 'Please meet us at Prince Ulfrik's home this afternoon.'

There was no other explanation. Puzzled, Vana flipped it over, nothing. Ulfrik was a man that she had only met a handful of times, she thought it strange that after all of these years of connection he would suddenly find interest in befriending her.

Setting

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.




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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.

β€œWell 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. β€œShe’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.

β€œThere’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.

β€œWe don’t havta eat β€˜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. β€œThat 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. β€œRamona, 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.